#ir happens way too many times

[mimir97477906]

today my gf lend me her headphones and it was so good i started crying sobbing shaking in a full classrom because stereolab hit THAT hard

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 23

(Jade and Floyd are bioluminescent in darkness, so their scales often glitter and draw in too curious fish. Floyd is an extremely skilled hunter and often uses his Leiomano to fight with larger predators in close combat because he enjoys the thrill of the hunt. Jade usually lets his bioluminescence or his brother bring in the food and is less willing to fight a predator one on one even with his Harpoon. When fighting together, Jade and Floyd are both very skilled at playing off of one another and can easily overwhelm a larger predator.)

Warnings; RSA boys vs NRC boys, photoshoot, trying to rizz the Human ending poorly, Grim is a little shit to almost everyone except for his Hooman, mention of ill-tempered dragon, intentional sabotage of rizz, yanderes vs yanderes, Design Team and Guard Team alliance against Newcomers Team, protective behavior, sweet behavior, angry birds, Harpies, Merman, Drider, Hellcat, Water Nymph, Tree Nymph, Gnoll, Werewolf, Bakeneko, Nemean Lion, Shinigami,

~~~~~~~~

"So, why do we have to go to Pomefiore for this?"

"Because, mon Trickster, it has been storming since your departure to Savanaclaw. The grounds are too wet and muddy to take photos."

You frowned, looking out at the storm that was raging as Rook walked up to the Pomefiore mirror. Some of the storm was likely Malleus' doing, but there was no way he had kept the storm going for this long, right? That would take an unnatural amount of strength and energy to keep a storm going for days on end.

"Is it just rainy weather or is there something else happening?"

"Well," Vil cut in, flanking Rook and ensuring to keep the RSA students at an arm's length, "the storm started right after you joined Leona in Savanaclaw and hasn't stopped since then. Odds are a certain Dragon is throwing a fit."

The second after Vil's words, a large bolt of lightning struck the spires of the school nearby, making even Vil ruffle his feathers up. The lightning seemed to be throwing off all the students that passed by your group, and you stared out once more. You couldn't help but notice that the lightning has a bright green tint to it.

"Will we be able to do the Spelldrive Tournament if it keeps raining?"

"I assume that Crow will make Malleus calm down or you have to spend the night prior to the Spelldrive with Diasomnia to calm him down enough so the field is dry. I don't relish playing in the mud or getting soaked to the bone in this weather."

Rook entered the mirror with you, the others following suit and it was clear the RSA students were a bit thrown off by the mirror and the lovely sunny weather awaiting them in the Pomefiore dorm. You had only been to Pomefiore a few times when you were being fitted for clothes so it was nice to be at the dorm for a different reason. The many apple trees seemed to stretch out around the large iron gates of the dorm as they slowly swung open to allow your group entry.

Any students nearby were quick to bow their heads to Vil and back away, not wanting to earn the Harpy's ire when he had been in a mildly decent mood despite his pouting earlier in the week. It was clear the lush gardens of the dorm were awaiting your group as several students milled about with copious amounts of photography equipment. From different scale cameras to various sized lenses, even to large flash bulbs for lighting, it seemed a much more involved process than you had anticipated.

Leona caught on quickly to the less than excited way you stared at the many cameras and huffed lightly. He seemed amused by your lack of enthusiasm with the pending events.

"You know, Mousey, you don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"Yes, Leona, I do have to. The best way to combat the one negative photo would be a lot of positive photos instead. So I do have to do this. For me, for Cater, and so I can stay here at Night Raven."

The Lion hummed and frowned at the many students who had begun to race around, trying to get everything in place. You were a bit lost as to the finer details of the photoshoot but figured Vill knew what he was doing. It was then the almost sweet voice of the Harpy Neige spoke up cooing gently as his feathers fluffed.

"Wow, Vil! This is amazing. I always knew you were a high-tier Magicam model, but it is so cool to see the things you have at your disposal for it. Usually Hop or Grum take photos for my magicam. I've only seen commercials and movies with this much production."

"I wouldn't expect anything more from you. Luckily for us, I do know the best cameras for our little photoshoot. Now, hush, the professionals are working."

Ruggie was the one to help you off of the Drider's back, Grim actually jumping to his arms to avoid the many cameras now pointed in your direction. Vil frowned somewhat at the preference the Hellcat showed to the Lion's dormmates before he gently grabbed your arm, pulling you to what seemed to be the center of the setup. With a clap of his hands, several Pomefiore students began to crowd you as they tried to fix up your hair and add makeup they felt would match you best. Vil was spearheading the efforts, using his own magic to change your outfit to that of a comfortable sun dress that reminded you somewhat of the Pomefiore uniform.

"Sorry, could ya- ah, I mean, could you look up for me?"

The student standing in front of you was the same plant-looking effeminate one that had shown up with Vil and Rook at the beginning of the week. He seemed more uncomfortable than the others despite matching the general theme and vibe of the dorm better than the others. You smiled and did as asked, taking interest in the lovely plant man.

"You don't have to talk all fancy around me. I won't get mad at you for it."

"I wish but- ahem- however, Housewarden Vil said it is a rule to talk like this "

"I don't like that rule."

"Honestly? Ah don't like it much either, makes no sense ta-"

Vil sharply cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes at you and the plant man in warning. The plant man sighed and almost seemed to try and straighten up despite how uncomfortable it made him seem.

"Epel, I know you would not be callous enough to revert to your 'charming' accent when I have specifically instructed everyone to be on their best behavior and mind their manners."

"Of course not, Housewarden Vil, I was just..."

Before the plant-man- Epel, according to Vil- could continue his sentence, another voice cut in. You weren't as familiar with the voice but recognized the almost too kind tone of Erikír, the Merman prince.

"Careful, plant Nymph, no need to be rude or so dreadfully 'country' in front of fairer company."

You frowned at this, glancing at the grinning Merman who seemed to have no issue judging Epel right off the bat. Something about his tone made it seem like he intended it to be light-hearted and playful, but you couldn't help but take it as rude. Sure, Vil similarly griped at Epel, but it was Vil's duty as Housewarden to scold him. It was not Erikír's duty to do the same.

"Mind yourself, Prince Erikír, I asked him to speak in a comfortable way around me. Do not presume to scold a student not your own for a request I made."

Erikír seemed surprised by your tone and how clipped it had become before he bowed his head, conceding to your wishes. He almost seemed to have a slight grimace but his expression quickly smoothed back into a pleasant smile. That small lapse in behavior had you wondering about Erikír and if he had ulterior motives behind volunteering to guard you. It made you wonder about all of the RSA students.

"My apologies, fair (Y/n). I did not intend to offend."

"It is Vil's place and duty to keep his dormmates in line with the rules of their dorm. It is not your place nor your duty to do the same."

Erikír somewhat winced at your reprimand but Vil was absolutely beaming in pride. He had a clear smirk curling the corners of his lips as he sneered at the visiting student with his crest fully raised. You had half a mind to scold Vil as well, but figured you got your point across as Epel very carefully applied eye-liner to your lower lid. If anything, Epel actually seemed amused with your quick snap at Erikír and seemed much more relaxed around you now.

"There. I'd say it looks darn good- urk-! I mean- you- it looks nice on you. I mean- you always look nice-!"

You chuckled and caught Epel's hand as he stumbled over his words, holding the rough bark-covered limb in your own. The flowers that adorned the leaves making up his hair seemed to all bloom the moment you held his hand and smiled at him. It was clear Epel couldn't find the words to say what he wanted and was rendered almost mute by your friendly behavior towards him.

"Thank you, Epel, you've done a wonderful job."

"Aw, shucks, it ain't all that big a deal... I mean-!"

"I know. I think you should let your accent shine, it is very endearing."

"Sure..."

You could have sworn the Nymph would be blushing if he didn't have bark for skin and sap for blood. Vil was quick to sweep you away from the other Pomefiore students and towards the cameras, where he gave you a thrilled smile and spun you once to get a good look at you. He seemed pleased with what he saw as he nodded to the students behind the cameras.

"Alright, don't worry too much about posing at first, this is a 'casual' and 'natural' photoshoot, so just do what feels natural to you. Feel free to pull any of us into the photos if you wish, I will do my best to compose the photos and may ask for certain poses later as we continue the shoot."

"So I can make you pose for photos too?"

"Of course. I would certainly value any prints we get of the two of us together, but you may wish to pull Rook and even Leona in for a few pictures."

You nodded at this, letting Vil move you around and somewhat pose with you for the first few photos. He genuinely seemed happy to help you into typical model poses, a look of amusement and affection for your attempts to pose with him. How he valued those little moments guiding you as you trusted him to lead you through the casual steps he had long perfected.

All too soon it was over and Vil felt a kind of burning jealousy in his throat as you turned to the others who had mostly agreed to join this little event. Vil pulled away first to allow you to move on despite how he wanted to linger. You were keen to see how the softer Harpy would handle being in the photos with you.

You didn't notice the way Vil bristled and let out a low hissing sound as you gently pulled the smaller Harpy towards you. Neige was much more relaxed with the attention than you expected as he happily posed with you and smiled to the cameras that had yet to stop clicking and flashing. He even managed to get a chuckle from you as he cooed softly and seemed to cuddle up against you.

Like Vil, he led you through the different poses easily and made you feel comfortable around him. It was when he began a small somewhat dance of poses with you that Vil almost screamed in anger, clearly upset at the idea of anyone dancing with you, let alone this feathered rat-with-wings Dove. How dare he try to do something so inherently linked with Harpies? Even if they were just poses and not technically an actual dance, it made no difference to Vil.

Thankfully, Rook managed to keep Vil from leaping at the smaller Harpy. The Drider saw how you smiled and enjoyed the little dance with the ever lovely Dove Harpy he adored, knowing Neige intended it as a friendly interaction and not the beginning of intimacy as Vil perceived it to be. What did raise Rook's suspicion was how Erikír refused to take his eyes off of you even once, his blue orbs following you closely with every move you made.

"Vil, how about you join Neige and I for these next few photos?"

"If I may," Erikír interjected, stepping forward with a hand to his heart as he smiled warmly at you, "may I cut in for a little bit? Surely the presence of several species would lend credence to these photos?"

"Alright, that makes sense."

Erikír was quick to take his place by your side, almost brushing past Neige who happily stepped aside to let the merman approach instead. The Merman gently held your hands and spun you around in his hold, letting your back press against his chest as he moved in a slow progression of poses. Most of the poses he chose involved holding you in some way or having a hand resting on your soft figure as he seemed to almost enjoy the poses a bit too much.

As he moved you to a different pose, you noticed the way he was almost insistent about placing his hands on your stomach, his entire chest pressed against your back as he held you from behind. You were becoming a bit uncomfortable and it must have showed in your expression as Leona suddenly cut in, easily shoving the prince back and away from you as the Lion mimicked the same pose from earlier, only his hands remained on your hips and not your stomach. A soft growl escaped his lips as he glared at the prince who frowned angrily in response.

"Keep your hands in respectable places, little Prince."

The word Prince was spat out and almost hissed as if in mocking to the Merman who had been somewhat monopolizing the pictures in front of the cameras. Leona's words confused you though, and you glanced back at him curiously.

"Respectable places?"

"Don't worry about it, Mousey. I know Humans considered touching stomachs to be a provocative act. I won't let this rude little fish make you uncomfortable."

"... What? You guys do know I don't consider my stomach an erogenous zone... Right?"

It was Leona's turn to be surprised as he raised a brow at you, his scar pulling taut on his skin. He seemed confused as did the others and you sighed, realizing they must have made assumptions again about Humans as a whole.

"Sure, not every Human is okay with their stomachs being touched, and some- especially pregnant women- hate when someone touches their stomach uninvited. But that is an issue with consent, not overtly considered to be sexual behavior because it is their stomach."

Still, if all of them assumed stomachs were an overly sexualized location on Humans, then that meant Erikír was trying to sexualize you. If not sexualize you, then he was attempting to be overly sexual with you. That simply would not stand, even for poses.

"That, however, does not mean it is okay for anyone to touch me without permission. Ever."

"My apologies, I didn't intend-"

"Oh? You didn't intend? If everyone of you assumes my stomach is sexual in nature, then why the hell did you feel alright touching me there?"

"I- I just-"

"You 'just' what? Thought it was okay to cross any boundary you thought existed because you felt like it?"

"No! Not at all! Please, believe me, I was not trying to make you uncomfortable or do anything inappropriate."

"I don't think you need to be in any further pictures, Erikír."

"But I-! Very well. I apologize again for any discomfort I have caused you. I merely intended to befriend you."

"Well, you aren't doing a very good job at that."

You saw the Merman visibly jolt as if he had been struck by your words. A kind of look glinted in his eyes as he seemed to anger for a moment before suddenly calming himself down. He withdrew somewhat from the others and you gave one final glare before continuing to pose with Leona now, who kept his eyes glued to the offending Merman with clear distrust.

Erikír was fuming on the inside, glaring hatefully at the Lion that had outed his more than friendly behavior towards you. If the Lion had not said a word about it, you would have clearly been unaware of the implications of the Merman. He was trying so hard to charm and woo you, yet you came to the defense of the villains every time instead of seeing him as the hero he was supposed to be.

A poisonous feeling of resentment towards the villainous students boiled in the pit of his stomach. You had allowed Neige of all students to dance with you, why was Erikír the one being shunned? He was top of his class and was clearly a physically capable mate, so why choose that obnoxiously kind Harpy and nosey Lion over him?

He would just have to try harder to prove himself a worthy mate by any means necessary.

"Hey!"

A loud and familiar childish voice cut in to the photos you were taking with Leona, glancing over to see Ortho and Idia walking up to the group. Ortho was bouncing excitedly and held out the mechanical skull you recognized as the one Kalim had affected with his magic. It seemed Idia had managed to ensure it wouldn't explode and now sought to return the Skull to you.

"Nee-san! Idi-nii and I checked over and double checked to make sure it was safe!"

The little Shinigami was quick to bolt to your side and the ever nervous Idia followed suit at a much more timid pace than the younger. Idia was visibly distressed by the new faces and seemed to shrink in on himself as Ortho happily handed over the Skull. Though it had appeared inert in his hands, it sparked to life when you touched it and a soothing melody hummed out.

The return of familiar music was incredibly soothing to you and you smiled, humming along with the music as you gently ruffled the flame-hair of the littler Shinigami. Ortho was thrilled at the gentle touch and pressed his head into your hand, his blue flames feeling like gently warmed hair beneath your fingers instead of burning you. It was an unusual feeling, but one you appreciated regardless and it told you about the general nature of Idia and Ortho's hair.

"Thank you, Ortho, Idia. I appreciate the two of you quite a bit."

Idia smiled at this, his cheeks flaming a gentle blue as his hair began to take a somewhat magenta hue. He swayed back and forth as he bit his sleeve and looked away bashfully, clearly soaking up the praise you gave him.

"You don't have to be so sweet about it. It wasn't even that big a deal or that much work. I built them myself, so of course I could tell if anything was out of place. But if you want, you could thank me by gaming with Ortho and I a bit."

"Or," you playfully interjected, "you two can join me for some pictures for my new Magicam account."

Idia visibly balked at the idea and seemed so search for an immediate escape, unable to feel as Ortho grabbed his arm.

"Of course we'll take pictures with you, Nee-san! Papa Hades is gonna love them!"

"No! Wait, wait, wait! You can't spring a raid on me like this Ortho! I didn't even get a ready check-!"

"Let's go!"

You laughed at the brotherly behavior of the two Shinigami, continuing to hum with the music as it felt like you had been given a great gift. Perhaps you could even get Vil interested in a few of the songs you loved so much. Even Grim seemed to be enjoying the little photoshoot as he leaped out of Ruggie's arms and into your own, posing excitedly with Ortho.

Even among the renewed mirth and pulling several of the other monsters into the pictures with you, a certain darkness seemed to hover over one of the students. This monster had lived his entire life hoping he could come across some lonely and adoring Human that he could wed and keep as his own. He was not going to let these villains get in between him and his dream, even if he needed to make one of the others the monster in order to do that.

[bridgetotheskyyy]

Kisame; Size Kink

Kinktober Masterlist

a/n: Kisame my beloved!!!!!! 18+ only. Size kink, double penetration, vore-y implications (idk how it happened?? i'm sorry???)

You’d had better missions.

“Well,” Kisame said. “That was eventful.”

He threw away Samehada. Abandoned, it growled, having been denied the promise of a meal. 

“The next one will be better,” You said as much to negate your guilt as to quell his disappointment.

Kisame snorted. Despite the failure the day had been, his reprimands had lacked ire. “As long as I’m entertained, it could never be a complete bust.” He shot you a cheeky side-eye. “But we both know what the problem is.”

Your brows raised. “Enlighten me.”

Kisame’s grin grew more wicked. “I’d rather demonstrate, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Be my guest.”

“Come, then. I’d like a swim.” 

You followed Kisame out by the nearby lake. He dove in unceremoniously, Akatsuki cloak abandoned on the riverside. He swam with expected ease.

And when he emerged, you admired him: Each step sent water dripping from perfect pectorals, biceps flexing as Kisame raised a hand to drag water from his hair. A navy happy trail ran into his trousers. Sunlight dazzled Kisame’s chromatic skin as he approached, his shadow eclipsing yours.

“See?” he said.

You blinked. “What?”

His wicked grin returned, aided in some way by your absentmindedness. “You’re distracted by me.”

“What?” A blush tinted your cheeks. “No, I’m not.”

Kisame’s laugh was just as devious. “You’re a bad liar.” 

“And you flatter yourself too much.”

Kisame’s cackle sounded behind you as you made to leave the riverside.

“So what is it about me you like?”

“I’m not discussing this.”

“You know, you and Itachi are just alike,” he said. “Far too serious for your own good.”

You were silent, acutely aware of Kisame trailing behind you, your footsteps engulfed by his.

“It’s because I’m so much bigger than you, isn’t it?”

“Oh, fuck off!”

But even then you knew you’d never win against someone who enjoyed this sort of verbal foreplay, who got such a sick thrill out of infuriating you, flustering you.

Kisame grabbed your arm and you whipped back to meet his playfully narrowed eyes. “Then, tell me I’m wrong.”

You ignored the comment. Ignored how you had thought of just that many times over, the immense size difference between you and your partner. Kisame towered over you. And if he so desired, he could easily swallow you up in an embrace and devour you. Metaphorically. Literally.

You had problems.

While in your reverie, Kisame had closed the gap between the two of you. Still smiling, he brushed a finger against your cheek when you stubbornly turned your head away.

“Hm?” He was baiting you and you knew it.

You flexed your cheek away to avoid his petting and he snickered, showing sharp incisors. “Like I said: Fuck you.”

“I appreciate an eager woman.”

In a swoop, Kisame had you over his shoulder and was striding toward drier parts of the lakeside. 

“Kisame!” You kicked your legs. “Kis ― I’ll kill you ―”

“I’d love to see you try.”

“I’m serious ― I’ll have your head for this! Kisame!” 

He lowered you on your back. He was over you now, arms pinning you on either side of your head. 

“Enough,” You said.

Kisame feigned disappointment. “Aw, don’t tell me you really don’t want to have fun.” He smirked. “But there are so many fun things I’d like to show you.”

Your cheeks ran red, but you did not push him away.

“Tell me, do you like this.” Kisame leaned down and licked a strip of his tongue against your neck. At your whimper, he chuckled, the sound low in his throat. “The idea of someone so much bigger and stronger lording over you?”

“Bigger’s one thing,” you grumbled. “But stronger ―? Mfm …”

Kisame buried himself in your neck again, thoroughly kissing, licking and sucking ― the unholy trinity ― as one of his hands dallied south, its laid above your head. “I could crush you, you know.” His teeth grazed your skin, threatening to bite. “I could lay myself on top of you and choke you out― your throat wouldn’t even fit in my hand.”

You whimpered again, teeth worrying your bottom lip. You were truly sick, to be turned on by all of this. You knew he never would ― he valued your partnership ― but no lies had been told.

Kisame’s rumbling laugh shuddered your earlobe. “I know what else might not fit …”

He’s such a dick. You arched into him, resistance waning as Kisame’s hand cupped the plump, swelling lips of your cunt through your panties. He’d long since undone your bottoms and worked his way into them, and now two fingers slowly swept against the wet patch sitting between your lips. 

“Fuck …” Your heel bit into one of his legs at the feel of his fingers infiltrating your panties. “Fuck, do it, then. Get me ready for your cock, ngh!”

Kisame cackled. “I don’t think I have enough fingers for that.”

“Oh, shut up! You’re not as funny as you think you ar ― aahha!”

Kisame plunged two fingers inside you. The sudden intrusion stopped your words in their tracks; your eyes widened as his massive digits coaxed your wetness to spill forth. You moaned, bucking your hips forward. 

“Looks like you’re helping me out quite a bit,” he said. “So wet already and I haven’t even ― mm …”

Kisame hadn’t lied; his fingers filled you out so completely; yours never felt like this, never reached so deep. Kisame tapped and dribbled his fingers against the eager spongey surface of your g-spot.

“A ― ahah, oh …!” 

You could be spotted out in the open. Would anyone even see you under the mountain of the man that was Kisame? His giant form would shroud you completely.

“Atta girl,” he said amid your moaning. “Might as well get both holes ready,”

One of Kisame’s fingers had snuck to your ass, tapping the puckered hole. Your eyes were still wide, lips parted as he lifted away from you and sat on his knees.

You throbbed around the fingers still playing in your pussy, enthralled by his admission. 

Your mind whirled as Kisame’s full attention lay on your nether regions, prepping and probing you on both fronts. How big would he be? You could almost feel your walls shuddering in anticipation at how they would be stretched. 

And what did he mean by both holes? How long would he keep you on this riverside, fucking you from every end?

Kisame sent his fingers farther, gouging a surprised moan out of you, your mouth forming a perfect o.

“Kisame, I ― oh …!”

“If you’re making all this noise, you’re clearly not ready for what comes next.” Kisame’s other hand worked on shoving down both his trousers and yours. 

You attempted to rise. Poor mistake: Kisame gripped your throat, forcing you backward into the grass. Your eyes widened, and for a second fear and arousal flooded through you like water through dam at his possibly doing what he imagined seconds ago. But Kisame only shadowed you, bearing his weight, a new, perceptible hardness lodged between your bodies. 

“Look at this,” he ordered, and he lessened his grip on your throat to allow your head to bend forward and see his cock ― cocks.

Bo ― both of them bigger than even you had anticipated.

“Think you can take them both, sweetheart?”

You gaped, mouth watering as Kisame positioned his cocks beside both entrances.

He thrusted inside of you. With a gasp, you clutched at his sides with stiffening legs. His fingers were nothing in comparison to this. The double penetration blindsighted you totally, your mind went blank as he filled you to capacity.

“You ― fucking ― ah ― disappear underneath me,” Kisame said. “Anyone walking by would think I was just ― nrgh ― spearing my cocks into the grass.”

Holy shit. It was true. Kisame’s silhouette, elongated by the eager sun, dwarfed you. You hung on to him as he deepened his thrusts, ragdolling you in the grass, the frantic motions sure to leave burns under your ass and thighs.

Everything, everywhere, overwhelming. That was Kisame. He tauntingly licked the shell of your ear, groaned into your side in a way that signified his nearing end. 

“Such good little holes you’ve got, taking me in so good like this,” Kisame huffed. “Stronger than they look, too.” 

You were not far behind, frantically speared into two holes at once. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head, the friction as excruciating as it was marvelous.

“What do you say, little girl?” he said. ‘How ‘bout I drown you in my come?”

Whether you managed to say yes aloud or not you’d never know, for Kisame plunged his fingers, soaked with your juices, into your mouth, your natural salt invading your tastebuds as he fucked into you. 

The sensory overload was too much; you sucked his fingers into your mouth, sufficiently fucked in all of your holes. And you barely registered the roar he gave as you clenched and came around both of his cocks. Your legs spasmed at Kisame’s side, biting your nails into his forearms. He continued to animalistically rut into you, stimulating your clit with the aimless friction of his hips.

“Ki ―” His name died on your lips as his fingers pressed into your tongue. His mouth brushed against your cheek, shark teeth dangerously close to your flushed skin, as he painted your inner walls white. 

Kisame withdrew everywhere; you were haunted by the sudden emptiness. You attempted to stifle a whimper and failed miserably. Would you ever be so perfectly full again? 

When you came to entirely, still in the midst of catching your breath, Kisame was also still hovering above you with a smile gentler than all the others.

“That was fun,” he said casually.

The light of day was dimmed by his shadow. And, poised beneath him, you were sure you looked vulnerable enough to eat.

[winterspellsfrozenkit]

Theory as to Why Disney's Hades Wanted to Overthrow Zeus

So, I was thinking recently about why Hades tries to overthrow Zeus in Disney's Hercules. The reason that the Muses give us is because he "thought the dead were dull and uncouth", but that feels super flimsy to me as an excuse. Especially when we see Hades say this:

He points out the scheme's been around for 18 years, which means that Hades had set up the hostile takeover scheme right around Hercules's birth, but he hadn't checked with the Fates until the day Zeus had that party for Hercules on Olympus. How do we know he hadn't checked before? Clotho tells Lachesis they are not supposed to tell anyone the future. I doubt she'd argue if they'd already told Hades the future of his plans before.

Also, while Hades may not like his job, his job makes him the most powerful king because EVERYONE will eventually become his subject. Why would he even want to rule over the living if he thinks the dead are so dull and uncouth? It's not like being dead robs you of intelligence or good manners... So why then would he want to rule Olympus and overthrow Zeus?

Well, I noticed this in the song "One Last Hope".

The song has Fall and Winter. If you've studied Greek Mythology, you know that means Hades is married because Fall and Winter happen in Greek mythology when Persephone is in the Underworld. We actually do see Persephone and Demeter in several shots on Olympus in the movie.

On top of that, Hades says this when he's offering his deal to Hercules.

I think that Hades decided to overthrow Zeus because he was angry that Persephone had to spend Spring and Summer with her mother, rather than being his wife and Queen all the time AND on top of that, he had to take the rap for Demeter causing a mass famine over her daughter's marriage to him. Here's why I think this.

When Hades shows up, he tries to break the ice with a joke, but we see the party glaring at him. You know who we don't see? Demeter, who by all accounts, SHOULD be there and the ANGRIEST with him. After all, in Greek myth, he kidnapped his wife. But she's noticeably ABSENT.

The ones glaring at him are Ares, Athena, Poseidon, Dionysus/Bacchus, and Aphrodite. All people who were likely massively affected by the massive famine Demeter put in place. Wars and tactical strategies don't go well if the people are starving to the point of death, repopulation drops if there's not enough food, if there's no grapes growing, there's no wine or drunken madness, and besides the ocean, Poseidon is also over horses and many horses likely died due to lack of plant growth. But they don't seem to be mad at Demeter, given Poseidon is chatting with her earlier in the scene.

Instead, all the ire seems to be directed at Hades, who, as far as we know, hasn't DONE anything to warrant that reaction. All he did was tell a poor joke, but everyone is looking at him like he caused a major problem by being there. Hades brushes their reactions off and starts trying to play nice and then Zeus grabs him and says, "You finally made it!" And notice Hades's face here:

Hades looks so uncomfortable with Zeus trying to make small talk, but he's trying to hide his negative emotions. He's forcing a smile and when Zeus asks how things are in the Underworld, he responds with this:

Hades, then focuses on Hercules, and doesn't seem to have a problem with him until he crushes his finger, but the point where Hades drops the mask and shows his ire is when Zeus says "Join the celebration!"

He says, "Hey! Love to, babe, but unlike you gods lounging about up here, I, regrettably, have a full-time gig, that you, by the way, so charitably bestowed on me, Zeus. So, can't. Love to but can't." He then quickly leaves.

I hear this as Hades subtly reminding Zeus that he has a taxing job that he can't be away from too long, especially now that the one person who SHOULD, by all means, be there to help him with the load of running the Underworld, can't be there half the time to help him get the excess work under control. Persephone, unlike the rest of the wives in the Greek Pantheon, has EQUAL power to Hades, which means that if she'd been able to be with him all year, they'd likely get the work done faster and could do things other than work.

Zeus makes a joke about Hades working himself to death, a few of the Olympians laugh, but again, Demeter and Persephone are missing from the scene.

Hades, however, is very upset at the joke at his expense and he mutters, "If only... If only..." when Zeus says he kills himself. Back in the Underworld, Hades says this about Zeus.

Now, we just saw Zeus be super welcoming to Hades at the party for Hercules. Why on Earth would Hades call Zeus "Mr. High and Mighty, Mr. "Hey, you, get off of my cloud"? I think Zeus behaved this way when Hades argued against the summons for Persephone to return to Demeter. Persephone is the Queen of the Underworld, and in myth, the reason Hades kidnapped Persephone? Her father, ZEUS, told him to do so.

Zeus is the reason for Persephone's kidnapping and marriage. Hades was following the law of Ancient Greece at the time. Ancient Greece was cool about many things, but women's rights? Not one of them. Greek men, if they wanted to get married, arranged it with the father of the bride. The mother and the bride herself had little to no say. So, in actuality, the one at fault when Demeter caused a mass famine? Zeus. The famine was actually targeting Zeus, because if all humans died, he'd get no more sacrifices, and all the dead become Hades and Persephone's subjects.

So I think that Zeus realized how ENRAGED Demeter was and made Persephone return to her mother, but Hades tried to argue against it because Persephone was his partner is a very demanding job and he'd gotten Zeus's permission, but Zeus used his title as King to force Hades to comply. As in, "I already decided, so we're done talking about it. Now, leave and go home." That would explain also why Hades says this:

Another thing I see as a hint to Hades attempting to overthrow Zeus because he's mad about the Persephone situation? When he's in the mortal world, Hades only destroys a few things. One is the statue of lovers that he uses as a throne when he's questioning Meg about Hercules's weakness, another is the vases of Hercules because he's mad that he can't beat him, but the other two? Plant life.

In the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, the main source for the Hades and Persephone myth, it's Demeter who brings back spring and plant life because she's happy about Persephone's return to her, not Persephone herself making the plants grow. While this could just be Hades taking out his frustrations on his surroundings, I find it interesting that he DECIMATES a grove of trees because Hercules is alive and could muck up his plans and that he burns a flower when he figures Hercules's weakness, which are often a sign of Springtime. It's almost like he's taking out his anger at Demeter's famine costing him his wife by destroying the plant life that Demeter creates as some small way to vent his frustrations. And speaking of Hercules's weakness, once Meg points out that monsters haven't been working against Hercules, Hades says this:

Now, given by this point, we KNOW due to "One Last Hope" that Hades and Persephone are married. I think this played into him figuring out to use Meg against Hercules. On top of that, Hades says this when Hercules is worried about innocent people getting hurt because of the deal:

I think Hades might have the same mentality about overthrowing Olympus. Having his wife back is more important to him than the ire of the rest of Olympus. Having his wife back is more important than keeping the Titans locked away. Having his wife back is worth being hated by all of Greece. Given the short time frame of his plot and all these other little things in his behavior, I really do think the reason that Hades decided to overthrow Zeus was so he could reverse the order for Persephone to spend half the year with him and half the year with her mother. But that's just my little theory/headcanon.

TLDR: I think the reason Hades tried to overthrow Zeus in Disney's Hercules was because he was angry he could only be with Persephone half the year.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Series Synopsis: A series of (mostly) unrelated one shots, featuring Oliver Aiku somehow getting involved with the love lives of various Blue Lock characters — whether he wants to or not.

Chapter Synopsis: After being yelled at one too many times by their strict Ubers teammate, Oliver Aiku enlists Ikki Niko in helping him get Shoei Barou a girlfriend, hoping beyond hope that that’s enough to get the guy to chill out a bit.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Barou x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 10.8k

Content Warnings: crack fic, barou is also my awkward goat, love at first sight, oliver aiku is such a bitch but he’s funny so it’s kind of okay, reader is kind of an npc in this icl 😓, this is really dumb please don’t judge my writing off of it, everyone is 100% ooc don’t come at me i KNOWWW, split perspectives (it makes sense in the story), everyone gets slandered (mostly by aiku), god bless niko for being chronically online

A/N: there were a decent amt of people who wanted barou’s version plus i felt like writing it so he’s up next!! LMAO it kind of got a bit long just like the sae version and somehow it’s even sillier so…but yeah anyways this is the second entry in “oliver aiku’s guide to getting girls” i hope you all stick around for the rest 🤩‼️

Barou is yelling at them again. Aiku’s not sure what the big deal is this time — so what if Lorenzo spilled spaghetti sauce on the floor? He’s Italian, that’s part of his culture — but if he dares to speak up, Barou will single him out specifically, and then he’ll be treated like a little kid in timeout, which doesn’t sound like an ideal way to spend a Friday night.

It’s the four of them in the doghouse as usual — himself, Niko, Aryu, and Sendou, that is. The most ridiculous thing is that Lorenzo isn’t even there, though he’s the true target of Barou’s rage; unfortunately for his teammates, though, Lorenzo’s off getting his teeth polished or counting his money while cackling or whatever else it is that he does in his free time.

Honestly, none of them are really taking the theatrics seriously. Aryu’s fiddling with the ends of his hair, Niko’s standing there, staring at Barou with large, watery eyes, and Sendou’s glaring back at Barou with his arms folded over his chest. Aiku sighs, because that means an argument between the two is most likely impending, but unfortunately for him, he sighs a bit too loudly, and Barou whips around, jabbing a finger at him.

“What’s so exasperating, huh?” Barou says. “I bet you won’t be sighing when we have an insect infestation because none of you can be bothered to clean up that damn tomato shit that Lorenzo’s obsessed with!”

“It’s marinara,” Niko pipes up meekly. They all look at him with varying degrees of incredulity; he shrugs, adjusting the headphones around his neck self-consciously. “Lorenzo’s trying to teach me how to make it. Supposedly a typical spaghetti sauce has meat and vegetables added, but a good marinara is the base, so — um, anyways.”

Barou’s upper lip is curled into a sneer, and Aiku’s just about to thank Niko for taking the fall and turning Barou’s rage to him when he remembers that that’s markedly not how Barou operates. He’s too meticulous to forget the former recipient of his ire, not so quickly, and indeed, Barou is pointing at them both when he speaks next.

“That stain better be gone the next time I come in this room,” he says. He doesn’t say what will happen if it’s not, but given his authoritative voice and enormous physique, he usually doesn’t have to resort to making threats in order to be obeyed.

“Thank goodness,” Aryu says once Barou has left to complete his evening meditations. “Seems like Barou appreciated our elegant silence, Sendou. We’ve escaped reproach this time.”

“Yup,” Sendou says. Whistling nonchalantly, he sidles out of the room, and with a fluttering wave, Aryu follows suit. Aiku can’t even blame them, considering it’s what he would’ve done if he were in their place.

Glancing at Niko, who is now his greatest friend due to convenience alone, Aiku shakes his head, wondering what choice he made in life that led to his weekend plans amounting to cleaning sauce stains from a carpet with a little boy instead of partying or something.

“You got the bleach?” he asks. Niko nods miserably.

“Yeah, I got it. You’re good with scrubbing?” he says. Aiku’s shoulders cramp preemptively at the mere thought, but he doesn’t protest aloud.

“No other choice, right?” he says. “Off to work we go, then.” 

Your best friend has been begging you for days to try this new restaurant with her, and it’s only now that it’s Friday that you can’t come up with any more excuses to avoid it. The truth is that you don’t really have a reason to refuse her as many times as you have, but the thought of summoning up the wherewithal to get ready and go out for dinner instead of throwing on your pajamas and eating something on the couch with a movie in the background is excruciating. Besides, you know her tastes. She always takes you to insanely fancy locations where anything less than your best will be embarrassing, and the only saving grace is that your outings always end up being insanely cheap, as she refuses to spend more than the bare minimum no matter what.

“You’re serious?” she affirms, standing in front of your closet and sifting through your clothes. You’re sitting on your bed, legs crossed and your laptop on your lap as you try to finish up the essay you have due Monday before getting ready. “You’ll really go with me?”

“I just told you I would, didn’t I?” you say. “I wouldn’t let you go through my closet if I wasn’t being serious. Actually, I wouldn’t have let you into my house at all.”

“Your parents would’ve opened the door for me,” she says dismissively. “They love me.”

It’s true, they do love her as much if not more than they love you, so you have no rebuttal. She grins at you, tossing a shirt in your general direction. It hits the back of your laptop, landing in a heap on the floor, and you’re too busy to pick it up, so you just leave it there, too lost in thought to care. Just the conclusion, if I can finish that then I can do something fun without anything on my mind—

“Hurry up and get ready! We want to get a table, don’t we?” she says. It’s a pair of pants she flings your way this time, and her aim is far more superior, for they smack into your face, temporarily blinding you.

“If you don’t let me finish this essay, I won’t go with you,” you say, and she knows you mean it literally, so she immediately pretends to zip her lips, saluting at you.

“Finish away!” 

“Barou’s totally got a stick up his ass, don’t you think?” Aiku says after thirty minutes have passed and the stain is no smaller than before. 

“I don’t think I’d phrase it like that,” Niko says, pouring another cup of bleach on the carpet. Neither of them really know much about cleaning, so this is the best they’ve got, even though Aiku’s pretty sure Barou would pass out if he saw their method. “But yeah, he can be kind of uptight at times.”

“He’s pretty nice otherwise, though,” Aiku says thoughtfully. “It’s kind of a shame. I bet if he loosened up a bit, he’d be a downright enjoyable teammate. Besides the cleaning and all, he’s a cool guy.”

“I do like training with him,” Niko says. “When he’s not yelling at us, it’s fun. Following his regimen has made me a lot stronger.”

“Agreed,” Aiku says. That’s the one thing he’ll give Barou — the guy is a master with the training equipment. He’s introduced Aiku to machines he didn’t even know existed. “You know what he needs?”

“What?” Niko says. He’s scrubbing at the floor while Aiku’s sipping on a soda; theoretically, they’re supposed to be switching off, but Niko hasn’t complained yet, so Aiku’s not about to remind him that it’s well beyond time for his turn.

“Some pu—” Aiku cuts himself off when he remembers that he is talking to a child. Niko’s like twelve or something, so maybe phrasing it in that way isn’t the most appropriate thing to do. “—I mean, a beautiful and loving girlfriend.”

Niko tilts his chin up at him, which means he’s probably looking at him; it’s hard to tell with his overgrown bangs falling in his face. Aiku makes a mental note to suggest cutting Niko’s hair during the next team bonding night that Snuffy forces them into.

“I guess having someone like that would make anyone happier, even Barou,” he says.

“That’s what I’m getting at! I bet he’s just constantly stressed out, so he takes it out on us instead of finding a healthy outlet. Maybe dating someone will fix that and give him something to do besides soccer,” Aiku says.

“Is that your secret to always being so calm?” Niko says. Aiku nods.

“The more girls you have, the less you can worry about things like training. You’re too focused on making sure they’re all happy,” Aiku says.

“Woah,” Niko says. “That’s a really great way of looking at things.”

“Right?” Aiku says. “With Barou, though, we might be lucky if we can find even one girl willing to put up with him. He’s a bit of a work in progress, you know?”

“Totally,” Niko says. “What if he yells at her the way he yells at us?”

Aiku has a vision of some poor, innocent girl on the verge of tears as Barou rants about how she didn’t fold her laundry the right way or something. For some reason, she looks kind of like Niko — oh, that’s probably because Barou just yelled at Niko for that exact reason — but the image is enough for him to balk.

“She can come to us for comfort,” Aiku says decisively before once again remembering that Niko probably only popped out of the womb a scant few months prior. He needs to be more careful — this isn’t Sendou, who would’ve made at least ten innuendos even worse than his own by this point. “I mean, me.”

“That’s a good plan,” Niko says. “You’re really good with the whole advising and comforting thing. I bet you’d make her feel better for sure.”

Yeah, I’d make her feel better alright. This time Aiku manages to keep it to himself, only coughing slightly and nodding towards the bottle of bleach as an explanation.

“The only question is where in Blue Lock are we going to find a girl, let alone one willing to date Barou?” Aiku says.

“Well, Bastard München is playing PXG this weekend, and Manshine City is playing Barcha, so we’re technically off,” Niko says. “I think if we ask Snuffy, we can probably have a day out.”

“What if Ego gets mad?” Aiku says, although the idea is sound enough that he’s just jealous he didn’t come up with it himself. Niko hums, giving careful consideration to the notion.

“We can just blame it on Snuffy. What’s Ego going to do, fire him?” he says. 

A grin breaks out on Aiku’s face.

“Niko, kiddo—”

“I’m fifteen.”

“—you’re totally a genius. Let’s go!”

“What about the stain?” Niko says. Aiku glances at the still marinara-colored splotch on the carpet, and then he waves it off dismissively.

“If we can find Snuffy before Barou gets back, then it’s no longer our problem,” he says.

Niko looks unconvinced, but he’s sensible as well as genius-material, so he only follows after Aiku — albeit not without a final worried glance at the section of carpet which still smells suspiciously of tomatoes. 

“So what cuisine does this place have, anyways?” you say. You’ve finally finished and submitted your essay, and now you’re taking a shower. Your best friend has closed the lid of the toilet and is sitting on it while playing on her phone, apparently because she wants to be able to talk to you even while you’re showering, and since you have a curtain you don’t mind.

“No idea,” she says.

“No idea?” you say, squeezing shampoo into your palm. “Why do you want to go, then?”

“My dad’s Facebook friends have been raving about it,” she says. “His ex-boss said that it’s the best value-for-money in the entire city!”

“We’re going to dinner based on recommendations from your dad’s Facebook friends,” you repeat dryly. “Wow.”

“Look, he may have chronically underpaid my dad, but the ex-boss has great taste in food!” your best friend defends. “Apparently they fill up super fast, though, so we have to get there right when they open for dinner, or else we’re out of luck.”

“Is this you subtly trying to pressure me to shower faster?” you say.

“It’s not subtle,” she says. You scoff.

“I hope you know I’ll take even longer now,” you say.

“You better not!” 

Snuffy is obviously confused when the two of them approach him — Aiku’s not sure if it’s the question that has their coach confounded, though, or if it’s the admittedly odd combination that’s approached him.

“You guys want a night out of the facility?” Snuffy checks.

“Yes,” Aiku says.

“And…you want Barou to come?” Snuffy says. That could be another reason for the incredulity — ‘Barou’ and ‘fun’ are two words rarely if ever seen in the same sentence, unless your name is Yoichi Isagi, in which case just being on the same field as Barou is your idea of ‘fun.’ For normal people — i.e. those with names such as Oliver Aiku and Ikki Niko — those concepts don’t generally align, however, so Aiku can’t blame Snuffy for the weird face he’s making.

“Yes,” Niko says.

Snuffy stares at them for a moment longer, and then, to make things even stranger, he chuckles in a way that’s almost fond.

“It’ll be good for him to get out of here for a bit,” he says. “You two are great teammates for thinking of him; I’m sure he’ll appreciate it one day, if not necessarily tonight. Go on, then, and have fun if you’d like.”

Aiku waits for the other shoe to drop, but Snuffy just returns to making a cup of coffee. It’s a little odd, given the later hour, but still, Aiku’s not one to count his blessings, so he motions for Niko to follow him, and with Snuffy’s official permission, the two of them march towards where Barou is probably doing his daily “fuck Yoichi Isagi” affirmations. They have that kind of weird relationship, after all. It’s unnecessarily complicated, but Aiku has observed during his time in Blue Lock that almost every single relationship between the members of the program follows such a mold. He’s given up on trying to figure any of it out, knowing it’s well beyond him.

“Are you ready?” Aiku says when they reached the closed door to the training room. Niko rolls his shoulders.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Niko says. Aiku decides he likes him, and that he should try to spend more time with the pipsqueak. Maybe he can be a mentor figure or a true role model for the younger player. He’d definitely do better at the job than, say, Aryu. Or Lorenzo, which is a more relevant concern, since apparently the two are cooking buddies, as per Niko’s marinara interlude during Barou’s earlier tantrum.

With a grim nod at Niko, Aiku swings open the door. Schooling his expression into a cheery grin, he calls out in a sing-song that really doesn’t spell anything but trouble:

“Oh, Barou!” 

You’ve made your best friend drive, since she’s the one who’s insisted on taking you out, which leaves you to play music and accomplish other such passenger-esque duties. You take full advantage of your freedom to be distracted, shuffling through playlists whenever you’re bored and scrolling through your best friend’s crush-of-the-week’s social media.

“He’s kind of ugly,” you say. She clicks her tongue.

“In a cute way, though, right?” she says. When you’re silent, she gasps. “Right?”

“Uh…” you trail off, zooming in on one of the photos. Something about him is reminiscent of a gerbil, and you can tell he’s short even before you swipe and see him in a photo with one of his friends, barely coming up to his shoulder. “There’s someone out there for everyone, I suppose.”

“That means you think he’s repulsive!” she accuses you.

“Repulsive’s a strong word,” you say. 

“Hideous?” she says.

“I can get behind that,” you say. “He reminds me of Tinkerbell.”

“Like the fairy, or our third grade teacher’s gerbil?” she says.

“The latter,” you say. “I’m glad you remembered her. That wouldn’t have been as funny if you didn’t.”

“I didn’t find it funny regardless,” she says, pulling into the parking lot and slowing the car to a crawl as she hunts for a space to pull in.

“Hm,” you say. “I did.”

“You know what? You’re not allowed to slander him until you find someone better for yourself. Girls in glass houses should not be throwing stones, and considering some of your exes, you’re in no position to talk,” she says.

“Low blow,” you say.

“No response? That’s what I thought,” she says. You scowl.

“Just park the car, you dumbass. 

“What the hell is going on?” Barou says, for probably the third or fourth time. Unfortunately, their attempt at kidnapping him didn’t go as planned, for neither Aiku nor Niko could lift Barou for any length of time, so now they were stuck with a supremely irritated striker following after them as they marched towards where the Blue Lock official parking was. 

Snuffy had given them the keys to his car, so at least they had a ride — if he weren’t such a good coach, Aiku would seriously question the man’s judgment. Niko ushers Barou into the backseat, claiming he already “called shotgun,” and then he dives into the passenger seat beside Aiku, fastening his seatbelt with a serious expression on his delicate face.

“We wanted to have a fun night out!” Aiku says, turning the child lock on so Barou can’t escape before reversing out of the garage.

“Huh?” Barou says. “There’s so many things wrong with that statement, I don’t even know where to begin. Also, why are we in Snuffy’s car?”

“He gave us the keys,” Niko says, like it’s obvious. In all fairness, it kind of is.

“He gave you two the keys,” Barou says. Aiku’s a responsible driver, so he doesn’t glance back at Barou, but he’s pretty sure that if he did, he’d be met with the kind of fearsome glare that made medieval-era peasants believe in the existence of creatures like trolls and dragons.

“Yes, he did,” Aiku says. “Told us to enjoy ourselves while we were at it.”

Barou sighs. “Say I believe that—”

“We’re telling the truth!” Aiku says.

“—uh-huh, sure. Anyways, where are we even going?” he says.

“Oh, I can answer that!” Niko says. “It’s this restaurant that my dad’s obsessed with. He’s been posting all over his Facebook about it. According to him, it’s the best value-for-money in the entire city.”

“At least you two are being frugal,” Barou says with a small ‘hmph.’ “How far is it?”

“Not too far,” Niko says. 

“Just sit back and relax, man! It’s a couple of friends going out for a meal. Totally normal!” Aiku says.

“Friends don’t kidnap one another to hang out,” Barou says.

“We didn’t kidnap you. Are you saying we’re friends, then?” Aiku says.

“I’m saying we’re not. You turned the child lock on, so that basically constitutes an abduction,” Barou says.

“I did that for Niko!” Aiku says, mentally patting himself on the back for the quick thinking.

“What? I’m fifteen, not five!” 

By the time your best friend finds somewhere to park, it’s already dark, and the spot is at the very edge of the lot, so then the two of you have to walk for another five minutes. She’s antsy by this point, but she does an admirable job of hiding it, only picking at her nails behind her back where she thinks you won’t see. 

“It’ll be alright,” you say as you reach the door to the restaurant. “I’m sure they’ll have space for two people, at least. Nowhere can be that busy, right?”

“I hope so,” she says, chewing on her lower lip.

You’re proven wrong almost as soon as you both walk into the establishment. Every single table has people sitting at it, and there’s a small crowd of people in the waiting area. Still, you and your best friend push past to where the hostess is standing. 

“Excuse me,” you say. “How long is the wait?”

“At least an hour,” the hostess says, her face wan.

“An hour?” your best friend says. “There’s nothing you can do?”

Of course, both of you know there isn’t, but it’s still disappointing when the hostess shakes her head regretfully.

“Would you like me to put your names down?” she says.

“Give us a minute,” you say. She nods, and you and your best friend walk a ways away. As soon as you’re out of the hostess’s earshot, you frown. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would genuinely be this busy.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t expecting it either,” she says, exhaling heavily. “I would’ve been way more serious about being on time if I had.”

“What should we do now? I don’t mind waiting,” you say.

“It’s okay. I’m a little hungry, so we can go somewhere else and come back here another day,” she says.

“Are you sure?” you say.

“Yeah, I am. Let’s go,” she says. 

You’re heading towards the door when a robust voice stops you. At first, neither of you are sure if the speaker is referring to you, but when it becomes obvious he is, you turn around in confusion.

“Where are you guys going?” he says. It’s a man with dark hair and eyes like mismatched marbles, and he’s sitting at a table with two others. There’s a couple of empty seats, and he motions towards them. “We’ve been waiting for you two for forever!”

“Oh, you’re in their party?” the hostess says. You glance at your best friend, who mouths why not? at you, and then you smile at the hostess.

“Yes, we are,” you say.

“You should’ve said so from the start,” she says, shaking her head. “Right this way, please.”

You and your best friend follow after her, both of you more than a little lost at the turn of events, but who are you to turn down the offer? Sure, you don’t know any of the three, but at least this way you two didn’t drive out for no reason, and the restaurant’s crowded enough that if they have nefarious intentions, you should be able to get help relatively quickly.

As you sit down and the hostess offers you menus, you can’t help but glance at the three boys, wondering what exactly it is they want from you. Is this some elaborate scam? An effort to get you to pay for their dinner? You can’t tell. They’re unreadable, and all you can do is hope that the meal still goes as well as you had originally planned — otherwise, you’ll be really mad that you’re not at home instead. 

When Niko had first suggested calling ahead to make reservations, Aiku had privately considered him to be a nerd, and one of the idiotic variety, no less. A lethal combo. But outwardly he had nodded along and told him to go right ahead, mostly because it seemed like the kind of thing Barou would appreciate. Now, though, he’s glad that Niko had that kind of foresight, because the place is completely packed.

“Where’s the rest of your party?” the hostess says when they walk in and give her Barou’s name. Aiku doesn’t really know why Niko made reservations under Barou’s name, nor what the hostess means by the ‘rest of their party’, but she’s pretty, so he gives her a charming smile. She’s working now, so he can’t exactly push Barou towards her, but if he’s talking about himself…

She blushes and ducks her head, although the moment is ruined by Niko speaking up. 

“What do you mean, the rest of our party?” he says.

“You made a reservation for five, didn’t you?” she says, leading them to the table. Aiku exchanges looks with Barou, mostly because the two of them tower over the others, so it’s convenient, but Barou seems as confused as Aiku is. Both of them clearly heard Niko making the reservation for only three people, so how in the world had the hostess written down five?

“Uh,” Niko says, and then for some reason he’s turning towards Aiku for help? Aiku’s kind of distracted, though, both with celebrating the moment he just had with Barou and with discerning the color of lipstick the hostess is wearing (red or pink?), so when she directs her question to him, he admittedly panics a bit.

“Will the rest of them be arriving later?” she says.

“Yes,” Aiku says. Coral! That’s the shade he was looking for.

“No worries,” the hostess says. “Although you might want to tell them to hurry up, just in case.”

“Wait, what—?” Aiku begins, but she’s already dropping menus in front of them and racing off to take care of the next group of customers.

“You fucking donkey,” Barou said. “Who else is coming to this?”

“Nobody that I know of,” Niko says. “I only made a reservation for three. She must’ve gotten confused and written down five or something like that, but why’d you go along with it, Aiku?”

“Um,” Aiku says.

“What unparalleled eloquence,” Barou says. 

Aiku’s mind is racing. Firstly, he’s accidentally confused this poor hostess into expecting two more people, and secondly, how are he and Niko supposed to set Barou up with a girl in this kind of situation? The food may be great, but the ambiance isn’t exactly what they’re looking for.

Somehow, these two lines of thought get muddled into one solution, the catalyst of which is when he sees two girls heading towards the door, obviously disheartened by the long wait time for those idiots who didn’t make reservations.

Wait. If those two are girls, and two plus three is five, then Barou might just end this night no longer single!

Another quick recovery by Oliver Aiku. He’s getting better and better by the minute. 

“Hi,” the man who called you over says. “I’m Oliver Aiku.”

“Hi,” you say. The five-person table is a circle, and Aiku’s across from you; since it’s your fault that you’re sitting with these random guys instead of by yourselves, you squeeze between your best friend and the more intimidating-looking one, leaving her to be on the right side of the youngest boy in the group. “Y/N L/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says.

“Likewise,” you say.

“I’m Niko,” the younger boy says. He has dark hair falling into a heart-shaped face, and you can’t fully see his eyes, but you think they might be some shade of bluish green. Idly, you wonder how his vision isn’t horrible given how overgrown his bangs are, but he doesn’t seem to be having any problems, so you suppose he must have some kind of method around it. “And that’s Barou.”

“I can introduce myself,” the one at your side snaps. He’s by far the most handsome of the trio, although you’re sure your best friend would disagree — she has bad taste, though, so that’s irrelevant — with a regal face and sharp eyes. His dark hair is spiky and his eyes are a vivid crimson, narrowed with irritation while his mouth tugs into a perfect frown. “My name is Barou.”

“It’s a pleasure, Barou,” you say.

“Yeah,” he says. “Same here.”

More than being a pleasure, it’s a little tense, so you return to reading your menu, not knowing what else to say, hoping someone else says something soon and rescues you from the ensuing silence. 

This is bad. Almost as bad as Japan’s performance in the last U-20 World Cup, which occurred right before Aiku moved up and joined the team. Almost as bad as that stain Lorenzo’s marinara left on the carpet. It’s that level of catastrophic, because clearly, Barou will take a lot more encouragement than originally anticipated. Kicking Niko under the table, Aiku nods meaningfully at Barou, who is also reading his menu, sitting next to the girl who’s doing the same.

It’s the perfect opportunity for small talk. Occasionally, the girl will peek at him over the top of his menu, so she’s clearly not affronted by him — either that, or she’s deathly afraid that Barou will kill her and is making sure he doesn’t do that when she’s distracted. If the latter is the case, well, it’s not entirely unfounded.

Solving the conundrum which has presented itself is even more difficult than their game against PXG was. How is Aiku supposed to flirt with someone for Barou? She’ll just end up liking him, which is rather counterintuitive, given that the end goal is to get Barou a girlfriend. 

If only Barou weren’t so stubborn! Aiku’s put him in the perfect spot, but instead of just reaching out his hand and snatching the opportunity up with both metaphorical hands, he’s sitting there, utterly absorbed by the intricacies of the restaurant’s entrees, which Aiku surmises are no doubt fascinating to people with such sensibilities.

It’s the girl, Y/N, who breaks the silence again. Clearing her throat and setting the menu aside, her eyes dart around the table before settling on Aiku. A natural consequence, given his dashing looks and genial personality, but not the one they’re hoping for at the moment, not in the slightest.

“We don’t know you, right?” she says.

“I don’t think so,” Aiku says. Has he gone out with her before? He’s pretty sure he’d have remembered if he had, but you can never be careful these days.

“Then why’d you invite us to sit with you?” she says.

Aiku’s in desperate need of an assist, and there’s only one person who’ll reliably send him one. Besides, the kid owes him a favor, so he doesn’t even feel guilty when he makes a face at Niko, as if indicating that he should be the one to answer the query.

“It was Barou’s idea!” Niko says.

“Excuse me?” Barou says.

“What?” Aiku says. 

“Yeah, it was. He felt bad that you guys were going to leave without eating, and we accidentally booked a table for five instead of three, like we originally planned, so he told Aiku to stop you guys before you were gone,” Niko explains.

“Oh, that was very sweet of you!” Y/N says. “Thank you so much. We both really appreciate it.”

Under the table, Aiku gives Niko a thumbs-up. Niko returns the gesture in kind, though neither of them let their true emotions show on their faces, which must be carefully schooled into blankness so that nobody else catches on to their scheming. 

“You’re welcome,” Barou says before freezing as he realizes that he’s somehow fallen for Niko’s lie, despite being there to witness the truth of the events. “Wait, no, it wasn’t—”

“Barou’s super considerate,” Niko continues, cutting Barou’s correction off. Aiku could just about cry. Niko’s a natural-born talent! He could never have predicted the younger boy’s sheer skill at this kind of thing. “Do you watch soccer?”

“Not really,” Y/N says thoughtfully. “I’ve never understood it well enough to become an avid fan, and my father prefers baseball, so it’s not something my family is into. I think it’s really cool, though!”

“Barou plays,” Niko says.

“So do you guys,” Barou says.

“Yeah, but you’re sitting next to her,” Niko says. “And you’re the king, right? Who better than you to explain the sport?”

“She didn’t ask for that,” Barou says, glowering at Niko and Aiku alike. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t mind,” Y/N says, even going so far as to smile at Barou. With a final suspicious glare at the two of them, Barou begins to explain the rules of the game to her, and Aiku takes advantage of his distraction to high-five Niko.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers. “Where’d you learn this shit?”

“I watch a lot of anime,” Niko whispers back. “This is a classic set up for a twelve-episode romance that teaches the viewers about friendship, love, and what it means to grow up.”

“That’s not what I was expecting,” Aiku says after digesting this latest revelation, finding that it makes a surprising amount of sense. “But hey, whatever works!”

“Exactly,” Niko says. “Do you think it’s weird if I order chicken fingers from the children’s menu?”

“Order whatever you want, kid,” Aiku says. “You deserve it. I’ll even pay.”

“Yay!” Niko says. “Chicken fingers it is.”

Aiku doesn’t even mind treating him. If this is successful, then he’ll buy Niko all of the chicken fingers in the world in thanks. 

You’re more than a little grateful that Niko has given you something to talk to Barou about. Your best friend is busy texting her crush, the gerbil-looking one, who has apparently responded to her story, so you would’ve had to sit there in silence until she finished up or someone took pity on your helpless self. In this way, though, it’s much more natural, and even if it really was just an example of Niko feeling bad for you, it didn’t come across as such.

“You really scored a goal against the Japanese U-20 team?” you say after Barou has finished a long-winded explanation on the rules of soccer and some of the highlights of his career in the sport. In truth, you mostly tuned out the more technical details, but you have to admit that some of the things he’s mentioned about himself are rather interesting.

“Yes,” he says. 

“Wow,” you say. “You must be good, then.”

He shrugs in acknowledgement. “I’m good.”

It doesn’t feel like he’s bragging or anything like that. He’s just acknowledging an inevitable truth. He’s good. The way he says it, no one can deny it — not that you would’ve. Based on his build alone, you’d have expected him to have talent as an athlete; the things he’s mentioned have only been confirmation of that initial prediction, rather than blowing your mind in any significant way.

“Hi!” Your waitress’s arrival with a tray full of drinks cuts your conversation with Barou short, which you’re surprised to find you’re a little put-out by, at least until the grumble of your stomach reminds you of why you came to the restaurant in the first place. “Are you all ready to order?”

“I want the chicken fingers,” Niko says.

“The chicken fingers from the twelve and under menu? How old are you?” she says.

“Twelve,” Niko says. You frown, leaning closer to Barou in order to murmur in his ear.

“Is he actually?” 

Barou shakes his head ever so slightly. “No, but if that’s the only way he can get chicken fingers…”

“That’s a fair point,” you say. The waitress seems to share your doubts, but then Aiku flashes her a warm grin.

“My little brother’s heard so much about your entrees, and he can’t wait to try the, er, chicken fingers. Yes. The chicken fingers. He’s been talking about them all week,” he explains.

“Are they—?” you begin.

“They met like a month ago,” Barou says, rolling his eyes. “No relation whatsoever.”

“I see,” you say. You almost have to admire the lengths they’re willing to go to, as well as how natural they are with it. “Huh. I guess if it works, it works.”

“One order of chicken fingers, then!” the waitress says, jotting it down on her notepad, returning Aiku’s grin with her own. He has that kind of enviable charisma that lets him get away with a lot more than he should, and you’re more than a little jealous. “And the rest of you?”

You all give her your orders, and she promises she’ll be back quickly before running back to the kitchen. Once again, you’re left to your own devices, and given that your best friend is still texting that guy, you decide you’ll try and talk to the others at your table.

“Barou told me you guys are all in some program called Blue Lock together,” you say. “What’s that like? It sounded super intense.”

“It is,” Aiku scoffs. “I don’t even know if we’re supposed to be here at the moment.”

“We got permission from our coach,” Niko says. “But the guy who runs the program is kind of…what’s the word?”

“Freaky?” Aiku says.

“That works,” Niko says.

“I didn’t realize we were dining with rebels,” you say. 

“For the record, I was dragged into coming by those two,” Barou says.

“We didn’t actually drag him,” Aiku reassures you. “I mean, we tried, but he’s super heavy.”

“Too much training,” Niko says. “Barou, you should flex for Y/N — I mean, for everyone.”

“Hell no,” Barou says. “In public? Don’t be shameless.”

“So you’ll do it in private, then?” Aiku says. 

“That’s — that’s not what I meant!” Barou sputters. “I won’t do it at all!”

“Y/N, if you get a subscription to Blue Lock TV, then forget about asking Barou to flex. You can just watch him work out. He does it shirtless,” Aiku says. You choke on your water.

“What are you, some kind of salesman?” you say, coughing to dislodge the droplets of liquid scratching at your throat. “Was inviting us to sit with you a kindness or an advertisement?”

“Can’t it be both?” Aiku says.

“No, it cannot, you fucking donkey!” Barou says. “Please ignore him. I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“You do train without a shirt on, though,” Niko says. “Quite often. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, there’s a lot of shirtless content on Blue Lock TV…Chris Prince stripped at one point, I’m pretty sure, and more than one of the Bastard München boys have had locker room features. I guess PXG is the only team without any fan service, since Barcha has Lavinho as a coach, and we all know how he is.”

“Good for them. You gotta give credit where it’s due,” Aiku says. 

“Agreed,” Niko says. “Hey, Barou, didn’t you take your shirt off after scoring in the game against the U-20s, too? Is it like an established habit or something?”

“Enough about my shirt,” Barou says through gritted teeth.

“Or lack thereof,” Aiku adds. There’s a baleful aura emanating off of Barou, and he doesn’t even need to say anything before Aiku winces like he’s been cowed. “Sorry. The opportunity presented itself.”

“Both of you are on thin ice. First you abducted me, and now you’re going on about this dumbass subject? And that’s not to mention the sauce stain from earlier. I bet neither of you cleaned it up,” Barou says. 

Aiku and Niko both look like they have been caught committing some crime. Barou’s about to snap, it’s very obvious, but you find his friends’ antics to be so amusing that you hesitantly pat him on the shoulder.

“Ah, I think they’re just teasing you. It’s common amongst people who are close to one another! I always make fun of my best friend for her taste in men,” you say.

“And I make fun of yours right back,” your best friend says, not even looking up from her phone. You roll your eyes at this.

“See? It’s really alright,” you say. “At the least, if you’re upset because we’re here, then don’t be. Neither of us mind. I mean, she’s not even paying attention to us. Too busy texting that Meriones unguiculatus of a man she deems crush-worthy.”

“Fuck you,” your best friend says. She ordinarily would have no idea what Meriones unguiculatus means, but given the context, you’re sure she’s figured it out.

“Don’t be mad because I’m right,” you say. “Anyways, like I was saying, it’s all good.”

There’s a strained moment where none of you know what Barou will do, but then he nods, crossing his arms and sticking his nose in the air.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll let it slide, just this once. But the two of you better behave from now on, you got it?”

Aiku and Niko both seem to be so amazed that it’s a wonder they don’t salute at Barou’s barked-out order. Shaking your head and laughing, you decide it might be for the best if you try to talk to Barou yourself and leave his slightly problematic companions out of the conversation.

“So,” you say, to him and only him. “What’s the story behind the sauce stain?” 

“Holy shit,” Aiku says.

“I know,” Niko says.

“She’s a genius. A god. A fucking Barou whisperer,” he says.

“I know,” Niko says.

“What are the odds that we managed to find the exact girl that could put up with his bullshit?” Aiku says.

“Pretty high!” a new voice chimes in. It’s Y/N’s friend; she never introduced herself, and it doesn’t seem like she’s inclined to, but she inconspicuously slides her chair closer to where he and Niko are talking. “You guys are trying to set your friend up with Y/N, huh? Good luck. She only likes ugly dudes.”

“Barou’s…kind of ugly?” Niko tries. Aiku snorts.

“Let’s keep it honest here,” he says. “Anyways, what were you talking about earlier? Barou’s a nutcase. It’s, like, a miracle that Y/N’s managing to have a conversation with him.”

“Maybe he’s like that with you, but to me, he seems to be the type that’s totally respectful to women,” Y/N’s friend says, brandishing her index finger in the air as if she’s making a particularly salient point. “The bigger the muscles, the bigger the heart, isn’t that ”

“Is that a real saying?” Niko says.

“No, I just made it up,” Y/N’s friend says. “But it kind of fits in this instance, don’t you think?”

“You’re not wrong,” Aiku says. “But do you mean to say Barou would be this nice to any girl?”

“It’s not like I know him personally. Shouldn’t you be able to answer that better than me?” Y/N’s friend says.

“There aren’t any girls in Blue Lock,” Niko says. “This is the first time we’ve seen him interact with one, so we actually have no idea.”

“Ah,” she says. “That explains a lot. Anyways, yeah, if I had to guess, he would be.”

“Hm,” Aiku says. This throws a definite wrench in their plans — up until this point, he had been convinced that there were sparks flying between Y/N and Barou, mostly because he had never seen Barou so gentle and quick to calm down in his life. Yet, if Y/N’s friend is telling the truth, and he has no reason to think she isn’t, then this is actually just his true personality.

On the one hand, it’s comforting to know that Barou isn’t constantly on the verge of an aneurysm, and indeed can even be persuaded towards kindness in his day-to-day life. On the other, it doesn’t solve their problem, which is getting him to calm down when he’s interacting with his fellow Ubers teammates.

Aiku comes to a decision relatively quickly. It’s his experience as a captain which lends him that swiftness; on the field, split-second decisions are the only way to go. He’s good at taking information and rapidly synthesizing it to come up with workable solutions, and though this isn’t a soccer match, the stakes are almost just as high.

The facts of the situation are as follows: Y/N does not seem to mind talking to Barou, and given that they’ve been engaged in conversation almost this entire time, the inverse is also likely true. Furthermore, she’s proven able to persuade him not to freak out at himself and Niko when they were pushing his buttons, which is something no one has ever managed before and is somewhat the end goal of the outing. Of course, she apparently only likes ugly guys, and Barou’s far from ugly — as a fellow member of the non-ugly community, Aiku is confident in saying this — but things like that are subjective, so he decides he shouldn’t worry too much about that aspect.

Then there are the theories, namely Y/N’s best friend’s one about how any girl might have a similar effect on Barou. This could be true, or it could also not be, but Aiku only has one data point and a limited amount of time to work with, so despite the likely veracity, he has to set it aside as false for the time being. It’s not like there’s an endless supply of girls just hanging around for him to test out Barou’s reactions with, so in this moment, he’s deeming Y/N L/N as a special case, an outlier, and this can only lead to one conclusion:

Barou is totally into her. 

“Two younger sisters, really?” you say. While your best friend has been talking to Aiku and Niko in hushed tones, you’ve been preoccupied with Barou, who’s proven himself to be nothing like his first impression. You had expected him to be fussy and rude and intimidating, and while the latter adjective certainly still applies, he’s kind instead of spiteful and almost shy instead of brash.

“Yeah,” he says, and there’s a smile in his voice, although his face does not shift in the slightest. “They’re much smaller, so I look after them a lot — when I’m home, anyways. Obviously, I haven’t seen them since I’ve been at Blue Lock.”

“How sweet of you,” you say. “I bet your mother appreciates you a lot.”

“I try to help her whenever I can,” he says.

You’re about to internally swoon, but then you stop yourself. So what if he’s athletic, helps his mother, is tall, handsome, kind, muscular, and supposedly good with kids? That doesn’t mean anything. He probably has a girlfriend, anyways, given all of these positive attributes—

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you say, standing up. Your best friend looks over at you in concern, for she knows of your distaste for public restrooms, and then she, too, stands.

“Want me to come?” she says.

“Yes,” you say, striding off without further explanation. As soon as the two of you are far enough from the table, you give her a distressed look. “I need help.”

“What’s up?” she says.

“I think—”

“Are you into Barou?” she asks, cutting you off. You blink at her.

“How did you know?” you say.

“You’ve spent almost the entire time talking only to him. It’s a little obvious,” she says.

“Oh, no,” you say. “He’s definitely caught on, then!”

“It’s not a big deal. According to Aiku and Niko, he’s single, so that’s one thing you don’t have to worry about, and besides, if that’s the case, then he’s fair game, isn’t he? There’s nothing wrong with being interested in someone,” she says. 

“He’s single? How?” you say. “You’re telling me no one’s been interested in him yet? That’s impossible.”

“There is the whole ‘locked away in a facility with zero girls’ aspect to be considered…” she says.

“Well, that’s true,” you say, feeling dumb for having forgotten that. “Do you think he’s interested in me?”

“He’s been talking to you back, right? That’s a good sign, especially since he’s been ignoring his friends to do so,” she says. “There’s a decent chance. If anything, does he seem like the kind of guy that would be mean about rejecting you? You should just ask him for his number when we get back.”

“Me? Ask for his number?” you say.

“I’ve heard girls have high success rates when they approach guys that they’re into. What’s the worst that can happen? Either way, the three of them are heading back to some weird facility after tonight, so we can just leave and never see them again if it’s awkward,” she says.

You mull this over. Nothing she’s saying is wrong, and anyways, it’s been a while since you dated someone. Besides, you’ll probably not meet someone like Barou again for a long, long time, and when you really think about it, you’d rather live with a rejection than a what-if scenario floating around in your mind for the rest of your life.

“Alright,” you say. “I’ll do it, but that means you have to dump the gerbil dude and move on.”

“Did that earlier. I couldn’t stop thinking of Tinkerbell the gerbil whenever I saw his profile picture; it totally killed the mood. Thanks a lot,” she says.

“It’s my pleasure,” you say. “Now, let’s go back. I have a number to get!”

“Um, hold on,” she says. “I do actually have to pee, and the bathroom doesn’t seem too dirty.”

You sigh, because now that you’re this pumped up, you don’t want to delay any longer, but you’re not about to abandon her, so you nod towards the door.

“I’ll wait here, then. Be quick!” 

“Well, well, well,” Aiku says. “Who would’ve thought we’d get to see the day?”

“What are you talking about?” Barou says when he notices that both Aiku and Niko are looking at him.

“What aren’t we talking about?” Aiku says. 

“It’s Y/N,” Niko says, defusing the volatile atmosphere rather efficiently. Aiku hands him a French fry off of his plate as a form of praise; accepting it happily, Niko chews and swallows before continuing. “You like her, right?”

“What? No,” Barou says quickly — too quickly, which means the answer is the opposite of what he’s just said. Aiku steeples his fingers together, because he couldn’t have imagined things going any better, and he feels like he’s entitled to a villainous pose or two every now and again. 

“You’ve been talking to her the entire time we’ve been eating, and you didn’t yell at her when she told you to calm down,” Aiku says.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Barou says.

“I guess it’s for the better,” Niko says. “Her friend told us she has a boyfriend.”

Aiku’s about to reprimand him for making things up, but before he can, he sees out of the corner of his eye that the tips of Barou’s ears have turned a surprisingly light and rosy pink, and then he can only shake his head in amazement. Niko’s really fucking good at this. Aiku almost wonders if he should ask the kid for anime recommendations or something.

“Really?” Barou says. 

“Really,” Niko says.

“That’s — I mean, it’s none of my business, so why are you telling me?” Barou says.

“You’re awfully upset if that’s the case,” Aiku points out.

“I’m not upset!” Barou says. “Just…I wasn’t expecting her not to be single, that’s all.”

“Expecting, or hoping?” Aiku says. Barou glares at him but does not respond, which tells Aiku all he needs to know. “It’s okay for you to have a crush on her. She seems nice enough.”

“Yeah,” Niko says. “If you guys get along, then there’s no harm in just asking her out. We’re going back to Blue Lock after dinner anyways, so it’s not like you’ll see her in the future if you don’t want to. Can you live with yourself if you don’t give it a shot?”

“Aren’t you a king?” Aiku urges. “What kind of king doesn’t put his best foot forward at all times?”

“The kind of king that respects other people’s relationships, you chewed up wad of spearmint gum,” Barou says.

“Oh, I was just making that up,” Niko says. “I wanted to see how you’d react. She’s definitely single.”

“You—!”

Aiku and Niko are saved from another one of Barou’s tirades by the arrival of Y/N and her friend. With a final malevolent sneer, Barou continues to talk to Y/N, who seems eager to pick up where they left off. Aiku high-fives Niko under the table.

“You’re a genius, buddy,” he says.

“Does this mean you’ll buy me dessert, too?” Niko says.

“If you’ll share with me, then sure.”

“Deal.” 

“When should I ask him for his number? It’ll be awkward if I do it in front of everyone, I think,” you say.

“Why would it be awkward?” she says. “I’m not about to judge you. I already know you’re going to do it.”

“I was talking about Aiku and Niko,” you say, though you’re specifically referring to Aiku — there’s a sense of naïveté to Niko, so the thought of being so bold in front of him doesn’t make you squeamish, but it’s a difference case with his counterpart. Oliver Aiku has a sort of suaveness to him that makes you feel as though he’s not been rejected once in his life, and that’s more than a little terrifying. What might such a master say about your feeble attempts at flirting? You don’t want to imagine it. The mere beginnings of the thought are preemptively giving you hives, so having the thought fully formed, or heaven forbid the actual event occurring…you shudder at the plethora of side effects you’ll no doubt undergo.

“That’s fair,” she says. “I can distract them, if you want. While we’re getting dessert, I’ll tell Aiku I’m having car trouble and ask if he can take a look. He seems like the kind of guy that would fall for that. I don’t know what to do about Niko, though…”

“He’ll probably go with Aiku, but even if he doesn’t, I think it’ll be fine if it’s just him there,” you say. “He’s pretty harmless.”

“You better not wimp out, then! If I have to embarrass myself by pretending to know nothing about cars, then the least you can do is actually ask for his number,” she says.

“I’ll do it!” you say. She obviously doesn’t believe you, so you pout. “Promise I will.”

“Fine,” she says. 

“Fine,” you say.

“Fine!” she says again. “Just give me a second before we go back, then. I need to think of what kinds of issues my car will be having…” 

“Hey, Aiku,” Y/N’s friend says. The entire table falls silent, including Aiku himself — he’s more than a little confused about what she could want with him. After all, he’s not done anything that would seem like he’s trying to pursue her, so there’s no reason for her to believe he’s interested, and it’s not like they’re close enough for her to be talking to him in specific.

“What’s up?” he says.

“My car is making a weird sound when it starts. I was going to wait to ask my dad when I got home, but if you know anything about cars, could you maybe…?” she says.

Aiku knows nothing about cars, and he’s about to tell her as much, but then Niko of all people is answering. He hasn’t heard the boy talk this much since they met, which means he’s really getting into this.

“Sure, we can both take a look while we wait for dessert to come,” he says. It’s suspicious, because if Aiku knows nothing about cars, then Niko’s understanding has to be in the negatives. The kid doesn’t even have his driver’s license yet, so how would he be of any help? Unless this is another skill he’s picked up from watching anime, in which case it seems like that’s another hobby Aiku needs to take up.

“Thanks,” Y/N’s friend says, clearly relieved. “Y/N, do you mind staying back so no one takes our table?”

“Barou, keep her company,” Niko says. “We don’t want them thinking we’re the dine-and-dash type.”

“It’s okay with me,” Y/N says before Barou can argue, which effectively shuts Barou up. Aiku’s beloved teammate only grunts in agreement, watching the trio out of the corner of his eyes as they scurry out of the restaurant and begin to wander about aimlessly in the parking lot.

“Can you, uh, describe this noise to me?” Aiku says. It’s not like that knowledge will really change much for him, but he thinks that it might be better if he at least pretends to put forth some effort into assisting the girl. After all, it’d be bad for business if he gets flamed as the rude, unhelpful type.

“Huh? Oh, I made that up,” she says.

“As I expected,” Niko says.

“What? Why would you do that?” Aiku says. Then he comes to a realization, and it’s like a bucket of ice water has been poured over his head. “Hold on just a second, I’m not the one looking for—”

“That was a great method of leaving Y/N and Barou alone,” Niko says, cutting Aiku off before he can continue to embarrass himself. “Now they can figure things out between themselves.”

“Right?” Y/N’s friend says. “There’s only so much they can do when we’re all sitting there.”

“Yeah, awesome idea,” Aiku says, relieved to hear that she’s on their side. Girls take their friends’ opinions seriously. If Y/N’s best friend approves of Barou, then that’s a plus in Barou’s favor, and given Barou’s uniqueness, he needs all of the pluses he can get.

“And just so you know, you’re not my type, so don’t take any of this in a weird way. I just want Y/N to be happy,” she continues.

“Duly noted,” Aiku says. 

“Sorry I wasn’t faster in cutting you off,” Niko whispers when Y/N’s friend pulls out her phone and begins to play on it again. Aiku shrugs.

“No worries. Nobody’s perfect,” he says. “Although, honestly? If this night ends up the way we want it to, then I’d say you’re pretty damn close regardless.” 

“I’m really sorry,” Barou says as soon as your best friend, Aiku, and Niko have exited the building. 

“For what?” you say. The crowd is dwindling, for the restaurant is nearing its closing time, but it’s still busy enough that you have to stay close to him in order to be able to hear what he’s saying. Or maybe that’s an excuse you’ve made for yourself; either way, he doesn’t pull back, so you remain in the comfortable space between you both.

“Aiku,” he says. “Also Niko, but mostly Aiku.”

“Why? He’s not done anything too horrible,” you say. “He’s pretty funny. And Niko seems like a nice boy.”

“They have this idea in their mind,” he says. “It’s totally stupid, but that’s why they’re acting like this. They’re not usually quite as idiotic.”

“What do you mean?” you say. You almost want to tell him to hurry up so you can ask for his number before the others come back and your best friend gets upset with you, but you’d rather listen to him talk, and anyways once you ask him for his number there’s a chance things will go wrong, so you want to soak in these last few seconds before that happens.

“I mean, you know,” he says, and then he’s turning a color you never would’ve expected from someone as reputedly tough as him. “Just that they think I like you.”

“Like me?” you say.

“Yeah,” he says. “Like I’m into you or something.”

You had hoped for it, but not seriously considered it — although, the teasing and whatnot do make a little more sense now that he’s added this context to it. If Aiku and Niko think he might be into you…you know you shouldn’t be fanciful, that it’ll eventually lead to disappointment, but you want to. You really want to, so when you next speak it’s tentative but optimistic.

“If you are,” you begin, nervous more than anything, though you’re certain the only cure is getting this over with, “I am, too. Into you, I mean.”

Barou’s lips are still parted as if he’s about to say something, but no words escape him. He just sits there and stares at you, as if you’ve said something profound or shocking or both. Probably both. You giggle, shifting in your seat and adjusting your position, because seeing him like this is endearing as much as it is uncomfortable.

“If you’re not, it’s alright, but my friend told me I should ask you for your number or something, so I don’t have any regrets when we leave,” you say. “She’s right, too. I’d have felt horrible forever if I never said anything.”

He’s still silent. You question if you’ve somehow caused him to malfunction, so you nudge his foot with your own under the table. This does nothing to break him out of his daze, and then you realize he’s probably trying to figure out how to best reject you, so you sigh.

“It’s okay to say no. There’s no expectation on my part. I just wanted to get it out there,” you say.

“No!” he says.

“Well, I mean, you didn’t have to be exuberant about it,” you mutter to yourself before smiling. “That’s okay, though! Thank you for listening and talking to me—”

“I mean, yes. No. I don’t know which question I’m supposed to be answering!” he says. “I do like you. That’s what I’m trying to say, but you just said so many things that I didn’t know what to respond to.”

“You like me?” you say. You had never in your wildest fantasies imagined someone like Barou being into you. It was the kind of thing that just didn’t happen, and yet, somehow, it had. Barou liked you. 

“I guess so,” he says. “That’s how Aiku would phrase it, I think. I enjoy talking to you, and you have nice table manners. You kept your hands and surroundings clean, and you didn’t spill anything, which is more than can be said about a lot of people. I really appreciate that kind of trait in a person.”

“Uh, thanks?” you say, because you’ve not really been complimented on your table manners before, but it’s kind of sweet. “Yeah, thanks. I’d compliment you back, but there’s so many things to say that I wouldn’t know where to start…”

“How about with your phone number?” he says. You’re pretty sure that that’s uncharacteristically bold of him, because his eyes widen as soon as he comprehends what he’s said, but he doesn’t take it back. Instead, he waits, his hands folded carefully in his lap as he watches you, probably wondering what you’ll say in response to the request.

Smiling at him, you pull out your phone and open your hand, waiting for him to give you his. 

“You got her number?” Aiku says as they’re driving home. Niko’s in the backseat this time, mostly because he offhandedly mentioned feeling nauseous after eating and Aiku has no interest in getting vomit all over him. “Way to go, man.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Barou says, gazing out of the window mysteriously. “I can’t exactly take her on dates or anything while I’m stuck in Blue Lock.”

“If you get Snuffy’s permission, you could,” Aiku says.

“We probably shouldn’t abuse that,” Niko says. “Otherwise, Ego will come up with some insane punishment for all of us. The guy’s a super-freak. I’m sure he’s got some crazy stuff stored away.”

“Very true,” Aiku says. “Don’t worry too much, though, Barou. If she’s the one, she won’t mind waiting.”

“How can I know if she’s the one when we’ve only met once? You’re delusional,” Barou says.

“It’s pretty simple,” Aiku says. “Do you want her to be?”

The moonlight hits Barou in a particularly elegant way at that moment. Aiku’s suddenly not surprised that Niko’s anime intelligence worked so well — Barou seems straight out of a girlish romance novel or TV show or something along those lines just then.

“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

“Then that’s that!” Aiku says, pulling into the garage and putting Snuffy’s car in park. “Trust me, there was major chemistry there, so I’m sure she’s of the same opinion.”

“It’ll work out,” Niko agrees. He’s clearly feeling much better now that they’re not in the car, his steps light and bouncy, his lips curving upwards at the corners. “You’re a great guy, Barou. We were talking about it earlier.”

Barou scoffs. “Of course I am.”

“Classic Barou,” Aiku says, throwing his arm around Barou’s shoulder. “So humble.”

“Get off of me,” Barou grumbles, shoving Aiku away, though there’s a marked gentleness to it that tells Aiku their plan worked. He’s excited to see the long-term effects — if only one dinner with Y/N was enough for Barou to relax this much, then the duration of their relationship might be akin to a vacation for the rest of the Ubers.

That night, Aiku and Niko are brushing their teeth in the bathrooms together, since nobody else is up and there’s a certain camaraderie built between them after their adventure.

“We did good today, Niko,” Aiku says after spitting his toothpaste into the sink. 

“Agreed,” Niko says.

The door slams open right after he does, which is horribly ironic timing, because it reveals a furious Barou. He’s already enormous, but his fury causes him to swell until his proportions are vaguely Hulk-like and entirely terrifying. Both Aiku and Niko glance at him in confusion, because he should have no reason to be upset, and then, right before he can start yelling, it hits them like a truck.

“Hey, you donkeys,” Barou hisses. “Did you think you could distract me by taking me to dinner? That stain is still there. Can neither of you do anything for yourselves? I’m going to kill you both, mark my words!”

Aiku groans. Niko face-palms.

Fuck. 

[dustorangeheartssnow]

When It is said that Young Dick Grayson is seriously a consummate professional part of that means that as a kid, at least in the early years, c. age eight to, say, fourteen, he doesn’t hide his injuries from Bruce when Bruce directly drills him for an Accounting (“Robin.”) after each closecall or before every drive back to the cave. He def does start lying about it later so he can just continue stretching himself very thin and also because he becomes embarrassed that he gets hurt bc he should b better (I CHOOSE TO BELOEVE) and this is part of what sets Bruce off and sort of starts to corrupt their trust when DG is an older teenager but that’s all later bc they establish the trust first. And so The first time DG gets shot he handles it extremely calmly, quietly, undramatically, but upfrontly with exemplarité because that’s the way u must act to earn Bruces trust. And also he has pain management techniques so Bruce does the “Robin” thing that like means Report or Account and Dick is like “Through & through to the left shoulder” while not crying or writhing or whatever but also not being SO TENSE but holding it together calmly and not denying it BUT OBVIOUSLY INTERNALLY HURTING but not showing that and so this makes Bruce who is himself PANICKING calm down a little and Bruce is impressed by this because Dick is enacting the correct procedure and being very upfront. Like very professional. Like OK i trust u. And similarly although it is a good plot point for angst, in actuality Dick as Robin seeing his first like bloated corpse or dead bodies on the street or gruesome crime scene doesn’t really outwardly react and keeps it very exactly right and professional with the right mix of gravitas in the moment while going back to being playful and light as soon as it’s appropriate to do so and this also very much impresses Bruce too. he also does not exploit Bruce being truthserumed. He never asks questions of Bruce he jsut retrieves him and gets him the antidote ir back to the cave or whatever and the truth serum thing happens many times and then one day Bruce is truth serumed and Dick isn’t and Bruce can tell Dick is about to ask a question, and not just any question but dick is working his way up to the courage to ask a Serious Meaningful Question, and Bruce internally is maybe in that period where he’s beginning to realize how much Dick means to him and what role Dick is beginning to take for him and he is like so sick with agony about it but dick just asks like: “Do you think I’m funny?” or something and Bruce is so incredibly caught off guard like “of course” and dick has a very serious but inscrutable sage nodding with narrowed eyes reaction to this and that’s the only time dick asks Bruce something under the duress of truth serum but bruce like thinks about it and cannot figure that moment out

[stellarbit]

Pushing Limits

Work Count: 4.2 Pairing: fem!reader x Wrecker NSFW Warnings: Big ole size kink w/ associated pain, piv, poorly proofread Summary: The Bad Batch are sent to train some Jedi, you being amongst them. You and Wrecker can't stop thinkin about each other after you spar.

Having spent your youth in the temple, you developed a disinterest in the temptations of attraction as an adult. It wasn’t that others weren’t attractive to you; on the contrary, you found many beings attractive. Instead, your disinterest stemmed from the warnings of attachment and a lack of clarity on how to enjoy attraction without it.

So, for a short time, you’d experimented with physicalities. They required no emotional attachment, therefore, you saw no reason to not explore. The pleasure of others was a high that quickly became an unnecessary hassle. Partners could make things interesting but they rarely lived up to your expectations. Especially when you could find a more satisfying release on your own.

Training with five exceptionally trained, and exceptionally handsome, men tested that mindset.

The Bad Batch had been assigned a training mission on Coruscant. The Jedi Council requested an elite squad to train fresh Jedi Knights for a month. You were amongst the class and while the opportunity was an exciting one, your attention was hardly in the present.

At first, outside of their talent and appearances, there was nothing that you hadn’t experienced before. Not to mention the fact that clone troopers typically maintained a healthy boundary with their Jedi companions. About a week in, when individual training sessions came into play, you definitely noticed something different.

The first break in your indifference came when one of them, their technician - aptly named Tech, bluntly pointed out a weakness of yours. The comment was not only blunt to the point of tactlessness but also made in front of your fellow Jedi Knights.

"Your defense is sloppy," he observed, literally pointing at you. "You rely too much on your Force abilities. What happens when you're facing an opponent who can resist them?"

You stood still, captured in your final stance in defending against Hunter. You stared Tech down, a twitch ticking your eye as you considered his comment. A clone trooper negating your abilities certainly caught your attention - not in the most positive way. You’d shoved off the comment with more ire than your cohorts were accustomed to and were quick to dismiss yourself when the opportunity came.

Later that same evening you found appreciation for Tech’s observation. Despite receiving consistent praise for your abilities, no one had truly challenged you in recent memory. You prided yourself on maintaining humility, yet it seemed humility alone couldn't shield you from becoming complacent.

Impressed and eager for further challenge, you welcomed the next training session.

The troopers adjusted to instructing without an audience, most likely due to your reaction. Leaving you one on one with two troopers Wrecker and Hunter, one to spare with and the other to observe. 

“Wrecker here even bested General Skywalker once,” Hunter boasted, playfully clapping his brother on the shoulder. “He’s sure to teach you a thing or two.” With that, Hunter stepped back from the ring, gesturing grandly towards his imposing brother.

Facing Wrecker was a new challenge; his sheer size was unlike any opponent you had faced before. Initially, you managed to agilely dance around him, but it wasn't long before he caught you. With a swift pull, he twisted your arm behind you and pressed your back against his chest. Despite your struggles against his overwhelming strength, it all seemed futile until you managed a desperate kick against his ankle.

Even without the help of the Force, your strike was enough to unbalance him, and you both tumbled forward.  Wrecker freed arm and pulled up a knee to soften the blow. Regardless of his efforts he landed on top of you, caging you in and his weight pressing down. He groaned as he collected himself, his body shifting against you. Most noticeably you felt the hard mound of his codpiece grinding against you.

The position you were in registered with you - and the parallels it had to a more intimate variety. For the first time in a long time, heat rushed to your core. As he shifted to regain his bearings, the unintentional contact sent an unexpected rush of warmth through you, drawing a quiet bite to your lip to suppress any involuntary sounds.

“Ugh,” Wrecker shook his head and sat back on his knees. “Sorry about that, but good hit.” You quickly squirmed out from underneath Wrecker, acutely aware of his view of your ass. 

“If you’re going to crush someone,” You hissed as you freed yourself. “Maybe ditch the armor.”

Wrecker glanced down at himself, but smiled sheepishly. “Oh, sorry ‘bout that.”

From across the room, Hunter shook his head. “You need to learn how to get away from someone bigger than you.” He waved a hand between you and his brother. “If all it takes to bring you down is getting caught, you’ll end up dead in no time.”

Your cheeks flushed at the perceived scolding. 

“Hey,” Wrecker leaned over, giving an encouraging shake. “Don’t you worry. That’s what I’m here for.”

The idea of regularly sparring with Wrecker sent another wave of heat through you. You believed in his reassurance, you knew you’d learn quickly enough. It was having to simultaneously learn a lesson in focus that was now daunting you. Although, you though, what’s work without a little fun?

Offering him a rare smile you sighed, “I’m sure you’ll be teaching me a lot.”

Your lessons were daily and scheduled like a training camp. Each member of Clone Force 99 instructed a variety of trainings and your class rotated through them in teams as welll as solo. You took something from each exercise, absorbing as much out of the trainings as possible. Your lessons with Wrecker, however, were always the highlights of your days. 

Not only were his exercises in close combat and strength training personally fun for you, feeling his body against you in any way left you panting in a different way. There was a rush in being turned on by Wrecker without his knowledge. His instruction required his frequent touch as he moved you through maneuvers, while his sparring was aimed at capturing you.

You let him more times than you liked to admit. But Tech had been right, without using the Force to push opponents or jump away you found evading Wrecker challenging. Every time he did get a hold of you it was a struggle to both get free as well as not go limp in his arms. 

Your favorite was his snatching you by the waist and yanking you back against him. It delivered enough force to hide how you pressed back into him. He’d come to training sans armor since your first lesson, but you still felt the cup he wore when he was against you. 

You'd done an excellent job of hiding your perverted intentions until you landed in the same position that got you into this mess.

Wrecker had set you up to be captured again. You nearly ducked out of his reach but he swung his arm with surprising agility and slammed you back against him. As you did the very first time, you kicked a foot into his ankle and knocked him off balance. The two of you tumbled to the ground and, while he did his best to soften the blow, Wrecker weighed down on top of you. With his crotch nestled perfectly into your ass, you mindlessly ground back into him. 

You weren’t able to stop your body, but you caught the whine that threatened to escape you. All you could do was hope he hadn’t felt you as Wrecker gathered himself. The familiar press of his cup to your backside almost made you repeat the same mistake.

"Wrecker," Crosshair interjected from the sidelines, his tone dry. "Get off her; you're crushing her." His words snapped you back to reality, reminding you of the observers. Flustered and embarrassed, you began shoving Wrecker off energetically.

“Although…” An amused air came to Crosshair’s voice. “She might like it.” It was an obvious tease, but your guilty pleasure added unintended weight to it.

If anyone’s enjoying this, Wrecker thought to himself, it was him. A fact he struggled to hide every time he saw you. Wrecker enjoyed seeing you improve, enjoying even more how comfortable you’d become with him in the process.

Weirdly enough, you reminded him of Crosshair in the way you hid a soft side beneath your steely demeanor. The first time smiled at him after, Wrecker thought the planet had stopped spinning. 

Mesh’la, he’d thought for the first time in his life. Something he’d said to others in the throes of pleasure, but seeing you invigorated, panting, and smiling before him - Wrecker realized what the word was truly meant for. 

From that point on, he sought you out in every room, straining for any opportunity to hear your voice. He wasted no chance to approach you, even having wrangled you into sharing a meal or two with his squad. Each night he revisited the feel of you against him, envisioning how you else might feel against him. 

Ditching his armor meant he got a taste of that most times you sparred. Any time he caught you, he did it with enough force you wouldn’t catch him intentionally pressing into you. It was a risky game, but Wrecker couldn’t help himself with you. He wanted you.

So, Wrecker thought, if anyone was enjoying it all - it was him.

“Stow it, Crosshair.” Wrecker bit at his brother, trying to help you to your feet.

“Why so shy, Jedi?” Crosshair snorted, rolling a toothpick to one side of his mouth.

You shook with embarrassment, perceived by them as rage, and snapped, “You’re both insufferable.” 

Wrecker watched you march off, catching the red tint on your ears. He was upset with Crosshair for cutting his time with you short. Moreso he was worried you were upset with him. “I’m going to check on her.”

“Good luck with that,” Crosshair scoffed. “Two credits you come back missing a limb.”

Wrecker only grumbled in response, jogging off to catch up with you. You were at the helm of your quarters when he finally got to you. You stopped, took a deep breath, and turned to him.

“Wrecker, I’m sorry but -”

“Can I come in?” Wrecker took a step closer, his brows pulled together.

You blinked at him, a bit more embarrassment sinking in. Nodding along you silently motioned for him to follow. Once inside Wrecker wasted no time, he immediately started talking.

“You’re upset, I—I know," he started, clasping his hands together nervously.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Wrecker.” You blurted out, his eyes widening. 

Running your fingers through your hair you began a nervous circle around the room. "Every time you touch me, I feel like I can't breathe. When we spar, I’m imagining you—" You stopped abruptly, turning to Wrecker with a pleading look. "Wrecker, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t—"

Wrecker reached out and gently grasped your shoulder, silencing your rambling. “What’re you imaginin’?” he asked softly.

Squeezing your eyes shut you quickly came to terms with telling the truth. On a fast exhale you, you met Wrecker’s eyes and admitted, “When you touch me all I can think about is you being on me and feeling your-”

“You felt that?”

A touch of panic in his voice made you hesitate, but you continued, “-codpiece against me.” His response was a few wide eyed blinks, still processing the nuance. Already prepared for embarrassment you added, “And I imagine it’s not just your armor and it’s all-” you cut yourself short when Wrecker pulled one of your hands towards him.

He pressed your palm against his crotch where a thick, hard member strained against the fabric. You instinctively slid your touch along the length of his bulge. Even through his pants you knew your hand couldn’t even close around him. Pressure twisted between your legs at the thought.

Wrecker winced at the pleasant pressure of your touch. With his eyes squeezed shut he groaned, “It’s not armor. I-I’m sorry, I thought I was hiding it.” The large man made to step back out of your touch but you stepped with him to maintain that connection.

The two of you stood like that for a few heartbeats. You had Wrecker’s full attention and with it you pressed into him, feeling the length of him twitch into your touch. 

“This,” you pressed into him for emphasis. “Is your reaction when we spar?”

Unable to resist the temptation of your touch, he rolled his hips into you. “This happens anytime you’re near me.”

Your mouth went dry at the same time warmth pooled in your core. “So you want me like I want you.”

His eyes finally opened as he searched your face. “You want me?”

Your response was pulling his hand from your shoulder and guiding him into your pants. He followed the suggestion, his two middle fingers slipping over your slit. You could feel how excessively wet you were already. So could he. “Oh you want me, alright.” Wrecker chuckled, his middle finger teasing your entrance. 

This time it was you who couldn’t resist moving. You gyrated your hips enough to get the tip of his finger inside you. Wrecker answered your touch by moving his finger and you cried out as he worked a second digit inside. “I’ve wanted you since the moment you pinned me.” You admitted.

He used his touch to lift you to your tiptoes. “You think you can take me?” It wasn’t a tease, he wasn’t challenging you. This was his asking permission.

“If I can’t,” You pressed your hand harder against his cock. “Then make me.”

“Where?” He asked and you answered with a quick nod in the direction of your bed.

Wrecker slipped his free hand beneath your ass and hauled up you up - two fingers still inside you. Walking to the bed, each of his steps pulled a noise from you as you bounced on his fingers. He plopped you both down on the bed, his back resting against your headboard.

Against your wishes, he removed his fingers from you and let you sit back in his lap.

“If we’re going to do this.” Wrecker gripped your hips and put little space between you “We take it at your pace.”

You didn’t wait for his permission as you started shedding your clothes, setting the tone early. The first to go was your top, your undergarments and all flicking over your head to the floor. Your nipples were already perked and aching for him - much like every other part of you.

“Then what are we waiting for?” You smirked as you started on your bottoms.

Wrecker grinned, a sight that almost made you moan, and sat up in bed. He pulled his top over his head, discarding it with yours. His burly chest was freckled in scars under curled hair. You momentarily dismounted him, wriggling from your bottoms as he did the same. There were only a few hot seconds until you sat naked on your knees next to him and he relaxed back in a similar state.

The trooper looked at you and his hand drifted to his cock. His cock that was even larger than you expected. Two fingers were definitely not enough of a preview for his girth. Wrecker’s fingers wrapped around himself, stroking as he watched you. “So beautiful.” He mumbled.

His words had you crawling over him, pinning his hand in place as you settled on top. Reading your movements, Wrecker met you as you leaned down, catching your lips in a kiss. He twisted his grip on himself, his knuckles grazing your folds, as he moaned into you.

You picked up the pace, frantic to taste as much of him as he could. While you sucked on his lip, Wrecker began positioning you on his cock. He was as desperate to be inside of you as you were for him.

With Wrecker’s help, you hovered over his cock. You were at the full height of your knees in order to line him up with you. Wrecker gave himself one more pump as his precum mixed with your wetness. 

His head was the first real warning of your task at hand. He was larger than you’d ever had and you were in no way ready to take him. An aspect that was making you even wetter. He didn’t slide in easily when you lowered yourself. You both moaned against the strain. “Wrecker.” You moaned into his mouth, a plea in his name.

“I gotcha.” He grasped your hip and kept a hold on his cock. Applying a steady strength, Wrecker pushed you onto his cock. When the flare of his head finally breached you, your back arched. “There we go,” he pressed you with a kiss, “that’s my girl.” 

The head of his cock already had you pushed to the limit, not helped by the fact you were already quivering for him. His size came with a pain you thought might end you and one that eagerly gave way to pleasure

“Wrecker.” You whined, a smile fluttering to your lips. Your hips undulated over him, working more of him inside of you.

A calloused hand slid up your stomach to cup your breast. Wrecker happily groaned as you moved farther down. “You feel so…” the grip you had on him pulled another groan from him. “So good.”

Wrecker supported you as you moved, consumed in watching you work him and the juices dripping down him. Each time you lifted off him, you lowered with a little more force to get more of him inside. Wrecker’s large form writhed beneath you, resisting as hard he could to not thrust up into you - he wanted you to adjust at your own pace. 

As you made a rhythm of burying him deeper inside you, Wrecker watched the shape of his cock bulge through your abdomen. Gently, he pressed a hand beneath your belly button and over the shape. The pressure sent a thrill straight to your clit, nearly undoing Wrecker with what it did to your pussy.

You were so taught around him, Wrecker feared he might literally tear you open. Though, any care he had for that was lost when your smile turned lazy and you leaned forward, arms hanging around his neck.

“Wrecker.” Each syllable came with another desperate thrust as you worked for his last two inches. You were at the limit of what you could do. “I need all of you. Please,” You tightened around him. “Just fucking ruin me.”

The plea had Wrecker rolling his eyes in time with his hips. He firmed up his hold on your hips, tilting your hips to rock his head against your abdominal wall. Wrecker brushed his lips against yours, “I jus’ don’t wanna hurt you.”

You took his bottom lip into your mouth with a gentle suck, then gently bit down until he gasped. “I don’t care.” You mumbled.

Still seated within you, Wrecker swung you onto your back. His hold on your hip suspended you in the air for him. He glanced down at where you two were joined, checking on the last bit of his length you were so hungry for. The contour of his cock already protruded through your stomach, more than anyone had ever taken him before. He really didn’t know if he’d manage the rest, but he wasn’t going to make you ask again. For you, he was determined, he was going to make it fit.

Wrecker drew back before pushing in with his own exploratory thrust. He lowered himself onto you so that he was all you could see, feel, and smell. You were eclipsed by him, hardly even able to angle your legs around him. Saddling a forearm next to your head, Wrecker kept a hand on your hip. “Now breathe, Mesh’la.”

The strange word barely reached you through your aroused fog. “Mesh’la?” You asked on an inhale, anchoring your hands on his shoulders.

He pulled back once more, as you inhaled and thrust himself firmly inside. “Beautiful.” He hummed into your ear. He didn’t stop moving when he bottomed out, he pushed through the strain, making you take him until he felt you give way entirely. You both gasped at the shared sensation. 

Wrecker pressed a kiss to your throat, smiling as he announced, “I’m all in.” Wrecked pressed another kiss to your throat and couldn’t stop grinding as you stretched around him.

You were speechless, only mewling and whining as you squirmed around him. “So full.” Each movement was tinged with pain as Wrecker stretched you completely. A sensation that flared into fervent pleasure the longer he spent inside her.

Wrecker angled your head for you to see what he’d done so far. You softly cried at the sight of a bulge below your belly button. As you watched, Wrecker rolled his hips back and thrust inside allowing you to witness him completely filling you. He hadn’t expected the way you moved in response nor how you began to relax around him.

Mindlessly, you moved yourself over him, pleasuring yourself as you rocked on his cock. Your G-spot was at constant attention as Wrecker pressed inside you.

“Ohh, you like that, don’t you?” He cooed warmly to you, moving his hips side to side against yours. 

Something in you snapped as gripped the back of his neck, forcing his eyes on you, and demanded. “Wrecker, I said, ruin me.” 

Wrecker chuckled eagerly as he obliged, moving against you with increasing speed. He lowered you both to pin you down by the hips. You braced yourself on your elbows as he mercilessly drove into you. He angled your hips just enough that he steadily brushed your clit. 

Pleasure built in you, winding tight every time Wrecker’s hips hit yours. You’d barely begun and already you were at the cusp of release. “Right there, right there, right there.” You chanted, begging with every breath for more. 

With every thrust, more heat hit your core and Wrecker felt the quaking of your core. He smiled and brushed a thumb over your lip before dipping it in past your teeth. Wrecker let you taste him for a moment before saying, “I wanna really fill you up.” Your eyes snapped to his as you smiled around his thumb. “Can I?” He asked desperately.

You eagerly nodded at him, pulling your mouth free to say, “Inside me, please.” 

His hips slammed into yours with all his might and as the first throb of his orgasm hit, you melted around him into your own. The way his cock throbbed pushed you further into delirium. As you adjusted, relaxed, and melted into your pleasure, Wrecker remained engorged and twitching inside you.

You lifted to give him a soft kiss. “That was amazing.” Wrecker hummed in response, something amusing in what you said.

“Oh, I’m not done yet.”

He pulled out of you just long enough to get his hands around you and position you onto your stomach. Wrecker lifted you by your hips, trapped you between his legs, and lined himself up with your pussy. Leaning over you, he guided your hand to sit under your navel. You could feel his cock he rammed into you, his massive size bulging against your hand. 

Wrecker leaned down to croon into your ear, “No one’s ever gonna be able to fill you again.” He started a pace of long, hard thrusts. He emptied and filled you with each thrust, making a mess of his seed already inside you. 

Pressing against the outline of his cock sent more heat to your clit, until a full body shiver wracked you. Your legs began to quiver and you clamped around him. “Wrecker,” You panted, nearly crying from the stimulation. “You’re going to make me-”

“That’s all I want.” He said and thrust into you with short, firm moves, coaxing you to release. “Cum with me, Mesh’la.”

You broke beneath him, contracting and shaking around him and he railed his cum into you. You felt his cum pumping out in thick ropes, felt your belly swell slightly from the sheer amount of his seed, before it leaked out around Wrecker.

You were panting messes by the end of it. Wrecker’s cock finally softened when he lowered you both to lay down on your sides, him still burried inside you. He gave your stomach lazy strokes as he nestled his face to your the crook of your neck.

“You okay?” He whispered.

Taking a moment to respond, you nodded. Thinking a moment longer, you twisted enough to offer him the soft spot below your ear. Wrecker took the silent offering, pressing kisses to your skin as you said softly, “I don’t think I’ll ever be the same after that.” 

A low laugh reverberated from Wrecker’s chest. “That makes two of us.” He lazily rolled his hip into yours. He rubbed his nose into your neck, smiling as he added. “Let me know when your ready for another round.”

[tiredfox64]

Okay, imagine that Johnny arrives at the Wu Shi Academy and meets reader, but they treat him in a very cold way and whenever he tries to talk to them, they avoid him. But it turns out that the reader is actually a big fan of Johnny (to the point they have a pet with his name 😭) and is very, very, very shy.

Hope my request isn't so silly 🙏

A Silly Little Crush

Prior notes: If this was considered silly I would be considered crazy. They would have put me in the loony bin a long time ago.

Pairing: Johnny Cage (MK1) x Gn reader

Warnings ‼️: I like the birds

Johnny has made many enemies just by being famous. They’re just jealous of his fame, skills, and looks. And also because he could be an occasional dick but that’s irrelevant.

What he doesn’t understand is how he gained your ire without you saying a word to him. Ever since he came to the Wu Shi academy you have been acting colder than a glacier. He’s tried talking to you on multiple occasions but you wouldn’t say a peep. You would turn away from him with your arms crossed and your eyes closed like you were trying to block him out.

You were someone who helped out the monks. Brought food, helped cook, attended to the gardens, keep the place in tip-top shape. You were very welcoming to the champions, except to Johnny. The first time you saw him you froze up, blinking slowly like a frog. Before he could even place his hand out to shake your hand you walked away from him. It confused everyone. Your demeanor switched so quickly. Maybe you just had a moment. A hormonal shift or mood swing. It happens to the best of us. He’ll catch you on another day.

Day after day came yet you avoided him like the plague. There was always a distance between you two. Any time he would make an effort to talk to you, you would give him a side eye and not say a word. He could make a joke and you wouldn’t laugh. He would criticize someone’s fighting style and you wouldn’t agree. The only other reaction he could get out of you was when you tried to prevent a smile. You would chew the inside of your cheek to prevent any and all reactions. If it got too much for you then you would walk away.

Forget trying to make you interested in his conversations. He would intentionally talk loudly to get your attention if you were nearby. No matter what, you kept doing your task without a break in your stride. You kept sweeping the leaves off the path or hanging up the towels they use after training to dry. It got so annoying that Kenshi had to yell at Johnny to tone down his volume already.

“Why won’t they pay attention to me? What did I do?” Johnny complained.

“Can you really not accept that some people don’t like you? Leave them be already. You’re probably giving them more reasons to hate you.” Kenshi was so over it.

Johnny sighed in defeat. He had to face the music. He’s never gonna get your attention or even admiration. He never had a chance. Maybe he is just a dick.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

The end of the day was the best time for you. Your work was done and you get to relax. But you also get the chance to let yourself be you. You quickly open your bedroom door, slip in, and lock the door.

“Woo, I’m back, Johnny.” You said in a cheerful tone.

Your severe macaw, whom you so lovingly named Johnny Cage, came flying at you before landing on your hand. You booped his beak as your strolled over to your bed.

“I got so many pictures of Johnny today. Let me show you.”

You open up your camera to show dozens upon dozens of photos you took of Johnny when he wasn’t looking. Some when he was training, some when he was eating, and some when he had his back turned towards you. In those instances, you would take a selfie with him in the background. You were always worried he would turn around while you were positioning yourself into the frame but you were lucky every time. He never caught on, and he hopefully never will.

If he found out you might actually die.

You’re happy to have him at a distance and be sneaky with your secret love for Johnny. You will appreciate every poster that he signed that your friends gifted you. You’re fine with watching his movies on your own. You’ll love him at a distance. It’s all you can do considering you’re worried about actually interacting with him.

You wish you could though. It’s hard for you. The reason you froze up the first time was because you were in such shock. You never imagined you would meet your favorite actor ever. But there he was standing in front of you. Not just that but he would be in close proximity for months! Freaking months! You walked away so you could tell all your friends what just happened, saying it in a whispering scream.

Every time Johnny came up to talk to you, you practically wanted to jump into his arms and shout how he was your favorite. Yell and shout about how he was an amazing actor and that every one of his movies is your favorite. But that’s not who you are. Speaking up is hard for you and even making an attempt to talk to Johnny felt like pulling a trigger. You wanted to laugh at his jokes but you were scared about embarrassing yourself. You don’t even have a weird laugh.

That’s enough beating yourself up for the night. You need your rest. You put your macaw on his perch and got yourself ready for bed. You laid in bed with your phone in your hand, scrolling through your album of Johnny photos. You start to succumb to your exhaustion and pass out soon after.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Hm, Johnny hasn’t seen you yet today. Usually you were up and helping to make breakfast for everyone. You were nowhere in sight. Strange.

What’s even stranger is when he was served his breakfast, his oatmeal didn’t have the usual smiley face made from fresh cut fruit. That threw everyone off.

“Woah, who did you piss off? Looks like someone didn’t feel like making you happy this morning.” Kung Lao pointed out.

This was unusual. First, you’re not around, now he doesn’t even get a pleasant breakfast. This just sucks. Johnny started to hear some of the monks talk about not seeing you this morning either. They found it strange since you are always up and running.

Johnny needed to get to the bottom of this. He played a detective on TV he can play a detective in real life. After breakfast he started looking around for your room. He asked some of the other monks where your bedroom was and they pointed him in the right direction. When he got to your room he began knocking, quietly at first before getting louder. The noise ended up spooking your macaw who started squawking like crazy. He woke you up with his loud bird mouth. You groaned as you sat up and looked down at your phone. By the gods, it was ten in the morning! You overslept! Now who will put a smiley face on Johnny’s breakfast?!

The door creaked open when Johnny began to open it. He had no clue what was up but when he looked inside he was shocked. Posters of his movies on your walls, autographs that were on your tableside, and magazines with him on the cover that were scattered all over the floor. This was…unexpected. Your macaw went flying towards Johnny, perching himself on his shoulder. This surprised Johnny but what was even more surprising was when your macaw placed his beak against Johnny’s forehead and made a kissing sound. You don’t know how he learned to do that. Maybe he learned to do that from watching you kissing your photos of Johnny. Oh what a mystery.

You were frozen in place once again. You didn’t know how to explain yourself. I don’t think anyone would know what to do. The only explanation that was reasonable was that…omg you do like him. You’ve liked him the whole time.

Johnny’s face went from a confused and surprised expression to one of pure joy. He was ecstatic to see all the merch you have of his. You even had posters of his box office failures! He’s not proud of them but to see you had them up showed how huge of a fan you are.

“You sly dog. You’ve liked me the whole time! You really made me think you hated me.” He felt so silly thinking anyone could hate him. You clearly don’t.

At that moment a message popped up on your phone, showing a picture of Johnny as your background. You both looked down and when you looked back up at him he had this mischievous smirk on his face. A phone hides many secrets. He wants to explore more of those secrets.

“Oh, what do we have in there? I bet you have some pictures of me.” He teased.

Yeah there were some…dozens of pictures in your phone that he does NOT need to know about. You snatched your phone away before he could get his hands on it. So that’s how you want to play, huh? Johnny doesn’t mind getting the answers the hard way. He crept towards you which made you leap out of bed. The chase was on. He started bolting for you, laughing at this amazing discovery he had made. You were running past all the monks and the other champions with Johnny hot on your trail. It was chaos at the academy with you and Johnny playing a game of cat and mouse and your macaw squawking like crazy from the madness. One of the monks yelled something in annoyance.

“Please silence Johnny already. We have discussed his squawking problem.”

“And you named your bird after me?! This is so awesome!”

Johnny seems pretty pumped about this new discovery. The remaining months he has to stay at the academy are gonna be a blast. It will be a blast for you but will also be an embarrassing torment.

After notes: I'm sorry if this isn't correct. I feel like I made this too obsessive or stalkerish. I did find the idea cute though. For some reason Johnny reminds me of Squakabilly from Pokémon (the green one to be more specific) so that's why I made the pet a macaw. I should lie down now. Adiós!

[dogwithrabies]

【★】 gn reader but described as afab, kinda mean scara, reader is a masochist lol

【☆】 ignoring the fact that i disappeared for like 8 months, hi, new thingy (reup)

word count: 4.3k

There’s no coming back from those offices. Everyone knows that, it’s like an open secret between the ranks of the fatui.

One gets called in for a “little chat” and then just disappears, there are no deserters allowed in an organization like this. Too many secrets.

The lower ranking soldiers always gossip about whoever the next one is gonna be, it keeps everyone on edge, just one measly mistake in front of a general, or worse, a harbinger and it’s over. It doesn’t help that other privates will often turn on eachother, reporting their comrade’s mistakes to get on their supervisor’s good side, in a sense, the fatui has eyes everywhere.

Your days of walking on eggshells are long over, thank the Tstaritsa, but it doesn’t mean you’re completely safe either. Being a general yourself, you’ve been faced with many hard decisions, sometimes covering up the mistakes of a soldier, sending back touched up reports hoping no supervisor will notice any discrepancy.

“Your empathy will come back to bite you in the ass”.

It’s a sentence the Balladeer threw your way once, it wasn't advice out of the goodness of his (non-existent) heart. Matter of fact, he didn’t even spare you a glance before walking past you, on his way to scold another soldier. How stupid, he must've thought, sharing your already scarce meal with a tiny bird that sought refuge under the shadow of your feet.

But you just can’t help it. In your early days you could only pray someone spared you the same kindness you give out now.

But that was a long time ago. You went on many other expeditions in the Balladeer’s team, somehow always managing not to fess up and prove yourself worthy of your role. It was a noteworthy achievement, after all his bad temper was notorious to anyone who spent even a few minutes in his presence.

The Balladeer does not go out of his way to compliment anyone, flattery is not his style. Just the absence of any reprimand is more than enough to tell you you’re doing good.

However, that does not stop you from wasting time fantasizing about such scenarios.

“You’re doing good.” What a dream it would be to hear that. “You’re being good.”

But the image you have of him in your mind is a far-fetched, rose-tinted version of the one in front of you now. You’re not as stupid as to warp his essence into anything even remotely kind. You know of his temperament, sometimes you’d even go as far as to think he’s not even human.

During an expedition, he slapped a soldier once. It was late in the evening and some soldiers decided to let out some steam with a few drinks. It just so happened that one of them got a little too… feisty.

But the Balladeer did not let go of his face. He just kind of stared at the red mark his hand left, squishing the fat of his cheeks in some weird torturous ritual, moving the skin around to admire the shape of the coagulated blood under his skin. He was so close he could feel the shaky breaths of the poor guy fanning on his face.

He relented only once he was satisfied. He enjoys the fear in people’s faces. No, fear is just an expression, it’s the pure terror that spreads in someone’s whole body that excites him.

He can tell the exact moment when someone switches from being scared to dreading losing their life.

It’s something you’ve seen several times yourself, never hesitate, to end someone’s life. Hesitation makes you waver, staring at someone’s eyes makes you acknowledge that they’re scared, they’re human.

He never wavers. Hm. He’s either incredibly cruel… or just above your kind? You take a mental note of that.

The first thought excites you, that tiny familiar buzzing feeling running down your spine.

It’s so unfair.

No, that’s not right, you quickly shake that thought off. Who would ever dream of being at the receiving end of the Balladeer’s ire?

It’s not the first time you find yourself spiraling that same line of thought. But he’s just so pretty.

You suppose that in order to make it out alive of his squadron one needs to grow tough skin, tolerating his humiliation tactics and aggressions. You just never thought you’d develop a liking to that.

How the mighty have fallen. You used to be so respectable.

You can’t even begin to picture his disgusted expression if he found out that deep down, a part of you hoped he would lay his hand on you.

Or if he knew how many sleepless nights you spent rubbing your thighs together, trying to get rid of a heat that just wouldn’t go away.

Or, additionally, if he knew that the first thing you did in your new private (perks of being promoted) room was to disregard your clothes and immediately push your fingers in your aching needy cunt. Thinking of him.

How absolutely shameful. You wonder if your stay in the fatui awakened something in you. Or maybe you were always like this.

But you’re always so composed. And your fatui mask covers any blushing on your face;

No one would be able to detect your attraction to him based on your behavior.

After all, it was very common to hear creaking sounds at night. That’s just what happens when you force young adults in a shared room together. People just turn the other way. Ignore the sound and go to sleep.

You feel yourself getting warmer at the sight of him walking towards your squadron.

It’s another of those annoying training sessions, you don’t have to participate, just surveil the cadets. It doesn’t fall within your assignments, it’s your Lord Balladeer’s job, but he so kindly sacked you his responsibilities. After all, he’s above watching insignificant men stumble in knee high snow.

But you’re just so distracted.

He’s sitting on a chair with a tiny table in front of him, quickly skimming through huge piles of paper. The huge fur of his coat shields his face from your view (a shame, he looks so cute when concentrating), but he’s not covering anything else. His tiny shorts slightly hike up his legs as he shifts to put one leg over the other, revealing even more skin.

Just how is he not getting cold?

You huff, your breath crystalizing in front of you, forming a tiny mist as if proving your point.

It’s freezing. And he’s out there with his usual attire. Not that you’re complaining, you always had a thing for his legs. Always looking at the way they crease and shift on his thighs every time he crouches to look at something. You always watch him with such an intense gaze.

It’s not weird. It is your job to ensure his safety after all.

Not that he needs it. You’ve seen him in combat, not many enemies survive after the first shock of electro.

It’s scary. It’s exciting.

He also uses it to correct small mistakes. He’s shocked you once after you almost tripped while serving him tea.

It was tiny and barely audible but your finger spasmed in an uncomfortable position, and then it was over.

He let out a humorous hum at your shocked expression, then quickly dismissed you.

You spent the rest of the day thinking about that small encounter.

Thinking about all the other ways he could use his shocks on you. Maybe they could simulate the effects of a vibrator (just a slightly painful one). You’re not allowed to bring anything with you when you join the fatui. And using your hands or humping your pillow always leaves you yearning for more.

So lost in thought. You didn’t even notice the way he was staring at you, an unreadable expression on his face. Not anger, not disappointment, something more akin to… disbelief.

He knew you would cover up your underling’s mistakes sometimes, he couldn’t be bothered to call you out on that. But to let so many incompetent cadets trip on the same wall, face-planting on the snow and mud without even taking note of that? Right in front of him?

Were you hoping he was too busy with his papers to not notice that, or are not even paying attention?

Your tendency to sometimes space out is something he was very aware of. But you never actively slacked off on your tasks. This is new, not unexpected but new. You were bound to disappoint him, after all, it is in your nature as a human. He needs to stop this before it becomes a habit and gets in the way of his work.

He quickly calls some other general to take your place. You barely register when he calls your name. His voice makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up in shivers.

“Come.” He firmly says before walking off the training grounds.

You hesitate for a second, your eyes focusing back on the view in front of you. Your lord wants a word with you? Just how deep in thought were you to not even notice him staring holes in your back? It can’t be any good.

You follow after him, catching up with him and watching the back of his coat sway with each step.

The inside of the palace is just as cold as the outside. The only relief a fatuus gets is the mercy of being shielded from the icy winds. It’s only when you set foot inside his office that you finally let yourself breathe.

The whole walk to his private office is full of agonizing spiraling thoughts. Surely this isn’t one of those “little chats”, right? The soldiers guarding the door don’t even spare the two of you a glance, their masks covering your expression, but you’re sure they pity you in some way.

The Balladeer is not known for his kindness, but even through his hate filled vision of humanity, he knows the intrinsic need of every being for validation. Not that he’s going to give them any, he has no interest in building any amicable relations in this organization, lest it serves him to reach his goals the future. But it would also be very troublesome to replace even more of his subordinates. Were he in an altered mood he would’ve just electrocuted on the spot.

Recognizing when one of his useless soldiers actually has a shred of potential is not something he’s very keen on doing, but the alternative is to put up with more incompetent fools, and that’s not on his agenda.

He sits on his chair, moving papers around on his desk. You watch him as he smacks his lips and lets out a silent huff as he finally rearranges the papers to his liking.

You’re shacking, he attributes it to the cold. Humans have always been so much weaker and more vulnerable than him. His skin is cold, glacially cold, but it’s not a feeling he registers.

Even his coat is just for show.

Your cheeks are red, but it’s (at least partially) not from the cold. Now that his coat is off you get a full view of his face. His dashing red liner perfectly contours his eyes, giving them a sharp intense look. He begins talking to you, his voice is calm and smooth, at least he’s not mad at you.

It’s about your zoning off.

It’s not something you do on purpose, but it’s just so hard to focus when you're so damn horny.

Frankly, you’re more surprised he didn’t just slap you on the spot, not that you would’ve minded. Maybe your Lord is showing you his mercy? The thought of him showing you any form of kindness makes heat slowly creep up your face. The cold slowly leaves your body as warmth replaces it, the overwhelming feeling leaving you to fiddle with the hem of your clothing.

“My deepest apologies, it will never happen again, my Lord”.

This is to be expected, addressing him with the right honorifics and apologizing is the correct (and preferred) outcome. He blinks slowly, at least he saved himself a migraine.

What he doesn’t expect is to not see you when he opens his eyes. He didn’t dismiss you. He gets up from his chair but stops when he finally spots you, on your knees with your forehead touching the ground.

“I want to make it up to you, my Lord”, you say, still not moving from your position.

This. This he likes. Usually, he’s the one forcing his subordinates to kneel in front of him, and not in a kind way either. Pressing their face on whatever unfortunate surface they were standing on, purposefully applying more pressure than needed, hoping his boots would leave a heavy mark on their face. Sometimes they would do it out of their own volition, but it doesn’t stem from an urgent need to show him their worship, it was out of fear.

“Hm.” He makes his way to the couch on the side of his desk and sits crosslegged. “Come here,”

But he interrupts you before you can push yourself on your feet- “No, stay like that.

It takes you a second to process that he wants you to crawl your way to him. You awkwardly move your body, trying not to trip on your own coat before settling in front of him.

He puts his hand on your cheeks, lightly squishing them before raising his fingers and taking your mask off, leaving your expression bare before him. It’s no different than any other fatuus mask, but he slowly examines it regardless.

“Go on, show me your devotion, (Name),” he says, shifting so his knees are on each side

Just the fact that he knows your name makes you shudder. You’re not sure of what exactly he wants from you, but you’re already in a bizarre enough situation, so you decide to follow your instincts.

You slowly wrap your hand around his boot, raising it until you can comfortably lower your face, letting your lips come in contact with it. His eyes widen for a moment, as you continue rubbing your face on the side of his boot. Their surface is clean, that bit of snow remaining gets smothered on your skin, melting away.

“Hah”, moving to other boot, you repeat the same motion “At least you know where you belong.”

His voice has a layer of malice to it, like he’s elated by this outcome. Your hand comes in contact with his skin, it’s so cold, like touching freshly piled snow. Opting to rub his legs in a meek attempt at warming them up, you press your lips to his knee, savoring the moment.

Any other person would feel humiliated in this situation, worshipping at your Lord’s feet, but this, it’s like a dream come true to you. Being so close to the object of your attraction makes your head go spinning. It feels unreal just being able to lay your hands on them. You shouldn't press your luck. but it’s so tempting to just reach over and grope him all over.

He would probably kill you.

Maybe.

Perhaps if you’re slow and methodical about it you can manage to get a tiny bit closer to his thighs. Masking your need as devotion.

You place your lips just above his knee, your hands moving under it, rubbing at the soft skin. He’s also curious about how far you’re willing to push yourself. He’s no fool, he knows you’re scared of crossing a line you’re not even aware of. He could be kind and point you in the right direction, but watching you struggle to restrain yourself while mindlessly mouthing at his skin is a show too good to pass on.

Eventually, he widens his legs, just enough to allow you to sit deeper in between them. This new position allows you to reach further. It stuns you for a moment, hesitantly putting your hands on his thighs, looking at his face for any sign of vexation. When you don’t find any, you deem it safe to push further, lowering your face to latch your mouth on the exposed skin. Leaving a slightly wet trail everywhere you go.

He’s let you get this far, and if the way he moves his legs giving you even more access is any indicator of his enjoyment, it encourages you to try your luck.

Your hand slips under his shorts, slowly pushing them up. You lock eyes, and for a second you fear you’ve overstayed your welcome, luckily that’s not the case.

“No markings.” His hand now rests on your head, slowly moving your hair out of your face.

Would it even be possible to leave marks? His skin shows no imperfections and it’s so smooth it makes you want to lose yourself in it. But it also feels… tougher? While rubbing it with your hands, it felt robust, like if you sunk your teeth in it it wouldn’t break even the upper layer. Maybe just leave a mark. A sign you were there.

But now is not the time to get lost in your imagination. Not when the real deal is in front of you, inviting you to have your fill.

You pinch lightly at the flesh of his inner thighs, you’re so close to his crotch, if it wasn’t for that piece of armor around his waist, the side of your face would be squished in it.

“Enough teasing,” He says, and almost as if he was reading your mind, he rids himself of the armor and other superfluous frills attached to it. “Get to work.”

Now that nothing is blocking your view, you can see the bulge that formed under all those clothing.

The sight makes you drool, as you immediately reach a hand to slightly squeeze it. Your eagerness amuses him, but he’s grown impatient. His grip on your hair is much tighter now, dragging your face until it’s directly flush with his clothed erection.

“You better not waste my time” His tone is harsh and firm, and it just makes the heat between your legs worse. When his grip relents, you push yourself away just enough to pull down his shorts. He shifts his hips up, aiding you in sliding them off.

Now that his erection is free, it bounces slightly as your breath fans over it. The tip is a cute shade of pink, beads of precum leaking from it. But he doesn’t give you the time to admire it any longer, grabbing himself from the hilt to slap it on your face a few times. The sound of skin slapping against skin is the only audible thing in the room. It makes your head spin. To think you’d have the privilege of being the one he unleashes his sexual frustrations on.

He pulls your head up, tapping his dick on your lips. You open your mouth, letting him rest his tip on it, and your lips wrap around him, tasting him.

Were it any other situation, you’d take your time in savoring this moment, slowly sliding your tongue around his girth, letting his desire grow. But this is different, like if your performance doesn’t satisfy him he might just kill you on the spot.

And the thought shouldn’t turn you on, for a second the thought of biting him just to piss him off crosses your mind. What a way to go that would be.

Alas, not wanting to keep him waiting, you make an effort to take as much of him as you can, until your nose is flush with his pelvis.

He lets out a satisfied sigh and that slight expression of annoyance leaves his face, your mouth is warm and wet, and the movement of you swallowing around sends shivers down his spine.

“That’s it,” his grip on your hair tightens, holding you in place. “That’s good.”

The mere hint of him praising you makes you shudder, you’re so soaked your underwear is sticking to your cunt. You want to thank him, but speaking with him in your mouth proves to be difficult, it comes out as an unintelligible hum, whether he understood you or not he seems to appreciate the vibration of your throat.

He pulls your head back, urging you to start moving, seemingly done with just enjoying your throat. You drag yourself back until his tip is once again resting on your tongue, and then push it all back in, as far as you can go. You manage to work up a steady rhythm, one that leaves small moans escape from his mouth. They’re breathy, but every time you manage to wring one out of him is like a win to you. Each little noise of his spurs you on further. One of your hands reaches up to grab the rest of him, moving up and down in synch with your mouth, while the other reaches down and inside your uniform pants, rubbing at your clit.

“F-fuck… You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Your eyes trail up to look at his, his flushed face looking back at you.

“Me using your mouth turns you on.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, and to put more emphasis on it he shifts his legs until one of them is resting between your own.

“You’re doing a good job… I guess I should reward you.”

He shoves his boot up, as if kicking your hand away. He wants you to…. oh.

Complacently, you shift lower until your full weight is resting on him, the absence of your fingers replaced by him. It takes you a moment to adjust to this new position, but once you get back on your rhythm you resume your ministrations on him, while slowly grinding on his leg.

His other hand reaches your head, threading your hair before settling a firm grip next to the other, you’re given a moment of reprise before he shoves his hips forward, roughly, holding you in place.

His thrusts are fast and merciless, each one reaching deeper inside your throat. You close your eyes, trying not to gag when he reaches a bit too deep, not that you have the ability to complain, all you can do is try your best to accommodate him as he uses you to get off. Your hips start moving a bit faster too, the thought of you being a mere means to an end in his eyes is turning you on more than you’d like. And he notices.

His cock throbs in your mouth and he lets out a breathy laugh, “So pathetic. Humping my leg like a dog in heat.”

You open your eyes for a moment to look at him. He’s grinning at you, looking at you as if you were something truly beneath him, pushing his hips in rougher as if to accentuate that. The sounds of saliva and cum smacking around your lips are so obscenely loud, you’d have half a mind to almost be embarrassed by it, but there’s a knot tightening in your stomach, and it grows tighter and tighter with every thrust of your hips. It doesn’t help that with every thrust his leg moves slightly up against you, coaxing you into an orgasm.

Your hands clamp on his thighs, hard, the shuddering of your hips slowing down as you unwind on him. You let out withered moans, barely audible but still sending pleasurable vibrations up his length.

You’re straight up drooling around him at this point, saliva sliding down your chin and on his balls. He’s sounding a bit breathier above you, and you can feel him twitching with more vigor inside your throat. Your body limp on his makes it easier to thrust deeper.

He pushes in as far as your throat allows him and stills there. You’re prepared to feel him coming down your throat, but he pushes your head back suddenly, so far back his dick slides off your mouth with a wet pop.

He’s stroking himself above you for a moment until there’s a brief pause, interrupted by a breathless curse as he finishes on the top of your lips, riddling your face with his come.

He sags back down on the couch, basking in the aftermath of his orgasm with you still in between his legs. His chest heaves up and down, catching his breath, but his moment of peace is short lived as he speaks up.

“I guess you did prove yourself,” he says as he slowly tucks himself back in his pants. You squint up at him. You don’t move from your position, still sitting even as he removes his leg from underneath you, breathing slowly and deeply now that his dick occupying your airways.

When you come to your senses you start searching around with your gaze for a tissue or even some rag to clean yourself up, you’re truly in an unpresentable state. Your hair is messily pulled out of its ties, strands flying everywhere and some glued to your face. Your face… Awkwardly, you wipe your lips, trying to at least dry up the saliva but there’s nothing you can do to hide the very evident cum sticking on… everything else. You can’t just walk out in this state- you do have a reputation to uphold. And rumors travel fast- by the end of the day every cadet would know of the shameful state you left the Balladeer’s office in, and it wouldn’t take long for them to put two and two together-

“Oh. This belongs to you.” He says holding your mask, seemingly noticing your inner monologue. “You’ll be needing it out there.” He adds as he puts it back on your face, squishing that bit of cum on your cheeks.

“You can go now. I’ll call you again when I need your… assistance.”

[emchante]

sooo I’m not sure whether divorced dad!daniel and reader are living together but I’m assuming maybe they’re not there yet. and like she’s obviously often at his place, but when he has the kids sometimes she goes back to her place to let them have some family time together (although Daniel has told her many times that she’s more than welcome). And for some reason she’s at her place tonight while Daniel has got the kids back from their mother and the kids are soooooo disappointed that she’s not here ????

And Dan has got to convince her to come (not really hard to) and it’s just fluff and cuddles ???

I just feel like it would break his heart and warm it up at the same time to see his kids sad but because reader’s not here 🥺

-🐱

🐱 nonnie you really know how to make me emotional and sappy for our favourite dilf :((

definitely takes them a while before she moves in/stays often with them, but it’s not too bad considering they’re neighbours!

anyways, fluffy drabble below about this<3

so this definitely happens, and probably a few times too!! the kids usually ask about you on the way home; if daniel has seen you, if you had been busy, if you’d be able to see them soon. usually they ask if you’re there, but they’re kids! they have lots going on in their little noggins, so sometimes it slips to ask.

so when they arrive at home, and you aren’t there in the living room when they burst in? they’re sad, they’re deflated, they’re disappointed :( daniel doesn’t realise at first, only noticing when he’s in front of them that their posture is slumped, and the sad looks on their faces.

“hey, what’s up? is everything alright?” he asks, kneeling down in front of them to pull them in for a family hug. his son just rests his head against daniel’s shoulder, and his daughter speaks up for them.

she asks where you are and oh, of course they’re sad about you. they haven’t seen you in a few days now, and are so used to having you around often. it’s disappointing that you aren’t here.

“oh honey,” he mumbles, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. “i think she might be very tired, she had a long day herself. why don’t we invite her over tomorrow, hm?” daniel tries to bargain, and he’s met with sad frowns.

and that’s how you end up on the phone with daniel. at 10pm.

“danny, i’m in bed already,” you giggle tiredly, rubbing your eyes to keep yourself awake. you hear a soft coo down the phone, and you smile at the sound.

“sorry sweetheart, i did tell them you’d be tired. they’re just desperate to see you. they’ve missed you.. more than me i think,” he trails off, rubbing his forehead as he realises they have asked more about you than him.

“they’re the sweetest ever,” you reply, smiling at the thought of them asking about you. you ponder for a moment. daniel is your neighbour, irs not as if he’s far. plus, do you really want to be alone on a cold winter night?

“i know, i know. it’s alright, i’ll tell them—” “i’ll be over in five,” you tell him, hanging up before daniel can even respond. his eyes are widened as he scratches his hair, wondering what caused the sudden switch up.

it isn’t long until the doorbell rings, and his kids perk up from the sofa. they peek out the living room window and— oh, it’s you!!

they run to the front door, putting daniel’s set of keys in the lock before turning it and flinging the door open. they squeal your name as they give you a massive hug, holding onto one leg each.

“hey you two!” you giggle, a hand on each of their heads as you ruffle their hair softly, enjoying the affection. you look up to see daniel, black and white pyjama set on as the top few buttons of his shirt were undone.

you bit your lip and gave him a wink, causing a smirk to appear on his face. this would have to be continued another time though, as you weren’t here for that tonight.

when you get inside, you’re almost immediately dragged to daniel’s bedroom by the kids, and you allow yourself to be taken. they jump onto the bed, motioning you and daniel to join them as they give you the cutest puppy dog eyes possible. definitely learned that from their father, you think.

that’s how you end up cuddled together on daniel’s king sized bed. you’re at daniel’s side, head resting on his shoulder as you have the two kids partially on top of you. his daughter sleeps on your thigh as his son does the same with daniel. you stroke her growing hair gently, hoping it helps her fall asleep faster.

and it does! the snores that escape her only moments later cause you and daniel to giggle softly, his son joining the sleepy session not long after.

“thank you for coming over, that really made their night,” daniel whispers, leaning down to place a soft kiss onto your lips. you smile into it, before leaning back to place a kiss on his nose.

“thank you for inviting me. you know i adore them,” you tell him, your eyes falling to the two kids asleep atop of you both. your heart swells at the sight of the domestic, family-like moment. you feel yourself get a little emotional, considering your circumstances— you never thought you’d be at a point in your life where you could say that; family-like moment.

daniel senses the overwhelming emotion, leaning down and nuzzling his nose into your neck, as he placed a bunch of kisses over it. “you’re the best thing that happened to them— us.”

and that makes you smile, because they’re the best thing to happen to you too.

[eccentricallygothic]

Pairing: Gryffindor!Steve Rogers | Slytherin!Reader.

Warning(s): Rough p-in-v, d/s dynamics, unprotected sex, doggy style, name calling, spanking, hate sex vibes, daddy kink, degradation, hair pulling, meanie Steve but we love it, allusion to choking.  

What happens when a dominant Gryffindor and a relatively submissive Slytherin come together?

While the answer could be one of many things and could range from one extreme to the other, brutal sex qualifies as a fact.

And as Y/n was being obliterated into one of the heavy wooden desks of Classroom 3C, she would agree.

Her chin was propped against the table as she was forced to stare ahead, arms locked together on the small of her back and being held in place by the primary subject of all her ire and well guised fancy as he pounded his cock balls deep into her hot cavern with each thrust. 

The Slytherin's teeth chattered against the wand of her Gryffindor owner, having been ordered to keep it there until he was done venting his frustration out on her weeping pussy that clenched every time their skins collided into contact. 

It was Steve's way of getting her to keep her brat mouth shut during a lesson in discipline, as he liked to call it. And it was also a convenient excuse to get her in even more trouble if the wand fell out of her mouth regardless of the reason.

The girl's nostrils were flared, cheeks flushed and eyes teary as she struggled to breathe normal, the welts that her lover had left on her delicate swells with his wand that possessed an unforgiving sturdiness to it pressing against the cold wood she was bent over, the sound of squelches of flesh violating flesh and squeaking of skin sliding over the desktop loud in the large room.

"Such a sly little slut, aren't you, baby?" Steve grunted as he connected his palm to one of her nether cheeks harshly. "Using those pretty little tits to distract her Daddy" now he snatched a handful of her hair in his hand and pulled until her body curved backwards and lifted off the desk. "Just so inherently wicked, aren't we?" His voice was a snarl.

Competition was competition.

Y/n refused to lose a game of Quidditch just because her lover was among the competitors. 

It was not her fault if Steve -much typical to his house, if she did say so- was too weak to resist and look away. 

But apparently, the Gryffindor captain did not share the Slytherin seeker's thoughts on the matter. 

The girl wanted to shoot back an insult, she really did. But the wand between her teeth and memories of what happened when she let it fall during these sessions forced her to keep her words to herself and the wand in place.

"That's right, keep that bratty little cocksucker quiet" letting go of her hair to allow her to collapse back over the desk, Steve felt sweat broke out on his temples when he felt his high nearing, aware that his lover was close as well due to how her slit was expanding to greedily accommodate him for the cumulation of as much pleasure as possible.

"Dirty fuckin' girl, flaunting that ass all over the field for everyone to see" Y/n's eyes fluttered close as he gave two spanks to each of her cheeks in delayed succession, hitting her spongy bundle of sensitive nerves with each thrust. "Is that a common practice in your silly little house, huh baby? Acting like cockstarved little whores?" Her toes curled and eyes clenched shut as her orgasm vibrated through her being, the intensity causing vertigo in her ears and hypothermia within her feet that dangled above the ground due to her position under him. 

The tension in the Slytherin's chest grew now, and then it was too much to bear. Arching her back to withstand the force of her strong orgasm, Y/n let herself get carried away by the powerful orgasm and– alas! 

Steve's wand rolled out from between her teeth and slipped past her lips, landing on the flat desktop with devastatingly heavy clicks as it bounced in its place. 

"Cumming without my permission and letting the wand fall…" Steve tutted as he thrusted into her harder, yanking her up by the hold he had on her arms. "Oh, baby. What am I going to do with you?" He whispered in her ear as he wrapped his free hand around her throat once she was up and trembling against his chest.

MASTERLIST

.

As a Slytherin who has a bittersweet relationship with Steve, smash.

[azsazz]

Better Men Have Hit Their Knees and Bigger Men Have Died

Cassian x Reader

Summary: They say all is fair in love and war.

Warnings: Smut, hate-fucking.

Word Count: 5,313

Notes: I've said it once and I'll say it again. I think I'm in love with this Cassian.

_________________________________________

“I’ll wrestle you to your fucking knees if you don’t do it yourself.” Cassian’s ire slides up your spine like a blade straight from the forge, “So why don’t you save us both the time and get down.”

Your glare does nothing to deter the path of his lust-filled gaze, drinking in your revealing dress, the onyx ink adorning your bare skin from bargains made throughout your years, the sweep of coal around your eyes, covering only the most intimate parts of you.

Except for the one buried deep within your soul, your innermost feelings, he’s attuned to. All because of that damned mating bond.

You cannot stand the male looking down at you. That spark in his eyes, the demands from those lips, curled into a cruel smile at the flare of anger he feels from you, all sharp teeth and drunk on lust. His stare is just as cutting, and you can hardly tell if he hates the silvery silk you’re cloaked in, like moonlight dripping off your skin, or if the dislike is simply directed at your entire being.

Either way, you don’t have time. The both of you are supposed to be joining the others in Rhysand’s office for a final walkthrough of the plan before heading into the Hewn City for the night, one full of debauchery and putting on a show for the citizens that think you’re nothing more than a crony for a single-minded High Lord.

But Cassian had caught you in the hallway and forced you back into your room, cock hard and demanding you get on your knees for him. It was a thing that you don’t remember having started, as the both of you held a strong dislike towards each other for years, since Rhysand had brought you in to give a fresh stance on warfare. But lust had licked up your spine at his actions nonetheless. Damn that unaccepted bond purring in your chest, reacting to him in every way, betraying you to your core.

Rhysand didn’t think that Cassian would react with such abhorrence to the presence of another well trained general, especially a female. It wasn’t like he had brought you in to replace the warlord, although, from hearing some of his strategies, you thought you might’ve been brought in to do exactly that.

You size him up, as you always do, and his hazel eyes flicker at the challenge. Sparring with him always ended with both of you torn and bloody, neither of you willing to submit to the other. It carried on into the bedroom as well, fighting for control in the throes of lust, your unmated bonds thrumming in your chests, always reaching out for one another. 

And yet neither of you had denied it, though the threat always lingered, both of you teetering on the edge of declining the other when irritated too much. But that itch was constant, never fulfilled, urging you to react.

You open your mouth to snap back at him, a nasty retort on the tip of your tongue, but he’s quick – hundreds of years of Illyrian training under his belt had made him so. He grips your chin roughly, the bite of his fingers pressing into the hinge of your jaw makes your cunt clench, even as you glare up at him.

“Nuh-uh,” he scolds, like he knows exactly what you had planned on spewing. The fucking smirk on his face tells you that the only thing you’ll be spitting on is his cock, whenever he demands it. The steely, commanding look in his eyes makes a shiver crawl up your spine and your fists curl into the smooth fabric of your dress. “No talking.”

And Mother, do you want to speak just to piss him off. You know what will happen if you do, you’ve tried it on many occasions, testing his limits, because there was no way in hell that you were going to take his demands as easily as one of his mediocrely trained soldiers, not when the both of you so openly disliked each other.

But you’re already running late. You need to be downstairs soon for the briefing and if you open your mouth now he won’t let you cum. So instead, you bite your tongue to the brink of splitting it open, and sink to your knees before Cassian.

His cock twitches in his pants and he nearly groans at the sight of you, the harsh glare you’re sending up at him, your chin trapped in his hold. If he presses just a little firmer those pretty pink lips will pop right open for him–

Cassian works his belt loose with one hand, the other holding onto you like a vice. You don’t move, don’t dare to help him with his leathers. You so achingly want to watch his cock spring from confinement when he shoves them over the cutting muscles of his hips, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

You settle for watching it from the corner of your eyes, so close that his cock nearly hits you in the face. 

You can feel the warmth radiating from his massive length and your mouth waters, remembering the last time you’d had that heavy heat between your lips. You swear he was Cauldron blessed.

He’s ready as ever, precum beading at the tip as he strokes himself once, twice, pressing the head of his cock against your mouth, smearing the milky bead across your lips. You take a deep inhale of the heady scent of him, but it only spikes your arousal. Cassian’s cock twitches at the  barely there feeling, an unconscious reaction to the mating bond festering beneath his skin.

You force nonchalance and hatred with every fiber of your being, staring up at him in defiance. Later, you will get your revenge, riding him until the sun wakes and not letting him cum until he forces you into the mattress and uses you like you’re nothing but a whore. You can picture the way his large hands will manhandle you, folding you into tight shapes for him as he pounds into your cunt with fervor, like a drowning man, spewing vitriol like they’re confessions of love.

A raised eyebrow, your way of asking, ‘Any more demands? Or can we get this started?’

Cassian’s grin turns feral, his fingers pinching open your jaw while his free hand coils your hair around into a tight fist.

“No gagging, sweetheart.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You’re eager to play tonight, riled from the time spent with Cassian’s cock in your mouth, stretching your throat wide enough to take his entire length, your hair pulled into his large fist as he shoved your head closer to his body until your nose met the coarse hairs above his cock.

He held you there and you reveled in the burn. There was nothing gentle about him having full control of you, and the lick of lust you’d let slip between the two of you only made his free hand slide down, clamping at your soft neck where he could feel himself, your throat bulging around his girth. 

If you had more time he would have stripped you bare and lifted your cunt to his mouth to devour the wetness dripping from your folds. He was perhaps the most excited down there, and it was the only time where you’d let him dominate you, drawing orgasm after orgasm from you until your thighs quaked, breathing so ragged you couldn’t argue with him, hands holding so tightly to his hair he thought you might rip it clean from his scalp. 

He’d cum so far down your throat you could hardly feel the hot spurts as he released. You’d shoved at his hips in desperation, wanting to taste his familiar musk. By the end of it you’d had spit and cum dripping from your chin to the milky skin between your breasts the moonlit silk of your dress left bare.

You wanted to bathe in it, wear it proud like any battle scar, but you shoved those thoughts so deeply inside of you where his prying bond wasn’t able to reach. Instead, you sent him the ice cold hatred you felt anytime someone compared his strategies to yours. You honed in on that feeling and held on tight.

At least the material of your dress hadn’t been stained, and you’d made a valiant attempt at fixing your hair before you showed up to the meeting room with your comrades.

If any of them noticed anything off about you, they knew better than to speak.

Now, you’re prowling the large ballroom after having received a nod from your High Lord to lure and pry for information by any means necessary. Cassian preferred brute force and Azriel tended to seek information with his blades, while you used a different approach, one that might even work better than bloodshed and torture.

There’s nothing more threatening to a male than a female’s body.

The music playing throughout the hall is sensual in itself, the fast-paced sounds flowing throughout the room in a lustful wave. The sultry female voice harmonizes perfectly with her male counterpart, and the song sounds like it’s own mixture of lewd moans and words, the air hot and serenading the partygoers like sirens.

You’ve wanted nothing more than to press your body up against someone’s, and after having downed a few glasses of wine, that is exactly what you plan on doing.

Your eyes catch on a tall male then, your first victim. Rhysand had briefed you and the other members of the Inner Circle on him, Rhodes. His body is lean with muscle, skin a pretty pale blue that would draw the eye of anyone in the room. His caramel gaze scans the room as he speaks to a fellow warrior, an empty rock glass hanging lazily at his side. He has a strong nose and matching scars mirrored across both cheeks that somehow only exaggerates his rugged beauty. He’s one of Beron’s highest appointed commanders, and even you cannot deny his gorgeous features.

Slinking through the crowd to him is easy, and drawing him away from the male before him easier, drawing him deep into the crowd of writhing bodies with the promise of entertainment on your curved lips.

Oh, these generals of war and how they like to play.

Dancers clear from your path with scowls, some spitting insults at you as you drag their general through the hall with a grin, like you’ve won a luxurious prize. You don’t flinch or cringe away from them, only smile and swing your hand with the commanders to emphasize and flaunt what you’ve got.

You find a spot in the middle of the floor, where Rhysand and Feyre can both see you from the dais, where everyone has the perfect view of you and your prey, the scalding flash locking your spine in place tells you so.

You ignore the feeling, not letting your act falter as you spin to a stop before him. The blue-skinned fae doesn’t stop with you though, his large stride eats the last step separating you, forcing all of the air between you to rush away until his body is flush against yours. You have his full attention.

A playful smirk graces your lips as you stare up at him, fingers already reaching up, grazing across his dark tunic to wrap around his neck. His hands slide around your waist, gentlemanly for now. It’s a pleasing surprise, knowing how the males of the Hewn City actually are.

You find yourself falling into an easy rhythm with Rhodes, and your swaying quickly turns to writhing, grinding against him as his hands pull you desperately into his body at the command of the sinful music. You nearly lose your motive when you meet his butterscotch eyes, drinking in every movement you make. 

You can feel his interest against your hip.

Rhodes curls downwards, so tall that you wonder if his spine hurts just a little, as he dips down to meet your gaze more fully, a question in his eyes.

“You think you can have me?” you purr, a wicked smile gracing your lips as you trail a metallic dipped fingernail down the exposed blue of his chest. The effects of the wine have you buzzing, but you know better than to give and not receive payment for your efforts. “You know that there’s always a price to pay, don’t you, Rhodes?”

His burned buttery eyes flash with irritation and his grip on your hips tighten, a clear sign of his frustration. You can see the battle behind his heated gaze, how badly he wants you, what information he’s willing to give you in exchange for a taste.

The thunderous music peaks, crashing into a crescendo that makes you shiver as a second body closes in on you from behind, pressing flush against you. Your bond purrs in your chest but it could be the buzz from the wine as you arch backwards into the warmth, grinding into him as your head tilts back to lean against the wall of a male who’s trapped you between him and Rhodes, eyes shut in bliss and mouth open in a pleasured exhale.

The male behind you dips his head toward your ear and you can’t help but to tilt your head, leaning it against his temple as he speaks.

He chuckles, and Cassian’s breathy and hot words send shivers up your spine. “Oh, you’ll fuck anything, won’t you, sweetheart?”

At the sound of his voice your heart stops and your eyes snap open, locking directly on Rhodes’, who’s now looking down at you like you’re some sort of festering wound. He releases your hips immediately and he slinks back into the crowd on a jarring note from the violin, chin tilted high and glaring down at anyone who looks his way. Even he knows better than to fuck with one of the High Lords companions.

The shock must still be on your face when you turn around because Cassian’s shit-eating grin only widens before he’s taking your wrist in a firm grip and leading you from the dancefloor.

You want to refuse, but the bond in your chest is aching at you not to, to follow him even though you’re angrier than the Mother. He’s ruined your entire scheme.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you spit once he’s dragged you from the party, putting a room between you and the debauchery that’s happening in the ballroom, music softening through the closed door.

Cassian spins on his heel, shoving you right up into the wooden frame. It’s too dark to read the look on his face but his eyes glimmer in the night and his wings pull up high. You can make out the shapes of his claws forming a taunting halo above his head.

His hands are everywhere all at once, pulling at the ties of your dress to release it from your body that’s already curving into his eager touch. The darkness chills your skin as the fabric melts to the ground and your breath is a gasp as Cassian’s mouth sucks harshly at the skin of your throat, quickly working his way downward, your heartbeat pounding in time with the drums of the notes in the other room.

“Don’t you want to be my good girl?” He taunts and you hiss, pulling at his hair from where you were threading the silky strands through your fingers.

“Fuck you,” you spit.

“No,” he growls, low in your ear. You let slip a strained moan as you feel the heat of his cock meet your dripping cunt before sliding in easily, one fell swoop that shoves all of the emotions you’ve buried deep inside of you to the surface. “Fuck you.”

You cry out in pleasure, clinging to him like you never want to let him go. Your legs wind around his waist and he presses your body into the door as he fucks into you, his fingers covering the spots where Rhodes had been holding you in the ballroom, replacing the commanders touch with his own.

The bond aches in your chest at your close proximity to your counterpart. Your other half, equals in every way yet you can’t stand each other. You can’t stand his stupid hair that fits perfectly between your fingers, his hazel gaze that’s always staring at you with malice. You hate the smirk he directs your way and how you can’t seem to ever get those lips off of your mind, how you dream about him as much as you work with him–

No. You need to shut that train of thought down immediately, but it’s so difficult when his cock commands them from you, pushing them to the surface with each thrust, you moan out his name instead.

“That’s right,” he says against your mouth, “Scream for me, sweetheart.”

And you do.

It’s the only thing you can do besides let your innermost feelings spill from your lips. You know that you shouldn’t feel this way, know that he loathes you, but you can’t help it. You were made to be his, to want him completely.

Your nails rake down his back, so awfully close to the base of his wings it has him shuddering a growling, nipping harshly at your lip as he untangles your hands from around him. You whimper at the loss when he pins them above your head in one hand, the other supporting you, the muscles of his arm bulging with the effort.

Head falling back on your shoulders, your thighs quake where they’re clasped around Cassian’s waist. You can feel the perspiration against your forehead as he presses his against your own, glaring down at you because he wants to watch you as he ruins you, makes a mess of you for everyone else tonight.

Your chest heaves against his, a battle all its own as your heart beats a booming rhythm. Your skin sticks to his and you gasp when he shifts, plunging into you from a different angle.

You cum on his cock but Cassian’s not finished with you. He bites at your shoulder when he feels you tense around him, revels in the noises you make, uncaring if anyone else hears. It is the Hewn City, afterall.

“Give me another,” he demands, picking up his pace, pressing into your further. You can hardly breathe with his body against yours and you think you’ve heard the wood of the door begin splitting open from how harshly he’s fucking you into it.

Your legs go limp around him but he has one thing on his mind, releasing your arms in favor of latching onto your legs to hold you up. You mewl at the relentless way that he’s fucking into you, the long draw of your orgasm quickly building into another as his cock hits the spot inside of you like he’s known it all along.

You have no choice but to follow his demand, cumming around him again with a keen as he follows, releasing into you, his breathing ragged.

He leans against you for a moment as he collects his bearings and before you have the chance to revel in the way his body molds perfectly to yours he’s dropping you to your feet and tucking himself away.

“Clean yourself up, you look like a mess.”

His words clang in your chest like a death knoll, harsh and unrelenting. You should have known it to be true, neither of you ever stayed a minute longer in each other’s presence once you’d finished, but this…this stings.

Cassian leaves you in the darkened room by yourself while he slips away, headed towards the dining room where dinner is about to be served.

You sit for a long moment, his cum dripping down your thighs as you bury unwanted emotions away. Your dress is a disheveled mess and your lips are bruised with his kisses, skin dotted purple from his touch. 

You knew that the Mother was cruel, but not like this. Because you’re mated to the male you loathe, even if he has ruined you for every other body in Prythian.

You fist the silky material of your dress as your anger seeps in.

No. You will not let him humiliate you this time. You’re the one he stopped in the hall. You’re the one he dragged away from Rhodes. You’re the one who made him cum again and again. 

You’re not letting Cassian have this one.

It takes you two times to stand because of how bad your legs are trembling. Your thighs are sore from how hard Cassian fucked you and you can feel every place he touched as you shove your skirts down to cover your slick legs. You hadn’t bothered to wipe him from you. No, you want them all to know who treats you like this.

You stalk towards the dining room, building your confidence brick by brick with each clack of your heels. Spine straightening, chin tilting upward, mouth pressed into a firm line.

Let them see the tear in your dress, the mess of your hair, the smear of your lipstick halfway across your cheek. Let them smell the cum dripping down your thighs. Show them how much of a brute through and through Cassian is. 

Fuck him.

As you near, you hear the heavy scrape of a chair against the floor. It’s an urgent sound, like someone’s realized they’ve forgotten their weapon in another room. Just as you’re about to turn the corner to enter the dining room Cassian appears, wrapping a firm arm around your waist and hoisting you over his shoulder in such a swift move it takes your mind a moment to catch up. The talon of his wing nearly tears your forehead open and you make a noise of frustration in retaliation.

“Hey,” you shout, pounding at his back. His grip is tight, unrelenting and your fists don’t seem to have any effect on the hard cording of his back. “Put me down!”

“No,” he growls in response, stalking away from the dinner guests.

But you’re not giving up, you never have.

Cassian lets you slip from his shoulder but he’s quick to pin you against the wall, as far from the dinner his body would allow before the need to be buried inside of you again becomes unbearable.

“I’m hungry,” you say, acting aloof as ever. 

Cassian grins wolfishly, “I’ll give you something to put in your mouth then, how about that?”

You don’t have a chance to respond because he’s dipping down, lips capturing yours in a feral kiss that’s more teeth than lips.

Your body reacts instinctually. You’re clawing at his clothes, but he no longer seems to care if buttons pop from the ridiculous shirt Rhys had forced him into, if the fabric snags against his wings in your haste to rid him of it. It’s like you can’t control yourself, something deep inside of you needing to be filled by him always.

He spins you around and you plant your hands against the wall to brace yourself. Rucking your dress up on your hips, Cassian is quick to tug his trousers off once more. And while you’d come here with the intention of giving him a piece of your mind, your body clearly has other thoughts, your mating bond thrashing around in the cage it’s being locked in.

“Don’t be fucking greedy now,” he grunts as you arch into him, shoving your cunt back to take him more fully. His hands are steel on your hips, the pads of his fingers digging roughly into your skin, halting your movements. “Already ready for round two?”

You bite your lip so hard you nearly draw blood as you try to stifle the whimper crawling up your throat. Gods, you need more, you need his broad chest pinning you to the wall, you need to feel the roughness of the partition imprinted into your cheek as he tries to shove you through it while he fucks into you harder, unable to control himself, giving into that primal urge that you’re feeling as well, the bond trying to claw it’s way from your body and into his–

“You’ll get as much as I give you,” his snarl is paired with a shifting of his hips, not forward, but back. It sends a flash of anger through you and you’re shaking in his grasp, you’re sure he can feel it beneath his hold on you. You can feel the head of his cock pulling out and you squeeze your eyes shut, clenching around him desperately, like it might just keep him there.

Cold air rushes through your lungs as he retreats. If you were a better female you wouldn’t beg, but the warmth of his pulsing cock withdrawing from your cunt is like losing a limb. You can feel your heart rate pick up in panic as his tip halts right inside of your entrance, any slight movement from you will send him sliding out completely.

You gasp desperately, and it sounds like a plea of pain while he holds you on the end of this hot cock.

“Fuck you like you love me, Cassian,” you beg, body shaking with the effort it takes to keep still for him. You don’t even realize what you’ve said until the air shifts in the aftermath.

Cassian’s hold on your hips turns to steel and his spine straightens. The bond in his chest roars and his vision goes white. He nearly loses the grip he has on himself, the wall he’d so carefully built between the two of you, and your confession has him wanting to bury his cock so deeply into you it’ll break you in half, so that he’s embedded into your body, your soul, forever.

“Tell me again,” he commands, but it’s not a warcry signaling the beginning of battle. No, it’s something else, much softer. It makes you whimper.

But you refuse. You will not repeat the words that had slipped from your mouth as if someone else had taken control of your body, as if your mating bond had grown a voice and forced it from you on its own. The words that had been shoved so deeply within yourself that they hardly even sound like you.

Cassian’s demeanor changes at your lack of response, fisting your hair in his grasp. He forces you into the wall with his elbow to your spine and pulls your hair tight. Your neck cranes and your back bows in his hold. He leans in close, breath hot in your ear as he growls. “Tell. Me. Again.”

“Please,” you gasp. Please don’t make me repeat myself. Please don’t stop fucking me. Please don’t hate me–

“No, that’s not it,” he scolds, but his tone takes on a slightly softer tone. His movements are agonizingly slow, sliding deep into like he hasn’t left in the middle of dinner to fuck you against the wall not even twenty feet away. Your entire body shudders in reaction to the long stroke, and tears burn your eyes when he nearly pulls all the way out of you again. “Tell me, sweetheart. I didn’t hear you.”

“Don’t,” you choke, a stubborn tear rolling hot down your cheek. You squeeze your eyes tight so he doesn’t see, “You’re being cruel, Cassian.”

“I think you’re the one being cruel, sweetheart,” he counters lowly. “Taunting me with your words, touching other males, teasing me with this perfect pussy.” His last words are accentuated by two sharp thrusts that make your cunt convulse and a weak moan escape your lips. “So I think you’ll be repeating exactly what you said a moment ago when I ask you.”

How can such harsh words make you feel like this? Cassian’s been nothing but rude to you since you’d arrived and yet he makes you feel like no other has. And if this is how you feel when he’s discourteous, you imagine how you’d feel if he actually had feelings…

Cauldron fucking spare me.

You work to swallow, refusing to meet his gaze as you speak, voice trembling. “I said…fuck me like you love me.”

The air is sucked from your body at the admission, his body, from the room. He’s so silent that if his warmth at your back and the head of his cock weren’t torturing you, you wouldn’t even know he was here at all.

“Look at me,” Cassian asks, and his voice is soft, so tender that it makes you flinch.

You refuse. You can’t force yourself to look at him. Not when he’s going to glare at you and make fun of you–

“Sweetheart,” he coos, tracing a gentle thumb across your cheek. “Please.”

And you do.

You don’t even know who you’re looking at. Cassian’s hazel eyes have gone soft, big and wide and staring at you like he doesn’t recognize you either. His bond strokes against your heart like his fingers do your spine, his grip in your hair slackening as his brash fingertips melt into a caress.

“I do love you, sweetheart,” he admits, and a part of you so desperately wants to believe that he’s lying. That his sappy glance will morph into one of condescending and taunting, but you can see it in his eyes that he’s being nothing but honest.

That feeling in your chest tells you so, too.

But you can’t help the insecurities that whimper out of you. “You do?”

He releases a shaky chuckle and he relaxes like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. You gasp as he pulls out of you completely but he’s spinning you around and drawing you into his body, pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss that doesn’t burn with lust but with love.

“Gods, yes,” he pants, pressing his forehead against yours. “I don’t know when it changed. Reckon I’ve always loved you, I think.”

Your heart soars at his words, mating bond singing in your chest. You can’t help but to grin up at him, brushing a loose strand of hair from his face, admiring his own look of awe.

“I think I’ve always loved you too, Cassian,” you sigh. Unable to help yourself you press up onto the tips of your toes, pecking him on the lips once, and then again. 

The war between you is over.

Almost, because the string in your chest coiling and twining with his is the last thing keeping you apart. 

Cassian must feel it too because he’s groaning like a dying male, leaning into you exaggeratedly. It makes you giggle and his heart soar.

“If I eat you out does that count as completing the bond, sweetheart? Need you to be mine right now.”

You laugh, burrowing your head into his chest. “Cassian, there is a dinner table right on the other side of this wall.”

He pulls away from you, face hard. The smile slips from your lips but his look isn’t one of anger, but primal protection.

“I’m not letting any of those fuckers see you like this.”

You cross your arms over your chest and raise your eyebrow in challenge. “Like what?”

That familiar razor-sharp smirk graces his lips, making your heart flutter in your chest. He reaches down to where your dress is torn and bunched up from your promiscuous activities, dragging two long fingers through your wetness and cum from minutes earlier. 

You shudder as he draws his fingers away, into his mouth, answer enough.

“Well, then you better get me out of here quickly,” you purr, wrapping your hand around his still stiff cock. He grunts softly and his pupils dilate. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

[thevoidstaredback]

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Damian,   Jan. 8, 2012

Is that sarcasm I’m reading? A joke? Gasp! I didn’t know you were capable, ahki! It’s a New Year’s miracle! I bet father and your siblings are very proud of you. A shame that I wasn’t the one to teach you. Sigh.

Are you hinting that you want me to come meet you again in person? You and father and your siblings? I’m flattered, but I don’t think I’m ready to risk getting back on the League’s radar more than I already have by contacting you. I’m happy you want me to come meet everyone, but I don’t think I’m ready for that. I’m the more sociable of the two of us, but meeting that many people at once, or even spread across a short period of time, is a lot, even for me. I’m content to follow along from the middle of the country for now, though I might take you up on that invite in the future.

From what I understand, the IRS is scared of the Drs. Fenton. I’m not sure exactly why, but they are. So Jazz, by association with her parents, will most probably be extended the same courtesy. Honestly, I would officially take on the Fenton name if it meant I wouldn’t have to pay taxes. I’m not going to, though. I’m not prepared for the identity crisis that that would give me, so I’ll stick to just using their name as an extra for now.

Sam will kill you if you call her by her full name, so just call her Sam or Manson (her last name). Having said that, she isn’t too bad. Her and Tucker (you can call him Foley or Tucker) don’t get along very well. She’s an ‘ultra-recyclo-vegetarian’ which basically means she won’t eat anything that ever had a face. Though, I’m trying to get her to tone it down a bit. She’s a bit in-your-face about it sometimes. Tucker’s the exact opposite. He has a goal to eat nothing but meat for the rest of his life and is less intense about it, but he’s still a little in-your-face at times. They’re a handful, but they’re good people. Just don’t let them get started about their food habits. They’ve argued for days about the topic. I’m just waiting for the day that they start an actual physical fight over it. I’ll just sit back and watch when that happens. I imagine it’ll be quite entertaining.

What kind of dagger do you want? How big? What materials? Any colors or designs you want painted or engraved? What color do you want the sheath?

Again with the invitation to meet up? I’ll hold you to celebrate those with me. Maybe you could get father and your siblings in on it, too! And Alfred! I think he’d have fun.

I wasn’t calling you a name, smartass, it’s a term of endearment. Like a nickname. Welcome to the modern world, loser, where context counts for everything. /j means joking. Other things you’ll see a lot are normally explained through the context or tone of the conversation or how they’re said. You’ll get there eventually, ahki!

ليبقى نصل سيفك حادًا يا أخي

Danny Fenton

***

A week. It had been an entire week and Damian hadn’t responded. That’s okay, though! Danny knows that life happens and that Damian isn’t always going to be able to respond right away. Besides, it’s not like they had a set schedule or anything. He probably hasn’t answered because something more important came up, like a case.

But what if he hates him? Danny didn’t think he’d be able to continue living if that was the case. Sure, he’d thought for a while that Damian hated him, but that had been before he told his brother he’s still alive! Damian could totally hate him and it hurt because now he’s actually alive to be hated!

It could’ve been the Shadows. He hoped it wasn’t the Shadows. He’d rather have Damian hate him than have the Shadows involved in any way. Did Mother know he was still alive? Did Grandfather know? He shuddered to think about it.

Danny jumped when his bedroom door slammed open. “Dann-o!” His dad’s voice rang loudly in the small room. “You’re mother and I would like your help down in the lab with something.”

Shaking off his paranoia for now, Danny followed his dad out of his room. “What do you guys need help with?” It wasn’t like he was a genius like them or anything. He didn’t understand a lick of their research. Does that make them geniuses or crazy? He’s gonna say ‘yes’, but none of those are a really big vote of confidence.

“Well,” Jack said, “You’re the weapons expert in the house, so we’d like your help with some blueprints for some.”

“Why are you guys making blueprints?” he wondered, “You’re researchers, not scientists. Even if you’re cleared for experimentation, weapons aren’t a part of your funding, as small as that might be. Besides, there’s nothing to use them on or against.”

“For now.”

“What?”

“‘For now’. There’s nothing to use the weapons against for now.”

They were at the basement door in the kitchen now. “What do you mean?”

Jack opened the door and led the way down. “Once we get the portal up and running, who knows what’ll come through!”

“He’s right, sweetie,” Maddie called from the lab. Where did that bottom door go? “Anything could come through the portal, so we’ll need ways to defend ourselves and others.”

“So why build it, then?” Danny asked, not stepping into the lab, “If it could be so dangerous, why build it in our basement and not in a government facility? Why even build it at all?”

“And give our life’s work over to people who’d misuse it all or sell it just to make money they don’t need?” Maddie scoffed, “No. We’re much better off having it here where we can monitor it closely.” She pulled a HAZMAT suit from a side room - how the hell had that gotten there? That’s not in the house’s blueprints! - directly across from the door. “Come put this one, sweetie, and we can get started.”

He glared at the rubber suit he’d been handed. It was plain, mostly white, with black accents. Black knee-high boots and elbow gloves accompanied it. Reluctantly, he put it on over his clothes. There was no way he was letting the thing touch more of his skin than was strictly necessary. He sighed quietly to himself and stepped into the finished lab, which was now covered in metal wall panels and linoleum floor tiles. “What did you have in mind?”

Jack pushed some papers to the side, absolutely demolishing Jazz’s hard work at attempting to keep their parents’ space organized, and pointed to a list. “Guns.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Guns?”

“Guns.”

“...Just guns?”

“To start out with,” Maddie explained, “Something long-ranged until we know exactly what we’re dealing with. Then, we’ll move onto bigger, more effective weaponry.”

Another sigh, this time louder and more obvious. “I don’t think this is a good idea. If-” he stressed the two letter word heavily, “-the portal does work, and if something comes through, wouldn’t it be better to show that we’re not hostile? Shoving a gun in something’s face is a great way of saying ‘We’re a threat that you need to defend yourself from!’.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jack shook his head, “The only thing coming out of that portal are ghosts, and ghosts aren’t sentient. Everyone knows that.”

That was a horrible way of thinking that would only ever lead to problems. “What do you mean?”

Maddie smiled at him, her voice and expression doing nothing to hide the fact that she was acting like she was explaining physics to a toddler. “You see, sweetie, ghosts are the leftover imprint of human emotions onto ectoplasm; The final fleeting thoughts in their last moments of life.”

“Shouldn’t that make you want to leave them alone, then? Let them keep a peaceful afterlife?” The Shadows had never been huge believers in the afterlife, but Danny had learned about the various ones after leaving, and he had latched onto that belief with an iron grip. He needed to know that he would be punished for what he did in life. He needed to know that those he cared about would not cease existing after they died. “I can’t imagine they’d be very happy about someone encroaching on their eternity.” Eternity was a long time.

Jack frowned. “You’re not getting it, sweetie,” Maddie said kindly, though he could see the frustration in her eyes at having to elaborate. “Ghosts can’t think or feel for themselves. Whatever their last thought was when they died was their final thought for eternity.”

“But you just said that their final imprint-”

“-is all they know.” Jack said, his tone stern. “Ghosts are in their own little world. They can’t think, they can’t feel, they can’t see anything outside of their final moments. They’re not sentient or sapient.”

“But-!”

“Danny,” Maddie cut him off, “We’re the leading experts in this field. We know what we’re talking about.” She ruffled his hair. “Just trust us, okay?”

Not in a million years. Not anymore. “Okay.”

“Great!” Jack was back to grinning. “Here’s what I was thinking: The Fenton Blaster-”

*

It’s been exactly three days under a month with no response. Does Damian not want to talk to him? Did he do something- say something wrong? Maybe he should send another letter. But what if he comes off as clingy? He wouldn’t want that. But, what if this is Damian’s way of seeing what he’ll do if he suddenly disappears? What if he had disappeared?! What if Grandfather and Mother learned that Danny was back and went after Damian because he knew and didn’t tell them?!

He shook his head harshly. “Don’t be stupid, Danny. If Damian had disappeared, then the news would’ve been all over it within the first week.” He paused. “Even if father has an excuse prepared.” And he would, if he was even half as paranoid as Mother said he was.

One more letter, he decided after much deliberation. One more letter and the ball would be in Damian’s court. It couldn’t hurt too bad to check in. If nothing came, he’d wait for any kind of news or clue before jumping to the worst possible outcome. That wasn’t going to stop him from being prepared, though.

His paranoia was only getting worse by the day. Every day without any sign of Damian was another day of Danny watching over his shoulder for even a twitch that didn’t belong to his own shadow. Every noise that he couldn’t see people make, every double take that anyone did, had him reaching for a weapon. Was paranoia a hereditary trait?

He’d taken to carrying his knives on him again. He’d never left the house without one on him, but now he made sure to carry at least three; one in each sleeve, and one in his boot. He also started wearing clothes similar to what he wore before ‘dying’. He made sure the changes were subtle enough that no one would point them out the next day, but it would only be a matter of time before someone noticed. By then, though, he’d’ve established this as his new style. That meant, however, that he would be stuck with it for a while. He didn’t find himself minding too much. It was comfortable, easy, safe.

“Danny!” Tucker greeted as he sat his tray down on the table in front of him, “Jazz says you’re moping.”

Danny scowled lightly at himself, upset that even Tucker had made him startle. “Jazz doesn’t know anything.”

“Something about your penpal not writing you back?” Sam ignored him and sat diagonally to both boys, completing the triangle around the circle table.

“Since when do you have a penpal?”

“Since when can you actually write?”

“Since when do either of you even know?”

“We just told you,” Sam said before taking a bite of her school-made salad, cringing slightly at the taste.

Tucker was chewing as he said, “Jazz told us yesterday.”

Danny’s nose scrunched up. “Don’t talk and chew.” he scolded.

“Don’t chew with your mouth open!” Sam gagged.

Tucker swallowed what was in his mouth, ignoring both of them. “Why’re you so upset anyway? It’s not like you actually knew this person! You guys exchanged, what, six letters totally?”

Danny nudged a piece of stale pasta around his plate with his fork. “I do know the person I’ve been sending letters to.”

“What?” Tucker asked.

“What!” Sam demanded.

“He’s a…friend from Before.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Even in his confusion, Tucker was still eating. “You remember the time before you were adopted? I thought you had amne-something!”

“It’s ‘amnesia’, Tuck,” Sam corrected, “And what did I just say?”

Danny cut her off before she could scold their friend. “I’m still a foster kid, Tuck. And, yeah, I remember. I never forgot, actually. Everyone assumed amnesia, and I didn’t find it important to correct them.”

“But they could’ve helped you find your family!” Sam pointed her fork at him.

He cringed and stabbed a few pieces of the school-made pasta. “Don’t you think I would’ve gone back if it were safe?” Maybe not the best wording. Smooth, Danny.

It was quiet for a moment. “What do you mean?” Her voice was small. Way too small to be Sam.

Danny didn’t answer her, instead deciding to eat the tasteless food. How could he tell them about Before? Telling Jazz was one thing, because he’d always known that he would tell her, but telling these two was a completely different matter!

He didn’t want them to get hurt. Knowing would make them look for answers where there were none. Not knowing would have the same effect, but at least they wouldn’t know where to look. Besides, the secret is to save their lives.

There was another, quieter, part of him that said he didn’t want to share his brother. That part is a liar that sounds too much like Grandfather for him to actually listen to it.

He finished forcing down what the school called food, put his fork down, and sighed. “Where I was born wasn’t the safest,” he explained quietly, “There were a lot of people on the compound that didn’t get along with each other,” An extreme understatement. “So there was a lot of fighting.” And death, and people going missing, et cetera. “I saw an opportunity to get out of there-” Not really, it was all an accident, but they didn’t need to know that. “-so I left.” Technically, he was kidnapped, but he went willingly. Either way, he left and has no plans to ever return.

“Dude..” Tucker’s voice was quiet, his plate cleared and his fork held in his hand. There was pity in his eyes, a lot of it. Danny hated it, so he looked back down at the table.

Sam’s own fork was slammed down onto the table as gently as she could manage at the moment, which was not at all; The metal utensil bounced. “And you ended up with the Fentons?”

The Drs. Fenton were infamous around Amity Park, just as they were to scientists around the country. ‘Crazy’ was a word that was frequently used with them. ‘Inane’ was another one. Danny would have to disagree with Sam’s evaluation, though. They were neglectful, sure, but they weren’t dangerous. The Shadows were dangerous, Mother was dangerous, Grandfather was dangerous. The Drs. Fenton were not. Not when compared to where he’d been born or who he was raised by. Living with the Fentons was a mercy.

He made to say as much, to tell his friends that Jack and Maddie Fenton were like kicked puppies compared to his Mother, but he was cut off.

Dash Baxter, the biggest guy in elementary school, had a vendetta against Danny for some reason. Along with Dash was his best friend Kwan. Kwan never really did anything other than stand by and watch, so Danny was neutral about him. Dash, on the other hand, was as big an asshole as a sixth grader could be.

“That’s our table, dweeb.” Dash scowled.

Danny heaved a sigh. “It’s literally not. We’ve been sitting here since the third grade.”

“Yeah?” Dash tried to make himself look bigger, “Well I’m tellin’ ya to move it.”

He didn’t have the energy for this. Standing, he picked up his tray, made an exaggerated ‘there ya go!’ motion, and walked away. Tucker and Sam were quick to join him, leaving Dash and Kwan at the corner table.

“What a jerk.” Sam said, dumping her tray.

Tucker nodded, putting his on the counter to be taken and washed. “Yeah.”

“Just leave ‘im, guys,” Danny sighed, “It’s not like he’s got anything better to do. Besides, better me than someone else.”

“Better you?” Sam scoffed, “Better no one. Why doesn’t the school do anything? Have you reported him?”

“And get labeled a tattle?” Tucker squeaked, “Don’t do it, man. That kinda name sticks with ya.”

Danny snorted. They had no idea what being labeled a tattle could do to someone, especially in the real world. “Don’t worry. Besides, I can actually handle myself in a fight if it ever gets to that point. He can’t say anything to me that would actually affect me.” It was true. Grandfather and Mother had been the only ones that were ever able to tear him apart with words alone.

Obviously unhappy with the two boys but not willing to try and change their minds, Sam walked a step ahead of them. “You two are so stupid.”

“Aww,” Tucker fake whined, the smile on his face betraying him, “You looove us!”

“Ew!” she pushed him away from her shoulder, “Cooties!”

Danny laughed with his friends, chasing each other out of the building and across the playground, unintentionally starting the biggest game of The Floor is Lava of the school year.

***

Damian,   Feb. 5, 2012

You haven’t answered my last letter. There have been no League assassins anywhere near me, so I feel it safe to assume there was no interception, nor have you been taken or compromised.

Was it something I said? I’m sorry, if that’s the case. Please, are you at least safe? There’s been nothing in the news, so I don’t think you’ve left Gotham. Are you in danger? Do you need me to come help? It’s been a while, but I can still win any fight you need me to.

ابق بأمان يا أخي

Danny Fenton

***

Danny closed the mailbox and pointed the little red flag up. “There,” he muttered to himself, “Can’t turn back now.”

He heaved a heavy sigh, staring at the white mailbox. If nothing came up in the news, then he’d assume that Damian didn’t want to talk to him, and he’d leave him alone. He wouldn’t go so far as to cut off all contact points yet, but that was still a potential response. If Damian made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with Danny, then he’d isolate himself from him. But only if Damian made it clear.

Standing in front of his house, the world felt both so much bigger and so much smaller than it ever had before. He’d lost his brother before, found a new family, and then reconnected with his brother. He’d been happier than he’d ever been before, and now it felt like everything was falling apart again.

Damian wasn’t answering him, Jack and Maddie had been in the lab more and more now, and Jazz was burying herself in her studies. He didn’t know what to do. Was there anything he could do? He’s just a kid! He’s a civilian child whose entire life is falling apart and he can’t do anything about it because he’s “Powerless!” When had he sat down?

Punching the dirt and grass of his house’s front lawn was doing nothing but hurting his hands. That didn’t matter, though, because he couldn’t feel it. He felt numb and empty and angry and sad all at once. Numb that Damian wasn’t responding, angry that his parents were more involved in their work than with their kids’ lives, sad that Jazz was having to grow up parenting herself and him, and empty because there was nothing he could do about any of it.

After what was probably both way too long and way too short a time, Danny stood and made his way inside. He could hear his parents in the illegal lab, building the guns according to the blueprints he’d made them, probably cutting out all the safety features he insisted there be. Jazz was in her room either reading a parenting book or studying to skip a grade or two.

He flopped into the couch and turned on the TV, absentmindedly flipping through the channels. He felt detached- There! He stopped on a national channel that was covering a story in Gotham, New Jersey. Maybe he’d find some news about father or Damian or one of the others?

“-ites mourn the loss of Gotham’s very own Prince, Bruce Wayne. Earlier today, his eldest son, Richard Grayson-Wayne, announced that Bruce went missing just under a month ago.”

No.

“The family has been and will continue to work with private investigators to find Mr. Wayne, but the local police force is not so optimistic.”

This-this-

“Authorities encourage everyone to reach out if they have any information on the whereabouts and/or wellbeing of Gotham’s White Knight. Richard Grayson-Wayne, now acting as the head of the Wayne Family, has agreed to pay any ransom demanded. As of this time, no such demands have been made.”

Suddenly, Danny was watching from somewhere else. He was detached, not in control of his body. He wasn’t close to father, not in the slightest, but Damian-

Damian.

Oh, gods. No wonder he wasn’t responding! Father’s gone missing and all Danny has been doing was stewing in his own self pity!

The letter. He had to send a different one.

As quick as he could, Danny bolted from his seat and to the front door, ripping it open just in time to see the mail truck turn the corner. The little red flag on the mailbox was pushed back down.

“Fuck.” He had to do something. He had to contact Damian! His brother needs him!

Danny rushed up the stairs and to his room, making a mess as he pulled paper from drawers and scattered pencils across the floor.

“-ther news, according to Mr. Wayne’s will, the actions of which are being taken in case of the worst possible outcome, has appointed Timothy Drake-Wayne as the CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

***

Damian,   Feb. 6, 2012

I swear that I had no idea father was missing! Do you need help? I can start looking here in Illinois. I can search all of the Midwest if you need me to! What do you want me to do? I can’t do anything unless you tell me what you need. Please.

أخبرني ما الذي تحتاجه Danyal

Translation 1 - Arabic: Keep your blade sharp, brother

Translation 2 - Arabic: Stay safe, brother

Translation 3 - Arabic: Tell me what you need, brother

Part 3 Part 5

[midnightsunnyday]

Thinking a bit about Mammon and what we know of him canonically, his behavior, values, principles, and conduct, and how they seem entirely different from what we know of his fanon interpretation.

Canon Mammon is…well, let’s just call a spade a spade, he’s a clown. The certified Butt-Monkey of the brothers, if something bad is going to happen, nine times out of ten, it’s going to happen to him. Dude is a truffle pig for trouble and for the most part, loves to sniff it out and roll in it.

Have the fans explain it, and Mammon is a saint who's never done anything wrong in his life ever, yet story-wise, Mammon’s downfalls and shortcomings are usually due to his own dubious inclinations, though to be fair, are a consequence of him being the literal physical manifestation of one of humanity’s sins: greed. We see this through his gambling habits, his tendency to engage in shady deals or practices, his lying, and his cheating, but what really gains him the ire of most of his siblings and others is his tendency to steal and sell any and everything he assumes may bring him a profit, regardless if the item is sentimental or not.

Needless to say, Mammon isn’t the most respected of his brothers, and they remind him of it every chance they get, specifically with the words “scumbag,” ‘moron,” “idiot,” “money-obsessed moron,” etc. Mammon even suffers for his actions physically, with Lucifer finding little issue in stringing him up and leaving him there to rot for a while.

There’s also the fact that in the first season of the OG game, like most of the brothers, Mammon is kind of an asshole. Your typical Tsundere archetype, his personality is initially brash and not too keen on learning of his forced role as a human attendant, constantly insulting the MC while bemoaning his position all the while, a position he almost fails in upholding more than once when the MC’s life is threatened.

Yet because this is an otome game, Mammon eventually begins to have feelings for the MC as soon as the fourth lesson, and that whole being your “first” thing holds a lot of weight to Mammon, so much so that he’ll bring it up repeatedly. He becomes a bit more clingy, vying for the MC’s attention, to the point where personal space is but a mere myth to this man.

For you see, beyond his salty attitude is a man with a huge heart. Canon Mammon is competent and capable of showing a surprising amount of wisdom, intelligence, strength, and kindness when he puts his mind to it (the man admits himself to being sensitive, after all).

Despite his shortcomings, there’s a reason Lucifer entrusted Mammon with the MC, as out of all of his siblings, he is the only character capable of keeping his “bloodlust” in check. And despite his flakiness at times, Lucifer relies heavily on Mammon to complete certain tasks, to the point where he’s accused of showing favoritism towards the secondborn. Speaking of which, that second-born title also includes his power level, having the ability to clearly fight and defend himself, yet choosing to either run or hide from altercations, if possible. It’s rare for him to get angry or fight back, which is why it’s so scary when he does.

More importantly, Mammon is completely and utterly in love with the MC. This is true for all the brothers, but Mammon is the most consistent, a constant in his character that never changes and is the main drive to his appeal imo. Unlike the other brothers, who seem to have interests and relationships outside of the MC, Mammon’s focus is single-targeted, and it’s one of the many reasons why he’s the most popular character in the game. There are no limitations to his affections. No scary or overly complicated parts to his character. We are his “first,” and that’s a comfortable place to be because regardless of what we do or how we look, Mammon isn’t one to give up and will literally fight, yell, and cry his way into your heart, whether you choose someone else or not.

However, you wouldn’t be able to tell this with Fanon Mammon, a soggy wad of therapy session tissues. He is an absolutely miserable wreck of a man. A traumatized, suicidal-inclined, helpless dude in need of a serious hug. A prone character to hurt/comfort fics, he's the trauma dumpster for the fans who like to project, which would be fine if it weren’t for the fact that these traits are sometimes treated as actual aspects of Mammon’s canon character. Fanon Mammon is essentially boiled down to his most pathetic traits, woobifying him. In fics where the brothers are present, such as Lucifer and Asmodeus, expect them to be written OOC to make Mammon appear even worse. In essense, Fanon Mammon not only has his complexity completely taken away, but takes away the complexity of everyone else around him in the process.

I'm not certain why this happens to Mammon more than other characters. Maybe because of his "kick the dog" status in canon, which causes people to sympathize with him more. And if you're someone who can relate to a lot of Mammon’s shortcomings, then that probably adds to his "woobie" nature.

And this isn't to say you can never go beyond canon and write Mammon any other way, yet it's like I've stated before, there's your headcanon and there's canon. You can think what you want, write what you want, yet something doesn't become a fact just because you want it to be/are emotional about it. And you also don't get the right to attack people for it.

Anyway, these are just things I've noticed about his fanon vs canon that I personally don't like, though opinions are always appreciated.

[princessozera]

Devildom musings; Fallen angels

Do you ever wonder about the others? 

  The other angels, fallen after the war. So many in number. So bright, so burned, that their image still lingers in the Devildom sky.

None other than the royals had ever seen angels before so they flocked outside in awe, crowding to watch a brilliant meteor shower. Who could have guessed that something so beautiful was the result of something so tragic. Not they, the original citizens who had never had much cause to wonder about their celestial counterparts. They were completely unaware of what had happened in the realm above, until the first body turns to mush on the ground.

Most survived, the endless falling giving them enough time for the corruption to set in, the fear of falling subsiding only to the sharp pain of horns breaking through bone, the burn of skin pulled too taunt as part of it was lost to the new wings forming on backs. Not all were so lucky. Even now, if you’re not careful when walking through the meadows, your foot will catch on the lip of a hole obscured by grass. You’ll take a hard tumble, much like its creator.

Do you wonder about those who fought, not for their own ideals or desires, but for Lucifer? It’s never an easy choice to go against all you know and are, no matter how opposed you are to it. No matter how much of an outcast, the need to conform is imbedded in survival.  But this is Lucifer. The pride and glory of the celestial realm, of Michael himself. A noble leader. An angel who can only be outranked by a small handful of others. Surely if he feels the need to go against everything he’s known, it is a cause worth supporting even if the details are a bit murky. From staying loyal to a cold and maybe even tyrannical ruler that most have never seen, to siding with the man who has helped you in you times of need- seen you grow and rise in rank, the decision gets a little easier when seeing some of the strongest generals and soldiers flank him without hesitation.

They followed him into combat. The defeat was thorough and drawn out. They lost everything that seemed to fundamentally make them who they are, but it was the sight of Lucifer- their great leader- broken and chained that finally crushed their souls. The man they followed to the ends of the realm, who they’d always leaned on as a crutch, disappeared without a trace, taking his strongest generals with him and leaving thousands of souls stumbling through this endless night.

There was no reprieve. No home to go to, no glory to be had. It seemed the feathers on their wings were not the only thing that burned on the way down. There were no friends to be found, even amongst the other fallen. The betrayal ran deep, and congregating together drew more ire from the devildom citizens. While their general was kept in the prince’s castle with posh rooms and being well fed, they were cast out of every shop and restaurant as soon as they stepped in. No matter how hard they tried to blend in, it was as if “Angel” was carved into their skin. 

Seeing Lucifer and the generals come out years later did not bring the relief most thought it would. They seemed the most changed, rambunctious and self serving, only slivers of their old personalities still visible. It had taken decades to finally start getting some acceptance from the local devildom citizens, but the lords came rampaging in and undoing most of that good favor overnight. Like spoiled children, pompous cats, they took all they wanted and left little regard for anyone else. Even the most devout of the fallen couldn’t stomach it for long, instead giving them a wide berth, further separating the brothers from everyone in the Devildom. It was a small comfort to see them get thrown out of shops and start to face the reality so many had struggled with in their absence, but the reminder that the lords were backed by the prince himself was always looming overhead. The lords were untouchable. They were dispensable.

[mobbu-min]

☆ bragging rights ☆

(ft the first years)

a/n I couldn't find the request where they wanted the first years, but here it is! Ortho is strictly platonic!

tw cursing

want more? eat up bestie! ☆,☆

Ace + Grim <3

⋆ Grim’s like, ‘No. Please, Great Sevens, no…’ He wants anyone but him. Grim wouldn’t mind if it was one of the Leech Brothers, or hell even, that weird ass bowl cut kid that tried to light everything on fire. Just anyone but Ace! He can’t! Just imagining Ace’s cocky ass grin sends Grim into a fit of rage. Really considers all his life decisions.

⋆ Ehm, can you please speak a little louder? Ace didn’t hear that. Ace squeals like a high school girl who just got asked to prom. Considers this his greatest accomplishment tbh. You’re the hottest thing since sliced bread and Ace is the super cool, incredibly good looking super mage. Like it’s a no brainer. A match made in heaven. Of course you’re going to be bragging about him. Who wouldn’t? (please, never stop. Ace literally cried tears of joy)

Deuce + Grim <3

⋆ Honestly, Grim’s okay with this one. Sure Deuce is a little airheaded, but Grim likes him a lot more than Ace! (that’s a lie, he loves both of them equally, just too stubborn to admit it) And he knows that Deuce will treat you right. Though, Grim doesn't know much more arguing he can take from the flustered idiot one and jealous idiot two. 

⋆ So so happy. He calls his mom immediately after, (i mean, he’s been calling his mom about you since the day you met) Deuce has really tried to be better, to be the type of guy that you wouldn’t hesitate to call yours and knowing that he made it makes him want to explode (in a good way ofc) He wants to cry, jump up and down, take you by your waist and give you a big ol’ smooch. There’s so many things he wants to do, so many things he wants to make you feel, because Deuce is so in love it’s embarrassing really. (Ace gags while also mourning the fact that it’s not him, jealous bastard)

Jack + Grim <3

⋆ Grim is a little on the fence about this one. Jacks a great guy, don’t get him wrong, but Grim doesn’t want to spend his mornings, afternoons and nights working out. Well, on second thought, the image of Grim sporting a rocking six pack kinda gets him to rethink….No, no…he does not want to give up his tuna! Jack will have to pry his box of tuna from his cold dead paws before he lets that happen. 

⋆ His tail does a little waggy once he hears you bragging. Like how can he not? He already talks about you a whole bunch. I mean if you count him always going ‘C’mon, even the prefect could do better!’ or ‘you might be even more airheaded then the Prefect…” then yeah, Jack’s doing a lot of bragging. He’s loyal by heart, but also emotionally constipated, so you’re going to have to look for the hidden meanings behind his brash words. Because it’s there! You just have to look hard and be patient!

⋆ Or you can just look behind your wolfy friend and stare at that ass- I mean, that tail! Yeah, tail! Because it’s betraying how he feels. So thank you tail! (and thank that ass, because it’s thiccc!)

Epel + Grim <3

⋆ Grim is honestly okay with this one. Epel and him are on good terms. So it doesn’t bother him all that much. Really there's nothing else to say other than, Grim is just happy that you’re happy.

⋆ YEEHAW BITCHES!!!!!HE WINS!!!!! Epel is alive and dying at the same time. He’s calling his meemaw, peepaw and all that jazz, because guess what? He’s not bitchless anymore! Yes! Take that Vil, you pompous jerk! And you too Rook, you frenchie! And most importantly, fuck you Ace! He beat you and now you look like a fool! HAHDHHAHA

⋆ Okay, but after Epel gets over his high, he’s face down on his apple plushies practically crying because he’s so happy. 

Ortho + Grim <3

⋆ Second son? SECOND SON? NAH! GRIM’S IS YOUR ONLY SON! He literally gets so offended that you're talking about Ortho more than him. Every little ounce of affection or praise directed towards you little robotic buddy is greeted with an irritated huff and eye roll from Grim. Like did you forget that Grim’s been with you since forever? Grim truly see’s Ortho as a rival/threat, because unlike the other boys who you continuously thrist over, you’re so sweet and kind to Ortho and treat him like he was your kid/brother. It really gets Grim’s gears going. He just wants you to know that he is not above fighting a child, robotic or not, he’s going down.

⋆ Oh, Ortho’s over the moon. The person he sees as a second sibling loves him so much! It makes him so happy. Literally, he thinks he’s dreaming (can he dream?). And omg, this just fuels Ortho to get Idia to confess to you, so you’re all like an actual family. You and Idia can be the parents and Ortho and Grim can be your kids! Ortho has already taken to treating Grim like a little brother, constantly patting his head and giving him treats (which does soothes Grim’s dislike to him by a lot, at this point you think Grim likes Ortho more than you) Ortho does ask if you four could all take a christmas photo together (or whatever the equivalent to christmas is in their world) and he sends it to every one of his friends with really fancy blue and pink glitter gel pen font that says ‘From the Shrouds!’. Sure he knows you aren’t actually a family yet, but he’s sure he can do a little convincing and bam! The wedding is bound to happen! 

Please just do as he says! Let this boy be happy T0T

Sebek + Grim <3

⋆ There’s dead silence from Grim. Like you do realize that you have no insurance right? How the heck are you supposed to pay for hearing aids for the both of you? He doesn’t get it. What’s the appeal? Did you hit your head that hard? Grim’s judging and he’s judging hard. But overall, Grim surprisingly feels bad. All he can think of is that one lyric you scream out every now then by that Rana le Del, um… What was it again? The Other Woman~ and that’s you. He just shakes his head because he knows you can do better. 

⋆ Sebek is a blushing mess. He’s on two ends of the spectrum, one being incredibly smug and two, wanting to scream the ears off anyone in the ten mile radius of him. There is no inbetween because he’s not a chill guy. When Sebek wants something he puts 110 percent into it. And that's what he does for you. You know what name becomes a frequent occurrence in his vocabulary? Yeah, it’s your name. There’s not a sentence that he says that does include you and Malleus in it. Yeah, he is making and joining every club that there is about you and yes, that is a shrine dedicated to you right next to his Malleus shrine. And no, you cannot stop him.