#it really is only middle aged men or pretty boys with me huh?

[silverselfshippingchaos]

if i had a nickel for every time i liked a young cool y.akuza dude that had dyed hair...

i'd have three nickels.

[gloomuri671]

Under the Influence

Sae Itoshi x Reader

Warning: drinking, make out session, suggestive, sa, grinding

A/N: Oh sevens, have mercy on me. Do not tell my brothers.

Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter

Dear Diary,

Something I learned while living with my grandparents, after my parents divorced, was to always reject overbearing gifts three times before accepting. That's gives the human brain enough time to really consider their options - their choices. At least with my grandparents. It's always stuck with me even until now.

Now, I can hold my liquor quite well. Better than most people some people might say.. At least I hold it better than Sae Itoshi.

Not long ago, Sae is officially eighteen years old. Now we're here celebrating his birthday ina club against his wishes. His team dragged him here to celebrate, so he dragged me with him. Sae is a more respectful man, he doesn't drink, and doesn't even glance at drugs. He studies, practices soccer, and goes to the gym. "A model student," some would call him. Bringing him here was just another excuse for them to drink.. Plus it's a twenty percent discount. It's a pretty good deal!

Perhaps I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it, dolled myself a bit more than usual. Every girl deserves and should feel pretty. Just a tough up here and there. It's my best friend's birthday too! A part of me hopes he'd call me pretty too. He hasn't said it, but... Oh forget it.

"Lil' mama, over here!"

It goes to show, I was attracting the wrong men, sadly. I just walked in and was immediately approached by a group of middle aged men. "I'm here with my friends, sir," I said. He grabbed my waist and let be too the bar. "Oh, I'm sure they'd understand," he waved off. I looked back at the table where Sae and his teammates were waiting for me. They didn't see me yet, but I hoped they'd catch wind and save me. I'm definitely in the wrong shoes for this.

"I'll have a whiskey," he ordered. He looked at me and nodded to the bartender, "Go ahead, doll." You looked over the menu and chose a pricey little drink while giving the bartender a look. He nodded and stared shaking up your drink. "You know how to pick 'em," the man next to you said, "I'm a more old fashioned man myself."

Oh diary, I was so scared. When our drinks came, I took a sip of mine and sighed in relief when I realized the bartender mixed more juice than alcohol, little to none - just enough to calm me down. "What brings you here?" The bartender asked. One by one the men around me answered his question, but by the look on his face, he wanted my answer the most. "My best friend turns eighteen today," I said, "Him and his team are over there waiting for me." They recognized their country's junior soccer team from the counter. "Oh, so go for men in high places?" Another man next to me pondered. He touched my knee and I jolted slightly. I was afraid. "No need to be so eager, sweetheart," he chuckled. I gave a silent plea for the man behind the counter, whom nodded his head, and disappeared from my sight. What was he doing?

"I own one of the more infitely successful companies in Spain," he told me, "I could shower you in diamonds. Jewels that you stare at while window shopping." His slid up to my thigh slowly, stopping at the helm of my dress. The man on my other side played with the stap of my dress. "Would you be my little sugar baby, doll?" What the hell am I supposed to do?! Somebody! I looked around the club and not one person looked sober enough to help me. Anyone! I looked towards Sae's table, my table, and everyone at that table looked completely out of it.

Get me out of here!

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stop touching my lady."

Huh?

Stopping my search for any help, Sae and Jordan stood a few steps from me. Jordan, the only other Real Madrid junior player that I could call "my friend." "You her boy toy, shrimp?" Jordan scrunched up his nose, but Saw didn't even flinch. "Yeah, so hand her over," he said nonchalantly, "I don't like you holding her up." Oh. My. God! With the way Jordan was trying not to snicker, I knew my face was red.

It wasn't long before one of the men threw a punch at Jordan. Now a browl broke out between Real Madrid and the middle aged men that flocked around me. "You want another drink, ma'am?" The bartender asked me. I looked at him and scanned over the menu before ordering a drink of my choice. "On the house, sweetie," he told me. "Thank you." I sipped in my drink slowly while the brawl was happening. Sooner or later, the staff would have to break up the fight, but for now.. I'll just watch.

When the fight died down, those men were kicked out and the team stayed for more drinks. This is how I found out that Saw is a lightweight. Best Mid Fielder in the world and he can't hold his alcohol? I'm a little buzzed too, but.. Since when did he become so.. Clingy?

The party died down and I, the designated driver, took everyone home with the van we rented out for road trip games. Oh, if coach ever found out what we were using it for... He'd wonder why we didn't bring him! Oh, but if Sae is a lightweight then coach is the complete opposite of that. The tab would've been doubled.

Pulling up to the school, me and Sae switched cars so that I found drop him off then head straight home. One thing is for sure, I'm never letting Sae drink again. "You can put the seat back, Sae," I said. He complied, but now he was staring at me. "Can you hold my hand?" He asked me. I glanced at him then focused back on the road. Wordlessly, I gently held his hand and relaxed feeling his warm hands - slightly warmer because of the alcohol.

One hand on the wheel, I parallel parked my car in front of his drive way. Turning off my engine, I said, "Okay, we're here." I looked to my little passenger prince and into those dangerously teal eyes. Was he watching me this whole time? "Hard not to," he said, "Your pretty when you concentrate on something. Did I ever tell you that?" Did I say that out loud? Shit. He fixed up his chair to sit up right. Never once did he look away from me though.

He let go of my hand and used it to trace my jaw instead. I shivered under his feather like touch. Eye contact is a dangerous thing with Sae: It's like he was Jafar and could hypnotize me into submission - not too far off actually. Still... He's never looked at me this way before.

Looking at him more closely, I'm reminded that my best friend is drunk and has no idea what he's doing. I cleared my throat and gently pushed his hand down. "You're drunk, Sae," I told him. As much as this hurts, rejecting his touch, I couldn't let him do this to himself - to me.

I open my car door and get out as fast as I could. Once I close the door, I take deep breaths to calm myself down. "What the hell was that?" I whispered. This wouldn't be good for my conscience. Whatever it was - whatever I was feeling - whatever he was feeling.. "I'm blaming it on the booze," I muttered.

I took the keys and unlocked his house door, only now realizing that the birthday boy isn't with me. I'm reminded that my passenger prince can't open his door on the inside and came back. I looked through the window to see him nodding off slightly and giggled. I opened up the door and peeked my head in. "Sorry about that," I said, "C'mon, I'll help you to bed."

I reached out my hand and yelped when I was suddenly pulling into the car. Landing face first into his chest, the door was pulled shut, and the recliner pushed back. I gasped and scrambled to get up. "Where you going?" Saw asked. There was something different about his tone. I froze and looked down at him. His legs were open as far apart as the car would let him. "Come here," he beckoned, patting his lap expectingly. I gulped, but complied.

"Sae, bestie, you're drunk," I told him. He nodded and nuzzled his head into my neck. I'm sure he can feel my pulse, the shiver I felt when I felt his breath on my neck, the goosebumps I felt when his arms trapped me to him. "I know," he assured.

One

"It's me, Sae," I told him, "It's me, Y/n, your best friend." His breath became shakey and he kissed the pulse on my neck. "I know, Y/n," he answered back.

Two

"You're gonna regret this in the morning," I warned him. He shook his head and trailed kisses up my neck, to my cheek and kissed the tip of my nose. "I won't," he said. My breath shook, before I wrapped my arms around his neck.

Three

I let it escape me like broken dam that's been slowly coming down after so long. I finally kiss him. I could taste the Hennessey on his tongue, just as sure he could taste the Rum off of mine. His lips were soft, everything I imagined. "Fuck, Y/n," he groaned. Oh, shit.

My last bit of restraint left me and mounted his lap like I would a horse. I kissed him with ever bit of desire I held for him. I opened my eyes, but his were closed. I sighed in disappointment. I would've loved to look into his eyes right now too. Closing them again, I instead focused on the hands that started to roam my body. I returned the favor.

Reluctantly, I broke the kiss to come up for air. I would've loved to drown in him longer, but I didn't want to overwhelm him. No, not when I finally get to kiss him after all this time. I precked his lips, then his cheek, his jaw, all the way down to his collar bone. His breath was heavy, and I reveled in ever second. Searching his neck for that one spot, once he let out a moan, I attacked it desperately. "Make that sound again," I whispered. He called for me among his curses. Oh, fuck I'm a goner.

When his hands made their way to my ass, I knew it was over for me. Giving a squeeze, my breath shallowed and I suppressed a moan. Noticing this, he did it again until he was playing with it as if it was play doh. My dress hiked up a bit, but I could care less. Especially when the tormentor of my dreams is right under me.

What other sounds could he make? His lustful gaze filled me with determination. I fully sat down on his growing buldge and circled my hips slightly. His breath hitched, a loud moan came from him, eyes blown wide. "There's those pretty eyes," I muttered. I grinded down on him, my hand cupping his face as if he was fine China. "So handsome," I whispered. Perhaps he heard me the first time, because now be fought to keep his eyes open. Never once looking away from me. Oh if only he knew what he did to me. Or maybe he did?

One hand on my ass and the other on my hip, he helped guide my hips on him, grinding up to meet me half way too. A shakey moan leaves my lips before I could stop it. Hes kissing me again, only this time, he's looking me in the eyes while doing so. A man could offer me millions of diamonds, but all I'd care about are the ones watching me right now. Looking at me with a hunger I'd only ever fantasize about. Such precious jewels and right now they were all mine. "All yours," he whispered to me. "Oh my god." I said that out loud too!? "All fucking yours," he said again, planting kisses on my neck. There would most likely be marks in the morning, what a hassle. "Always been," he whispered in my ear, grinding us closer together. I moaned at the sensation.

Maybe the Vodka hit me harder than I thought. Because now I'm most likely soaked down there. Sae would never say that to any girl who showed interest. I've seen it may times before: The love struck fan confesses her love, but Sae doesn't even spare them a glance. Now I'm imagining he'd declare himself all for myself? But I wish that was so. So I'll believe he ment to say that for now.

"F-fuck, right there," I whimpered. My hips feverishly grinding down where his buldge hit the spot just right. Over and over and over again. "S-Sae," I whimpered. He finally left my neck alone, helping me reach my high, kissing my lips like he would in my dreams. "C'mon, babe," he told me, "私の��めに兼. (Watashi no tame ni ken.)" Oh, f-u-uck. That's it.

Riding out the high of the moment, Sae let out a loud groan. Looking down at his lap, I gasped when I saw the mess we made. I saw the creamy white slowly trying to escape from his pants. I let out a shakey moan and tried to get off him. He held me in place, though.

"Thank you," he whispered into my hair, "I love you." My heart skipped a beat. "I love you," I said without thinking. It was only when his arms tightened around me did I realize what I had done. "Oh no," I thought out loud, "Oh no no no no no." I got up, rolled the window down, reached my hand out and opened the door from the outside. Was he fucking serious.

Getting out of the car, I fixed my dress and helped Sae out of the car. He looked confused and I wouldn't blame him: I was too. Locking my car, I helped into his house and to his room.

I took off his shoes and changed him out of his dirty sweaty clothes. He'll thank me later. Since it's his first time drinking, he'll know the horrors of waking up and smelling like shit, but at least he'll be in fresh clothes and not in the ones that already probably smell like shit and would get worse the longer he waits til the morning. My breath hitched when I saw his cum soaked underwear. It didn't help that Sae looked like he was studying my reactions.

Once he closed his eyes I finally let myself sober up and pace his room. "Why the fuck did you do that!? Bad, Y/n. Don't you know how much he trusts you?" I quietly scolded myself, "I'm such a bitch. I couldn't even keep my hands to myself! Taking advantage of your crush when he's drunk is the dumbest and shitiest thing I could've ever done." I ran my fingers through my hair and looked down at Sae, who was sleeping peacefully in his bed.

"Look at you," I whispered, "Sleeping peacefully while I'm left to ponder what the fuck I'm supposed to do now." I looked at the blanket over him and fixed it better so that he could feel more comfortable. I looked at the AC and turned it down a bit, making it colder, so that I would be less sweaty in the morning. "Why must you torture me so much? Don't you know how much I love you, soccer genius?" I laughed slightly, "Pfft- "I love you" my ass... Wish you were sober though." I sighed softly. Took his shoes and left the room.

He'd forget it all in the morning.

I'm never letting him drink again. It's bad for my heart.

Oh my.. What have I done? Anyways, that's progress.. Maybe. Now this is getting interesting.

What do you think will happen?

-Levi

[mizunetzu]

can I request bakugou x male reader where femboyreader is smol, pretty quite and nice, and suprisingly are really ruthless on the battlefield and bakugou is just wondering where he got it from. Until next week bakugou meets his father's and brothers and all of them are tall and very manly men. But civil and nice. Hope you have a nice day,😊

LMAO THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE

——————

Bakugou x reader - My Cute Boyfriend and His Tough-Ass Family

⚠️warnings - femboy reader, if that’s a trigger?

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

Bakugou didn’t know where it came from.

One minute he was small and weak, wearing a new, girly hair pin everyday and complimenting one of the girls on their newly painted nails. The next thing he knew, he was just as batshit crazy as him during hero practice.

“Eat shit and die!” Bakugou flung across the air, sending a big blast over to (Y/n’s) location. (Y/n) sped away, dodging it with his quirk. He growled.

“Go to fucking hell!”

“Like hell I would, shit-for-brains! Suck my dick!” Bakugou landed on the ground, softening the impact with a blast pointed towards the floor. He stood there, a few good feet away from (Y/n). They were both breathing heavily, glaring down each other like they wanted to absolutely murder the other.

(Y/n) let out a piercing battle cry, before charging head first towards Bakugou and bringing his arms out to tackle him. Bakugou followed suite, charging towards him like a bull with his arm outstretched to deck him in the face.

They got closer and closer, Bakugou’s flashy explosions igniting in the air while (Y/n’s) quirk began to power up. Closer, closer, until-

“Times up!”

All might yelled over the intercom, and both students skidded awkwardly to a stop. Bakugou tumbled over with an angry shout, and (Y/n) sputtered, tripping over Bakugou’s torso making him fall to the ground as well.

“Get offa’ me, crossdresser!”

“I’m not a crossdresser, spiky bitch!”

“Your hero costume is literally a fucking skirt-!”

“Alright alright, young men! The battle is over, no need to keep fighting!” All Might awkwardly chuckled from the intercom. (Y/n) pouted, and swept himself off of Bakugou. Bakugou scoffed aswell, not even looking at (Y/n) as they both walked towards the observation building.

——

“Aaah! Katsuki! I’m sorry for yelling at you during hero training today!”

(Y/n) jogged up to Bakugou, gently clutching his backpack straps and slowing down to a walk. Bakugou huffed. There he went again, that totally insane side of him that came from absolutely nowhere was gone.

“Like I care, shit-for-brains.”

“A-anyways,” (Y/n) cleared his throat. “Do you wanna study at my house today? Or just...y’know, hangout?”

(Y/n) blushed as he ended his question. Bakugou stared down at him. If he told someone this was the same person yelling insults and profanities on the battlefield while fucking shit up, they’d think he was lying.

“(Y/n’s) house?” Bakugou mumbled to himself. “I don’t think I’ve ever been there before...”

“Sorry, did you say something? You’re not really the type to mumb-“

“I didn’t say shit, shittyass! Go die!” Bakugou yelled. (Y/n) chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t think you’ve ever been to my house either.” (Y/n) sighed. Bakugou scoffed and shoved his hands further down his pockets. “You better make a good impression on my family, or they probably won’t let me hang out with you anymore.”

His family was probably just as fragile and dainty as him, was what Bakugou thought. He already saw the hugs and kisses and the “Hello, Mrs. and Mr. (L/n)” he’d have to choke out. He rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.”

——

“I’m home!”

A woman’s voice echoed through the house as (Y/n) and Bakugou both took off their shoes.

“Welcome back!”

“I brought my boyfriend over mom! Bakugou Katsuki-the one I was telling you about!”

He heard his mom gasp and timper into the entrance of the house, wearing an apron and holding a wooden spoon. Bakugou was right. Dainty, fragile mother; dainty, fragile (Y/n).

Bakugou cleared his throat, suppressing the gag that was about to come out.

“P-pardon the intrusion.”

“...Ehhhh? (Y/n), don’t tell me you brought one of your little dress-up friends over.” A different voice came from behind both (Y/n) and Bakugou. A young, male voice. Bakugou whipped his head around.

“Haaah?!”

“Ooooh! Feisty!”

The boy, who couldn’t be older than a middle schooler, cracked his knuckles. There was something so familiar about the way he talked.

“What’d you say to me, you extra?!”

“K-katsuki...” (Y/n) whisper-yelled, wrapping his arms around Bakugou in attempts to hold him back. The boy laughed in his face.

Just as the boy was about to say something, an older boy chopped him in the back of the neck, effectively subduing the smaller one.

“Shut up! (Y/n) said he was bringing his boyfriend over! Don’t scare him away like we do all of his other friends.”

Bakugou looked up at the older one. He looked about his age, but damn was he tall. And muscular too. The boy from before may have been at least athletic-looking, but this guy just...

“W-who the hell-?!”

“Now, now boys. Don’t need to get so physical.” A deeper, throaty voice came from down the hallway, it’s heavy footsteps growing louder and louder as it came closer. A tall, well built man came through the hall, crossing his arms. You could clearly see his muscles bulge through his office shirt. “Did you all come back from school? Welcome back.”

All three boys chorused out a string of hellos. Bakugou looked from who he assumed was the dad, then the two boys, than (Y/n).

There was no way in hell they were related.

“Are-“ Bakugou croaked. “Are you adopted or something?!”

“Katsuki!”

His mother laughed, covering her mouth with her free hand. (Y/n’s) mother was the only one who Bakugou would assume was, well, his mother. But these...men?

“You’re probably the only person who didn’t go running once they saw these boys in our house, Katsuki. A lot of (Y/n’s) little friends go running because Natsu teases them too much or Kaito and his father scares them off.”

“This one’s different, mom!” (Y/n) intertwined his hands with Bakugou’s. “Sometimes I yell and get all bwaaah during training-but he doesn’t mind!”

“Oh, well that’s good,” (Y/n’s) father ran a hand through his hair. “That explains why he hasn’t ran off the moment we walked in.”

Bakugou blinked. (Y/n) leaned in close. “Trust me, it happened before.”

(Y/n) timpered off to greet his brothers. Bakugou looked between all 3 boys. Despite how built and tall these testosterone-soaked males were, the way they talked and carried themselves gave off the same energy (Y/n) did during hero training. Was that where he got it? From these...men?

(Y/n) was forced into a headlock, his brother laughing scrubbing at his forehead as (Y/n) groaned. He thrashed around, albeit laughing, and tried to pry off his brothers hands.

“Come on-I thought you were training to be a hero! Where’s your muscles, huh?”

“I could easily throw you into the sun, don’t start. You’re just jealous I look better in skirt than you do.”

“Bullshit! I’m sexy as fuck!” His grip was temporarily loosened, giving (Y/n) the opportunity to slip out. “It’s not my fault none of your skirts fit me!”

“...But you know who it would fit?” (Y/n’s) other brother, the middle schooler, turned mischievously towards Bakugou.

“Hell no.”

——

“I’m going to fucking murder you.”

“Hey, now. That’s not very hero-like.”

“Yeah Katsuki! Not very heroic of you.”

“Murder is no good. You’ll get (Y/n)-nii’s dress dirty.”

Bakugou shook with anger as he stood in (Y/n’s) room. He sported a pink, frilly, strawberry-pink dress, that had small strawberries littered around it and stopped below his knees. His muscles peeked through the soft thin material of the dress, and the way he stood with his legs spread apart angrily was hidden under the layers of pink.

“Oh! Oh! Wait!” (Y/n) stepped into his closet with an excited smile. After a few seconds of rustling and shoving away hangers, (Y/n) popped back out with a matching dress on. His dress, however, had a baby blue tint with small blueberries scattered across the fabric.

(Y/n) did a little twirl. “Don’t I look pretty, Katsuki?”

Bakugou, crossed his arms, doing whatever it took to suppress the blush growing on his face. “Sure...whatever.”

(Y/n) happily stood next to Bakugou, smoothing out the crinkles in his blueberry dress and grabbing hold of Bakugou’s hand. “Tada~! We match~”

“You guys look like the strawberry and blueberry milk boxes I buy from vending machines at school.”

“Haah?!” (Y/n) gripped Bakugou’s hand harder. “What’d you say?!”

Bakugou stole a glance at (Y/n’s) angry face. Not gonna lie, he thought it was a bit attractive when he looked like he was gonna beat up his own brother in a frilly blue dress. He pursed his lips.

These guys taught (Y/n) well. If (Y/n) wasn’t as intense as he was during hero work, he didn’t think he’d ever fall in love with him, not the same way he is right now, at least. He felt sorta glad his family wasn’t a soft, fragile family of extras. Bakugou closed his eyes, and smirked.

“Yeah! The fuck’d you say to us, you lil punks?!”

——————

[illegal-spiegel]

Earwig pt.2

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x f!reader x Shoto Todoroki Genre: smut Warnings: threesome, spanking, choking, temp play, slight bdsm?, unprotected sex(always wrap it up!), degradation, and I think that’s it??? Summary: After Bakugo and Todoroki hear you talking about them in the locker room, they decide to give you a nice surprise Word Count: 3.5k  A/N: CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP. Also, you don’t necessarily have to read part one to understand this but it’ll help you understand some of the comments they make and whatnot 

Part One

You giggle and tease the girls as you head out of the locker room, stretching your sore body out. You smile and greet the boys who are already in the class, taking your seat in the middle of the classroom. It gave you a pretty good view of Bakugo but sadly not of Todoroki who sat behind you. 

You pull out your phone and just start to do random stuff on it until class starts. You didn’t even realize class was starting until Mr. Aizawa started talking. You snap your head up and look around with furrowed brows. Normally, everyone would be chatting up a storm until the last second. Today though, only the girls were conversing quietly with each other. Most of them don’t sit near each other though, so they had to get up to stand around the classroom. 

You look around suspiciously, trying to figure out why some of the boys are acting so weird. You sit behind Kaminari and in front of Kirishima. Normally, they’d be yapping your ear off about a new meme or something ‘manly.’ Today though? Nothing. You can’t turn around to look at Kirishima since class has started, and you’d rather not have Mr. Aizawa thinking you’re not paying attention. Again. 

So, you just have to look at what’s in front of you. You can tell Kaminari is in a good mood thanks to his humming. Actually, he’s humming Jiro’s favorite song under his breath and keeps looking to his left at her. She seems to not notice this though since she’s writing down something Mr. Aizawa said. 

Maybe you should be paying attention but you’re just too freaked out right now. 

Next, you look at Ojiro who sits right in front of Kaminari. You can see his ears are dark red and he’s sitting very stiffly. After observing Ojiro, you look at Aoyama, who is pouting to himself as he stares at Mr. Aizawa, but doesn’t seem to be paying attention. 

Yup, something fishy is definitely going on here. 

You look from student to student until you reach Deku who is shaking in his seat and is as red as a fire hydrant. You’d be worried about him if it wasn’t for the fact that all the boys are acting weird. 

You stare at him for a while, trying to come up with answers to why he and the other boys are acting like this. It’s not all of the boys either, from what you can tell. Koji and Sero seem to be acting like normal. You stare at the windows now, the gears in your brain moving faster than they have in a while. 

Movement in front of the window causes you to blink and turn your focus to said movement. You’re met with cocky, crimson eyes who stare at you without hesitation. You stare right back at him, refusing to bow down to the handsome brat. 

He suddenly smirks, making your brows furrow in response. He opens his mouth a little to slip his tongue out, taking his sweet time to lick his lips. Your eyes, obviously, move from his eyes to his mouth to watch the little show he’s putting on. This only causes his ego to boost more than it already is but you can’t help it. With you watching, he pulls his tongue back into his mouth before biting his bottom lip. 

That’s when it hits you. 

They heard! Those nasty, perverted, pigs! 

A gasp flies past your lips before you can stop yourself, bringing all eyes to you. Except for Bakugo. He looks away to look back to Mr. Aizawa, who is also staring at you. 

“Miss (L/n),” you stand as your name is called, your face as hot as the sun,  “you seem quite excited about today’s lesson. Why don’t you tell everyone what you learned last from chapter sixty-nine.” 

You flinch a bit at the number, your mind going back to the hallway when you said you’d want to try that with either of the two men you named. You huff and squint your eyes a bit at Mr. Aizawa as you start to recite a few things that you remembered from the reading. As much as you didn’t want to do the reading, you aren’t about to get left behind or have Mr. Aizawa hold this over your head just like every other mistake you make. 

“Okay. Sit down,” he says, in what you swear is in a tone filled with boredom, in the middle of your response to his demand, making you shut your mouth and try not to glare at him. You do as you’re told and quickly plop down, crossing your arms over your chest. 

You’re going to murder Bakugo and the other boys.

As soon as class is over, Bakugo is practically the first one out the door. Oh, that prick thinks he’s so sneaky and slick. You practically growl as you follow after him as quickly as you can without bringing attention to yourself. 

He gets outside before you can stop him, your face getting hotter by the second the angrier you get. You bust through the front doors and search among the many bodies for unruly blond hair. You huff when you don’t see him, your hands clenching at your sides. 

You quickly go back in and get your stuff, which you had left in your hurry to catch up to him, before leaving the school to walk the short distance to the dorms. Your eyes widen when you walk into the dorms to see Bakugo leaning against the wall, looking immensely bored. Well, that is until he sees you. A smirk then instantly crawls onto his face as his eyes look you up and down. 

Your mood instantly plummets again as you swiftly start to march towards him, your face growing warm again. His smirk turns mischievous as he pushes off the wall and heads towards the elevators. He walks inside just as you reach him and quickly follow him inside, ready to reprimand him for eavesdropping on the girls and to ask who else heard. 

“Bakugo-” is all you get out before the elevator doors close and your back is suddenly against the wall. You stare at him in shock before realizing, duh, he knows some of your kinks and what you want him to do to you. He presses his body against yours and then brings his hand to your throat, lightly squeezing it and watching your eyes flutter. 

He chuckles lowly as he leans his face close to yours, his nose trailing over your jaw before his lips find your ear. “Well, I sure think I’m packing. Maybe that’s why my ego is so inflated,” he says lowly before nibbling on the lobe of your ear. You whimper softly and arch into him, wanting nothing more than to feel him hard against you. 

“You weren’t lying, were you? This really is all you think about, huh? You’re such a dirty whore. I wonder who’d you rather have pounding into you while the other one puts that filthy mouth to good use,” he growls as he starts to grind against you.

A moan escapes you before you can trap it and lock it deep down inside of you. He kisses down your neck and, even then, you can still feel him smirking. “God, I hate you,” you growl, making no effort to push him away or stop him. 

Why would you? You’ve fantasized about this almost, if not, every day. 

“Oh, it’s not a matter of whether you hate me or not. Either way, you’re still desperate for this coc-” 

He’s cut off by the elevator door opening, making him grunt. He pulls away from you but is sure to grab your wrist to drag you to his room. This is when you notice that he is taking you to his room, seeing as how you live on the second floor whereas he lives on the fourth. 

He opens his door, practically throws you in, before slamming the door shut behind him. You almost start saying that maybe you two should slow things down when you find Todoroki sitting on the bed. When you lock eyes with him, you almost whimper. He stands up and places his hands into his pockets, his face not showing any emotion but his eyes are practically shining. 

Bakugo comes up behind you and pushes his hard-on to your ass, starting to lightly grind against you. “I invited icyhot, hope you don’t mind,” he grumbles in your ear. This time, you do whimper. You don’t have to be facing Bakugo to know he’s grinning that evil grin he does when he’s about to do something bad. 

“Well? Do you just plan on watching?” he snaps at Todoroki, making Todoroki huff a bit. He silently walks over and stands right in front of you, looking at Bakugo’s hands on your waist. 

“Can I touch you?” he asks softly, looking up to meet your eyes. The fact that he even had to ask is so cute. 

“I know you heard us today,” you start, reaching out to run your hands across his broad chest, “I know you heard what I want you to do to me,” you finish in a sultry tone, your tongue coming out to wet your lips. He watches the action before swooping down to connect your lips, a moan escaping you as Bakugo thrusts against your ass harder. 

The kiss is messy and sloppy but you wouldn’t want it any other way. You gently pull on his hair, his hands going from your cheeks to slowly going down to your breasts. You gasp into his mouth when he squeezes them, your back arching away from Bakugo to press your chest further into his hands. 

You hear Bakugo grunt before sliding his hands up under your shirt, bringing the cloth with him, When his hands meet Todoroki, Todoroki pulls away to allow him to take your shirt off. While Bakugo pulls it off, Todoroki is quick to reach behind you and remove your bra. 

As soon as it’s off, Bakugo has his hands on your chest and making you moan with no lips to stop you. Todoroki meets your eyes before leaning down to start kissing down your neck, sucking and biting on random places. By this point, your clit is throbbing and your panties are completely soaked. 

“Guys, I’ve been dreaming about this for a while. Can we speed up the foreplay?” you stutter out, your hands tugging at Todoroki’s double-colored strands of hair. He pulls away to look at you once more, panting a bit from his attack on your neck. Once he’s pulled back though, Bakugo is quick to push you forward before shoving you onto the bed. 

“What was it you said you liked?” Bakugo asks sarcastically, his hands trailing down your back to your ass that you pushed into the air. “Oh, that’s right,” he says after a moment, acting as if the thought just occurred to him. 

You cry out when he spanks you, causing you to arch your back and tightly grip the covers of his bed. “You don’t get to tell us what to do, whore. We are the boss of you, not the other way around.” You mewl lewdly at his words, your mouth watering as you wait for him to say more. 

He spanks you again, causing you to moan loudly. You stare up at Todoroki when he moves to the other side of the bed, watching his face as he gently pushes the hair out of your face. “Don’t I need to be quiet? We are right next to Kirishima’s room,” you reason softly, trying to press your thighs together. 

At this, Bakugo shoves your bottoms down and spanks you harder this time. This spank though involved a tiny spark from his quirk, making you barely be able to hold back a scream. It hurts but the pain is so delicious that you can’t help but to want another hit. 

“I don’t care if he hears it or not. You probably want him to hear you so that he can come join us. Would you like that? Have another man here to fill you up with his cum?” Bakugo growls before spanking your other cheek the same way he hit you last time. You smack your hand over your mouth, tears springing to your eyes. 

An animalistic growl comes from him as his free hand reaches forward to snatch your head up by your hair, making you stare up at Todoroki. “Admit it, you slut. You’d like that. Just like how you’re gonna love having me stuffing one of your holes while Todoroki stuffs the other one,” he says darkly. 

A guttural moan escapes you as your eyes roll back into your head, your wet flower clenching around nothing. “Look at her. Maybe we should go over and invite him right now,” he threatens. 

“Please, fill me up with your coc-” 

You cut yourself off with a shrill moan when he spanks you again. You notice then that Todoroki has taken off his clothes and is currently pumping his hard length. Just like you thought, he’s long and thick. You wonder how big he is compared to Bakugo. 

You gasp when you feel Bakugo’s length suddenly rubbing against your wet heat. “This what you want, huh? You want this hole stuffed by me, whore?” You nod your head with a whine, leaning your hips back to rub yourself against him. You’re quick to reach back and wrap your hand around his length, almost moaning at how thick and heavy he is in your hand. 

You gasp again when your face is suddenly shoved into the mattress while his other hand snatches your hand away from him. “Did I say you can touch me?” he hisses. You feel him get off the bed and walk to somewhere else in the room. 

You didn’t dare lift your head from the bed to look. 

You inhale sharply when you feel Todoroki’s hands on your head, his fingers gently turning your head to look up at him. “You aren’t acting like the good girl I know you are,” he says softly, his already deep voice sounding lower than usual. You whimper at his words, it being better than anything you’ve ever dreamed. “How was that? Was that ‘deliciously dark’ enough for you?” he teases, a smirk coming to his face. You mewl at this, quickly nodding your head to show him how pleased you are. You just knew he’d talk like that once he’s riled up. You lean your weight on one hand and let the other reach out to him, starting to slide your hand up and down his member. 

Your focus is pulled away from him when the bed shifts with Bakugo’s weight, your lip coming between your teeth when he forces your hand away from Todoroki to put them behind your back to tie them. Once your hands are tied up nice and tight, he forces you forward to where your chin is just over the bed. Bakugo has a tall enough bed frame to where you’re face to face with Todoroki’s hard member. 

Now that you’re getting a better look, you see a vein protruding on the bottom that runs up his entire length. When your eyes reach the tip, you see precum gathering at the slit, making your mouth water once more. 

“Do you think I even have to prep her? I bet she’s stretched out from all the times she’s shoved a dildo up her tight hole while imagining it’s one of us,” Bakugo says to Todoroki, his hand coming down on your right cheek again. Your body jumps with the hit to your already sore ass, a whining moan slipping past your lips. “Say, I wonder who she fantasized about more,” he says to himself as if he’s thinking out loud. 

He brings his fingers to your sopping heat, pulling your panties to the side to spread your juices from your dripping hole to your clit. “She’s so wet. She loves the way we’re treating her, icyhot.” You turn your head to look at Todoroki’s face, finding that he’s biting his lip. You shudder as Bakugo takes his sweet time pulling your panties away, a strand of your arousal sticking to your panties as he pulls them down your legs. “God, you’re soaked,” he hisses, dropping the panties to your knees before grabbing your hip tightly with one hand. 

The other hand goes back to touching your wetness, going against his idea of shoving himself right into your warmth. You moan when he gathers your arousal on his fingers and starts to rub at your swollen clit again, your eyes fluttering as you finally get some relief to the throbbing nub. With him pleasing you, you felt bad that Todoroki is just standing before you watching. 

You shift your head forward and lick a stripe up the vein you were eyeing earlier. He hisses and brings his hands to your head again, his nails lightly digging into your skull as you suckle on his tip. You moan around him when Bakugo slips two fingers into you at once, your mouth going further down Todoroki’s length with each pump of Bakugo’s fingers. 

When he adds a third finger, you accidentally deepthroat Todoroki and gag around him. You pull back quickly but keep your mouth around him, your tongue lapping at the head. “Look at you being such a good girl for me,” Todoroki says between pants, his hips starting to lightly thrust. 

You hum in response, glad that you’re pleasing him. “She’s not a good girl. She’s anything but. She’s just a nasty little whore that wants us to use her as a sex toy,” Bakugo says behind you as he pulls out his fingers. You pull away from Todoroki’s member to wail when Bakugo finally pushes into you, stretching your walls out more than your fingers or toys ever could. “See? Look at her. This is all she’s good for,” Bakugo growls as he bottoms out before pulling his hips back to just snap them back against your ass. 

You cry out in pleasure, your eyes rolling in your head for the nth time. You’re temporarily distracted when Todoroki turns your head back to his member and uses his other hand to grab ahold of his wet shaft. He then presses the head to your lips with a smirk, raising his brow up at you after holding it there waiting for you to open up. You instantly drop your jaw and stick out your tongue, his member sliding along your tongue towards the back of your throat. 

You close your mouth around him and let him thrust since you’re having trouble moving with Bakugo pounding into you with each of his thrusts and moving your body. You moan with each of Bakugo’s thrusts, letting Todoroki feel the vibrations and making him grunt each time you do it. 

You gasp around Todoroki’s shaft when his member suddenly starts getting really warm, making you become concerned for a moment before you realize what he’s doing. Before it can get too hot, he starts to drop the temperature and cools your mouth with his member until it’s as cold as ice. You moan loudly and clench around Bakugo, feeling Todoroki’s hands start to wander your back and do the same thing his member just did. Seeing Todoroki use his quirk on you, Bakugo decides to use his again. 

You scream when Bakugo spanks you harder than ever before with his quirk, your scream thankfully being muffled since your mouth is full. Your scream causes Todoroki’s head to drop back, his mouth falling open as he starts to thrust faster in your mouth. Before you even realize, you’re cumming around Bakugo. Your body shakes a bit from the power of it, your eyes squeezing shut. 

“That’s it. Cum with me stuffed in your tight hole. I can feel you pulsing around me,” Bakugo hisses, his hips starting to smack against your ass quicker and quicker. Todoroki starts to push deeper into your mouth, making him deepthroat you with every thrust. You moan when you can, your walls clenching around Bakugo and making your entrance cling onto him every time he pulls out. 

It didn’t take long for Todoroki to shoot his load down your throat, some of his seed slipping past your lips and goes down your chin and neck. He stays in your mouth for a moment before slowly pulling out, your lips catching any cum that was stuck to his shaft.

Bakugo cums next, pulling out just in time to cum on your sore ass. He lets out a guttural moan as he does, his head tilted back when you turn to look at him. When he finishes, your legs are quick to give out and you slide them to lay down flat on the bed. 

That is the best sex that you’ll ever have in your life, you’re sure. 

“Next time, we are switching holes,” Todoroki says, leaving no room for questions. 

“Fine. Ten minutes and you’ll get your turn,” Bakugo grumbles as he lays down on his back next to you. You grunt, both too tired to go another round but also too impatient to wait any longer to have them again.

┍━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┑

Again, characters are aged up 

MASTERLIST

More with Bakugo

I lowkey wanna write a part three-

Tag List: ik some of you didn’t asked to be added but you commented on the first part so I figured you’d wanted to be made aware of the second part. Let me know if you want to be removed :) @bobasuki​, @toxicfirewolf2020, @whoreforouterbanks, @on-jah-bruh, @eternal-0ve, @todorokishotolover, @lovemythos, @coolbabydumpling, @cathwritestragediesnotsins​, @jabby16​, @spitfyrefae​, @living-the-husbando-life​, @nikatastic​, @courtneypaigemartin​, @kac-chowsballs​, @the-sander-fander​, @dweebbblog​, @inumorph​, @earthfce​, @m-jkttyl​, @psicotropicwanderlust​, @spicyhokage​, @lifudesuka​, @woahcalmdownjamal​, @notyourmommy​, @shotos-bitch-babie​, @cece-lives-here​, @nojammsss03​, @honneymusterd​, @fee-btheweeb​, @an-unlikely-ghost​, @shadowdreas​, and @astroepiphany

┕━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┙

[wclkmans]

[ savannah lee smith | cis woman | she / her | twenty-six ] —— it’s just another typical week in hawkins i guess — isn’t that right, monica mckinney? huh, guess they can’t hear me over maneater by daryl hall & john oates playing on their walkman, but it looks like they’re headed to work at lovelace lingerie. did you know monnie has been in hawkins for her entire life? yeah, they’ve been described as a bit judgemental, but i suppose them also being poised outweighs the negative. i’ve also heard people say they remind them of an old cheerleader uniform collecting dust in the back of your closet, a collection of plaid skirts and babydoll dresses, a permanent hole in your heart like a missing puzzle piece, using men as an accessory to a new outfit, and the feeling of being alienated from your own surname… however, that could just be this weeks newest rumor.

character inspirations — dionne davenport (clueless), shiv roy (succession), blair waldorf (gossip girl), aubrey hope (gossip girl reboot), olivia pope (scandal), hanna marin (pretty little liars), bianca stratford (10 things i hate about you), madeline mackenzie (big little lies), north (detroit: become human).

full name — monica mckinney nickname(s) — monnie, mon, mckinney name meaning — unique, to advise, alone, nun, solitary age — twenty-six date of birth — january 2nd, 1960 place of birth — hawkins, indiana current location — hawkins, indiana gender — cis female pronouns — she / her sexual orientation — heterosexual ? but why are girls so pretty and why do they smell so good and why (she is a lesbian) religion — catholic occupation — owner & sales expert at lovelace lingerie education level — bachelors in business and fashion merchandice residence — single family home with jason & izzy family — douglas mckinney, father. maura robinson mckinney, mother. patrick mckinney, younger brother, deceased. finances — upper middle class spoken languages — english faceclaim — savannah lee smith

tw: abuse mention, implied abuse, mention of hard drug use

bread and born like championship horses, the mckinney household was held to very high standards. maura robinson met douglas mckinney in university where maura attended for an mrs. degree and douglas ? engineering. he was a few months from graduation when maura stuck her nails into douglas’ back. he had a future, came from a great family name, and could allow maura to get her ❛ degree ❜ within her first year of school, letting her party the rest of it away.

married before maura’s senior year was over, she swiftly moved into douglas’ single family home he already owned — and maura went straight into decorating. she turned the place into a home and with a home comes the next step in their relationship. the first born was monica herself, followed closely by patrick. two beautiful children was enough for maura, and all douglas really wanted was a son.

monica grew up in a semi-normal, albeit, very privileged life. her father came from money and rose the ranks fairly quickly in his bland corporate business career. maura and monnie didn’t care what he did, only that he brought home the money to support them and their vastly expensive tastes. monnie learned her taste after her mother. money and material goods were in place of love and affection, and monnie didn’t care.

she was fairly popular in school, mostly since she bought her way into it. her friends were fake, but they were there. the only real friends she made were on the cheer squad — especially veronica. to stay in shape and keep up with appearances and popularity, monnie joined the cheer squad in high school after doing cheer for a few years on a private team. it was something she enjoyed because there was a certain power in it that everyone had. the boys wanted you, the girls wanted to be you. influence was all she ever wanted.

and, oh, did boys want monnie. she is very aware and confident in and of her sexual nature, its one of the one things she is very sure of in herself. she didn’t care if it was because she came from money and made any guy on her arm the new coolest kid in school. she just wanted an accessory — and when they got too invested, she’d try a new one on. there was never any real feelings in her multitude of relationships, which she could easily blame on the lack of example offered to her by her own parents. everything in her life was transactional. so much so that she often wondered why she never actually liked any of the men she dated (... lol)

but patrick ? oh, patrick was different. he was such a good kid. always sticking up to bullies and even working his way up when it came to gaining friends and sudden popularity as well. having monnie for an older sister probably helped, but patrick got onto the basketball team all on his own. he liked the team, even if he didn’t agree with everything they said or did. he was the better, nicer mckinney kid, and everyone knew it. 

things started taking a turn for the worse when monnie was in her last year of university. she was close to getting her degree and moving somewhere like new york or europe for fashion when she found out about the abuse. she surprised patrick at home one night when she noticed the first bruise. 

patrick told her about everything that night in her car. he talked about the way dad was acting and how his attitude had suddenly shifted. he was normally an absent father, but now he needed to know everything that was going on in patrick’s life. how he suspected alcohol at first, but then he found the baggie he had been hiding in his briefcase. 

he then talked about when the hitting started. first, it was when patrick got in the way, then it turned personal. maura was never involved, but she also never involved herself. her after university plans changed that visit and she decided staying in hawkins would be best — at least until patrick was able to leave too. back at home, monnie would help try to cover his bruises with her makeup, but the bruises were always too multi-colored for her foundations to work.

then, all of a sudden, patrick was gone. something about a murderer on the loose who had already killed two people — patrick now being their third. but when monnie went to see his body, she knew there could never be someone capable of doing what had happened to patrick. she knew abuse like the back of her hand, and the stories of witchcraft and satanism weren’t enough for monnie to feel okay about patrick being gone. she wouldn’t accept it.

especially when the stories came out from his friends about him being lifted into the air, crumbling together, only to fall back into the waters of lovers lake. a spot she used to frequent when she was in school but now refuses to go near. and then when the earthquake hit and the news broke out on what was ruled the cause of patricks death ? monnie couldn’t deal. she doesn’t believe that munson kid killed her little brother, but she most definitely doesn’t believe what happened to his body was due to exposure. wrong place wrong time. 

monnie is now the only child in the mckinney household. she acts as though his death didnt do anything to her or change her at all, but it did — it changed her family quite a lot too. her mom finally left her dad and he skipped town. monnie hates that it took patricks death for their father to finally leave. 

after the earthquake and when the town started to settle did monnie settle, too. she couldn’t leave hawkins now — not when her brother was buried here and not when she didn’t have answers. instead, monnie restarted up the lovelace lingerie at the mall, becoming the new owner of the establishment. and then she bought a small house to fit her needs just perfectly.

still a wild bitch, monnie is being as true to herself as possible, while also trying to not let patrick’s death influence her life too much. something she’s already failing at.

[themandylion]

97 & 41 jaytim

Oh wow, this ended up long. /o\

97 (Time Travel) + 41 (First Kiss) + JayTim

He's boosting tires in the Bowery when the thugs find him. Crowd him up against a wall and threaten him with bodily harm for horning in on their territory, even though this part of the city is a free-for-all, with no one reigning supreme. There's three of them to his one, all of them full-grown men with bulging muscles and nasty tempers and Jason knows he's in his final moments, that there's no way he's escaping this. Still, that doesn't mean he's going to go down without a fight. He squares his shoulders, plants his feet, raises the tire iron in his hand, and—

Between one blink and the next, the back-most thug is on the ground, groaning and clutching his crotch. There's a blur of red, and then the next one's down on his knees, the crowbar he was gripping half a block away and the hand that was holding it pinned to the wall by a slim, sharp-edged disk.

Silver flashes through the night, and the final guy collapses in a heap, just sprawled out on the pavement like he's not even human anymore, just a pile of discard clothes over something lumpy and unmoving. Someone lands on his back, light and nimble and impossibly tall. "You okay there, kid?" the new person asks, crouching down so he's at Jason's level and smiling.

"…Batman?" He's only ever seen the Bat from a distance before, but he's heard about the cape and cowl, and this guy has both.

The guy shakes his head. "Nope, not him. I'm his partner, though."

"Robin wears green," Jason feels compelled to point out, because he's definitely seen Robin before, though always on the TV, when the Teen Titans are fighting really scary bad guys elsewhere in the world.

This time, a shadow seems to pass over the man's face, sad and unhappy. "I'm a different kind of Robin. Red Robin. I'm pretty new, it's not surprising you haven't heard of me." He leans back on his heels and glances around at the thugs, frowning. "I've got to tie these guys up and leave them somewhere the GCPD will find them. Do you think you can get home on your own?"

Jason gulps, staring up at him, at the way all that tight leather and spandex hugs his body. Gee whiz. "Yeah, I. I can take care of myself. Thanks!" He surges forward, practically smacking his mouth against Red Robin's cheek, before running off into the night. Maybe not headed home, but to as close as anything gets, these days.

---

Two weeks later, Batman catches him boosting tires on Crime Alley. A week later, he's going home with the man. Jason asks about Red Robin and gets a confused, clueless look, which is strange. With everything else happening, he forgets about the man in the black cowl with the silver staff, but he still finds himself drawn to that one particular shade of red.

---

He forgets until the memory is jarred out of the deepest depths years later on the other side of the multiverse, when he's bound to a chair and staring down the barrel of gun. A gun held by another Batman, a different Bruce. One who did all the things he thought he wanted his Bruce to do, only to end up a broken man as a result. Jason tries to explain himself and his presence, but it's hard to when he keeps seeing that suit in the case over this Batman's shoulder.

They reach an understanding, a kind of peace. Both of them, finally, for the first time in ages. This other Bruce offers him the suit, and Jason doesn't think twice before putting it on. He's traveled across the multiverse, seen places where dead people live again, where evil people are good and vice versa. It's not too far a stretch to believe that somehow, he's going become his own childhood hero.

When he finishes pulling on the last piece, Bruce looks on him with pride and announces, "Red Robin lives!"

"Red…?" Jason murmurs, more than a little startled. It's been so long, he'd nearly forgotten the name, but it fits, it makes sense. Finally, he's back on the right path, back to being someone the boy he once was could be proud of. Will be proud of, when their paths cross again, which he's sure they will.

---

The other Batman dies.

---

They get back, finally done traveling across the multiverse, fleeing across Apokolips, running from plagues and maybes and might-have-beens. Donna and Rayner return to wherever they call home, and Jason... He thought he finally found himself when he put on the cowl and became Red Robin, but with everything that happened after that moment, all the contrition he gained has been too long stewing in a half-broken heart. He isn't sure who rescued him when he was a kid, but it wasn't him, and it wasn't the long-dead Jason of another world. Maybe it was no one at all, and he made it all up and convinced himself it was real.

He runs back to Gotham, strips off the cape and cowl, the bandoliers and leather. Throws it all in the trash and goes to knock some heads and blow off some steam, anything to escape from what the rest of the Justice League brought with them—a sob story and a broken, days-old body.

---

The suit disappears from the can where he threw it, and he thinks good riddance to bad rubbish, but the person who's wearing it now doesn't understand the significance, the legacy. Doesn't know what it symbolizes, a last chance at redemption, a final loss of innocence.

The new kid distracts him, muddies the water and still Jason doesn't see it, doesn't realize what's happening. Even when the kid takes the cowl, adds it to his green-free suit, he doesn't see it.

Jason's too busy fighting, too busy screaming, raging, being angry at himself and the world to realize how things are swirling tighter and tighter, closing in, twining together, weaving themselves in an intricate, impossible mesh that's new and old and always existing all at the same time. The three of them—him and Dick and the new kid—push and shove and fight and scream and grieve in their own ways, trying to figure out who they're going to be now, what the world is without Bruce.

He ignores overtures of friendship, leaves the kid broken and bleeding out and thinks nothing of it, still too busy hurting and too busy denying he hurts.

Thinks nothing of Robin back on the streets in red and green and black and yellow, a different boy, an actual child.

---

Bruce comes back, but he's just as stubborn as always, and Jason burned the last of his bridges while the old man was playing possum. There's nothing left for him to do but lurk in the shadows and grit his teeth and watch Drake bounce around the city in a costume that isn't his, telling himself he doesn't care, that it doesn't rub him the wrong way.

Doesn't actually realize what's happening until one day he's watching as Drake races across the city, ready to step in and stop him if he dares to cross into Red Hood's territory when suddenly—

There's no one. The roof's empty, not a soul in sight.

He swings over, investigates. There's a strange acrid smell in the air along with the faintest traces of sweat and exhaustion, but there's no clue to where he's gone, no hint. Minutes pass and the sky is getting darker as evening turns into night. Just when he's given up, Drake reappears, but still, unmoving. One hand grasping his staff while the other touches his cheek and he stares into nothing, dazed and unfocused.

His attention snaps up, and Jason is too startled to move, still standing there in the middle of the roof, the two of them locked in place.

"Holy fuck." He can't. This isn't—

He's tried to kill Drake multiple times over the years. They've barely had a conversation that hasn't ended with Jason drawing a knife or a gun, and more often than not he comes out on top. Leaves the guy knowing that he's alive at Jason's mercy.

But now he's standing there, finally grown into the Red Robin suit and name, filling it in all the right places, all the right ways, grasping a staff that Jason somehow failed to recognize until this exact moment.

"I never—" He never thought to make the connection, always assumed it had to be someone else, some one huge. Big enough to match the larger-than-life figure that dominated a half-forgotten memory.

"Huh." Red Robin collapses his staff, clips it his belt. "Random time blip? I didn't even realize."

Which would explain it. Of course he didn't realize—no way would he have helped that other, younger Jason if he'd known who it was. Why save a boy who's going to grow up to become a monster bent on destroying him over and over again. "Sorry," Jason says, startled, confused, unable to wrap his head around it all as he stumbles backwards, tries to do what he always does when he's confronted with too much, too fast—run.

Red Robin—Drake—tilts his head to the side and then does something completely unexpected. He shoves back the cowl and studies Jason with cool, clear eyes. "I have a feeling this has been a weird night for both of us. You could stick around. We could figure this out together."

So help him, Jason hesitates. "Time travel is pretty weird."

"I was thinking more being kissed by my childhood crush. But yeah, that too."

"Your… what?"

"Come on," he says, holding out a hand. "I think it's time we finally talked. Maybe without the death threats this time?"

Gulping, Jason takes that hand in his.

It's not much, but. It's a start.

(The Fanfic Trope MASH-UP is still open for asks!)

[vixenpen]

Dabi smut with a teacher. Like in some quirkless au or something (He’s scarless but hella pierced and tatted), he had to pick up kid!Shoto one day and he sees his hot black teacher (Sis got thickness and curves for days, even in simple clothes) So he consistently picks up Shoto (even when he doesn’t have to) just to hit on her and when he finally scores a date with her, he’s at his limit after seeing her in casual wear and how amazing her personality is.

I LOVED this request. I had so much fun writing it and the details were amazing! I hope you enjoy

Hot For Teacher (Dabi x Black Reader) Quirkless AU

“Ah, come on kid,” Dabi sighed, expelling a stream of smoke as he waited at the curb for his baby brother to get out of school.

He rolled down the window to air out the car and watched the stream of middle schoolers burst through the double doors and head to their respective busses or cars.

“Shooo,” Dabi groaned, “where are you? I got shit to do, kid.”

He enjoyed hanging out with his youngest sibling, and he had no problem picking the kid up, but he also had a business to help run. If he didn’t get back to the shop in an hour and a half like he’d promised Hawks, he’d get an earful about responsibility and time management and blah, blah, blah.

He leaned back in the driver seat, deciding to give Shoto another fifteen minutes before he texted the kid.

Just then another wave of kids exited the building, Dabi’s bright blue eyes scanned them before landing on the finest woman he’d ever seen in his life.

Her cream colored silk blouse popped beautifully against her rich brown skin and a pair of slacks hugged her wide hips. Her makeup made her dark eyes sparkle and red lipstick painted her pouty mouth.

Dabi sat up, turquoise eyes running up and down that beautiful body of hers as the sexy teacher strutted past to talk to parents and wave good bye to students. When she turned around, his eyes slid down to the fattest ass he’d ever seen and he licked his lips.

Damn it must be hard as hell for her students to concentrate in class.

She turned again and began walking back towards the school. Fuck! If he didn’t stop gawking he would miss his chance. He couldn’t let that happen.

Holding his cigarette between his lips, Dabi quickly stepped out of the car and took leggy strides to catch up with the teacher.

“Excuse me.”

She turned around, her big dark eyes landing on him. Immediately Dabi knew she was sizing him up and wasn’t impressed. She gave that same disapproving teacher look Fuyumi gave whenever she was put off by someone.

Regardless, he flashed her his most charming smile. He may not be a goody two shoes like these other khaki wearing dads out here, but he knew he looked damn better than any of them.

“Sorry to bother you ma’am. I was just hoping you could help me out.”

“Sure,” she smiled back, showing off a pair of pretty white teeth. “Let’s start with that cigarette. It’s against our school policy to be smoking on the premises so if you could.” She cocked a brow expectantly.

Dabi cocked his own pierced brow back in response, but quickly stubbed out his cigarette on a nearby janitor’s cart and threw it away in the accompanying trash can.

Her smile widened. “Great. Now, how can I help you?”

Dabi chuckled. “Well, ya see, I just got this new phone and cleared out all my old contacts. Ya know, new year, new me and all that,” he shrugged, “anyway, my contacts are pretty empty now. So, I was wondering if I could get yours.”

She let out a little snort of amusement.

“That’s your pick up line? How many Girls have had the misfortune of hearing that one?”

“You’d be the first,” Dabi smirked back. “Figured the usual ‘hey beautiful, what’s your name’ line wouldn’t exactly help me stand out.”

“Trust me, you don’t need help standing out.” She replied, eying him again.

“Then that means I’m ahead of the game, right?” He held out a hand, “I’m Dabi.”

Tentatively, the teacher shook it. “Ms. Y/n.”

“Ms. Y/n, huh...” Dabi repeated slowly, his eyes ran over you with a barely masked longing. “Not ‘Mrs’?”

“Not yet.” You replied.

“How soon are you looking to change that?” Dabi asked, his smirk growing a bit smaller and more intimate.

“Who said I was looking to change it at all?”

“Certainly not me,” he replied, “that’s why I asked. I would love to talk more about how much you don’t want to change it over dinner sometime though.”

You fended off a smile. You were not about to give this over confident asshole any encouragement.

“Sorry, but I make it a point not to date my student’s parents.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not a parent then.”

“Oh? So you just like to stroll on the campuses of random middle schools and hit on the teachers for fun?”

Dabi chuckled again.

“I’m here to pick up my little brother. Ah, hell, speaking of which, I actually could use your help with that. Kid hasn’t come out yet and I’ve already been here over half an hour.”

Your pretty face immediately crumpled with worry.

“What’s your brother’s name?”

“Todoroki Shoto.”

“Oh!” You looked surprised. “Shoto. I think I saw him headed towards the baseball field. I think the team has practice today.”

“Dammit! Really? Well, I better go say hi to the kid anyway. You mind, uh, leading the way?”

“Sure.” You shrugged.

Turning, you took the lead and guided Dabi towards the baseball diamond behind the school. You could feel the man’s eyes on your ass the whole way, and couldn’t help but put an extra switch in your hips as you did. Much to his appreciation.

You had to admit the man was fine as hell. The black undercut with lines cut in the side, his multiple piercings and even the colorful tattoos you saw peeking from under his fitted black tshirt were hot as hell. However, you had long since given up on bad boy types. You preferred nerds. Still a little light flirting wouldn’t hurt anything, right?

“There he is.” Dabi stated once the two of you verged on the field. He held up his hands to his mouth and called out: “Yo, Sho!”

The boy looked up, heterochromatic eyes widening in surprise.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had practice today you little half and half?”

“Why don’t you ever check mom’s texts?” Shoto shouted back. “She told you to come later.”

You snickered as Dabi pulled out his phone and checked his text messages.

“Huh. Well I’ll be damned.” He muttered to himself. “Alright, kiddo, I’ll be back in an hour!”

“Can you stop shouting and leave now?! I have to concentrate.”

Dabi laughed before turning back to you.

“Anyway, thanks a lot for your help Ms. Y/n.”

“Just doing my job.”

“Still, I would love to thank you properly. Maybe over coffee.” He said, sounding hopeful.

“Before it was dinner.” You quipped, playfully.

“I know. I‘m just planning for future dates.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “It was nice meeting you, Dabi.” With that you turned and strutted off.

“I hope you know I’m gonna keep trying until I get a yes or no.” He called after you.

As you entered the school’s back entrance you could hear Shoto shouting: “Can you please stop hitting on my teachers? I have to see them everyday!”

Unfortunately for Shoto, his plea seemed to go in one overly pierced ear and out the other because almost everyday since then, Dabi made it a point to stop and talk to you when he came to pick up Shoto.

“Hey there, Ms. Y/n. My contacts are filling up fast. You sure you don’t wanna reserve a spot?”

“Sorry Dabi, but my no dating policy extends to immediate family members as well.”

“I hated to cancel our reservations, but you’re left me no choice, Ms. Y/n.”

“Nobody told you to make reservations, Dabi.”

“Dinner was lonely the other day. If only I had a beautiful black queen to keep me company.”

“I’m sure There are plenty of black queens out there that would have loved to accompanying you to dinner.”

“Yeah, but they wouldn’t have been you.”

Dabi was unrelenting. Always complimenting how amazing your outfits looked on your skin tone, how flattering your make up was, or if you wore a new hairstyle or new jewelry.

You couldn’t lie. The attention was both flattering and refreshing. Since becoming a teacher, you usually only got hit on by studious academic types. Attractive yes, but straight laced and all the same with their game

Unfortunately a disturbing amount of married dads also tried their luck with you.

But Dabi was different.

He may have been a far cry from your usual type, but he was always perfectly respectful and even funny. Not to mention he was much closer to your own age than other men that came on to you.

He must have started bribing Shoto for help or asking him about your interests too. Because sometimes when he would see you, he’d have a new book to give you or your favorite iced tea from a cafe you always frequented. Which, admittedly, was pretty damn cute.

The tatted up alt boy was actually growing on you. So one day, when both of you least expected it, you finally agreed to give him your number and go on a date.

That was the first time you ever saw him straight up smile. Not smirk or grin. He actually beamed. Just like a little boy who’d been told he could have a puppy.

Ok, ok. You admit it—he was cute.

Hopefully, that charm would extend over to dinner.

When the big date came, Dabi cleaned himself up. Opting out of his usual dark attire for a deep blue fitted Ralph Lauren polo and skinny khakis. He even took out some of his piercings in an attempt to look more presentable. He thought he cleaned up pretty nice if he did say so himself, but it was nothing compared to what you strutted in wearing.

Dabi had gotten used to your stylish but conservative work attire. He was so used to your hot teacher look, that he forgot you probably had some regular clothes in that amazing wardrobe of yours.

And damn did you pick out the most show stopping dress you had. You wore a wine colored dress that cut low in the front showing off those juicy tits of yours and stopped above the knee. The heels you wore made your thighs look even yummier and your ass was jiggling out of control with every step.

Down boy. Down boy. Down boy.

He scolded himself.

“Well, don’t you clean up nicely, Dabi?” You teased.

“I’m Touya tonight, beautiful.” He struck a pose like a GQ model. You laughed. “Dabi was that guy that kept hitting on you, Touya’s the guy that’s gonna try not to screw it up.

“Oh,” you ran a manicured finger along his solid chest, “well, I agreed to a date with Dabi, but I guess Touya could be fun too.”

Dabi licked his lip, and your eyes fell on his tongue piercing, hungrily.

“Depending on how well the night goes, you might see Dabi come out later tonight.” He replied, suggestively.

You rolled your eyes, but could feel your cheeks (and your pussy) warming.

“Boy! Come on.”

Dabi as Touya opened the door to the restaurant and ushered you inside.

The restaurant he took you to was definitely a high end place; complete with soft candle light, a jazz quartet, and a maître d’.

The chemistry the two of you had definitely translated over dinner.

Dabi was just as funny as he always was and he was genuinely interested in getting to know everything about you. He hung on to your every word about the funny things your students did in class. He enjoyed hearing your college stories. He even knew some of the books you enjoyed reading and could talk literature easily.

You discovered that he was the co-owner of a tattoo and piercing shop. He was the oldest of his siblings. And he enjoyed traveling and learning new things.

Dabi enjoyed vibing with you. He loved that your personality and sense of humor was just as amazing and substantial as that body he wanted a piece of so bad.

Dinner rolled into drinks and lasted well into the night. By the time the two of you were done it was damn near four A.M.

From that night on, you and Dabi became practically inseparable. He picked you up from school right along with Shoto for dinner after work, swung by with coffee, bought you any and everything you wanted (he does come from money after all) and after a year of dating, you became more than just a ‘Ms.’

Pt.2

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

My dearest bouncey! I have a prompt for you if you like: Witchers as a 90s/2000s boyband 😂🤷‍♀️💖💖💖

Ellie, darling, this started as 500 words and turned into like 3.2k words and also a piece of art so... thank you so much. also shout out to my amazing art pal @mawbwehownets for the little comic!!

this contains lots of 90′s/early 2000′s nostalgia so there is also that

tw: hornyish, smooching, perilous music video situations (corny)

---

“Do I have to?” Geralt groans, letting his forehead thud down against the linoleum surface of their tour bus’s shitty dining table.

“Yes,” Vesemir says. His tone leaves no room for argument or whining. “But what if I let you pick the winner personally?”

“There have to be like fifteen thousand letters to go through! How will I manage that in less than two days?”

“There were a few more than fifteen thousand applications, Geralt. There were probably closer to five hundred thousand.”

Lambert wolf whistles and Aiden claps.

Geralt grimaces and keeps his face hidden against the table, releasing a slightly muffled: “Fuck.”

“Language,” Vesemir frowns. He tugs gently at Geralt’s loose ponytail and the singer lifts his head up from the table again, looking at his manager with beseeching eyes. “Anyway, we’ve narrowed it down to about fifty. You can go through those and choose whichever person you’d like to play your love interest. But you have to give me an answer by Friday. The shoot is in three weeks and whoever wins this stupid competition will need time to make arrangements.”

“I thought we were footing the bill for their food and their hotel room,” Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What would they need to arrange?”

“Not everyone can board their pets at the flick of a wrist, dude,” Lambert scoffs from his seat on the couch. Aiden lies draped across his lap, as usual, and the two of them are halfheartedly watching The Lion King. They can only watch movies when the bus is stationary, otherwise the VHS player might move too much while running and damage the film inside the cassette. Even taking advantage of such a rare opportunity, Lambert and Aiden still seem more interested in each other than Jonathan Taylor Thomas’s voice acting. 

“Lambert has a point,” Vesemir sighs. He scrubs his hand over his lightly whiskered face like a tired grandparent and sighs again, more heavily. “It’ll be good for you boys to have a normal person around for a few days. Maybe they’ll be able to put some things into perspective.”

Geralt can only roll his eyes a little bit and thank his manager regardless of his own feelings; he and the rest of TW5 owe the seasoned musical expert their entire careers. Without Vesemir’s help and mentorship they would never have made it past their first disastrous record deal. They certainly wouldn’t have reached the heights they’re at now, enjoying international fame and recognition. 

The begrudging frontman accepts a heavy plastic bin of file folders from Vesemir and sets them down next to his bunk. “Are these organized in any particular way?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.”

Geralt digs his hand into the pile and pulls out a piece of pale-pink stationary, eager to get started and, by extension, get finished. He can already tell that it’s going to be a long couple of days.

---

“I want this one, please, Ves.”

“Huh?” Vesemir looks up from his palm-pilot. Geralt is standing in front of him and trying to hand him something. 

“I want this guy to be in the music video with me.” Geralt holds out the letter again, fingers trapping the accompanying polaroid headshot with great care. A pair of bright blue eyes stares up from the photo, highlighting the subject’s bright smile and unruly mop of messy brown hair. Vesemir tries to hide his amusement; totally Geralt’s type, if the big oaf could admit to having one.

“Alright. I’ll get everything in order. We start shooting in two and a half weeks so get your asses to the gym, please.”

“Yes, Ves,” all five young men chorus. 

“Tomorrow,” Coen mutters a moment later than everyone else, not glancing up from his composition notebook. Vesemir nods in understanding. Coen is the best lyricist of the lot and it’s easier to let him work when inspiration strikes than beg him to focus when he can’t get a solitary idea to stick.

“So why’d you pick that one, Ger-bear?” Lambert drawls. Aiden nods and leans against Lambert’s side. Geralt can’t help the mild jealousy that overtakes him every time he sees his bandmates touch each other with such casual affection. He wants that intimacy, that softness behind the veneer of famous indifference. He wants someone to hold. 

“Yeah. What drew your attention to that poor unfortunate soul. Was it the floppy hair, the big blue eyes, or the dopey grin?” Aiden smirks.

“Hmm.”

“Fuck you,” Eskel sighs, looking between the two troublemakers with the tired gaze of an eldest sibling, “Fuck you for even asking in the first place and expecting a straight answer.”

“Straight is the furthest thing from his answer,” Lambert chuckles. He is promptly smacked in the head with one of the couch’s hideous throw pillows. The youngest member of the band rubs the side of his face and chuckles, “Alright, I deserved that one.”

---

“Holy shit!” Jaskier practically screams. “Holy motherfucking shit!”

“What!?” Yennefer comes flying around the corner. “What’s wrong!?”

“Nothing is wrong, Yenna! Everything is awesome! Everything absolutely fucking rocks!”

“Did you get hit on the head by a falling branch between here and the mailbox or what? You were whining about your finals work not five min-”

“Look at this!” Jaskier shoves an open envelope into her hands and cuts her off. Yennefer reads the watermarked documents once. Twice. Her eyes almost pop out of her head when the words and their meanings finally sink in. 

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No, I am absolutely not!” her giddy roommate cheers, bouncing up and down in place. “I did it! I won!”

“Holy shit.”

“I know! I get to kiss Geralt deRiv!” he practically cackles. Then freezes. “Holy fuck I get to kiss Geralt deRiv.”

“You said that already,” Yen teases. She shoves the paperwork back into his hands and grabs a takeout menu from the junk drawer near her hip. “Since you won the makeout lottery, you get to buy lunch. Lucky bastard.”

---

“So this will be your dressing room,” someone’s underpaid PA says, ushering Jaskier into a small, bright room. “Priscilla will be here shortly to get you into hair and makeup.”

“Oh, uh- thanks!”

“Yup.”

And with that, the young man disappears back down the hallway toward the sound stage. Jaskier jogs his leg anxiously as he waits for Priscilla to arrive, nervous and otherwise totally alone in the huge grey building. As the minutes tick by and his heart rate rises, Jaskier’s intrusive thoughts make an unwanted appearance: What if they forget about me being here? What if there’s been a mistake and they accidentally hired two love interests and I just sit in here for hours all alone while-

“Hi!” a bright, peppy blonde woman flies through the door and startles him back to reality. “Nice to meet you, I’m Priscilla! You can call me Priss; I’ll be doing your hair and makeup for the video this week!”

“Oh… hi. I’m Julian, but I prefer Jaskier.”

“Lovely! Well, Jaskier, is your hair naturally this color?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Perfect! I don’t want to mess with such a lovely shade of natural brown, but do you mind if I give it a bit of a trim? I have a few ideas for styles right here in my book- How do you feel about some feathering back here? I think-” she fluffs a few of the hairs around the nape of Jaskier’s neck “-I could really bring out the curls if I adjusted the length a bit and used some product.”

“Just, uhm, go for it, then! Feel free to make me as pretty as possible!” Jaskier declares. He’s committing to this experience wholeheartedly, determined to allow himself every opportunity for positive change. He wants to really let himself enjoy it, and he needs a haircut anyway. Priscilla spends an hour washing, cutting, drying, and styling his hair into a lovely fringed sweep across his forehead. It ends just above his brows, giving his face a slightly softer shape than usual. He grins over his shoulder, “I love it! I’m going to miss you when I’m back at Oxenfurt. Good stylists are so hard to find.”

Priss blushes and nudges against his shoulder, “Oh, you little charmer.”

“I mean it,” he says, examining himself in the mirror. “I look like I could really be worthy of a heroic rescue! This is going to be such a fantastic memory, and I appreciate it. Thank you so much.”

Priss bites back a genuine tear and smiles, “Now that your natural prettiness has been mildly enhanced, let’s get you over to wardrobe, shall we?”

“Wardrobe? Do I have, like, a costume? What’s the music video even about?”

“They didn’t tell you any of this when you got here?”

“Not… not really.”

“Well, my darling, I think you’re really going to like it; they’ve got you in Versace for the first scene.”

“Versace!?” 

Then Jaskier is being ushered into a bright, colorful room full to bursting with grim-faced, middle-aged women and he loses track of his only braincell for the rest of the morning.

---

“You must be Julian!” Lambert declares, bounding up to him and grinning. It’s a feral, animalistic grin and Jaskier resists the sudden urge to take a step back.

“I prefer Jaskier, if you don’t mind too much,” Jaskier corrects him quietly. Lambert rolls his eyes in a long-suffering kind of way and throws a meaty arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, completely ignoring the wardrobe technician’s wincing as he wrinkles the expensive silk jacket. 

“No need to be quiet and polite around here, my dude. We’re just a bunch of rowdy idiots, aren’t we, guys?” 

“Hell yeah!” Aiden calls back. Eskel sighs like the put-upon nanny in a Victorian Redanian comedy. 

“Speak for yourself,” Coen barely lifts his frosted tips up from his book long enough to speak. Geralt is-

Holy motherfucking Britney Spears on toast.

Geralt is the hottest thing Jaskier has ever seen in his short, unfulfilled-until-right-now life. Forget Ralph Macchio. Forget Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet and Winona Ryder. This man is… Geralt deRiv is… he’s the picture of perfection. And he’s right there, standing in front of an elaborate party set with his thick, beautiful arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on the floor, as if willing it to swallow him whole. Jaskier realizes that he probably didn’t have any choice in the matter; maybe this was just as awkward and uncomfortable for Geralt as it was for Jaskier. 

“Ger-bear!” Lambert whoops, yanking Jaskier closer to the brooding frontman. If only he were brave enough to struggle for escape; alas. “This is your boy-toy for the week. Goes by Jaskier, apparently.”

“Nice to meet you,” Geralt manages to grunt. “How did you like the script?”

“I haven’t uh- I haven’t actually seen it?”

“Shit. Fuck. One second,” Geralt huffs, disappearing into the crowd of technicians and machinery operators and PAs. Jaskier loves him already, for real. Sure, he was pretty in the music videos and promo material, but the way he said fuck like it was the noblest word he could think of… Geralt interrupts his train of thought by coming back with a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand. He shuffle-shoves them into Jaskier’s arms immediately. “There you go.”

“Thank you!” Jaskier smiles. It’s genuine and shy, more tenuous than his usual goofy grin. He flips through the pages, glancing between the script to his expensive suit, “So I’m guessing we’re at a party for this scene? Or something?”

“This is… where we meet. This is where… you and I uh…”

Jaskier’s eyes scan the page as Geralt’s ability to speak slowly leaves him. 

Lover ENTERS LEFT, dressed to the nines. Lover adjusts their tie/boa and takes a look around the room. S/He looks sad and a little hopeful. PULL BACK to Geralt, who approaches slowly. Their eyes meet. HOLD SHOT. PULL BACK as they move towards each other. Geralt pulls Lover into his arms and they begin to dance.

“Oh, wow.”

“I hope it’s okay! If you’re not comfortable with that kind of thing we can-”

“I’ll be alright, thank you. I came here to put my acting chops to the test. Well, that and meet my favorite band, of course. Thank you again, by the way. It’s been wonderful so far and I really appreciate you allowing me to be here.”

“Allowing? Psh. Geralt ha-” Lambert is cut off by Aiden, who elbows him sharply in the side. “Ow! What the fuck, babe?”

“I knew it!” Jaskier crows, distracted. “I knew you two were an item!”

“They’re not exactly subtle.”

“They never confirm anything either,” Jaskier retorts. Geralt shrugs his acknowledgement and moves back towards the set. Jaskier follows after the taller man like a lost puppy, eyes flicking from one thing to the next, hungry for detail even in his anxiety ridden state. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and he doesn’t want to waste a solitary second of it. “This is incredible, really just...wow. You guys do this all the time? You get to make tiny little movies for already great songs that you get to perform for millions of adoring fans? And you get paid!?”

Geralt hadn’t ever really thought about it like that. He’d been raised in the industry. He’d signed to Kaer Morhen Records as an early teen because his mother was a member of the Board of Directors and he’d been making music ever since; an outsider’s perspective to things was… new. A little strange. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty much what we do.”

“Wow.”

“It’s not that exciting, I promise.”

“Have you ever written a fifteen page paper about the history of lute-string design and manufacturing?” 

“No.”

“Then kindly shut the fuck up about what I should consider exciting,” Jaskier grins. Geralt is immediately and irrevocably smitten. Fuck. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes! “So, which door am I entering from?”

“Left,” Geralt points. Jaskier skips over and begins to introduce himself to the sound and lights crew. His smile seems to be as infectious as his cheer and soon the entire set crew is smiling at one another. There’s been a literal shift in the atmosphere; if he didn’t know any better, the TW5 frontman thinks Jaskier might be some kind of magical creature, because he can’t just be human. Geralt is well and truly fucked, and everyone in the band already knows.

---

“What do you think?” Jaskier asks, slipping anxiously from behind the changing screen. The Versace is gone and in its place are a pair of tight, high-waisted blue pleather pants and a billowing white shirt, which has been strategically ripped in several places to reveal slivers of the lightly tanned skin that lies beneath. He looks like he’s in desperate need of rescuing. He looks like every fantasy Geralt has ever had about the perfect guy. He looks like a fucking dream.

“Nice,” he says.

Lambert and Aiden wolf-whistle and cheer as they approach. Aiden claps twice, loudly, and shoots Jaskier a set of finger guns, “Hot damn, baby. You single? You lookin’ to mingle? Because I am bi and spoon like a Pringle.”

“First of all, babe, I love you but that was the most horrific combination of words yet known to man. Second of all, yeah, I’d dump Aiden for you for sure,” Lambert adds. Jaskier is at a total loss for words. His mouth hangs open and his breath comes in uneven little gasps for a moment.

“Uh… I- Thank you?”

“Oh god, Eskel! Eskel, he’s short circuiting, do something.”

“You absolute-” Eskel groans and makes his way over to the gathered group. He tugs Jaskier away and over to the other end of the set, where a comically huge rocket/bomb (Jaskier can’t tell) is standing at the center of a vaguely science-themed room. A laboratory, maybe? Or like, a really weird spacecraft? A hospital run by rocket scientists? It doesn’t matter, it’s the Evil Lair of the Villain and that’s where Jaskier is being held captive. “Here, Cameron and Elise will help you get set up for the next scene. I’m sorry about the boys they’re... gay?”

“I understand,” Jaskier nods sagely and Eskel relaxes. Then for comedy’s sake he adds an equally dramatic, “I too am... gay.”

The set dresser, an electrician, and a few specialists (likely a rope rigger among them) come over and tie Jaskier to the bomb/rocket/villainous mechanism, ending his conversation with Eskel, who is now in a much better mood than he was before. 

Jaskier is told to make sure his hands are crossed behind the small of his back and the director instructs him to wiggle back and forth “as convincingly as possible without actually getting loose or moving the ropes too much”. Which is manageable, he supposes. 

“Then, when the chorus comes up, we’ll get a few shots of the boys dancing in front of you,” the director continues to explain. That’s… kind weird, but okay. I’ve seen weirder. “Then we’ll do the action shots, with Geralt rescuing you. Are you okay to do the kiss, or would you rather not? We have dynamic shots with or without, so it’s totally up to you.”

“I’m fine with that,” Jaskier smiles shyly. “I consent to be smooched.”

“Adorable,” Lambert calls. Jaskier blushes and the director shoots Lambert a glare. 

“He’s already pink enough, don’t make me change my gels you little shithead!”

“Sorry, Pierre!”

“Fucking sorry my ass,” Pierre grumbles beneath his breath. Then he smiles at Jaskier. “Do something nasty to him for me, will you? Not too nasty but… just a little?”

“I’ve got your back,” Jaskier winks. 

“No plotting! Not fair!” Aiden whines.

“You have a team,” Pierre retorts. “Now I have a team.”

“Rules are rules,” Eskel sighs. “Now can we please shoot this damn video?”

“Right,” Pierre claps, getting everyone’s attention. “Places!”

---

Geralt races up the stairs, trying to keep the long sleeves of his black mesh shirt from catching on any of the set pieces. The solid black t-shirt he’s wearing underneath makes his arms and back look bulkier than normal; it’s a visual technique to make him look larger than Jaskier, whose billowing white shirt will hide how wide his shoulders actually are. Fuck, those are some nice shoulders. And the smattering of dark chest hair that peeks from the front of the college student’s shirt? Geralt wants to bury his face in it.

Okay, focus. 

He reaches the top of the set and rushes towards Jaskier, ripping the ropes from around his torso and pulling him close. He cups the back of Jaskier’s head with his upstage hand, framing the slightly smaller man for the camera and making him seem even shorter, another trick of angles and body posturing. Geralt plays Jaskier like an instrument, bending him back by placing his downstage arm around Jaskier’s waist, pressing their mouths together and holding them still for as long as it takes the director to yell, “Cut!” with a satisfied tone of voice. 

Geralt’s suspicions are confirmed when Pierre laughs and claps some more and cries, “Print it, lads! That was a one-take wonder!”

He tries to ignore the way Jaskier’s shoulders slump as if disappointed. “Good job,” he manages to say.

“You, too.” Geralt wishes he could keep a picture of Jaskier smiling in his back pocket forever. No other sight could light up the world so effortlessly. “Thanks for being gentle.”

“I’m trying to sweep you off your feet,” the singer shrugs. Jaskier wiggles his eyebrows and follows Geralt down the narrow set stairs.

“Are you, really?”

“Is it working?” Geralt asks, turning to look up at Jaskier. The student pauses to look at him and his foot catches on an uneven board. He topples forward with a short cry of surprise and seems surprised when Geralt reaches out to catch him. “Jaskier!”

“Oh my god!” Lambert races over, Aiden hot on his heels. “Are you okay, dude?”

“I’m fine,”  Jaskier laughs, a little breathless. “Just a little shocked.”

“You should take him to get a snack or something,” Eskel says, nudging his shoulder against Geralt’s. “He’s been busy all day and hasn’t even been to craft services.”

“You haven’t eaten?” Geralt asks, honestly baffled. Jaskier shakes his head, face heating once again. He wishes he could stop blushing, but Geralt’s presence seems to make it impossible. He wraps one arm around the younger man’s temptingly slender waist and leads him towards the food carts. He shoves a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of punch into Jaskier’s hands, not giving him a chance to argue. “Here, I’ll have something, too.”

“Thanks,” Jaskier smiles, understanding that he is, in turn, being understood. They sit comfortable folding chairs off to the side, food spread across their laps. Jaskier laughs and chats around his mouthfuls, pulling things from Geralt like his favorite color and his least favorite nicknames. Songs he liked and dances he disliked. 

“You made it fun again, today,” the singer smiles. “Thank you for that. I wish you could be here for every video shoot.”

“Looking for another member of the band?” Jaskier jokes, doing some half-hearted jazz hands. Geralt shakes his head and laughs. 

“I wish we were,” he sighs. “But I guess five is the magic number.”

“Makes the dances look cooler,” Jaskier nods. “I agree with whoever made that decision. I wouldn’t dare ruin the aesthetic.”

Geralt laughs again and Vesemir turns to look, honestly shocked at the volume of the sound. 

“Plus, you can’t be the frontman if there’s no front.”

“Shut up,” Geralt chuckles, still grinning broadly. 

Vesemir makes a phone call.

---

2 Weeks Later, Backstage in Kaedwen

---

“He’s been sulking like this ever since Jaskier went back to Oxenfurt,” Lambert whines. “C’mon Vesemir, do something.”

“What do you want me to do, make Geralt’s boyfriend appear out of thin air?”

“Not my boyfriend,” Geralt growls, stomping past his bandmates and manager. He can’t help but feel grumpy. Jaskier had been like the sun, bringing light and wonder to everything he touched, and without that joy around it doesn’t seem worth the extra effort to smile. So he’s been moping. 

“Fucking hell,” Vesemir sighs. “Thank goodness I thought ahead.”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks, joining the little group in the hallway outside the dressing room. “What did you think of?”

“Three,” Vesemir smiles, glancing at his watch. “Two… One…”

“Boooooys,” echoes a high tenor. “Where’s my welcome wagon, Vesemir?”

“Jaskier!” Aiden practically screams, leaping out of the dressing room and flying down the hall. Lambert follows at a sprint and Vesemir hears the resounding oof oh fuck of both giddy musicians hitting their mark. 

Geralt comes back down the hall at a jog, eyes searching frantically. “I thought I heard-”

“Geralt!”

Vesemir’s heart clenches in his chest at the way Geralt’s face lights up. At the end of the hallway, surrounded by spilled luggage and apologetic boyband members, is Jaskier. Geralt floats to him, it seems, like he’s dreaming the whole thing. Jaskier takes his hands and then releases them and wraps his arms low around Geralt’s hips instead. 

“I missed you the most,” he whispers, just for Geralt to hear. “Couldn’t sleep without listening to your CD. I know it’s silly but I really like you.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispers reverently into his shaggy brown hair. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to do my thesis on pop culture’s relation to music history,” he says. “And then the manager of TW5 called Oxenfurt and offered me the opportunity to do some… first hand research while I worked on finishing the paper.”

“R-Really? You’re going to be here… every day?”

“Do you… do you not want me he-”

Geralt kisses him before he can even finish the question. It’s a stupid question anyway, of course Geralt wants him here. Wants him right here, kissing him silly. The singer presses his lips desperately, crushingly against Jaskier’s; he never wants to part from this man again. He never wants to be without that glorious laughter and contagious liveliness. Who knew that life could be so full of delight and happiness if he only let it? 

He kisses Jaskier for all he’s worth and more, pouring his heart and soul into it. When they pull apart, both gasping for air, Geralt asks, “Stay with me, Jaskier? You don’t have to do anything I just-”

“I’d love to be the big spoon,” Jaskier winks, whispering again. “Thank you, Geralt, for the rescue.”

[joshstambourine]

Greta Van Fleet as Dad's

Haven't been able to un-see this idea since it showed up on my dash and uggggh. I couldn't get over how cute all of this was.

For this imagine, I'm sort of picturing them with younger children, anywhere from 3-5 years old as they are all still crazy young hehe. Also. All of these imagines work with any gender of child. It's all sorta just what I imagine them having and being like in general 🖤

Taglist: @anditsmywholeheart

JOSH

Josh is such an interesting guy. He is both so deeply smart... but also at the same time he is the equivalent of a conversation between my last two brain cells.

The sheer amount of energy this man has means he'll not only keep up with a kid but also tire them tf out.

There would always be so much screaming and laughing in the house.

Lots of games of tag and the floor is lava

No matter what he has, son or daughter --- there will be so much dancing. Josh would be the kind of dad who loves to hold his kid and just dance around the house with them.

Not to mention all of the goofy songs they would be singing together.

I can see Josh conversing with his kids like adults even when they are little. Meaning there will be some very serious conversations about very silly things. Potato chips can make you a fly? On it. The floor is both lava and also the arctic? Josh is ready to hear all about how that's possible. There aren't mermaids but there are human sharks? Josh needs to know where he can find them asap.

I can very easily imagine him dressed up and sitting at a table that is far too small for him with his legs crossed.

His daughter would have started by putting one necklace on him and it soon escalated to a crown, sunglasses that didn't fit, and a set of fairy wings. Surrounded by many stuffed animals and dolls.

"Mmm, this is great tea! What kind is it?"

"Grape."

He'd look at his tiny tea cup filled with apple juice. "Huh I could have sworn it was Apple. Did you change it on me?"

She would shake her head, "No daddy! We already drank the apple tea!" She'd laugh.

"What?? You drank all the apple tea without me?!" He'd exclaim, "why did you drink all the apple tea with out me?"

Josh would inch over and begin to tickle her, just loving to hear her laugh really.

"Daddy! Daddy no! You can't tickle me, I'm the princess!!"

Jake

Jake immediately strikes me as such a chill laid back dad. The kind of cool dad you'd definitely want during your teenage years.

He'd be the kind of dad to sit and watch cartoons religiously with his kid, there's no way he'd be missing them. Doesn't matter if it's cool or comedy gold, if his little one loves it they're gonna watch it together.

I think Jake would really want to teach his kid how to play guitar. It's something he's so passionate about that I think it would bring him a lot of joy if his kid had at least the knowledge of techniques and things, even if they weren't a huge fan of playing themselves.

Jake as well strikes me as someone who would be psyched about making dad jokes, of course with a straight face.

That is just a long winded way of saying that as a very young child this kid would know more about music than I do now after 20 years of living on this planet.

"What did the Buffalo say to his little boy when he dropped him off at school?"

"Bison!"

For a gender of a kid I'm split right in the middle when it comes to Jake. I think either would be equally as adorable but for this imagine I'm going with a girl to keep things even.

With a little girl I can imagine him sitting quietly as he watches her tiny hands try their best to paint his nails cleanly.

There is pink nail polish everywhere. Everything is a mess. Everything smells of chemicals. But it's fine.

"After I do your nails can I braid your hair too?" She'd eagerly ask, not looking at his hands anymore but she is still trying to paint.

"But your show is going to be on soon...! I thought we were gonna cuddle?"

"....can I braid your hair and watch my show?"

Jake would look at her seriously before smiling, moving quickly to give her a small kiss on the cheek, "of course you can, only if you give me lots of cuddles after."

"Okay daddy!"

*insert a child who is only half heartedly braiding hair while fully enthralled in their show. Head tilted on a 45° angle to see the TV with half of Jake's hair in a frizzy mangled braid.*

Sam

I really think Sam would want his kids to listen to really good music from a young age.

I mean don't get me wrong I think all of the boys would be like this... but I see him being the kind of parent that buys into the "smarter babies listened to music in important development periods"

The ultimate "my kid is so smart" kind of parent that then shows you 20 drawings that don't look like anything, but clearly they look like something to him.

All those drawings get tucked away somewhere safe so he can go back and look at them proudly as his little one grows up.

"Maybe they'll be an artist?!"

He also strikes me as a parent who wants to be really involved in teaching his kid things. ABC's? Sam's baby has them locked and loaded. Numbers 1-20? Still has trouble remembering anything with a nine but we are working on it.

Ultimate joy is achieved when Sam gets to teach his little one how to ride a bike. He feeling like its a right of passage for every kid to have with their dad.

I pictured Sam sitting with his little boy at the kitchen table, puzzle pieces sprawled all over.

"Dad, I have a joke for you." He'd say as he fiddled with a piece.

"Oh yeah? Go for it buddy." Sam would reply as he connects another edge piece.

"Knock knock!"

"Whose there?"

"Banana!"

"Banana who?"

"The Banana man!" Snickering coming from across the table, hands banging on the table and nearly knocking several pieces off the table.

Sam would laugh a long, "Y'know I've never heard that version of that joke---"

"Dad I'm not done"

"Oh I'm sorry, continue." He'd say beginning to look for a few more pieces to go together.

"Knock knock!"

"Whose there?"

"Banana!"

"Banana who...?" Sam would respond slowly, prepared for the same poorly created joke.

"TWO BANANA MEN!"

Sam would have to lay on the table. It was such a freaking terrible joke but so funny to see the amount of joy it brought the little boys features. "You have to tell that one to mom, okay?"

Danny

Danny is such a loving guy in general, I feel like parenting for him would just be so easy. Not saying that there wouldn't be troubled times--- just that he's just one of those people that were born to parent.

The very dependable parent. Always going to make time for any small thing his little one needs.

Danny is going to encourage his kid to do whatever they love with all of his being.

"You like rocks? We should get a rock polisher."

"You're right these cookies are pretty good, maybe we should get the stuff we need to bake them together."

He is going to have a series or specific book he reads to his little one until they fall asleep. Its something he would refuse to miss, they have to do their chapter! Even if he's on tour somewhere he's going to call home to make sure they can read together.

Danny is over the moon to have a little golfing buddy. As soon as this kid could walk he bought them their own set of clubs so they could play along with him. He just couldn't wait to start teaching them.

Golf time is bonding time. They'd get to walk together and talk about anything and everything.

I've been crazy torn about whether to write about him with a son or a daughter, both are equally as cute. For the sake of evenness though I decided on a boy.

"Okay so for your driver buddy you need to hold your arms waaay out." Danny would tell his son holding his arms out.

"Like this?"

"A little more."

Little eyes look to Danny curiously as his arms become fully extended from his body.

"Perfect! Make sure you stand straight, and keep your eyes on the ball." He says with his hand on the middle of the boys back, "And then you just---"

"SWING!"

Danny nearly getting clocked in the head with a golf club but leans back just in time. The satisfying ting of the little one's club hitting the ball sounds,

"DID YOU SEE HOW FAR IT WENT DAD?!"

*Insert the face Danny made when he pretended Sam's margarita's were good*

~ If anyone wants a full fic written for one of these please let me know because I will 100% write out fluffy family fics without hesitation!! ~

[seancekitsch]

I was Never Young: A Klaus x Reader fic

Anyways uhhh heres my fic based on the Klaus spin off series!! I made sure not to really spoil anything in the series if u guys haven't finished it yet but it does take place after the series events. there's no smut which is weird for me bc i usually write just smut but like yolo this is where it went.

Klaus had been through the ringer. Los Angeles seems to just be more of the same, so why even leave home? Right, he’d been kicked out and cut off. Well, at least one of those problems has disappeared, he thinks as he pats the ugly little satchel full of money at the side of his hip.

He meanders down the street, no real direction or motive as he shuffles down. The diazepine is starting to wear off, and he’s going to need something to dull the corners of his mind in about an hour. A neon green sign draws his eyes, looks as sick as he’s about to be.

‘Cobra’s’ the sign says, and this one is probably as good as any.

The bar has exactly six people inside of it, he realizes as he pushes the door open. It’s hazy, full of the stale and welcoming scent of menthol tobacco. Perfect, Klaus thinks.

The bartender is a stern looking man, like he used to be a wrestler. Maybe this is what Luther or Diego will look like in thirty years if they don’t eat their wheaties.

There are two other men sitting in a booth by the corner, deep in conversation with one another. They’re boring suits, no one that Klaus could have for company. He’s just looking for someone alive to have a conversation with while he numbs himself. Someone alive, he clarifies to himself. His last friend left for heaven’s greener pastures, which he’s happy for him, but maybe the guy could have stuck around on this plane of existence for a weekend longer.

There’s a couple at the end of the bar that looks like they're on a date. In the middle of the day? Wonder if their spouses know they aren't at work. Klaus laughs out loud, poor bastards.

And then there's you, with your mixed drink, absentmindedly swirling it with your little stirrer. You seem like a safe bet, so his feet drag him over to sit down at the middle of the bar near you. He more or less throws himself into the chair, his feet immediately feeling the relief. He’s still clammy and feverish in the come down, his stomach hurts, but that’s nothing a little booze and sugar can’t help.

You notice the guy as soon as he walks in. Of course you do. After a few years, you start to recognize people even if you don’t know them. You don’t recognize him. He looks paranoid, fresh off a set and worried about what a job will do, for and to him. Poor thing. Probably one of those River Phoenix types. Young, pretty, and overwhelmed.  In teen mags one day, in the obituaries the next. All preventable, hundreds of people that could step in if money meant more than the people around you.

“Hey,” the guy next to you greets you, his voice uneven, watery and cautious. His hands shake a little as he pulls a stack of cash out of his threadbare satchel, pulling a few bills from the rubberband holding it together and flattening them out against the bar.

“Hey, yourself. You new here?” He looks surprised as the words leave your lips, but is interrupted by the bartender approaching.

“Yeah, whatever that special is for today, that’ll do,” he orders like he doesn't really know what to do at the bar. He turns back to you, looking ever so boyish and lost with his big green eyes.

“How did you-?”

“How did I know you're new here?” You throw the rest of your drink back, carelessly placing it at the far end of the bar from you, “Because you don't look absolutely beaten down. I mean, you look a little twitchy, but you look fresh.”

Fresh? That’s not at all how Klaus would describe his look, having not slept in days and having been using an extreme amount of controlled substances, even for his standards.

The bartender slides a glass towards him, and he scrambles to catch it. There’s a total of two umbrellas, a flamingo stirrer, and two straws in it. In all, garish and hard to look at. The bartender takes the money, and they nod at each other.

“You look kinda young to be here,” with that remark, Klaus takes a long sip of the fruity cocktail he ordered, a sickening blue color so intense you bet it could substitute as hair dye.

“You do too,” you quip. You’d been working in this town for a few years now, on and off movie sets and bartending clubs with live acts. This boy? He looked fresh. Like he’s just been taken for his first ride. He looked rough and unused to it.

“How old are you?” he asks,  he can’t place your age or accent. You look just as young as him, if not younger. You sound southern- Boston- Chicago- western and somewhere European he can’t place. Is that what Hollywood does to people's speech patterns? Is that gonna happen to him? But you seem to be as much an anomaly here as he does.

“How old are you?” you mimic back.

Klaus stares in awe as you rest your elbow against the bar, making sure he sees that as you snap your fingers, a cigarette materializes between them. You quickly shift the rolled tobacco to rest between your index and middle finger, ready to place it against your lips.

“Listen, I’m old enough.” That's all you have to say about that.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “Sometimes I think I was never young.”

You exhale sharply through your nose, the hint of a laugh.

“Yeah, alright.” You fish around in your jacket pocket for the lighter and ask, “Do you wanna get out of here? Only smoking bar in town, but it ain’t got hotdogs.”

Hotdogs, Klaus thinks, He remembers having sausage back home, but he’s never had a hotdog.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that? You never been to a baseball game or something?”

He shook his head, no. Klaus hadn’t ever seen a baseball game. He knew the history of it, the impact it had on American society. All from a very clinical and academic standpoint. Sports weren’t really his thing.

“Nah, I always preferred activities with a bit more... uh, substance.” He laughs at his own joke, whether you get it or not really doesn’t matter.

“Right, right. So River, what’s your real name?” You talk with the cigarette but between your teeth, lighting it quickly, before the lighter in your hand vanishes from sight.

“It’s….. uh, It’s Klaus.”

You give him your name, and he repeats it, tests the name out on his tongue.

You take a deep inhale, blowing the smoke out of the corner of your mouth.

“So Klaus, wanna buy us some hotdogs?”

You leave as soon as he finishes his drink, and he talks in a way that he thinks might be too much. But you listen. You’re the first living person that’s actually listened to what he had to say since he got here. He asks about you, your story, but he doesn’t get as much as he wants. You like your smoking, you’re a special effects designer, you dropped out of high school to come out here, and you fucking love Alonzo’s hotdogs.

“Hey ‘Lonzo!” you shout, interrupting Klaus mis sentence, raising both arms above your head, the baggy sleeves of your jacket falling closer to your elbows.

“How’s my kid doin?” The man shouts back. A tall man, with heavy brows and a mustache. “And who’s this?”

“My friend Klaus here just directed a movie! With Vivian Clarke, and the kid’s never had a hotdog! Can you believe it!” Your footfalls come quicker, starting to jog as you clear the end of the block, Klaus starts to shuffle quicker to catch up. When he gets to see the man up close. clear chocolate brown eyes greet him. He looks pretty trustworthy, Klaus thinks, Like Santa Claus, or John Stamos. Basically, like anyone but Dad or Viv.

Alonzo asks all about Klaus’ recent accomplishment, not exactly something he wants to talk about, but he likes that Alonzo is genuinely curious and polite. The only thing you say is “extra relish, on both. Big shot director pays.” during the conversation, focusing more on finishing your cigarette and stubbing it out with the toe of your boot. Klaus looks down and the cigarette butt leaves no trace on the concrete.

“So back there,” he says as you wait for your dogs to be handed over, “That cigarette business, are you a magician?”

“Nah,” you say, not fully meeting his gaze, “I’m a Libra.”

You nod at the guy as he finally pulls the dogs over the edge of the cart he operates. Extra relish, just like you asked. When he places the hotdog in Klaus’ hands, the redhead’s eyes go wide. Guess he wasn’t kidding about never having relish, you think.

“Huh,” he starts, dumbfounded by the hunk of grease and meat and relish in his hands, “I’m a Libra too, actually.”

“Guess that’s something about balance or something,” you say, effectively ending the conversation again by opening your mouth as wide as you can to accommodate the sheer mass of one of Alonzo’s hotdogs.

He looks at the meal, his first and probably only for today, and then takes your lead, opening his mouth as wide as he can before finally chomping down on a huge bite of it. The bite is… heavenly. Pickled vegetables and chutneys exploding on his tastebuds, the coolness of it contrasting with the fresh off the grill meat. No offense to mom or Pogo, but none of their cooking could ever hold a candle to this street hotdog.

“Good, yeah?” Your voice, distorted by a mouth full of food, breaks his almost nirvana like trance.

“So good,” he tries to say, mouth just as full as yours. He finishes chewing, swallows with a huge gulp.

“You got any more food spots to show me?”

[queenmuzz]

Happy Mother's Day

I'm terribly sorry, this is supposed to be a happy day between mothers and their children, but you know how I am... Note: Set Between DMC4 and DMC5

Nero’s legs wobbled with numbness as he cautiously got off the bike, making sure that the motorcycle wouldn’t tip. He really didn’t want to bring it back to Lady with a ding in it. But when she had offered it to him to borrow, he couldn’t resist taking it for a spin. The vehicle was a beaut, lovingly taken care of, and...very, VERY fast. How that waif of a woman was able to hold on for dear life, he had no idea.

After he had steadied himself, he looked at his destination and frowned, looked down at the paper in his hand, and looked back up. The address was a match, but this place, right smack in the middle of downtown Redgrave, looked like a dump. A decrepit skeleton of what had once been a magnificent manor that looked abandoned for decades. Even though it looked like a prime location for a demon hang out, Lady had insisted that Dante wasn’t on a job. Nero had gotten the feeling she really wanted him to find the elder demon hunter.

Confused, and more than a little curious, he passed through the broken down wrought iron gate towards the house.

The overgrowth was tall and suffocating, but Nero noticed, just before what had been the entrance, a new path going to the left had been created, freshly trampled grass going around the corner. Nero didn’t see any other sign of disturbance, so this is probably where Dante had gone. So, he trudged along, wondering why of all places the man would have come here.

He pulled around the corner, and instantly came to a stop. Unlike the rest of the property, this area here had been recently maintained, the grass recently shorn (Nero had a sneaking suspicion it was Rebellion’s doing) A large oak tree, with bright green newborn leaves, cast a lovely dappled shadow upon the ground. And beneath the aged trunk was Dante, his back to Nero, facing a pair of granite stones. It took a few moments for Nero to realize...not stones… gravestones.

“Lady,” Dante didn’t turn around, “I told you that I didn’t need you here. I’m fine…” Nero caught the scent of flowers, specifically roses fluttering in the breeze. The young man awkwardly coughed, startling the man in red.

“Sheesh!” Dante rapidly turned around, revealing that the scent came from a bouquet of red roses in his hand. Well, nearly all red. In the middle of the bundle, was a single blue rose. “Didn’t expect to see you here kid! Heard Lady’s bike rumbling down the street, so I thought she was sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.” “Yeah,” Nero said, scratching the bridge of his nose. Had Lady used him as a tool to get to Dante? “You weren’t in the office when I came by, but Lady let me use her bike, and gave me directions to...this place.” He didn’t know the significance of this area, but it was probably very important to Dante.

“Did she eh...?” he murmured, slightly annoyed, slightly resigned for some reason.

“Yeah, Kyrie told me I needed to get out of Fortuna, to take a break from rebuilding Fortuna. And the only place on the Mainland that I knew about, was your place.” That was partially the truth. Nero had also wanted to ask if Dante would be interested in a business idea that Nero had come up with: A mobile franchise using the Devil May Cry name, centered in Fortuna, but he had the feeling that this was not the time nor place to bring up business matters.

Dante chuckled, and looked down at the roses he was holding. “I guess Lady didn’t tell you why I was here.”

“Nah, and I didn’t ask.”

“Welp,” Dante rolled his shoulders, the joints popping. “Might as well get this over with. You know what day today is?”

Nero was perplexed. It was just another Sunday in May. He shrugged.

“Ah, maybe they don’t do it in Fortuna. Here, today is Mother’s Day. Where kids and adults spend time with, and thank the women that raised them, and well… I’m visiting my mom.”

Nero felt the pieces of the puzzle falling in the place. Fortuna’s version of Mother’s Day was during the autumn, and Nero hadn’t really cared much about it, considering his background. But to Dante, the day was more significant.

Suddenly, he felt the yank on his sleeve, and before he knew it, Dante had dragged him towards one of the gravestones, the one that was older, and slightly more worn. It was simple, no words on it, but there was flowering climbing roses carved along the edges. The one stone beside it was similar, but newer, and there were no roses, just intertwined climbing thorny stems.

“Hey Mom, I’d like to introduce you to that kid I was telling you about. This,” he pushed the boy further in front of the stone proudly, “is Nero.” He stood there, partly awkward and partly proud at the thought Dante had talked to his mom about him. Dante hadn’t mentioned his mom much, but Trish had helpfully filled in the blanks when Nero had asked why Dante had a pic of her on his desk.

“Oh, that’s not me...that’s Eva, Dante’s mother. It’s complicated, but I was created by Mundus to look like her, to lure him into a trap many years ago. She was very important to him, and while I don’t quite understand it, I know that she loved him dearly she loved the bot-”

She’d been interrupted by Dante coming in the office, and Nero hadn’t pried further.

Nero tried to come up with some words “Uh...hi.. It’s nice to meet you.” God he sounded like an idiot.

Thankfully, Dante swooped back in. “She was a wonderful woman. You’d think she was soft and demure, but the moment you pissed her off, she was as hard as steel. I can still feel her pulling on my ear when she caught me sneaking into the cookie jar before supper.” He chuckled and winced as he rubbed his earlobe, “A fantastic cook, a wonderful violinist and… an irreplaceable mom.” Dante’s voice trailed off, and for a moment all that could be heard was the rustling of the wind through the grass. Strange, despite never meeting her, with no connection to this family, Nero had a feeling he...belonged here.

“She would have adored you…” Dante murmured softly, startling Nero. He turned to find the older man with a wistful, almost melancholy look on his face.

“Huh?”

Instantly, that softness, that rare glimpse of something seldom seen, was locked up behind a steel grin. Dante laughed. “It’s nothin, just me talking without thinking. So, what about you? You’re on the Mainland now, best time to talk about your mom.” Dante must have seen his sudden scowl, and placed his hands up in surrender, realizing this was a sore spot. “Doesn’t have to be your blood mom. Can be any woman that helped you grow up!”

“Well,” Nero mused, “There was Cecilia, Kyrie’s mom,” he explained, “she was a heck of a woman. When Kyrie brought me home after I’d gotten into a scrap with the other kids at school, when they took my lunch, after she made sure I was okay, she gave me a ham and cheese sandwich on two pieces of fresh bread. She was a baker by trade, you see. And every day after that, when school was day, Kyrie would bring me to her, and Cecilia wouldn’t let leave until I couldn’t eat another bite. She was always looking out for me afterwards. Making sure I got my school work done, mended my clothes, and then when the Orphanage didn’t have clothes my size, she got Credo to get me measured up so she could get me several sets of clothes. But most of all…” he continued, trying to figure out why his eyes were getting all watery. Must be from the newly cut grass. “Unlike the rest of the island, she never judged me, never made me feel like I didn’t belong. I…” he took a deep breath, “I would have been proud to be called her son-in-law. But she never got the chance to see Kyrie and me grow up, to become a couple… Maybe if I had been there when the demon attack...” he trailed off, feeling a bit lost and alone. He couldn’t feel the same pain as Kyrie or Credo had, but there was pain nonetheless. He was surprised by a firm hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see the older man giving a smile of sympathy.

“I kinda feel where you’re coming from. My mom, she died in an attack too…she died protecting me from demons.” That smile vanished as Dante looked down at the gravestone...not this mother’s, the one beside it. “Our positions should have been switched” he murmured softly, grief on his face, “things would have been so much different, so much better...” Nero was perplexed. Was Dante wishing he had died so his mom had lived?

“Well, if she’s even half the mom you claim her to be, she’d probably be happy that you’re alive, strong enough to protect yourself, and others….” Nero tried to say what he was feeling, and it seemed to be what came from his heart. It seemed to do the trick, because Dante had perked up, and that mask of a grin was nowhere to be seen.

“You’re a good kid, Nero.” Dante said, and rubbed Nero’s head, laughing at the halfhearted scowl that earned. Dante looked up at the sky, the noon sun shining happily down. “Welp, I’m famished.... How bout we get our asses- I mean butts, sorry mom, back to the office and order some pizza. I’m pretty sure Lady owes me a couple boxes of them, for what she’s done…” Dante glared at her bike, barely visible from their location. Nero didn’t quite understand, but he’d never turn down free food.

“You go ahead, bring that bike back to her, tell her I’ll be there a bit later, just have to do a…” Dante looked down at the pair of graves. “A few more things to spruce up the place.”

Nero nodded. Obviously, Dante deserved some privacy, this was his mother’s resting place, so he turned to leave, his stomach already growling at the thought of pizza. He slightly worried he was turning out like the old man. Next thing he knew, he’d be having questionable tastes in fashion, and have a penchant for shooting old men in the head without explaining beforehand that the guy was trying to take over the world. Strange, he thought as he got on the bike, and looked back at the manor. It didn’t look as decrepit and creepy as before. Instead of a carcass of a house, it was a dignified memorial of happy times long since gone. A place that seemed to welcome him to return as often as he’d like. As he drove off, he remembered that he’d forgotten, in all the emotional unloading, to ask about the other gravestone….

------

When the sound of Lady’s engine had finally faded away, Dante let out a breath that he’d been holding in for longer than he thought. Damn Lady, trying to get him to break down and tell the kid the truth. Well, there had been a few close calls, a few words slipped out, but that façade had been maintained, with the kid none the wiser.

He looked down at the bouquet in his hands, and then at the grave before him. “He’s a great kid, like I said.” He sighed, “I know you’re probably disappointed at me for not being truthful, you were always a big stickler for ‘Honesty’ but…” he pulled out the single blue rose out of the bouquet, and spun it between his fingers. “Bad stuff happens to us Spardas. You, me…” he placed that blue rose before the newer gravestone, “Vergil.... I just don’t want that to happen to him. The less he knows...the better. He deserves the stability that we never got...” He placed the roses down, and knelt down, eye level to the grave.

“I hope, wherever you are, that you’re at peace, and that he’s with you, so you can tell him what I never could, that he was loved just as much as you loved me….” His forehead touched the cool stone, and a few drops of water splashed onto the crimson blooms.

“Happy Mother’s Day”

[sohotthateveryonedied]

No Matter What

Read here on AO3!!

Summary: 

Bruce figures out that his son isn't straight from an early age.

That doesn't make him love him any less.

- Eight Years Old -

Bruce is finally starting to get a hang of this parenting thing.

The first few months were rough, there’s no disputing that. Bruce lost track of how many times he panicked and called Leslie Thompkins whenever Dick burst into tears over something and Alfred wasn’t home. Not to mention all the times when Alfred would leave Bruce on his own for dinner, insisting that one must learn how to raise a child without a butler to help. Bruce fed the kid burnt chicken nuggets and garlic bread for two nights straight. Now, though? Bruce is immensely proud of how far he and Dick have come. He’s even taken to attending PTA meetings, if only for the free coffee and doughnuts. He hears the front door open right on time, then wet boots hitting the floor. Dick had a half day today to make room for meet-the-teacher night later. Bruce isn’t looking forward to spending two hours sitting in a chair made for eight-year-olds, listening to a teacher in plastic pearls talk about an elementary schooler’s oh-so challenging curriculum. At least he’s only got the one; he has no intention of having more kids after Dick. Bruce busies himself with his mostly unburnt slice of toast, one ear trained on the footsteps through the foyer accompanied by unceasing chatter that Bruce has grown quite fond of over the months. “—and then they let us outside for recess even though it was raining, and I went on the swings and my hair got all wet and it was so cool.” “That explains the muddy clothes,” Alfred says. “Sorry, Alf. I’m not immune to mud puddles.” “It would appear so, Master Dick.”

The two of them enter the kitchen, Dick working his elbows out of his yellow rain slicker to reveal the school uniform beneath. His cheeks are rosy, his eyes bright. “Hiya, Bruce!”

“Hey, champ. How was school?” “It was awesome. It was raining all day and at recess there were a ton of puddles all over the playground and a million worms. I didn’t touch them though, ‘cause the teacher said not to.” “What snack would you like, Master Dick?” Alfred asks, taking Dick’s discarded raincoat and folding it over his arm. “Can you do ants on a log?” “Coming right up, sir.” Dick heaves himself up on the bar stool beside Bruce, his sock feet kicking against the lower cupboard. Bruce spreads marmalade over his toast. “Tell me more about school. Any fights today?” “Nope,” Dick says proudly, flashing his gapped teeth. Dick and another boy got into a scuffle on the first day over a comment about whether Dick’s parents being from the circus meant they were part monkey. It’s a miracle Dick only gave the kid a nosebleed and didn’t break anything. The principal let Dick off with a warning since it was his first time at a normal school, but Bruce has a feeling the only reason he wasn’t expelled was because his guardian is the most powerful man in Gotham City. Bruce had a stern talk with Dick when they got home about the importance of controlling one’s actions. Traveling the world in a circus train car doesn’t do much to help one’s impulse control. He also banned Dick from watching television for the rest of the night, but Dick’s crocodile tears swayed him to balance it out by letting him have ice cream before dinner. That’s good parenting, right? “I even made a friend,” Dick says. “Oh? What are they like?” “His name is Caleb and his desk is right next to mine, so we talked during reading time. Then he gave me some of his chocolate during lunch and we played on the swings together at recess.” “Ah, the wonders of childhood friendship,” Alfred says from where he’s slicing up a celery stalk at the other end of the counter. He sounds relieved, and Bruce finds himself matching it. Dick has been at Gotham Elementary for almost a week and hasn’t made a single friend until now. Bruce can’t tell if that is more because of Dick’s circus background or because he is a tan-skinned boy with the barest of Romani accents attending a predominantly white private school. Sometimes (all the time) Bruce loathes being associated with Gotham’s high society. If you’re not white, straight, and rich, you are automatically shunned in their minds. “He sounds great, Dick.” “Yeah! And he’s got really pretty eyes too. I can’t tell if they’re brown or green, but they’re sparkly like glitter.” Bruce arches an eyebrow. “You must like him a lot.” He takes a bite of his toast, making eye contact with Alfred over the boy’s head. Alfred doesn’t react but for a twitch of his mustache. Dick nods, focus switched over to the plate Alfred slides in front of him. Dick takes a celery stick and picks off the first raisin coated in peanut butter, licking it off his thumb. “I hope he talks to me again tomorrow. Alfred, can I bring an extra snack to lunch tomorrow so I can share it with him?” Alfred smiles. “Of course. I will pack a second cupcake in your lunchbox tomorrow morning just for him.” “Thanks, Alf.” Dick goes right back to eating his ants on a log, cheerful as ever, completely unaware of the swarm of question marks buzzing around in Bruce’s head. Huh. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- Eleven Years Old - Bruce gets home from a three-hour business meeting, his sandpapery eyes aching to close and stay shut for...let’s go with ten years? That should be enough. He loosens his tie and prepares to go upstairs to his bedroom where he’ll spend the next decade of his life hibernating, until he sees his ward on the living room sofa. Dick is lying on his stomach with his face buried in a throw pillow, as if he’s waiting for the sofa to swallow him whole. Must have been a bad day if he’s not sliding down banisters and flipping over chairs like usual. Sighing, Bruce goes over. “Dick? You alive over there?” “Mmph.” At least he’s conscious. Bruce sits on the arm of the couch, shaking Dick’s thin shoulder. “Come on, kiddo. Use your words.” “Mmph.” “Bad day, then?” Dick nods. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Dick shakes his head. Bruce sits back with a frown. “Alfred?” he calls. Alfred pokes his head in. “Yes, Master Bruce?” Bruce gestures to their anguished preteen. “It would seem that our lad had a rough day at school. He wouldn’t tell me what, but I’m making his favorite casserole for dinner. Hopefully that will perk him up.” Bruce turns back to Dick, who hasn’t moved. “C’mon, Dickie. Sit up so I can see your face.” Reluctantly, Dick forces himself upright with one last groan into his pillow. His hair is mussed, standing up on one side. There’s a pillow crease on his cheek. He sits back against the sofa, miserable. “Better.” Bruce prods Dick’s ribs which earns him a giggle, goading the kid into sliding over a few inches so Bruce can sit beside him. Dick leans into his side immediately and Bruce puts his arm around him. “Now, tell me what’s got you down.” “I want to transfer schools.” “How come?” As far as he’s known until now, Dick has loved middle school. His childhood took a bad turn when his parents’ ropes snapped, but preteen life is at a good start. Until now. Dick’s gaze is trained on his sneakers, kicking them where they hang over the edge of the couch. “Some kids in my science class were talking crap about me.” “Don’t say crap.” “Can I go to a new school? Please?” “What did those kids say about you?” Dick picks at a dime-size hole in his jeans. “They called me gay,” he says quietly. Bruce tightens his arm around the boy, his heart panging. Of course someone had to bully Bruce’s kid. As if his life hasn’t already been hard enough without stupid teenagers making it worse. “I wasn’t even doing anything wrong. I was just talking to my lab partner, and the guys at the next table over started whispering about us. Then they started throwing papers.” “Did you tell the teacher?” “No. But I know she noticed. Everyone did. She just didn’t do anything about it.” That sets Bruce’s blood to a boil. Teachers have a responsibility to protect their students, no matter what. What gives her the right to turn a blind eye to bullying, just because a couple of students might not fit the agreed-upon standards of “perfect” upper class society? “I’ll set up an appointment with the principal,” Bruce decides. Dick’s eyes get wide. “Bruce, no. Please. It’s fine, really. I don’t want this to turn into a big deal.” “What did you do when it happened?” Dick shrugs. “Nothing. My lab partner stopped talking to me, so I just asked to go to the bathroom and didn’t come back until the bell rang.” Bruce sighs. Middle schoolers are the worst, every last one of them. (Except for Dick, of course; he is perfect.) “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Kids can be cruel—especially at your age, when they start learning new words that they don’t understand the way they should. They think some words are insults or something to be ashamed of when they’re not. Most kids grow out of this. Too many don’t.” “People suck,” Dick mutters. “I don’t even know why they were saying all that stuff. I’m not...I’m not like that” Bruce bites his cheek. He’s going to have to be careful about this. “Dick, do you know what being gay means?” “Duh. It’s when two guys date each other. I’m not stupid.” “I know you’re not stupid. But gay can mean a lot of things. Men can like other men, just as women can love other women. Like Kate, for instance. Then there are bisexual and pansexual people who love all genders, and asexuals who don’t like either.” Thank god Bruce thought ahead and read some LGBTQ+ research books all those years ago when he first began to suspect that Dick wasn’t heterosexual. “And transgender is when someone doesn’t identify with the gender they were assigned at birth. Sometimes people feel more like a man, a woman, neither, or both.” “...Okay?” “I just want to make sure you understand these things, because part of being a respectful person means respecting others for who they are. And if you don’t completely understand the label they identify as, then it’s your job to try and understand it the best you can.” “Why?” “Because too many people in this world judge others for things they can’t control, and that’s not right. No one should have to feel like they were born wrong. And I want to make sure you know this, that way you can be better than those who choose to hurt others for things they can’t control.” “Does that mean the guys who made fun of me are bad people?” “I’m sure they aren’t. They might just be confused because they don’t understand that being gay isn’t anything bad or dirty. The people in this part of Gotham...they don’t accept a lot of things. They think that being queer or a person of color means you don’t deserve respect, and that’s wrong. It was wrong of those kids to tease you and your lab partner the way they did.” Dick nods slowly. “I’m not gay.” “I know. I just want you to be aware of these things. And if you ever have questions or need to talk, you can always come to me.” He ruffles Dick’s hair. “Even when other people are nasty, remember that I love you no matter what, got it?” Dick shoves Bruce’s hand away and smoothes his hair back out, grinning. “Yeah, yeah. I got it.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- Thirteen Years Old -

What’s the difference between a growth spurt and a shark? 

Dick doesn’t have any sharks. “We’re home!” Dick announces. He and Alfred stumble into the house, their arms filled with all kinds of shopping bags. With Dick shooting up half an inch nightly these days, he’s growing out of his clothes at a rate even Bane would gawk at. Bruce and Alfred can barely keep up with the kid. “Want to see what I got?” “Show me, pal.” Bruce sets aside his tablet and pushes his reading glasses up on his head. (He does not have poor vision, thank you very much. Leslie just made him get a prescription as a precaution, that’s all. He’s still young by anyone’s standards, just ask Selina.) Dick starts pulling clothing out of the boutique bags, showing off every one of his new sweaters and pairs of Alfred-approved jeans. After ten minutes that Bruce desperately tries to look interested during, Dick pulls out what looks like a t-shirt that’s been sliced in half horizontally. The fabric is bright pink with a chibi whale on the front. “This one is my favorite,” Dicks says. His grin is blinding. Bruce stares for a long moment, his brain a lagging computer drive. “What is it?” “It’s a crop top. You know, like a belly shirt?” Memories from Dick’s Kim Possible phase flash in front of Bruce’s eyes. “Alfred let you buy that?” “Yeah?” Dick’s smile flags. He lowers the crop top, suddenly self-conscious. “Do you not...like it?” “You were supposed to get winter clothes, Dick. For cold weather.” “So?” “That’s clearly something you’re supposed to wear during the summer.” Dick pouts. “But I like it.” He holds it up against himself, twisting this way and that like an amateur model. “Sorry, kiddo. You’re not leaving the house in that until springtime.” “Oh, so Robin can wear tiny shorts in the winter, but Dick Grayson can’t wear a harmless crop top? I smell hypocrisy.” “Yes, because Robin has thermal leggings and a built-in heater in his uniform.” He looks back at the pink monstrosity, at Dick’s pleading eyes. “I would be open to negotiations if you’re willing to wear a sweater under it.” “That’s not how fashion works, B.” “I don’t care. You can wait until it gets warmer out to wear it.” “You’re such a drag,” Dick whines. He lifts his dozens of shopping bags and goes to leave, then turns right back around. “What if I wear a jacket over it and promise to keep it closed whenever I’m outside?” Bruce considers that. “Fine. But not below fifteen degrees, got it? And if I see you outside for even five seconds without the jacket, I’m confiscating the Xbox. Deal?” “Deal.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- Fourteen Years Old -

Something is different about Dick today. You’d think his boots were made of helium with the way he floats through patrol, and then smiles into his late-night milkshake like it did his homework for him. Bruce sits beside his Robin on the roof of Wayne Tower, silent for as long as he can bear before he can’t hold it back any longer. “Did anything interesting happen today?” “Huh?” Dick looks up as if Bruce pried him and his thoughts apart with a crowbar. “You’ve been...different. Happy.” “Am I not usually happy?” “No, you are. Just seems like you’re...extra happy, for whatever reason.” A blush dusts the kid’s cheeks. He sips his chocolate shake and shrugs. “Dunno. It was just a good day. Nothing special.” Yeah, and Bruce is a goddamn unicorn. Still, he knows better than to pry where Dick doesn’t want him. It’s a delicate thing. “If you say so.” “I got a hundred on my English essay,” Dick offers. It’s a start. “Was that the one on Grapes of Wrath?” “That was last month. We’re on Animal Farm now. It’s not my favorite.” “Yeah, I wasn’t a fan of Orwell either. Shakespeare was okay, but I preferred his tragedies over his comedies.” “Of course you did.” That makes Bruce laugh. He’s not worried; the two of them are high enough that no one can hear it. Bruce even has his cowl down, his face exposed to the cool air. “They had quinoa burgers at the cafeteria today.” “Mm-hm.” Dick is dodging something, beating around whatever bush he wants to talk about. Bruce can be patient while he figures it out. “And I spent some time with Barbara after school.” “Oh?” “Yeah. We walked home together and we took this old path through the park. Then we kissed.” Bruce chokes on his milkshake. He coughs, his sinuses burning and eyes watering. When he recovers, he says, “That’s...that’s great, chum.” “Yeah.” Dick can’t stop smiling, a true schoolboy in love. “And she asked if I wanted to patrol with her tomorrow night, but I said I needed to check in with you first.” “I don’t see why not.” It’s not like Bruce hasn’t patrolled without Dick before. Sure, he misses the company on the few days a week he’s alone, but he’s not about to deny Dick the thing he clearly wants. “You sure? You look...freaked out.” “No, no. That’s...great, that you kissed. Congratulations.” Awkward. He’s so fucking awkward. Stop being awkward right now. He doesn’t know why this is messing with his head so drastically. Bruce has listened to Dick moon over girls for the entirety of his pubescence, talking about them like they’re goddesses he’s forbidden to look upon, Barbara included. And Bruce has seen the way Dick and Barbara interact with each other in between muggings, always talking with their heads bent close like they’re the only two people in the world. Who would have thought Batman could be a third wheel? “I’ve liked her for a while now, but I didn’t know if she liked me back and I was too nervous to ask.” Dick’s face goes even pinker. “Kissing her was cool.” Part of Bruce’s brain jumps at the realization that, holy shit, Dick just had his first kiss, my little boy is growing up, what a milestone. The other part is far less happy about this new development. Yes, Bruce has seen Dick win brawls with men three times his size. He can fly the Bat-jet on his own, knows six languages, and is even leading his own superhero team. And yet, all Bruce can think is, no, not my little boy, he’s just a baby, Batgirl is corrupting his innocence and She Must Be Stopped. With great effort, Bruce holds it all back. He’s read the parenting books, he knows that it’s important to be supportive when they’re at this age. “Good to hear. I’m happy for you.” He pats Dick on the shoulder. “Thanks, B.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- Sixteen Years Old - “Hey, Bruce? Can I talk to you?” Bruce doesn’t look up from the metal flakes he’s testing. “What is it?” “I can come back later if you’re busy.” “No, I’m just analyzing some samples. I’m looking for residue from one of Zsasz’s blades.” Dick steps forward, tentative for once. “Need any help?” “I would like for you to come out with whatever it is you clearly need to tell me.” Dick snorts quietly. “Nice phrasing.” “What?” “I think I’m bisexual.” Bruce turns around, forgetting about the samples entirely. Dick’s arms are crossed over his chest, his eyes skipping between everything that isn’t Bruce’s face. At sixteen years old he’s finally tall enough that he doesn’t have to crane his neck to look at Bruce anymore. “You...think?” “I am. I’m bisexual.” “Okay.” “Is that cool with you?” The question shocks Bruce. “Of course it is.” Did Dick honestly think this would change anything? Has Bruce done something wrong, made Dick think that he wasn’t loved unconditionally? Dick squints, appraises Bruce’s reaction. “You knew, didn’t you.” “No.” “Bruce.” “I knew a little bit.” Dick rolls his eyes. The tension slips from his shoulders. His arms uncross. “Of course you did.” “Well, you weren’t exactly subtle about it.” “What the hell does that mean?” “Language,” Bruce chides, more out of habit than anything. “And do you realize how often you would come home after elementary school complaining about stupid pretty boys?” “That was just me being dramatic.” “I’m not disputing that. But they were still crushes, pal.” “I figured you thought it was just a phase.” Bruce shrugs. “Maybe for the first few days. But trust me, I have known you liked boys since you were a kid.” “Then why didn’t you just say so? It took me years to figure this all out, and you’re telling me you’ve been sitting on this info the whole time?” “Because this is your truth, not mine. I knew that you would tell me about it when you were ready. And you have.” Dick is clearly fighting a smile. He bites his lip instead, runs a hand through his mop of black hair that not even Alfred can wheedle him into combing anymore. “Well, I’m heading to the tower for the night, so don’t wait up, ‘kay? Kay. Good talk.” He goes to leave, but Bruce stops him. “Hang on. Why choose now to tell me?” Dick stuffs his hands in his pockets—an obvious tell. “No reason. I just...wanted you to know. Just in case.” “In case of what?” “Oh, you know.” Dick waves his hand in a gesture that clarifies absolutely nothing. “Life happens. People meet each other. You know how it is.” Bruce’s soul implodes. “You have a date?” “I never said that.” “You implied it.” “Real detectives rely on evidence, not theories.” Dick winks. “Tell me who it is. Are they a civilian? A hero? Do they come from a respectable family?” If it’s Roy Harper, Bruce might have to bury a body tonight. Especially after learning about Harper’s drug problem. Dick is too pure for someone like that. Or—heaven forbid—that Wally West kid. Dick is already walking away. “See ya, Bruce!” “You come back here, Richard John Grayson! Do I know him? Does he know your father is Batman?” Dick’s cackle echoes around the cave. “It had better not be a speedster!”

[haikyuuwaifu]

MASTER LIST

This is a collective Masterlist of ALL my CURRENT Works:

*👻🎃HALLOWEEN SPECIAL MINI-SMAU*

BARISTA BEAUTY: KATSUKI X READER

How do two strangers who seemingly spend ZERO time together end up with their true Happily Ever After? Through anonymous texting or nosy best friends that don’t know how to mind their own business?

STRANGER DANGER: BOKUTO X READER

Join Bokuto as he tries harder NOT to fall in love with the mysterious Y/N forgetting about the competition entirely. And join Y/N as she finds herself falling for the most genuine idiot she’s ever met.

SMAU: BNHA & HAIKYUU

BNHA

Dynamite:

At 23 with a solo career going nowhere, Katsuki’s management group Endeavor wants to put together a rival idol group known as Ground Zero consisting of his old groupmates minus the two traitors and a few new additions in the forms of Hitoshi Shinsou, Keigo Takami, and Toya Todoroki (A.k.a Dabi). Their manager Shigaraki thinks this combination of men has what it takes to be better than DK, but Shinsou knows they won’t be able to do it without Y/N.

Y/N is one of the most sought after designers in the business. Pushing her love of music aside she pushed her creativity into a different wheelhouse. With lots of begging and pleading from childhood friends Hitoshi and Jirou, Y/N is hired on to help “re-brand” Ground Zero.

Does Ground Zero stand a chance against the formidable and VERY popular DK? Or will someone come along to show Katsuki a whole new sound?

Will Y/N forever hate idols and pop beats, or will one angry gremlin show here that there’s more to him than the Idol stereotype?

GIRLS NEED LOVE:  BAKUGO X DABI X SHINSOU X READER

At the age of 18, Y/N L/N followed her boyfriend out of their small town of Shirakawa, only to find herself ditched and abandoned in the streets of Mustafu. Broke and Alone, she managed to find a place that would take her in. 3 years later found Y/N, L/N working as the best dancer in the Diamond Client Agency; an elite corporation of clubs strictly for the Hero Elite. Her evening activities consisted of dancing and stripping for heroes and the rich elite. Her day hours consisted of her working on her writing. She wrote articles for the local papers. She had always wanted to write her own stories; since her dream of being a hero was never allowed to come to fruition.

By day, they were Pro Heros: Ground Zero, Mind Jack, and Touya. They had spent the last 5 years in a relationship with the woman they thought they’d spend forever with. Too bad she was only with them to boost up her own ranking. Following the heartbreak the three of them decided they didn’t need anything serious. They didn’t plan for anything serious when they saw her dancing, at a Diamond event. They didn’t plan for anything serious when the event was attacked. But love happens unexpectedly doesn’t it? Especially when love comes in the form of a woman fully encased in Magma.

ROCKABYE: BAKUGO X READER X SHINSOU

How does a single mom who has worked for everything, handle becoming the center of attention for two stubborn business men who only want to give her the world? How do two business men with checkered pasts handle a woman who has a history of her own?

This is Rockabye <3

TRIP: HAWKS X READER X BAKUGO X SHOTO X SHINSOU POLY

Keigo Takami is the owner and operator of Commission Tattoos, one of the hottest shops in the city. Out of nowhere a new shop has opened conveniently enough across the street and he and his boys can’t seem to stand the competition.

Y/N Midoriya ,Tattooist from the small city of Mustafu, has moved her entire life to Tokyo with her friends. Opening Midi’s Tattoos & Piercings seems like a good first step in a big flourishing city like Tokyo. Throw in the sexy competition across the way and you’ve got yourself a party!

Follow Y/N as she tries to navigate her way through big city life, boujie Tokyo city girls, and four men who don’t know how to handle a woman like her. Follow the employees of Midi’s and Commission as they try to maneuver sad single life, chaotic lesbianism, and their bosses aggressively hate flirting all under the sprawling Tokyo skylights.

WHAT YOU KNOW BOUT LOVE BAKUGO X READER X SHOTO POLY

Y/N L/N has been Katsuki’s best friend their entire lives. Izuku Midoriya found the nerve to confess to her in high school, and Katsuki stepped aside just so his best girl could be happy. Moving to the US for a one in a million opportunity; Y/N’s relationship flourished as Katsuki’s career blew up.

Years later finds Y/N dumping her trash ex Deku, and Katsuki moving the Agency he created back to Japan, so he and Shoto can finally get the fucking girl. Too bad Y/N is clueless, and outside forces are doing all they can to keep them apart ;)

HAIKYUU

BAD BLOOD: READER X POLY RELATIONSHIP

Y/N, L/N had big dreams of being a content creator. Alongside her boyfriend they made their own channels and started thriving. Success breeds jealous and due to devastating betrayal Y/N shut down her channel, packed up her bags, and left Japan.

Now, 4 years later at the annoying insistence of her best friend, her cousin, and his annoying boyfriend; Y/N is moving back to Japan and into the ‘Kozume Hype House’. Living under the same roof as her besties boyfriend, her old childhood friend, a dumbass named Lev; and four of the hottest streamers in Japan is going to be a wild ride for Y/N.

Mix in Y/N’s ex, 4 men falling for her, and her no dating rule; and you’re in for a world of sweet chaotic drama.

BROKE ME FIRST: TSUKISHIMA X READER X IWAZUMI

You have known Tsukishima Kei your entire life. You went to the same schools all your life. Graduating middle school gave you the break you needed until you saw a familiar head of blonde hair on your first day at Kurasuno. You’ve spent every school year hating the others existence. What happens when you’re partnered together and have no choice but to cooperate for the sake of your graduation?

BOYS WITH LUV: F READER X ???

Y/N L/N is an athletic trainer recently moved back to Japan after spending 6 years in the U.S. As much as she loves her friends; what she can’t handle is their constant need to “find her a man”. Join Y/N as she navigates her way through dealing with ex-boyfriends, old crushes, and new found love interests; all while trying to navigate her life in Japan and finishing her athletic trainer qualifications. 

Who’s ready for this fucking circus?

DADDY ISSUES: IWAZUMI X READER

Hajime Iwaizumi: Male Escort hired by skinny twig models for arm candy and a good fucking. This man can have any woman he wants, but he has specific rules for the women who hire him. No kissing on the lips. No catching Feelings. And No spending the night.

Y/N L/N:  A model considered “Plus Size” because she doesn’t fit the alleged mold of Size 6 and below. A woman who is confident in herself and her body. She is a woman who proves every day that she doesn’t need a man by her side to get that money.

After Y/N is involved in a scandal surrounding her former FWB Tsukishima Kei, Iwaizumi Hajime begins to take notice of all things surrounding and pertaining to HER. Her work ethic, her confidence, her ability to push the haters off with a smile on her pretty face and a flutter of her eye lashes. She’s everything he’s ever wanted in a woman…

But can he show her that he’s everything she needs in a man? How can he prove he’s the man for her when she knows what he’s done to plenty of models who didn’t fit HER MOLD?

Guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out huh?;)

FEEL MY LOVE: KUROO X READER

Kuroo Tetsuro had never been very outgoing. He was shy and awkward for most of his life. The only time he seemed to be pulled out of his shell was when he was on the Volleyball Court. High School Volleyball had been the highlight of his life. Until he met Akane. Akane was everything to him. Pretty, Smart, Popular…He couldn’t believe a guy like him could land a girl like her…Until she humiliated him in front of every person in the school.

From that moment forward Kuroo kept to himself, sticking only to his closest friends. Head ducked down, he graduated high school and upon entering Tokyo University, he was determined to make things different…Until he was faced with his high school tormentors…he resigned to the fact that college would be just like high school…and then he met you.

F.R.I.E.N.D.S: SUNA X READER

Suna Rintaro was traded from the EJP Raijin, to the MSBY Black Jackals thanks to an incident involving [redacted]. He was pretty sure he was done with any dating after the shit he went through before. Atsumu and Bokuto had other plans, and decided that the perfect woman for him was only a few blocks away.

Y/N Kageyama has spent her entire life surrounded by volleyball. Her best friend growing up was Ushijima Wakatoshi; Her little Brother is Kageyama Tobio; and the idiots she babysits include the Seijoh three + Iwaizumi. It’s no wonder she’s interested in Volleyball Players…too bad Ushijima always manages to step in and send the wrong message huh?

GIRLS LIKE YOU:  READER X OSAMU X KIYOOMI X BOKUTO X OIKAWA POLY

Y/N L/N: 24 year old single mother to twin four year old girls Mochi and Matcha. Advertisement Executive by day and super mama by night; Y/N has been raising her babies with the help of her friends alone for the last four years. As soon as she thinks she has things handled, she’s thrown for a loop when her twins attempt to play match maker four times over with the help of their uncles and aunties; unable to say no to their precious babies.

Follow the three L/N women as one mama learns that she doesn’t need to do it alone; and two girls learn what it really means to have a father...four fathers ;)

MISS INDEPENDENT:  KENMA X OSAMU X SUNA X READER

3 of Tokyo elites most notorious playboys find themselves tiring of the same routine day in and day out. Each with their own stories of heartbreak. How does one step out of what they’ve been doing for what feels like forever? One woman, tired of celebrating milestones, and vacationing alone; ready to take that step again.... 

When you throw in a meddling best friend, an idiot twin, and a clusterfuck of idiot children; it can only result in one thing...complete and utter chaos, but will Y/N and the 3 playboys finally find happiness in that chaos?

Depends on if all the meddling is helpful or not ;) Stick around and find out yeah?

SMILE:  OSAMU X READER

Y/N and Kuroo were together for three blissful years.The day of graduation she finds herself in tears as she listens to Kuroo tell her that the last three years were a waste of time. With a wave of his hand he walked away and out of her life. Moving to Miyagi she found a group of friends to support her and pick up the pieces. 3 years later Y/N finds herself at Tokyo University. As a new woman with a new attitude; will she run into Kuroo and the chaos he brings with him? Or will someone else come along and show her what love truly feels like?

WRITTEN WORKS:

BEFORE YOU GO

BROKEN PROMISE

DANCE WITH ME

FEEL SOMETHING

SELFISH

IT’S YOU

SAD SUNDAYS:

[maira-writes-shit]

I have this habit you know

Haikyuu Tanaka Ryuunosuke x Ennoshita Chikara

Fluff, flower language, getting together, major charecter death

Words: 2758

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1KNwaK5v9gEGeM0WssuFAP?si=caf0308e539f4c14

She had thought him that there was flowers for everything and that you should always give them to the people you love.

She had thought him that there was flowers for everything and that you should always give them to the people you love.

She had thought him that there was flowers for everything and that you should always give them to the people you love.

Wich is why he was here now.

"I got you guys flowers..."

"Huh?"

"REALLY?!"

"...why?"

"They're Peonies. They mean luck."

Nishinoya's eyes seemed to glow as he smiled: "THAT'S SO COOL! THANK YOU RYUU!"

The spicker smiled and look at the rest of the first years.

Narita gave him a small smile, Kinoshita smelled the flower and Ennoshita stared at the flower with a mixture of wonder and admiration.

A year later

"'sup fucker."

"Hey asshole."

He was sitting at the counter of his grandmothers flower shop he sometimes helped out in.A bag landed in front of him and his cousin sat down next to it."you still have my eyeliner." Kyoutani said between taking bites from his sandwich.

"Oh yeah I know. It should still be at home."

Tanaka got up and walked over to the statice.Yeah this one is pretty good. Success.

“You still do that?“ „Yeah, what about it?!“Tanaka‘s cousin looked up at him and raised an eyebrow."Nothing I just don't really get it. I mean what have these people ever done for you? What is it that makes them deserving of these flowers?"

"...what is it?"They're my friends. They take me the way I am without a question."

Kyoutani looked at him with a raised eyebrow in a silent question of "And how do you know that?"

"Noya is my best friend. He gets me without me having to say anything! Kinoshita and Narita might not talk too much but whenever I need someone they got my back!"

"And what about that sleepy guy?"

Ennoshita...he was diffrent."Enno he...honestly I don't know why someone like him is even friends with me. He's amaizing! He's smart, cool, a great player, he is funny and really fucking caring! I feel so lucky to even be allowed to be friends with him..."

"Dude that sounnds like you have a crush on him."Tanaka flushed. Did he like Ennoshita in that way? Honestly he didn't know...

He blamed Tanaka.

He had this habit, you know.

Ever since first year Tanaka would give everyone from their year on the team a flower before games.

When they got into second year these flowers even started to get more personal.

And Ennoshita started to get really intrested in them. Well actually he got really intrested in Tanaka...

He was gay and he knew it. He didn't bother telling everyone, if they found out they found out, if they didn't they didn't.Simple as that.

Tanaka though...he made him want to scream it off a rooftop for everyone to hear.

Ennoshita had it bad.

So what did he do?

Call the two saltiest setters he knew.

The door to his room flew open."What's up?", said the shorter of the two, Shirabu.

Yahaba Shigeru and Shirabu Kenjirou. Pretty, petty and his best friends for ages.

The two were childhood friends while they meet Ennoshita in middle school.

"Ah nothing much..." "This is about the baldy, isn't it?", damm Yahaba and his senior Oikawa for teaching him to be so perspective!

"Yeah yeah, sit down assholes."

The two had been in his room enough to make it feel like he was in one of their rooms and not his own.

Shirabu planted himself on the bed and Yahaba flopped down on the bunch of pillows stacked in the coner.

Ennoshita's eyes went a little big as he remembered what he had put on the bed where Shirabu was streched out on now. Luckly the copper haired setter had noticed it and pulled a small book out from under him.

Or not so luckly.

Ennoshita sadly had fogotten what teasig little bastards his best friends were.

"Ohoho what's this?" Ennoshita did not like the wierd glint in Shirabu's eyes.

Yahaba jumped up only to make grabby hands at the book. Shirabu pulled it away and the other pouted.

Ennoshita looked away and felt his cheeks heat up as his friends opened the book.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Chika? Did you really keep every single flower he ever gave you?" "...Yes. Now shut up Haba."

His friends only laughed.

Ennoshita was utterly fucked.

Yellow rose, frienship. For Noya.

Gladiolus, strength. For Kinoshita.

Iris, hope. For Narita.

Camellia, admiration...For Ennoshita.

He did like him like that.

Tanaka had thought about it a lot. The thought kept him up at night, it distracted him in practice, it was always there when he was in class and he couldn't even hold a real conversation because of it.Tanaka liked Ennoshita. He liked him a lot.

He had never thought about liking men but really it seemed so natural with Ennoshita.

Every snort at Tanaka's stupid jokes, every glare send to the other teams captain while shaking hands before games, every time Ennoshita fell asleep on his shoulder, every look filled with mischief, everything about his fellow 3rd year just made him love him a little bit more.

Love?Is this love? I like it...

Tanaka looked at the flower in his hand and smiled.

If this is love then I never want to not feel it.

Camellia, huh?

Flowers fascinated him.

Ennoshita had been studying them for some time now. Flower language fascinated him the most.

It was so interesting knowing you could express everything just through flowers!Generally, camellia flowers symbolize love, affection, and admiration. ... White camellias symbolize adoration and is given to someone who is well-liked. Pink camellias symbolize a longing for someone and is given to someone who is missed. Red camellias symbolize love, passion, and deep desire.

Tanaka gave him a pink camellia...

Longing? Does Tanaka maybe feel the same way after all? No that couldn’t be...am I just interpreting too much into this again? Maybe he isn’t even aware of their meanings.

“You’ve been staring at that flower for over a minute, dumbass.“

Ennoshita jumped.

“Could you stop breaking into my house, Yahaba? Shirabu?“ „Never.“ Said Shirabu and bit off of something that may be a muffin or a very squishy pice of shit.

“Shut up.“

“Why are you staring at the flower anyway? I mean doesn’t he give everyone one? Before like every match?“ that comment earned a hit over the head for Shirabu from Yahaba.

“It’s just because of the meaning of the flower...“

Yahaba raised an eyebrow but then light up:“Kyou sometimes tells me about flower language! His grandma has a flower shop!“

“Yeah yeah we get you’re in a relationship. Now shut up and let Chika tell us what goes on in that pretty little head of his.“

Karasuno‘s captain sighed and looked back at the flower.

“It‘s a camellia. A pink one at that! They mean adoration and longing...“

“Well that’s great! I guess your lover boy likes you back!“ sing songed Yahaba as he let his head fall off the bed.

“But what if I’m just interpreting too much into it?! What if he doesn’t actually know what they mean?! What if I’m just getting my hopes up for them to crash down?!“

“Hey calm the fuck down, Chika! Just ask him if he knows flower language and if yes then you can be pretty certain he gave the flower to you on purpose. It’s simple as that.“

“Yeah you might be right, Kenjirou...“

“And when you know he meant it you can just ask him out.“

“Omg Shigeru! How are you the one of us that is in a relationship?!“

“...Honestly I don’t know either. Kyou is just stupid.“, chuckled Yahaba but there was a fond expression on his face that made his best friends cringe.

“Hey Tanaka, I was wondering...do you know flower language?“

Tanaka almost spit out his drink.

Does he know? Why is he asking? Oh my god what am I supposed to do? No wait I have to say something! Uhhhhh

“Um yeah. My grandma owns a flowershop. Why?“

Smooth

“Oh that explains a lot! I was just interested because of the flowers you always get us.“

“Do you know it, Enno?“ „Huh?“ „Do you know flower language?“ „Oh.“

Ennoshita turned away and if his eyes weren’t playing a cruel prank on him he saw him blush a little.

“N-No not really...we should get to practice!“ and with that the new captain stood up from their place on the floor and went over to a couple of first years trying to receive Hinata and Kageyama‘s quick.

Some red camellias (love, passion), some light red carnations (admiration), lady’s mantle (comforting love), Stocks (beauty, a happy life and the bonds of affection), lavender roses (enchantment and love at first sight) and Hydrangae (gratitude for being understood).

It was a lot but it still wasn’t enough to express just how Ennoshita felt.

He had thought you could show exactly how you felt but he had been wrong apparently because holy shit...all these emotions could never be expressed in just one Bouquet.

This is stupid...why did I let Shigeru let me talk into this?

Several bad decisions let me to this...ok here goes nothing!

He knocked at the door to the Tanaka residence.

He put some flowers into the vase.

Daffodils

“Here, now it’s officially our new home!“, Tanaka exclaimed.

His boyfriend only chuckled and put down the last of the boxes.

“Come here, dumbass.“

Tanaka slung an arm around Ennoshita.

The flowers stood in front of a window while the sun was going down. It was beautiful.

The man with the shaved head turned to his boyfriend who was smiling slightly and looking out the window. The orange light of the sunset complement him very well.

Yeah...it was beautiful.

This was their home now. He loved it.

„Hey Chika, look at me.“ the groom looked up at one of his best friends as he fiddled with the Asters on Chikara‘s suit.

“You are going to be ok. You are marrying the love of your life. Calm the fuck down.“

“You have no right to say that Shige. You literally had a nervous breakdown before you and Kentarou got married!“ „Not important, Kenjirou!“

Chikara Ennoshita, soon to be Tanaka, chuckled at his groomsmen.

He is right. I’m marrying the love of my life...I’ll be ok.

Chikara was beautiful.

This was like a fever dream.

He was marrying the love of his life.

With a smile and a small tear Ryuunosuke Tanaka joined his husband.

He was happy.

„Your vows now please.“

Ryuu‘s eyes were filled with tears as Chikara looked down at his vows and back up to him.

Here goes nothing.

“It feels different. It’s good. You make me happy. Every word, every laugh, even every stupid little comment. It makes me happy. It’s not the same but I like it. Stupid isn’t it? The smallest little thing...it makes me happy. Every color seems a little brighter with you. I’d like to thank you. For nothing, for just being there, for everything, for loving me and all my flaws no matter what. So here it is...thank you for wanting to spend the rest of your Life with me.“

Ryuu was now just full out bawling while Chikara also started to shed a few tears.

„My turn!“ the taller now said and everyone laughed a bit.

“Love, passion, admiration, comforting love, beauty, a happy life and the bonds of affection, enchantment and love at first sight, gratitude for being understood. Those were the meanings of the flowers from the bouquet you confessed with. And honestly...yeah. All these fit, because damm Chika! I love you. I love you so fucking much. You thanked me for wanting to spent the rest of my life with you when in reality I should be the one thanking you.“

Chikara only shook his head while wiping away a few more tears.

“Even before you confessed- hell even before I knew I liked you, I always thought you were amazing. I always thought that you had to be crazy to let me stay and now...well I guess you are a mad man!“ another laugh from the audience.

“I guess I am...“ said Chikara with a fond smile on his lips and oh how Tanaka wanted to kiss those lips already.

To be honest Ryuu didn’t even know what was said after only staring at the man he was marrying.

“You may now kiss your husband!“

And kiss they did.

He has this habit, you know.

Every Friday Ryuu would try and get his husband at least one flower.

When he saw a pretty flower on the side walk he’d take it home.

When he walked past a flower shop he’d buy one.

When he came by his late grandma’s flower shop, now passed down to his cousin and his husband he’d buy one.

And Chikara would love it.

Every single time.

Because that’s just who Chikara Tanaka was.

And that was just why Ryuunosuke Tanaka loved him.

He has this habit, you know.

Ryuu would get him flowers every Friday and Chikara would keep them.

Every single one of them.

He had done it since first year of high school to be honest.

He would press every single flower he ever got from his husband and glue them into this book he owned.

By now it was almost completely full of flowers and it was already his second one!

Ryuu would love it.

Because that’s just who Ryuunosuke Tanaka was.

And that was just why Chikara Tanaka loved him.

He was in bed.

He was asleep.

He was peaceful.

...

He was dead.

No pulse.

No heart beat.

No breathing.

Dead.

There were tears. Tears everywhere.

No. No. Not yet. Please...

Hey hey! Look at his face...

Ryuu looked up at his dead husband for the first time since he woke up.

Chikara‘s face was peaceful, there was even a little smile on his lips and he was curled up the same way he always was hugging the place where Ryuu usually laid.

He was happy...so please let us be happy for him too...

Ryuunosuke couldn’t bring himself to really do anything at the funeral.

It was just too much.

But a little thing he did say:

“Love, passion, admiration, comforting love, beauty, a happy life and the bonds of affection, enchantment and love at first sight, gratitude for being understood. Those were the meanings of the flowers from the bouquet you confessed with. And honestly...yeah. All these fit, because really Chika...I love you. I love you so fucking much. You once thanked me for wanting to spent the rest of my life with you when in reality I should have been the one thanking you-“

Ryuunosuke broke out in tears.

“Hey Chika! How have you been? I’m pretty good even if it still isn’t the same without you...look what I got you.“

He has this habit, you know?

Every Friday Ryuunosuke Tanaka would go to the cemetery and lay down some flowers at a certain grave. He’d take the old ones back home as well.

Ryuunosuke kept on talking as he laid down a red tulip.

11 years ago he kissed this man and Never thought that in 11 years he couldn’t do that anymore.

But he knew Chikara wouldn’t want him to always grief.

So he tried to be happy. For Chikara.

“What’s this?“ Kentarou said looking at a small book.

“Give me that please!“

„Uh...ok. But what is it?“

Ryuunosuke looked down at the little book with a bittersweet smile.

“Chika put every flower I ever gave him into one of these...I still do it actually! I take home the old flowers from his grave and put them into here...“

Kentarou looked at him with a slightly sad smile and grabbed his husband by the hand.

Shigeru went through a lot as well regarding Chikara‘s death so he at least understood a bit.

Ryuu was happy to have the two.

He was sitting in his chair in their once shared bedroom, the sunset was shimmering through the blinds, there was a chrysanthemum in his hand and a little book spilling flowers on his chest.

A chest that wasn’t moving anymore...

With a smile and a small tear Ryuunosuke Tanaka joined his husband.

He was happy.

(The daffodil symbolizes rebirth and new beginnings.

Aster meanings include love and wisdom.

Tulips are the flower associated with the 11th wedding anniversary, as well.

In many countries in Europe, the chrysanthemum is placed on graves and viewed as a symbol of death.)

[basically-i-write-shit]

“No no, I’m not interested in your friends. I want you. Give yourself over, and they’ll be safe.” annnnd... have you written Osamu x Yama at all yet? UshiYama, if you aren't feeling OsaYama. Omegaverse, if you like?

ahhhh I got an osayama prompt before I watched season 4 and then my drafts glitched and deleted before I could actually write it ;-; 

Mafia prompts

One of the perks of having an onigiri shop as a front for your brother’s gang is the fact that no one knows it’s a front- which means, occasionally, when a member of a rival gang comes in, Osamu gets free intel. No one suspects the poor overworked cook/waiter to be listening in on your business. 

It’s not honest work, but it sure is fun. And this way, Osamu doesn’t have to directly get his hands dirty. His brothers’ men do all the hard stuff. Which gives Osamu the time to flirt with the pretty omegas that come through and not have to worry about telling them what his job is- his job is here, at his shop. Being a good cook is always a hit with omegas. However, as of late a certain omega has been coming in that fulfils more than just his instinctual needs. 

The bell at the door rings, but Osamu already knows without looking who’s there- the sweet, enticing scent of candied fruit and raw pastry dough reaches Osamu’s nose before he even turns around. 

“Welcome back, Yamaguchi-kun. The usual?” 

“Ah, not the boys’ order today, actually. Just me.” Yamaguchi says with a shy smile, sliding into one of the hightops nearest the window peering into the kitchen. He smooths down his skirt as he sits, fidgeting with his phone as Osamu turns back to the kitchen, smiling at him through the window. 

“The boys already eat tonight?” 

‘The boys,’ being Yamaguchi’s ‘roommates,’ usually ordered from Onigiri Miya every now and again, and Yamaguchi always came to grab it. They’d been doing this for nearly 8 months, and in that time it’s become glaringly obvious that Yamaguchi was in some way involved with one of ‘Tsumu’s rivals, the Karasuno Crows. How involved was still somewhat a mystery, because sometimes he came in covered in bruises and cuts and other times just fine, almost always well-dressed and never once acting secretive; in fact, Yamaguchi is always quite open with Osamu and talks with him like an old friend every time he comes to visit. He tells Osamu about his ‘boys,’ Kei, Tobio, and Shouyou, and asks about the shop. Talks about work and the weather, and nosy neighborhood aunties who always want to know how he got such a dark bruise, and “thank you so much for not asking, Osamu-san, I just don’t know if I’ll ever be okay talking about it so openly.” 

“Yes, that, and I’m also going straight back to work after I eat. It’s a...rush season, for my job, and we’re pretty understaffed at the moment so I’ve been there all day working.” 

“My my, all day? It’s almost 9:00 Yamaguchi-kun. When will ya be goin’ home for the night?” 

“Ah, probably around midnight or so...The poor guys, they’ve been in the same boat as me- I haven’t seen them in what feels like ages,” Yamaguchi says, pouting, and Osamu chuckles as he rounds the corner with Yamaguchi’s usual order. He sets it on the table before sliding into the chair across from Yamaguchi; he leans against his palms, smiling when Yamaguchi cocks his head to the side, confused. “You don’t have anything to do around the shop? You close soon, don’t you?” 

“I mean, I suppose I do, but I can spare a few minutes t’ chat with my favorite customer while he eats,” Osamu teases ever-so-slightly, and he grins wider when Yamaguchi’s cheeks turn pink. It’s true that it’s a bit odd, him doing this, since he’s almost always kept their conversation distanced between a counter or the kitchen window, but he’s feeling a bit adventurous tonight. And Something tells him this is a good idea. Maybe it’s the faint scent of pre-heat on an already stressed Yamaguchi, or maybe it’s just the fact that he looks almost delectable in that short little skirt, but Osamu wants to be close to him. “Is that all that bad?” 

“N- Not at all, I just didn’t want to keep you,” Yamaguchi says gently. “How was it, today?” 

“Ah. not too busy but it's a Sunday, so not a lot of people are goin’ out.” 

“Must be pretty boring sitting here all day every day, huh?” 

“No, not really,” Osamu hums, watching as Yamaguchi begins to dig in, looking very much like a starving prisoner with how quickly he devours the first onigiri. “I suppose some days get repetitive, but there’s never a dull day here.” 

And that’s the truth. The shop doesn’t get a lot of traffic, so Atsumu or one of his men are usually hanging around- or stumbling in the kitchen, mortally wounded and needing a desperate healing from a barely-first aid certified Osamu. 

“Sorry, still sounds pretty boring to me- if I’m not moving all the time, I get pretty antsy.” Yamaguchi says, still stuffing his mouth. Osamu laughs. 

“I can tell. Ya’d probably be bored if ya were a housewife or somethin’,” 

“Oh, definitely.” Yamaguchi says. He finishes his meal, hopping down from the hightop with a little puff of his skirt. He slaps money on the table, collecting his things. “Thank you for the meal, Osamu-san, but I need to get back to work. I’ll see you around.” 

And, call him stupid, but something tells Osamu not to let him go alone. “W- Wait! Why won’t I walk ya back to yer office?” 

Yamaguchi seems to hesitate, his brows furrowing as he searches Osamu’s face. 

“...Don’t you have to be at the shop?” 

“It’s almost close, and one of the waiters is still here- I’d hate to let an omega walk alone so late, even if I know he c’n talk himself.” Osamu insists, throwing one of his signature smirks Yamaguchi’s way, and he can see the omega’s resolve melting. Yamaguchi sighs. 

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. It’s not far from here, actually,” Yamaguchi says, turning towards the door. Osamu scrambles to follow, throwing his apron over the back counter and shouting to the back that he’s taking a smoke break, despite the fact that he hasn’t smoked a day in his life and Aran wouldn’t care either way where he went- 

Osamu makes conversation with Yamaguchi as they walk, the dim streetlights illuminating Yamaguchi’s curves, and in the near darkness his scent sticks out above all else, distracting Osamu ever the slightest. He doesn’t even notice they’re in the middle of Karasuno territory, even though he should’ve figured they would be, since Yamaguchi works for Karasuno. It isn’t until he’s yawning, stretching his arm over his head, that he realizes he’s maybe made a bad decision- 

“Osamu-san, is that a tattoo? I wanna see,” Yamaguchi says, and suddenly there’s a hand on his arm, holding it in place as another hand lifts the sleeve of his teeshirt to get a better look at the logo printed on Osamu’s shoulder. Osamu freezes, his eyes widening, and the only thought in his mind is, “Oh god, Tsumu’s gonna kill me.” 

“I- uh- it is, but it’s-” 

“...Your shop, it’s a front, isn’t it, Osamu-san?” Yamaguchi asks, his voice low, and his grip tightens impossibly on Osamu’s forearm. Osamu tries to wrench his arm away, to grab Yamaguchi by the hair and drag him off before he can make a fuss, but it’s useless. Yamaguchi is deceptively strong for an omega. “Answer me, Osamu-san. Your shop, it’s a front, yeah? You have gang members hang around, and launder money from your shop?” 

“I- I don’t know what yer talking about, Yamaguchi-kun.” 

“Right, right...” Yamaguchi murmurs, reaching behind him, and Osamu’s heart hammers in his chest when he sees Yamaguchi pull out a pistol. “Y’know, Samu, I don’t like liars. I thought we had a little thing going...” 

“W- We did?” 

“Of course. We’ve been flirting ever since I first came in, didn’t you get the hints?.,Hmph, no matter now. You’re not telling me the truth, and that hurts my feelings, Samu. I’m sure my boys would tell you how much I hate being lied to, though I don’t think now you’ll get to meet them.” 

The tip of the gun slides up Osamu’s chest, up his neck, and Osamu shivers. There’s a reason he works in the shop and doesn’t do any of the dirty work- and this is the exact reason he doesn’t. Fear makes people do some crazy things, and Osamu’s pretty damn scared right now. 

Even still, he won’t sell out his brother. “I’m not gonna tell ya shit about what does or doesn’t happen at my shop. What I do is perfectly legal.” 

“But what your brother, Miya Atsumu, does isn’t. Isn’t that right?” 

Osamu gulps, shuddering when he feels the cool metal of the pistol press against his adam’s apple. “I don’t know what yer talkin’ about. Leave him out of this, leave- leave everyone out of this-” 

“No no, I’m not interested in your friends,” Yamaguchi says, laughing, and Osamu’s mouth falls shut with an audible click. Yamaguchi leans forward, catching Osamu’s chin in his free hand, the other still holding the gun to the junction of his chin and neck. “I want you. Give yourself over, and they’ll be safe.”

Osamu swallows again, his breath thick and shuddering. He can’t believe this is happening. He’s being overpowered and threatened by an omega. What the hell. But he thinks back to Atsumu, and the empire he’s building, and he can’t let that be ruined, can’t let their cover be blown, and so he nods. 

“...Fine. You have me. But I can’t stay forever, I have a shop to run.” 

Yamaguchi grins. “We’ll work something out.” 

[retrievablememories]

moonlight | jaehyun (m)

title: moonlight pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: smut request: “Hi 😘 Nct members going to a strip club and jaehyun getting a private dance that turns into fucking scenario please? Can be smutty” word count: 3.2k warnings: sex work, oral sex (male receiving), dirty talk, riding a/n: I admittedly don’t know much about strip clubs at my big age of 23 💀 I researched what I could but took some creative liberties. I only included a handful of nct members here since that is a looot of men lol 

“Don’t look now, but your pretty boy and his group of friends are back. Diane says their car is outside,” Anya says, walking into the dressing room where the rest of the girls are. Your interest is piqued at this, though you pretend not to hear her as you finish applying your makeup. Serena isn’t so quick to let you off the hook.

“Isn’t that your boyfriend? Your little boy toy?” Serena asks, leaning closer and batting her eyelashes at you.

You pause with the mascara wand in your hand. “What boyfriend?” you scoff, though you already know exactly what she’s talking about.

“Girl, stop pretending like you’re not into him or some shit. You look at him almost as much as he stares at you!” Anya rolls her eyes and puts her hand on her hip, looking every bit of an Amazon in her 6-inch heels.

“He’s yet to request a private dance, so…I’m not sweatin’ over him. And anyway, he’s no boyfriend of mine if he ain’t paying the bills.”

“Okay, I heard that one!” Both Serena and Anya laugh at your comment. But now that you know he’s here, you are suddenly a little more motivated to dance well tonight. Not that you don’t already, but a little extra never hurt anyone.

Him and his idol friends come around to Moonlight every so often, one weekend or so a month, to get their rocks off. They’re from that kpop group NCT, and you’ve figured out the one who stares is Jaehyun. But you don’t know a ton about them other than those bare facts.

With Moonlight being one of a few ultra-diverse strip clubs in Seoul, it rose to popularity fairly quickly after its establishment. And to no one’s surprise — no one who truly knows the game, anyway — there are always a lot of kpop idols who come to watch the dancers. Their fans would undoubtedly be scandalized if they knew, but hey, that ain’t your problem. You’re here to make money, have fun, and seduce starry-eyed, lonely men. If they’re attractive, that’s only a bonus.

The House Mother, Daya, comes to stand in the doorway and calls your name. “You’re up next girl, so move that ass!”

“I’m coming,” you sigh dramatically, but there are no hard feelings at all. She’s one of the nicer club owners in this part of the city, one who treats all the girls like equals no matter what their skin color or creed is. And when you work in a club as popular and as multicultural as Moonlight, you need someone there to keep the drama to a minimum.

--

The club is as dim as ever, but the stage lights remain at a low shine, ready to come on full blast once the next dancer appears. The music thumps so heavily that the bass seems to become one with the building, making every part of the club feel alive with energy. A group of 5 men enter, weaving their way through the seats to make it to their usual spot next to the stage.

“Wow, can’t believe we’re actually in a strip club right now, haha…” Mark tries to play it cool, but he’s not very good at hiding his nervousness. This is only his first strip club outing with the other boys, after all. He taps his fingers on his legs like he’s playing the drums.

“Yeah, could’ve sworn we were on Mars instead,” Doyoung says, and the others laugh while Mark rolls his eyes.

Mark isn’t the only one whose nerves are getting to him, though. Johnny notices Jaehyun’s restless demeanor as the rest of them settle in, and he muffles a laugh, nudging the younger man. “God, I hope that one dancer you like is here tonight, you look like you’re about to come out of your clothes.”

“She’s way out of your league,” Ten snickers.

“Stop acting like I’m ugly. I could get her any time,” Jaehyun argues, glaring at the other man.

“She’s a woman of her own, not something you can take as you please, Jaehyun!” Johnny says, and both Ten and Jaehyun laugh.

“Johnny, you should keep an eye out for your own crush.” Doyoung gives him a knowing look, and he only laughs sheepishly in response.

It isn’t long before you appear on the stage, the club bursting with cheers and claps and the dual spotlights flickering to full illumination. The spotlights glisten on your skin and reflect off the light pink lingerie set you’re wearing, making you look akin to a goddess—at least in Jaehyun’s eyes. You step out from behind the velvety curtains, letting the fabric caress your body before making your way towards the pole in the middle of the stage.

Your signature song plays as you twist yourself around the pole and perform your favorite tricks, letting yourself be hyped up and carried away by the people around you calling your stage name and throwing bills at your feet. The world spins as you do, revolving around the pole with your legs touching the sky. You grin at the upside-down faces staring back at you, leaving your charm to do all the talking.

You finish your pole routine by slowly sliding down to the base of it and landing carefully in a split. Your back is facing the NCT boys, though you look over your shoulder to flash a sultry look at the audience. This one is always a crowd-pleaser—though you also use this move as an excuse to catch a glimpse of Jaehyun’s expression. You aren’t disappointed by the hunger written across his gaze.

You gracefully turn your body to them, getting on your hands and knees so they have a full view of your chest. As you crawl closer to the end of the stage, Jaheyun’s figure grows clearer underneath the club’s simultaneously dark and light atmosphere. He’s close enough to reach out and touch. 

So you do—bringing your legs out in front of you and spreading them in an appealing stretch before resting them on his shoulders, one after the other. Other men in the club seethe with envy. Jaehyun himself is stuck like a fish out of water, blushing madly but also completely into your display.

Beside him, Doyoung whoops and Johnny whistles. You lift your legs off of Jaehyun gracefully and follow the move by letting your silk robe slip off your shoulders, fully exposing the bare skin of your shoulders and back. Even this is enough to get the men riled up again, and you revel in their cheers.

Jaehyun knows enough strip club etiquette than to try to touch you, and you take advantage of this by gliding off the stage and circling him like he’s your prey. You purposely brush your silk robe over his body, letting it cocoon him in your scent. His fingers drift across it, and he wonders if it could possibly be as soft as your skin looks—or maybe you’re even softer.

Before he can truly get into it, you’ve flitted off to another nearby table of men, taking your silk with you.

“Holy fuck,” Mark looks like a deer in the headlights, and his legs are crossed uncomfortably to hide his obvious boner. 

“The baby’s gonna implode!” Ten laughs.

“Well hold it, because the night is just beginning!” Doyoung shouts.

Jaehyun’s eyes keep coming over to you even as you rotate to one of the other, smaller platforms in the club, another girl taking your spot on the main stage.

--

“You really put it on him tonight, huh?” Serena says, putting her arm around your shoulders. “He’s totally in love. Watch him come to the next show with an engagement ring.” You chuckle at that idea. You find it strangely endearing. You wouldn’t marry him without knowing him, of course, but the idea of having him that tightly wrapped around your finger makes you grin.

You don’t have long to think about it before Daya is coming to break up your kiking fest.

“You’ve got a request for a private dance from one Jaehyun. Sound familiar?” Daya announces. Serena nudges you, and you nod. Daya raises her eyebrows. “You up for it?”

The corners of your lips curl up in a smile. “Give me 5 to freshen up.”

--

Moonlight holds a dozen or so rooms within its second story, all solely reserved for private dances. You climb the stairs slowly in your heels, partly because you don’t want to trip and partly because you’re slightly nervous about what to expect. There’s an abundance of security guards stationed on this level—and each room has an emergency button—so you’re not worried about safety, per se. Whoever this Jaehyun guy really is, you hope he can meet a few of your expectations, at least. Maybe it’s a little embarrassing, but you’ve built him up in your mind more than you’ve allowed yourself with other club-goers.

The room number is 202. You stand in front of the door for a few moments to take several deep breaths. Then you relax your body, talking yourself back into your Performance mode, and open the door.

“Who’s this handsome man?” Jaehyun looks up to see you standing in the doorway, still wearing your outfit from the stage. He sits up on the plush black couch that stands out from the blazing purple hue of the rest of the room. A row of mirrors frames the wall behind the couch, reflecting your own figure back to you. He looks a bit disheveled, with his shirt unbuttoned and his slacks crooked, but it’s a good look for him.

He leans forward to drink in your body, his eyes drifting up from the garters resting against your thighs to the lacy bra covering your breasts, and you smile underneath his gaze. “Jaehyun. And you’re ______...right?”

“Of course. You should know me by now, special boy,” you tease, sauntering over to him to sit on the couch beside him, instead of his lap like he expected. Still, you hover incredibly close to him, your hand sliding against his lapels and stroking the fabric of his button-up right where it unfolds against his skin. “After all, you’ve stared enough.”

“It’s hard not to.” Jaehyun rakes his eyes across your body as if he’s dying to touch it. You smirk and stand up again, sliding off your silk robe and throwing it to him as you wind your body to the music coming from the room’s speakers.

“What would your girlfriend say?” you tease.

His eyes widen at that. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Don’t act so scandalized about it...men with girlfriends and wives come here all the time. It’s shitty...but it’s life.” You say this while twisting your hips in his face, and he initially seems a little too distracted to realize you’ve said anything. Then it registers.

“That’s....do you like this j-job, at least?” Jaehyun’s breath hitches at the end of his sentence when you drape yourself across his body, your head resting back on his shoulder and your ass pressing against the undeniable bulge in his pants. Still, he doesn’t touch you, which you are grateful for—many other men haven’t been so tactful during private dances—so you continue servicing him without a care in the world.

“It’s fun, and I get to meet handsome men like you.” Your fingers ghost across his jawline, drifting only inches away but not making contact. “There’s a lot to like about it.”

You move away and he thinks you mean to get up, but you only turn to face him. “You can touch me now, if you’d like. I think you’ve been a good boy…”

You grind in Jaehyun’s lap and are delighted when he responds in kind, pushing his hips up to meet yours. Your faces are inches apart. You are practically breathing in sync, smiling like there’s a secret only the two of you know.

You make the first move by kissing him, and he slants his mouth against yours as if your lips have always belonged together.

You grasp Jaehyun’s hand and lead it to your hip, and he takes the cue to rest both of his hands on your waist, simply following your directions.

He does take the lead with the kiss, though, biting your lip as you gently pull away, and tugging you back in. He tastes like alcohol, and as cliché as it is, it makes you feel a bit drunk—but that might also be due to his demeanor itself.

“How long have you wanted this?” you ask, sliding your hand into his black shirt and drawing your nails across his skin—not painfully hard, but enough to make him throb under you.

“Maybe too long,” he says. “You’re very beautiful.”

You smile. “Aren’t we a perfect match, then?” Your hand slides lower, to his abdomen and the muscles you can feel even under his dress shirt, and then to his belt. “Would you like to continue?” you ask. 

“Yes.”

You unbuckle his belt, sliding the leather through his belt loops and dropping it off to the side somewhere. You slide yourself off his lap to kneel in front of him as you caress his lower half, rubbing your hands up his thighs and across his bulge, underneath his clothing to feel his abs, and then back again. 

Unzipping his dress pants is equally fun. You watch him sweat and feel him shudder as you drag the zipper down with your teeth. You pull his underwear down after, slowly drawing the material over his skin on purpose. His cock springs out, hard and thick and flushed with need, and you lean forward to drag your mouth over it, base to tip.

Jaehyun is heavy and warm against your lips and he smells good, like male musk, like pheromones and desire. You hold the base as you slap his dick on your tongue and he rolls his head back, making a sound between a groan and a laugh as if he can’t believe this is happening.

He doesn’t want to rush or hurt you, so he lets you do the work of sliding him into your mouth as far as you can take, drooling over his dick and sucking him so messily that it makes his knees quiver. The groans and grunts you pull out of him are lovely to hear—you feel good to know that you can bring him this much pleasure so easily. His precum drips into your mouth, salty on your tastebuds.

Jaehyun is pliable in your hands as you stroke his shaft, focusing your tongue on his leaking tip. You feel his thumb brushing the back of your neck, his hand settling on your nape as he watches you suck his dick. He curses under his breath when you scrape your teeth against him very gently, giving just enough pressure to make it feel good.

Soon, you feel Jaehyun nearing in your mouth, his cock throbbing harder and his thighs trembling around you.

“I-I want to fuck you,” Jaehyun says abruptly. You pull back to look at him through your eyelashes. You leave a trail of spit lingering between your lips and his dick, and he looks like he might come right then.

“Such a greedy boy.” You lift yourself to be level with his eyes, tilting his chin with your fingertips. “What’s the magic word?”

“Please?” He looks like he isn’t totally certain that’s the right answer, and it makes you laugh. In response to his request, you turn to face the door, bending over and making a show of unclipping your garters and sliding your thong down before straightening to remove them completely. Jaehyun moans at that.

You turn back to see that he’s already taken care of the condom. He groans beautifully for you again when you crawl back onto his lap and slide him inside of you, clenching around his hard length.

You start with a slow and winding rhythm at first, not entirely hellbent on teasing him but not willing to let him blow his load too soon, either. His hands are all over your body at this point, gripping your ass and your breasts and whatever else he can get his hands on. He pulls your bra down and tugs your nipples into his mouth like a man starved. 

You laugh at his eagerness, riding him harder.

Jaehyun plants his feet straight on the ground and starts thrusting up into you and you cry out at the added sensation, his tip hitting against your g spot and making you sweat and tremble.

“Fuck, you’re good,” you sigh, digging your nails into his shoulder as you fuck each other at the perfect pace.

“This is the best pussy I’ve ever had,” he says in between sucking your nipples. “I’ve gotta taste it.”

“N-next time.” Your body squeezes around him again as he brings one of his hands to the front to rub your clit. You’re glad the music is loud, otherwise there’d be no hiding your noises or the sound of your skin slapping together.

You feel wild and free in a way you haven’t in a long time, and you let yourself scrape your nails across his skin and bite at his neck as you fuck yourself harder on his dick.

You and Jaehyun kiss and thrust against each other like you’ll never get to do it again, with all the delicious hurriedness that a quick and tension-filled type of fuck can offer.

“I’m c-close.” Jaehyun groans this into your hair as you’ve gone back to biting his neck again. He grips your ass and holds you tighter against him, if at all possible, and pushes himself into your spot with renewed energy. His hand still works your clit, just shy of being firm enough to hurt—but practiced enough to provide pleasure.

“Not without me,” you say, licking the shell of his ear. “What would your friends say?”

“They wouldn’t know, because right now, you’re mine alone.” He slaps your ass and that’s enough to get you spilling onto him, crying his name right into his eardrum as you shudder and tighten around him.

Jaehyun comes soon after, thrusting a few more times and settling himself deep inside you as he fills the condom. He leans his head against the couch and you watch as he vocalizes his pleasure, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he arches into you.

You feel sated and a bit sleepy now, but your shift isn’t over yet and there are still more shows to be done. You lay a kiss on Jaehyun’s throat before gingerly untangling yourself from him and redressing, making sure everything is in place.

Jaehyun throws away the condom and does the same for himself, though there won’t be any hiding the bruises you’ve left on his neck. He looks in the mirrors behind him and blushes at the sight of them, brushing his fingers over them.

“Sorry honey. Hope your friends don’t tease you too much over it.” You smile sympathetically, though you aren’t terribly sorry. You move to open the door but Jaehyun calls out wait, and you pause.

He slides a piece of paper with his number on it into your hand and gives you a smirk. “Don’t forget our promise. ‘Next time,’ remember?”

You tuck the paper into your bra and make a note to put it somewhere safer once you get to the dressing room. “Of course, baby.” With that, you are gone, and Jaehyun is left with the memories—and the marks—to remind him of you until you meet again.