#rim lighting is my new bestie

[bunnyspine]

(nightstuck au)

If you can't be with your friends, just become them!

Choose the og designs for the others because I thought it would fit better-

▪︎☆▪︎▪︎☆▪︎▪︎☆▪︎▪︎☆▪︎▪︎☆▪︎▪︎☆▪︎▪︎☆▪︎

[prolix-yuy]

I have never, ever asked anyone for an ask before so I don't know any of the rules for these things. For the pairing, can we ask for a pairing like Marcus Pike x Jack Daniels x Reader (cause Double Agents is a Mood™️ and a Vibe™️) or like either of those Singular x Reader.

And it's ME, so obviously I have to choose "CHAOS and order" as the topic. Chaos is my middle name after all.

Also please feel free to make this as explicit as possible. I mean, as you'd like.

If I did this wrong and I should change something let me know because like I said I've never done this before, so it is to YOU - Tumblr Crush Bestie - that I am losing my ask virginity. Seems fitting! 😉

Aynsley. Oh Aynsley. You come into my house and ask for filth? For chaos? To be as EXPLICIT AS POSSIBLE?

I am happy to provide, my dear Tumblr Crush Bestie!

Sorry it's taken so gosh-darn long, these three were taking their sweet time figuring out the threesome twister game. I hope you enjoy!

Two Truths and a Lie

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader x Marcus Pike

Summary: If you said you didn't want what these two men have in store, you'd be a liar.

Word Count: 6.3k (YOU'RE WELCOME)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, m/m dynamics, mmf dynamics, breast play, biting, oral sex (m and f receiving), handjobs, brief rimming, use of anal plug, anal sex (m receiving), face sitting, PiV sex, everyone's bisexual, aftercare, dirty talking because I'm a slut for it.

Notes: I've been teasing this for so long and it's finally arrived! And I'm embodying the 'chaos' in the request by barely editing this. Should I have? Maybe. Will I deny us any of the filth these three get into? Absolutely not. Enjoy my lovelies!

The first time you lied you didn’t even know what you were doing. Barely speaking full sentences and you pushed a boy over in the playground. He was loud, mean, and you were so full of emotions your little body had to retaliate. But when the teacher came over and asked what happened, you lied.

“He fell.”

The boy was too embarrassed to admit it was you, ushered away by the teacher. And you basked in a new feeling that would grow to be your constant companion: the elation of getting away with it.

Now, much later in life, you’d perfected lying. You lied like you breathed. Tells well hidden, truths spread like jam on burnt bread, just enough to hide the taste. You didn’t want to be punished, or caught. It wasn’t about waiting for someone to call you out. Lying was a language you spoke fluently and without equal, and was a competition with only yourself as audience.

Take tonight, for example. You’d lied to your friends that you didn’t feel well enough to go out. You’d lied to the bartender about why you were here. You’d even lied to the Uber driver, who could care less why you were coming to a swank hotel bar this late at night. But that’s three unsuspecting participants and three more tallies on the invisible scoreboard. 

The truth, not that you’d ever say it, was that you were bored. Endlessly, achingly bored. If you had to listen to one more pregnancy story, or upcoming wedding plans, or theorize on whatever show everyone was watching this time, you might actually scream. So tonight you forewent the Mexican restaurant your friends love and came here.

The bar is lush in a way that makes you salivate. Burgundy velvet chairs flank dark leather Chesterfield couches, artfully arranged to create the illusion of privacy underneath the cathedral ceilings. Royal blue and black brocade wallpaper flanks you as you approach the bar, black walnut wrapped around a towering wall of liquor. The stools glint gold as you slide onto one, balancing delicately. It’s not until you put in your drink order and settle back that you see them.

Once you do, you’re not sure how they escaped your observation. Two men seated at a high top overlooking city lights, casually sipping from rocks glasses. One is clean shaven, short haired and neatly dressed. Corporate attire - a tidy suit, tie, crisp white shirt. His face is soft in the table’s candlelight, eyes crinkled in the corners enough to know he enjoys himself without reservation. 

The other man holds some of the same features - large hands swirling alcohol in his tumbler, dark hair and eyes, a broad build - but the similarities end with the confidence he’s exuding. His outfit is more cowboy chic, dark jeans and a gray suit jacket over a light pink shirt with a peek of suspenders under the lapel. His boots hook over a stool rung, tilted back as his companion leans forward. The smirk painting his face paired with his teasing eyes quirks a smile of your own. Definitely cocksure, and possibly for good reason if those tight jeans were anything to go by.

Then the cowboy reaches across the table and pinches the other man’s chin between his thick fingers, a softer look gracing his face. The other man flushes a light pink, eyes casting down as his smile turns bashful.

Suddenly you’re too hot, snapping your gaze back to your drink.

Not for you.

Not that you’d assumed either of them would turn their attention your way. They were both your type in a room with surprisingly few options, but the night is young, and your drink has barely been touched. You lift it to your lips for a small sip, letting the liquor burn in the way good sex can light you aflame (an experience you’d been low on lately) when a voice murmurs at your shoulder.

“Drinking alone?” 

The blushing companion is now at your elbow, respectful but close enough that it makes your skin tingle. He leans on the bar, nodding once to the bartender with a smile before redirecting his attention back to your purposefully neutral expression.

“For now,” you reply cryptically, taking a sip of your drink as you peek at him over the rim. His smile widens, a glint of teeth between soft, kissable lips. Shouldn’t have been fantasizing about a conquest tonight, now you’re too keyed in to a man who’s out of your league in several ways. 

“Would you like some company while you wait? My partner and I have a table,” he says as two glasses slide into his grasp. You shrug.

“My friends will be here soon.”

Liar.

“Of course. One drink.”

“Only one.”

Liar.

“As the lady wishes.”

One drink turns into two, your wits still about you but your attention pleasingly bewitched by the couple. Marcus, the one who approached, is an FBI agent specializing in art crimes, which you unabashedly question him about while the cowboy smirks in your periphery. 

“You can tell the difference between a fake and an original on sight?” 

Marcus chuckles into the rim of his glass, tongue peeking out to stop an errant drop. 

“Only the very bad ones. The good ones need analysis, imaging, carbon dating. But it’s amazing to see how far someone will go.”

His knee knocks into yours and remains there.

The cowboy’s name is Jack Daniels, which makes you scoff until he raises an eyebrow at you. He even works at a distillery, though he was a field agent in a past life. That’s how he and Marcus met, the mention exchanging fondness that makes you gaze into your own drink for distraction. He orders a round of Statesman as proof of his fine taste, and you have to agree it’s much better than the whiskey most men offer you as though you know nothing of liquor. 

He lifts his boot to catch on the low rung of your stool, opening the span of his thighs to you. If you didn’t know better you would think these two were…

“We have a question for you, darlin,” Jack says when the drinks run dry, pinning you with a smirk. You straighten your spine, chin lifted to pre-empt your refusal.

You didn’t want to see what these men might offer.

Liar.

“Marcus saw you come in and thought you were about the prettiest thing he’d laid eyes on. But I’m a little more discerning. I like women to be smarter than me.” You roll your eyes but he keeps on running that smooth Southern drawl. “Which you are. Clearly. So I’m gonna ask you this for the both of us, and it only goes for the both of us. Package deal.”

Your eyes dart between Jack and Marcus, observing their drastically different postures. Marcus is nervous, hands folded tightly in front of him, eyes locked on them as he worries at his lower lip. Jack, on the other hand, is a man negotiating a deal and has all the confidence in the world, though he’s tuned in to Marcus’ discomfort. You wonder briefly if this is how they work best, Jack taking the lead. The thought blares heat across your chest.

“What would you like to ask?” you reply cooly, even though your heart hammers so loud you’re sure they can hear it. It’s under control until Jack’s eyes flick down to your hand worrying at your glass. His gaze flits up - caught.

“We’d like to invite you up to our room,” Jack says simply, leaning back in his seat. Marcus finally tears his eyes from his hands and watches for your reaction. You smirk at them both.

“For a nightcap?” you ask innocently, but the dark humor that spreads over Jack’s face shakes your resolve.

“No, darlin, we’d like to invite you into our bed. If that’s favorable to you, of course,” Jack says, the game ping-ponging between you as Marcus watches. 

“I assumed I wasn’t your type,” you stall, interrogating yourself about the offer. Did you want to let them lead you away from here? 

You’re definitely not bored anymore. If anything you’re aching at the thought.

“You are,” Marcus interjects, pulling your attention from Jack’s intense stare. His face is open, eager, kind. He seems like the kind of man who wears soft sweaters and asks you how your day was and actually listens. What a pair they make. 

“I’d like to have an idea of what I’m getting myself into before agreeing to anything,” you say, but your voice is getting shakier by the minute. Marcus slides his hand across the table, fingertips lightly grazing the back of your hand. It’s grounding, comforting.

Electric.

“Safety for everyone, of course. Protection all around,” Jack says, speaking in a low voice that urges you to lean forward. It gives him the opportunity to graze his fingers along your thigh in a featherlight touch that burns you with arousal. “Marcus likes it when I take charge, but you’re our guest so whatever your comfort level is, we’ll respect. If you’d like to take a break or end it at any time, we stop.”

Then Jack leans in and destroys the final barriers between you and your decision.

“We both like to eat pussy, and will make you cum several times before fucking you. Marcus likes to be inside while I fuck him, but I’d like to feel you squeeze around me too. I won’t leave marks if you ask, but I like to use my mouth, and my teeth. Marcus wants to kiss you, often, and very thoroughly. He might be quiet now, but he’s vocal as hell when you get him riled up. I’m likely to never shut up unless my mouth’s busy.” 

Your breath is coming in quick pants now, Marcus’ fingers sliding along the back of your hand to open your fist and slip inside. Jack’s heavy hand on your thigh feels like all that’s keeping you held to the earth. Sensing your hesitation, Marcus leans in and breathes into your ear.

“Would you like that, sweetheart?”

You don’t hear your agreement over the rushing in your ears, but their twin smiles of satisfaction confirm it.

Staring into the mirror and psyching yourself up to leave the bathroom, you adjust your lingerie for the eighth time. Mauve lace clings to your breasts, your hips, just opaque enough to be pretty instead of lewd. In this moment you wish it was more exciting, more daring for these men who offered you a spot in their bed. How tame you must seem after all the bravado you showed in the bar.

You’re not ready for this.

Liar.

Gathering up your last bit of courage, you saunter into the hotel bedroom. You’d left Jack and Marcus there fully clothed, knowing smiles and the beginnings of flirty touches the last thing you’d seen. Now, you’re treated to a much more mouthwatering sight.

Jack is seated on the edge of the bed, jacket discarded and suspenders loose by his thighs. His shirt is messy and untucked, one final button around his stomach holding on for dear life after all the others abandoned their posts. His pants are open, and as you come to a stop you’re treated to Marcus’ deep groan as he swallows Jack’s cock to the base. His throat works as Jack tips his head back and sighs, hips gyrating a fraction against Marcus’ eager mouth. 

Fuck, it’s hot and drives a spike of arousal straight to your cunt. Marcus’ strong back, bare and rippling across Jack’s lap, begs for your fingers to dig into his meaty shoulders. You catch him palming at his crotch, big brown eyes opening to look up at Jack. He’s rewarded with thick fingers carding through his short brown hair, pulling back to breathe heavily on the tip of Jack’s cock before descending again.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Jack rasps when you realize you’ve been staring too long. His hand extends to you, and for a moment you think it’s better to leave them to it. They clearly have history, and chemistry. You don’t belong here.

Liar.

You slide your hand into Jack’s, letting him lead you to sit beside him. Sinking into his side, he gives you the perfect view to look down at Marcus’ thorough deep-throating. His eyes drag up, and the hand gripping Jack’s thigh now comes to rest on yours. He’s firm but gentle, kneading the flesh there.

“I’d like to kiss you, sweetheart,” Jack whispers into the shell of your ear, dragging his lips just to your neck to press a featherlight kiss. You’re hesitant, but he lets you breathe against his mouth before leaning forward just enough to press your lips together. The wet mouth noises Marcus is choking out below you are a strange soundtrack to the sweetness of Jack’s kiss. He plies you with a few more, fuller, more forceful, before dragging his tongue over the seam of your lips. You part eagerly for him, meeting his full stroke with your quicker tongue. Jack groans into your mouth, the beginning of a smile curling against the corner of your lips. 

“Now him,” he says, leaning back and guiding your head down to Marcus. He slips off Jack’s wet cock, jutting thick and proud, and rises on his knees to take your head in his hands. There’s less hesitation here; you melt fully into Marcus’ kiss. Jack was right, Marcus kisses thoroughly, patiently, diving deep before pulling back to let you breathe. It builds a fire under your skin, your nails digging into his shoulders. 

Distantly you feel Jack’s thick fingers unclasp your bra, then his hands - callused in places that made you wonder if he was a real cowboy once - guide you to lay back on the bed. You part from Marcus with a small sigh, but Jack follows you down, the scrape of his mustache on your throat as he slips his thumb over your kiss-swollen lips. Settling on your back, Marcus’ hands slide under your knees and soon the smooth expanse of his back surges under your calves. 

“Look at this,” Marcus hums, stroking down your thighs. Jack hums in agreement as he slips your bra off, the cool air tightening your nipples. “Anything you don’t like, sweetheart?” Jack’s mouth distracts you as he blows across the swell of your breast, making your back arch at the sensation.

“No teeth,” you say, finally hazarding a look down your body at the men driving you to madness. Jack looks visibly disappointed, which makes you tug at his well-coiffed locks. “For him, not you.” Marcus breaks into a smile and honest-to-goodness chuckles between your legs, and Jack winks up at you before a slip of pink tongue wraps around your nipple. Any further instruction is wiped from your mind as you arch into the clever heat of his mouth, paired with the squeeze of his other hand around your neglected breast. His teeth graze your nipple, hips rolling involuntarily before getting pressed firmly into the bed.

“Can’t wait to taste this,” Marcus murmurs, and two fingers slide underneath the gusset of your panties, knuckles dragging through your folds. He leaves open-mouthed kisses below your bellybutton, dragging his nose down to smell you through the thin lace. You want so desperately to focus but so many hands pulling you apart so effortlessly has your eyes rolling up into your head and your body writhing. 

Finally, Marcus licks a wide path along your lacy slit as Jack rolls your nipple between his fingers and you keen out a desperate moan.

“Oh, baby, sounds like someone needs you to make her cum,” Jack teases into your neck, sliding his hand down and into your panties to tease your aching clit. Marcus is still licking along the lace, pressing his tongue at your entrance just enough that their touches light up every nerve carrying pleasure to your lust-soaked brain.

“Let me take these off you and get you all over my face,” Marcus purrs, lifting your hips to drag the last scrap of clothing off your body. They’re both still half-clothed and looking at you like a goddess draped across the bed, and it almost makes you balk.

Liar. It makes you even more excited.

Jack removes his fingers, sucking them into his mouth with a low hum while Marcus noses your inner thigh. You can’t stop your legs from trembling, but Marcus’ firm grip steadies you as he finally licks a slow path through your folds.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, arching into the pillows as Jack presses your hips back on the bed. 

“He’s good, ain’t he? Wicked tongue on him, and I swear he’s half fish, never needs to come up for air,” Jack teases, pressing his body against your side and stroking through Marcus’ short hair. He nips at your earlobe as Marcus begins lapping rhythmically at your entrance, his nose firm on your clit and his jaw bobbing against you. The waves of his tongue, the jolt of that hawkish nose, the dark pride simmering in his eyes as he watches you, all burn under your skin. Your orgasm is fast approaching, nipples tight and aching. Sliding your thumb over one, you coax the honey-sweet ache of arousal out against Marcus’ tongue. Jack notices and joins you, stroking his rougher ones over the sensitive buds. His cock ruts lazily against your hip, and you slide your hand around him to pump him in time with your rolling hips.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re so good,” he praises, sinking his teeth into the top of your breast just hard enough that prickles of pain pull you away from your heady arousal. It slams back into you the moment he releases the sensitive flesh, laving his tongue over the indents his teeth left behind.

“C’mon baby, that’s it, you’re so close,” Marcus encourages between your legs, lips barely leaving before doubling down. His whole head rocks against your cunt, long licks and drags of his lips and nose and chin through your messy sex. He must be coated in you, thick and tangy across his clean-shaven face. If Jack did the same, he’d carry you in that perfectly groomed mustache.

That image, Jack with his mustache dripping with your release, tightens your core as Marcus urges your hips to roll against him, chasing your orgasm frantically as he growls into your cunt. 

“Give it to me, baby, cum on my face, I know you have it right there for me, fucking give it to me. Cum on me. Cum on me now,” he orders, and with Jack’s whispered “He’s been so good, cum for him sweetheart,” you’re tightening around Marcus’ head and shaking through a fucking full-body orgasm. Faintly you hear Marcus chanting, “Yes, yes, that’s it baby, that’s it,” and Jack purring a diatribe of, “Good girl, you’re cumming so good for us, look at that, fucking gorgeous.” The room fades around the edges, the boys all you can focus on. Marcus’ eyes are shining with triumph, wiping his face as he beams up between your legs. Jack hovers over you, pride and sinful promise in his smile.

“That was a very good one, Marcus. Gonna give me a run for my money,” he says, stroking your cheek as you try to come back to the real world from your sky-high journey. The comforting warmth at your side fades as Jack sits up on the bed, tugging Marcus by his hair. Blearily you watch them kiss, tongues peeking out from their pressed lips as Jack tastes you on Marcus. He reaches down and deftly unbuttons Marcus’ pants, shoving everything down to reveal his weeping cock. Jack’s palms it, nodding to Marcus who leans over just enough to spit on his own cock before Jack gives him a few slow, firm strokes. You can tell how much Marcus is affected, mouth dropping into an O as his eyes drifting shut. Jack indulges him a few passes more before pulling a condom out of his pocket.

“Fill her up, pretty boy, she’s been so patient.”

You prop yourself up on shaky elbows as Marcus rolls the condom on, hazy gaze kindling the remains of your orgasm into a new possibility. He slots his hips between your thighs, crawling up your body to kiss you with the remains of your taste on his tongue. Jack stole most of it, but you can still relish in your tang.

“I want to fuck you, baby, can I? I’ll stretch you out good first,” he asks against your lips, the head of his cock resting just on your mound. He fists it and draws circles on your clit with the tip, your spine pulling tight up under him.

“Yes, Marcus, want you inside me,” you gasp, but before he fits his perfect cock inside he pumps two gloriously thick fingers into your cunt, stroking at your velvet soaked walls before curling them wickedly.

“So tight. Fuck, Jack, you’re gonna love this,” Marcus husks, scissoring his fingers and swirling his thumb over your sensitive clit. 

“Want to show her what you’ve been hiding, handsome?” Jack asks innocently, but you see goosebumps raise along Marcus’ arms and shoulders when the cowboy nips at his ear, winking at you. “Reach back here, darlin’, and feel,” Jack instructs as you follow the path of his hand around Marcus’ hip. He guides you to the smooth base of the plug in Marcus’ ass, making him shudder when you press your fingers against it.

“He’s been waiting all night for this, would you let me fuck him while he fucks you?” Jack asks. You trace a finger around Marcus’ stretched hole and he drops his head to your shoulder with a choked groan.

“You want that, Marcus? Want to fill me while Jack fills you?” His stuttering breath warms your neck as he nods. Reaching back, you prop yourself up with a couple pillows so you can better watch, your hands cupping Marcus’ face as Jack slowly works the plug out of him. When his mouth drops open you stroke your thumb along his bottom lip, pulling his attention from any discomfort back to you. Marcus empties out a sigh when Jack pulls the sensible black plug from him and places it on the bedside table. He returns with a slim bottle of lube that he dribbles onto his fingers.

“Now Marcus, I want you to put the tip in her and get yourself good and hard while I slide into your pert little ass. Once I’m in and you’re settled I’ll set the pace. Don’t want you hurting yourself.” The gentle instruction warms your skin as Jack smooths his hands over Marcus’ back and sides. He nods and you stroke your fingers through his hair reassuringly.

“You’re gonna feel so good inside me,” you say, circling your hips against his cock as he fists himself again. 

“You’re beautiful,” Marcus whispers, and as he wedges just the tip of his thick cock inside you he presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and shoulder. The shallow stretch makes your toes curl, one of Jack’s hands massaging your calf as his mouth smacks against Marcus’ spine.

“Ready?” he asks one last time.

“Yes, Jack, please…”

The litany of moans and gasps Marcus litters onto your skin lights your arousal further aflame as Jack curses and pushes in. You’re enraptured by the concentration on his face, the tick of his jaw and swipes of his tongue over his lower lip as he thrusts shallowly into Marcus’ tight channel. You can feel every jolt in your cunt when he presses Marcus just a little further forward, burying himself just a little deeper inside you. It’s slow as cold molasses and driving Marcus to bliss. When he begins backing up against Jack you stroke his back, and Jack’s larger hand covers yours.

“Fuck, feel so full,” Marcus manages to say, and Jack leans over to kiss along his shoulders. Your mouth is already at the juncture of his neck, and Jack meets your lips with his own. Marcus turns his head enough to kiss you behind your ear, and to catch the hinge of Jack’s sharp jaw with a scrape of teeth.

“Okay sweethearts, I’m gonna fuck you now. Slow to start. Get our rhythm.” Jack then pulls back and thrusts forward hard enough to bury the rest of Marcus’ length inside you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, Marcus already being guided back out before Jack fucks him back into you. “Oh holy shit, ohhhh fuck, yes, please, oh fuck it’s so good,” you moan brokenly, Marcus cupping your cheek and pressing his mouth to yours. You open for him, his tongue plunging into you as he pounds your cunt over and over again. The wet slaps are offset by the slick squelches of Jack’s cock fucking into Marcus, timing his thrusts just right to let you both feel every ridge and vein inside and around you. 

“Fuck, you both are so fucking hot,” Jack grits out, one hand gripping your hip, the other Marcus’, as he set a faster pace. Marcus drops to his elbows and rolls his hips harder, snapping into you and back onto Jack. The quiet moans he was hiding before erupt into full-throated shouts, which Jack muffles by shoving his fingers into Marcus’ mouth. He drools around them, and when his glazed eyes meet yours you lick the back of Jack’s knuckles and over Marcus’ lips.

“Filthy girl, knew you were,” Jack pants. “You close, handsome?” 

Marcus nods frantically, eyebrows pinching and fisting the sheets as he speeds up from Jack’s rhythm to chase his orgasm. Jack chuckles before folding over you both, crushing Marcus to your chest.

“I’ve got you, baby boy.” With that Jack pounds into you both, Marcus buried so deep you can feel Jack’s thrusts nudge him against your g-spot. You grip their hair, Jack’s eyes locking with yours as he growls through each thrust. 

“Call him a good boy, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Marcus, you’re so good for me, feel so good inside. Cum for me like a good boy, Marcus.”

That’s all it takes, and Marcus is howling into your neck as Jack grinds deep. His cock pulses heavily inside you, the force of his orgasm shivering through his limbs as they lock and release. Finally he lets go, slumping his full weight onto your chest. Jack kisses the back of his neck, fingers stroking down his arms and soothing him through the aftershocks.

“You’ve got a way with him, darlin’, he rarely cums that hard,” Jack coos, sliding his arms around Marcus to guide him off. Rolling him to his back, Jack peppers Marcus’ face with soft kisses as he weakly throws an arm around Jack’s back. His other hand searches for yours, twining your fingers together as he blinks sleepily between you both.

“Shit, that was amazing,” he croaks, sending Jack to the bathroom for a glass of water and to dispose of the condoms. “C’mere, wanna hold you,” he adds, tugging you to curl up against his side. His hands roam your back, nose pressed against your forehead as his rapid heartbeat begins to slow. It’s oddly romantic, happy to give and receive this moment of comfort. But you’re sure it’s the end of the night, and you’ll be fine going back home soon.

Liar.

“Now darlin’, as good of a time as it looks like you were having, I don’t think you came,” Jack says once Marcus has had a good long drink and settled back into the pillows. 

“I had plenty of fun,” you say lazily, stroking Marcus’ chest as it rises and falls. Jack tuts and shakes his head, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Told you I wanted to eat your pussy too. Come sit on my face and let me give you another. Then, if you’re not too tired out, I’ll have you sit on my cock too.” 

Heat races over your body, and Marcus unwinds you from his arms. 

“Go on, gorgeous, Jack’s tongue is a treat you should never turn down,” he teases. “I’ll be along as soon as I catch my breath.”

Sitting up, you scoot closer to Jack as a strange nervousness settles in. Marcus is so open and easy to read, while Jack’s expressions always seem veiled behind a layer of showmanship and bravado. You find yourself worrying that you won’t be enough for him, for what he wants.

“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Jack interrupts your racing thoughts as he strokes his palm up your thigh. You shake your head, forcing a smile on.

“Nothing,” you say, your voice catching in your throat. Jack chews on his lower lip for a moment, then wraps his arms around your waist and guides you onto his lap. Straddling him, you hover as he pets your hips, smooths your back, and noses your neck with a gentle kiss along your collarbone.

“If it’s nerves, honey, then know that I have been looking forward to tasting, and fucking you all night. I want your tits in my mouth, your pussy, your tongue. I want to devour you, you’re so delicious.” He guides your hips down to press against his cock, hard and hot as he slips the soft skin against your wet folds. “You cannot possibly disappoint me, I could cum from your voice alone.” 

“Jack…” you breathe, and he leans back, pulling you along with him. Once flat on his back he guides your nipple into his mouth, humming indulgently as he teases the bud with his fast tongue and harsh sucks. You arch into his mouth, the length of his cock grinding against your clit. Switching to the other one, he nips lightly and chuckles when you jolt against him. His large hands paw at your ass, spreading your cheeks and kneading at the supple flesh. He cracks his hand against one with a sharp slap, soothing it with a stroke after. You’re dripping on him now, grinding along his length.

“Perfect, sweetheart, now climb up and put that hot little pussy on my face,” he orders, and all self-consciousness drips away as you climb up his body. Before you settle around his shoulders he taps your hip and guides you to swing around so you’re facing his neglected cock, hovering over his greedy mouth.

“Want your hand around my cock while I eat you out,” he says before pulling you down on his face. 

No matter the thorough fucking you just endured, Jack’s thick tongue sends a shudder up your spine, needing to grab his wrists. He hums into your folds, faster flicks than Marcus against your clit.

“I’m gonna drink you down, darlin’,” he purrs into your cunt, canting your hips so he can better seal his pouty lips around your clit. Falling forward, you loosely stroke Jack’s aching cock, throbbing with need after being denied his orgasm. Letting a dribble of spit drip onto his length, you slick him up to take a tighter grip. When your fingers glance over the ridge of his head his stomach tightens, hips rocking up to meet your strokes. 

“Your cock is gorgeous, Jack,” you praise, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the tip. The groan he lets out vibrates against your sex, eliciting your own pleasured sigh as he slips his tongue inside you.

“He’s very good at using it,” Marcus says just next to your shoulder, sliding off the bed to kneel between Jack’s knees. He replaces your hand on Jack’s cock, urging you to sit back up on Jack’s face. He worships your breasts with soft sucks and nibbles, working you both up higher and higher. You can feel Jack’s movements getting sloppier, distracted gasps bursting between your legs when he takes a moment to bask in his own pleasure. You weave your hands into Marcus’ hair, scratching along his scalp as he kisses his way up your neck and back to your waiting mouth. 

“Mmm, sweetheart he’s not gonna last much longer, and I know he wants to cum in you too. Let me wrap him up and then you can fuck his cock.” Marcus takes a moment to tear open a condom as you shuffle down Jack’s body. His mouth leaves you with a parting lick to your back entrance, the ticklish sensation making you giggle and scratch your nails down his flexing stomach. When you’re hovering over his cock, Marcus’ hand on the base guiding Jack in, he sits up behind you. 

“Most beautiful thing I’ll ever get to experience,” Jack murmurs, plastering his chest to your back and wrapping his arms around you. He guides you down as Marcus steadies him in, filling you so differently but so completely. 

“Fuck, Jack, you feel amazing,” you croon, head thrown back against his shoulder. Marcus lifts up on his knees to kiss Jack, clever fingers petting at your clit as you lift up just enough to let Jack feel the drag of your tight cunt, then back down to his base to elicit a wanton groan.

“Darlin’, you feel like heaven. Don’t know how Marcus didn’t bust immediately.” Marcus nips his Adam’s apple and switches to mouthing at your throat, both of their lips dancing along the expanse of your sweat-slicked skin. Sandwiched between them, the slide of their bodies against yours is addictive, intoxicating, endless in the pleasure it brings. Your cunt clenches around Jack, and he chuckles darkly in your ear before snapping his hips up into you.

“There’s my good girl, so tight around me. I’m gonna fuck you as hard and long as I can, but fuck me if you don’t feel like the best thing I’ve ever put my cock in.” Jack grabs the back of Marcus’ head and pulls him back to meet eyes. “Lick her clit, pretty boy.”

You didn’t think your arousal could climb any higher, but looking down to see Jack’s length sliding in and out of you paired with Marcus sinking down to lick a stripe from the base of Jack’s cock to your clit almost kills you. Marcus’ boyish smile would be your gravestone if you didn’t remember to breathe.

“Holy fuck,” you choke out as he lays out his thick pink tongue to stroke over and over along your joined bodies.

“Damn right, you’re doing so good for us Marcus,” Jack grits out, pulling you down on his fat cock so you don’t bounce away from Marcus’ talented tongue.

“Could do better,” Marcus says thoughtfully, reaching for the bottle of lube. Slicking up his fingers, he slides his hand down to tease Jack’s rim.

“Fuck, baby, you know how I like that,” Jack groans, bringing a wicked smile to Marcus’ face. Kissing your mound, Jack tenses hard under you with a broken gasp. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck, yes baby, that’s fucking perfect, you keep your fingers right there while I cum in her. Just like that, sweet boy.”

Leaning down you grab Marcus by the jaw and devour him, teeth clacking briefly as you fill his mouth with your tongue. He whimpers below you before you part, lips spit-slicked and slacked.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart, Marcus you better…” Jack threatens but Marcus is already latching his mouth onto your clit, sucking hard and fast while his fingers flex inside Jack. The relentless grind against your g-spot, the ruthless pressure on your clit, the overwhelming ache that can’t build anymore before it needs to go somewhere washes over you, and you cum with a wail on these two gorgeous men. Jack follows as your walls flutter around him, with a litany of, “That’s it baby, your pussy’s so fucking good, I’m…oh shit, I’m cumming, M-Marcus baby don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop, oh shiiiiii…” You faintly wonder if Marcus came again before a spurt of hot cum against your calf answers your question.

The silence that follows, filled with gasps and panting and weak hands on skin, is the moment you dread. It’s the last moment before the peace and quiet in your mind fades, urging you to gather up your clothes and go before you say something or do something that will ruin this. But with Marcus wrapping his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder, and Jack pressed against your back, you have no place to go. 

“Thank you, darlin’, that was the most fun I’ve had in a long time, wouldn’t you agree?” Jack says, pressing a line of kisses from behind your ear to the curve of your shoulder. Marcus leans back and thumbs your chin, tired eyes and a loose smile.

“Definitely. Can we take care of you now, sweetheart?” 

Your eyebrows must have pulled up into a frown, because Marcus chuckles just a little and cradles your head.

“What, you thought we’d fuck you and make you leave?” he teases, and you have to school your face carefully. You didn’t expect them to be this caring, or kind.

Liar.

Then you didn’t expect them to want more than your body once they were through.

Liar.

Then what did you expect?

Marcus thankfully speaks, similar to that that soothing way Jack enticed you here.

“Well then, I’m going to take you into the shower to clean you up, and Jack’s gonna make the bed and join us after. Once we’re clean and hydrated, I’m going to put on The Thin Man and we’re going to get into bed together. If you’re not comfortable spending the night, I understand. But I - we - want you to. Not just because tomorrow morning I want to wake you up with both of our heads between your legs.” Jack slides out of you and holds you in his arms, nuzzling into the back of your neck. 

“I don’t…” you try to say, both men waiting patiently. “I didn’t expect this. I don’t know what to do now.”

Liar.

You know exactly what to do. 

Stay.

Marcus’ lopsided smile and Jack’s pressed into your skin are promises you never asked for, but would gladly accept.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

END

[in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather]

Birthday Week Vignettes

*

As a little gift for my bestie and worstie, for her birthday week, I’ve written a selection of fun little vignettes (stretching the terms fun, little and vignette to mean several thousand words of something gory or fucked up).

It has been the greatest and most treasured experience I’ve had on here getting to know you. From the hilarious shit talking, to expanding my horizons in terms of what I read and write, and giving each other constant new ideas and support, I am so grateful for all the downsides of existing in an online space as it’s meant making a wonderful, cherished friend. Happy birthday and may we enjoy your presence in our lives and this garbage fire for a long, long time to come! 😍😍❤️❤️😈😈 @safarigirlsp

*

Day 1; assassin!Mills x RC

*

Summary: The Museum needs two operatives to pose as a married couple and go into a chateau full of depraved people letting loose and acting out their fantasies in an Eyes wide shut-type party. That old chestnut.

A/N: I’m a sucker for going undercover as a couple, in every iteration of that trope, and undercover at a sex party is an especially fun variation. This little episode didn’t fit into my main assassin!Mills story, but it was too interesting to throw out completely, so this seems like the best way to share it. If you like the premise, I’m happy to write a conclusion for it.

CW: mentions of wlw, mlm, group sex, fetishes, voyeurism, dubcon, murder, drugs, alcohol, sex work

WC: ~5.5k

*

Cipher and Gage picked up their small leather bags soon after they landed, exiting the airport hand in hand. Cipher’s steel toe boots thumped loudly on the tiles, his long leather coat rustling with every casual move of his tall, broad frame. Gage sized him up out of the corner of her black-rimmed eye, appreciating the sexy, disheveled swoop of his sandy hair, the frosty glint of his blue eyes, his sharp jawline dusted with a few days’ growth of beard. Her eyes wandered lower, to the tight black tank top that peeked out from his unbuttoned white shirt, the studded belt drawn tight around his narrow hips, and the tightly coiled muscles of his legs working under his equally tight pants. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on him in the car. Their quick encounter in the airplane toilet was too short for her appetite.

She walked briskly in her six inch shiny leather boots, barely reaching his shoulder despite the added height, feeling the chill in the airport as a gust blew under her scandalously short skirt. A man walking past them balked at what the blown up material revealed and she giggled to herself. Cipher squeezed her hand tighter and walked even faster in retaliation, leaving her to practically run to catch up with him. They barely jumped into the stretch limousine parked and waiting to take them to the rendezvous point that Rostov decided on when Cipher pulled her roughly onto his lap and glared, squeezing his large hand painfully around her thigh until she squirmed and pouted, removing her round Windsor sunglasses and giving him a plaintive look, all innocence and invitation. She had often remarked that it didn’t serve him any good to get all worked up over other men ogling her like that; if he wanted an attractive and flirty wife like her, then there were consequences to deal with.

They had enough time to redress and clean up as well as could be managed on a backseat when the limousine pulled up on Museum property. The partition rolled down and an Acquisitions operative pointed the barrel of a gun at the pair.

*

The heavy metal door creaked and moaned as it was pushed open for Adriane. She entered the small circular cell, windowless and bleached by harsh white halogen lights, where Cipher and Gage sat bound and gagged.

Without gracing either with eye contact, Adriane walked briskly, sweeping an elegant circle around the small cell, her heels clacking an ominous rhythm on the concrete floor. “In a moment, you will be separated. You will never see each other again,” she spoke the chilling words quietly and emotionlessly, as though to herself, as she circled the young pair like a crow awaiting carrion to feast on. “Whoever talks first will go free. The other will not leave this place alive.” She tossed the last words over her shoulder as she slipped like a shadow out the door and it closed heavily behind her.

She was not negotiating. She was not trying to entice them with anything only to pull the rug out from under them, as other people they had dealt with in the past had. The pair understood the danger they were in as they locked eyes, determined to leave this place together, and alive.

*

30 minutes, my office. A, the letters scrolled across the beeper in your hand.

When you arrived, with a minute to spare, you were feeling pretty smug about yourself that you managed not to be late, to say nothing of the fact you were chosen as the operative to be entrusted with this last minute, highly sensitive task.

Adriane’s office looked like the wardrobe department of some grungy photo shoot, with distressed denim, faux leather, fishnets and studs galore. Racks and racks of clothing were hurriedly rolled in, no doubt for the purpose of outfitting for this impromptu exhibition you were going on.

“Our guests have a meeting with their prospective employer this evening. We intercepted the coordinates Rostov provided and took Cipher and Gage on a detour here,” Adriane informed as Mills strode out from behind a rack with an armful of clothes. You looked from him to Adriane, wondering if this was some test and her omitting he would be there was supposed to catch you by surprise. Satisfied you did not betray your heart jumping into your throat, you diverted your attention to the racks of female clothing surrounding you.

“Won’t he know we’re not them? You know, when he looks at us?” you asked too snarkily for someone who knew Adriane wouldn’t waste anyone’s time if this was a real concern.

“Rostov doesn’t know what they look like. Both he and our guests are too discreet in their dealings to allow something like that. And the private party you are attending is designed to ensure privacy. At least where your faces are concerned.”

You felt a nervous knot tie in your gut, thinking ahead at what the night would more than likely demand of you. “And their stupid nicknames?” you asked, forcibly casual, as you pressed a red plaid skirt to your hips, wondering if it would even cover half your ass.

“For the same reason. They are decently intelligent, cautious people in their business dealings, even if their behavior otherwise is questionable. Under different circumstances, they might have been potential operatives for the Museum. As it stands, their use is limited to a single outing.”

You followed Adriane to her laptop computer, as thick as a briefcase, sitting in front of her leather chair, with a video paused. Scattered on the desk were photos of Cipher and Gage, taken over the last few weeks, as evidenced by the changes in the color and style of their hair. They were photographed several times in rather compromising positions, not that they seemed to mind. Gage was always smiling brightly when her hand was shoved possessively in Cipher’s back pocket, and he was not shy about embracing her in a town square and kissing her with what you personally deemed to be an excess of tongue, with both his hands on her ass, peeking out of another too-short skirt. Frenzied moaning and the squeak of leather grabbed your attention and you looked up at the video Adriane played.

“This was just over an hour ago, in the back of the car we sent for them,” she informed, looking unimpressedly at the screen.

The parallels between you and Julian were not lost on you. Two people, outrageously in love, killing for a living. Except the pair rutting wildly in a limo were free to be out in the open, not concealing anything from anyone, while you could only look at Julian askance and steal brief moments when you were sure no one was looking, which was hardly ever.

“The girl has great stamina,” you quipped, averting your eyes discreetly. From their copious, almost defiant public displays of affection, you didn’t imagine either would be bothered to know a few people had watched some blurry, low resolution footage of their intercourse, but the aversion was for your sake, not letting the Museum make a voyeur out of you. It was enough they made you a ghost and a killer.

“You need to become Cipher and Gage for the duration of this Exhibition,” Adriane underscored. “They are ruthless, reckless, and passionate. Their reputation precedes them in Rostov’s inner circle.”

“We understand,” Mills assured, seeming to imply that even if you didn’t quite get it, he did.

Adriane came up to stand next to you and snatched the blue tinged, white rimmed sunglasses off your face, replacing them with a dark, edgy pair more in line with Gage’s confirmed style. “Rostov is a hedonist with wild delusions of grandeur. He will try to flirt with you, and his demands are known to go far,” she informed in a tone that signaled you were to go along with it, as far as necessary.

“I’m cool,” you shrugged, stomach twisting with disgust you were still not entirely able to suppress.

“He will likely flirt with you too, Julian,” Adriane said in the same demanding tone to him.

“Mh,” he grunted vaguely, shucking on a leather biker jacket and ruffling his hair, as he studied his reflection, deciding if it all came together just right for Cipher.

You barely contained a grin, thinking of this scrawny little man, twisted with perversion, trying to entice the architectural marvel that was Julian Mills.

A clink of metal on hard wood rang through the air. “Put these on.”

Julian made his way to Adriane’s desk first, picking up the two rings with discreet tracking devices installed inside. He deftly slipped the smaller one up to the knuckle of his ring finger and let the other one drop. You followed moments behind and picked up the ring off the desk. It gaped around your ring finger, looking too big even for your thumb.

“Doesn’t fit,” you dismissed, setting it down and pushing it towards Adriane.

“Let me,” Julian said lowly, his long, thick fingers wrapping around your wrist. He brought your hand up and twisted the ring off his finger, sliding it carefully over yours and inspecting his work when he was done. He seemed to approve of the way your hand looked adorned with his wedding ring.

He then picked the other ring up and set it in your hand, expecting you to put it on him.

“Do I have to love, honor and obey?” you looked up at him as he offered a waiting hand. His silence filled the air with crackling intensity and you fought with yourself not to look away.

“Just obey,” Adriane answered for him and brought the moment to an end. Without ceremony, you slipped the ring on Julian’s finger and turned away from both of them.

Obey, you scoffed inwardly. Love was easy. Honor, you conceivably could. The only demand they both had of you was the one you struggled with most.

“You leave in 15 minutes,” Adriane informed as dispassionately as ever.

Before you left, curiosity got the better of you. “You got all this information out of them… Which one cracked?”

“They both did, of course,” Adriane gave a serene, composed smile, assured in the Museum’s methods.

“So who got to go free?”

Adriane blinked and for a moment, you had the distinct sense a huge grin would slice across her face. A jeering, hideous one, mocking your naiveté. “You should go get ready,” was all the reply she would give, and all the reply you needed.

*

As you descended in the gold-adorned elevator, on your way to the armory, Julian was quiet, looking at his panel and committing every detail of the plan, of Cipher and Gage’s history and activities, of intelligence on Rostov - all he could - to memory.

“Why was I chosen for this task?” you asked, choosing the opposite approach to Julian’s and clearing your mind before jumping into the task at hand.

He was silent as you descended for several levels and you started to assume he had not even registered your question. “It was an opportunity to improve your field mechanics,” he answered like a politician on the campaign trail.

Silence then followed from you. “Field mechanics,” you repeated, deeply unconvinced.

He turned and looked hard at you, pleading with you to hear what he was not allowed to say. “Adriane is under the impression that we are convincing as two people in love.”

It was not a compliment. The words had the cadence of a slur, and his tone of regret. It was not a good thing at all. He narrowed his eyes, satisfying himself that you took his meaning correctly.

*

The warm sunset, full of purples and oranges, gave way to a fine evening as you drove outside the city. As soon as you exited, you donned your masks as a precaution, wary of how far Rostov’s eyes reached. Yours was a white mask that extended into a crescent moon shape above your forehead and under your chin. Along its edges and around the eyes, the mask was outlined in silver and small stars twinkled along its face. Julian’s mask was white and gold, representing the sun, with five curvy rays creating an inverted pentagram around the smooth white face of the mask, adorned with golden arabesque designs. You looked at each other once the masks were on and the eerie blank canvass they presented, not knowing what face and expression they hid, was chilling.

You joined the scattered trail of other cars, uniformly black and armored, as they traveled noiselessly  down a private road that would have been impossible to find without very specific instructions. The road was maintained to perfection, allowing you to glide smoothly down and weave its serpentines as they appeared without the slightest trouble. If not for the heady mix of trepidation and excitement that kept you wired and buzzing awake, you could have been lulled into a dreamlike sleep and sunk into the impenetrable darkness that surrounded you.

After stretching for what felt like an eternity, the road finally ended at a well-fortified gate, where you were ushered in and led up a lavishly landscaped path. A veritable army of masked guards stood sentinel all along the path, the entrance to a grand building and all the way to a sequestered area separated by gold stanchions and a red rope. Neither the host nor the guests wanted the security’s scrutiny while indulging in their hidden pleasures, a mistake that Julian and you were instructed to exploit. Behind unadorned gunmetal gray masks, the guards’ eyes followed every guest as they approached the rope forbidding entrance to the room beyond to all but a select few. There, you were instructed to shed your clothing and don party attire.

Rostov had purchased the magnificent château a few years back and it currently served as the crown jewel of his ostentatious tendencies and debauched proclivities. He restored it to its former glory, and had it outfitted with every modern comfort to boot, ensuring maximum pleasure and safety. It soon became the perfect place to host his monthly bacchanals, a pleasurable distraction from his usual activities of acquiring and testing biological weapons.

Invitations were handed out either to former collaborators who had displayed a keen sadistic and perverted streak, or to prospective talent, like Cipher and Gage, to ascertain if they possessed the requisite depravity of character to join in on Rostov’s activities unflinchingly. Masks and the privacy of the location guaranteed zero risk of discovery and damage to anyone’s reputation that would result from engaging in this sort of activity in a public venue.

With that in mind, you did not hesitate to disrobe. There was little to remove anyway and the mask served another useful purpose in making you bolder by hiding your face and whatever chagrined expression it might reveal. Julian watched, his eyes moving appreciatively behind his white and gold mask, as your skirt hit the floor and you removed your cropped top in one smooth movement. He waited, and at first you wondered why, but quickly surmised he meant to wait and have you undress him. You were proven right when he stepped into you as your last stitch of clothing came off and stood facing you, to shield you from any prying eyes. He did not put it beyond this rabble to be spying on guests as they changed. You slipped his trench coat off and, suddenly aware of your nakedness and his imposing proximity, made quick work of his shirt and pants, unzipping them roughly and making him flinch, before tugging them down just as harshly. Remembering your role, you chuckled, as though you had done it to tease him and crossed your arms over your bare chest, eager for the dress, as revealing as it was. Julian seemed unfazed by being completely naked in a large anteroom and offered the white halter neck satin dress for you to step into. The dress had a large slit in the side and flowed with every step, and the back was left entirely bare. It glided as smoothly as water up your body as he pulled it up and tied it at the base of your neck. He pressed his mask into your neck, in an approximation of a steadying kiss, and you felt the length of his body pressed into you, with the material of the dress dividing you leaving little to the imagination.

Julian’s attire was similarly revealing. A similar white material folded and tucked in around his hips, like the bottom half of a toga, and draped over his torso, cinched over one shoulder with a gold hoop and cascading down like a cape. He looked like an ancient marble statue, its perfection exaggerated by an impassioned artist in ardent love with his model, was brought to life.

The low thump of the music pulsed through the closed door as you neared it, and Julian brushed the bare skin of your lower back with his clever fingers as he claimed your waist, holding you close to his side as you ascended the steps and entered the party.

The renovated château was a blend of showy rococo and sleek modern styles. The dichotomy made for a luxurious experience, striking a balance between the lavish furnishings of the past and the present-day creature comforts, such as telephones, cameras, air conditioning, and modern mechanics. You followed a servant, distinguished by her plain gunmetal gray mask, into a spacious ballroom where the main activities were taking place. Heavy velvet curtains were drawn over the tall windows that lined the walls, keeping the lighting in the room low and atmospheric with only the dimmed chandeliers and scattered candelabras to set the mood. Dry ice created a mist swirling around the floor and ghosting around your steps. Erotic house music filtered in from the speakers embedded high above, and its thumping bass rattled in your bones as it provided a steady rhythm to rut to.

You passed sections of the ballroom, some divided by pillars and more heavy drapery, others raised on a dais, and each offered different activities. In some, more accessible areas, guests mingled and leaned masked faces close to exchange conversation and toasts, lifting only the bottoms of their masks to take quick sips. On a chaise longue, red and trimmed in gold, lay a man with his toga hiked up around his waist, straddled and vigorously ridden by a woman with nipple piercings connected by a series of chains and pendants, and her dark skin extensively tattooed. A small group of people, in various stages of undress gathered around them and commented on the participants and their activity.

You passed onto a higher level, leaving the couple behind you, and noticed that this area had raised platforms around one central viewing point. Each platform had two red leather sofas, one lower and one higher, permitting more positions and participants, surrounded by several waist-high columns. Each column held an object for members to use, either for pleasure or pain. You took in a few, including phallus-shaped implements, ball gags, riding crops, and pliers. In the viewing area, more of those comfortable chaise longues were laid out for those wishing to observe. Several platforms were currently occupied, but one drew your attention. A masked woman had her long legs wrapped around two men, one inside of her, the other inside of the man between them, and the three were being observed by a masked man in a black robe. He was one of Rostov’s inner circle, designated by his robe as untouchable – unless he asked to be – and irrefusable. His build was wrong; he was too young and too fit to be Rostov, so you moved on.

Sooner rather than later, you remembered as the stench of too many bodies fucking in an enclosed space hit your nostrils, you would have to engage in some activity yourself, lest your restraint draw unwanted attention. Even now, you felt appraising eyes land on you and Julian as you passed. You could not blame them. For all the young and attractive participants present, paid or drugged, who walked around and offered themselves like hors d’oeuvres to be sampled, they smacked of sex workers who were only doing a job. Some had the shaky, twitchy physique of junkies, while others had the used up bodies of veteran sex workers. You and Julian, by contrast, were trained by the Museum to be lethal, and having looks to kill was not a mere phrase where you came from. All those lessons in walking runways, learning classical dances, gymnastics, yoga, and the subtle art of erotica over the two years of your training made you both stand out in the most noteworthy way. Every step showed off your bodies, effortless grace and proud bearing; every brush of your fingers against Julian’s sculpted arm promised something more between you, and you felt eager eyes follow you, hoping to witness the moment you decided to take it farther.

The sounds of leather cracking and moans, quickly drowned out by delighted praise or mockery, led you into a large chamber, lined with ornate columns. A red carpet painted the floor red and several servants walked unobtrusively around with smoking censers, diffusing aphrodisiac scents around the cavernous chamber and perfuming the aroma of sex before it grew stale. In its center sat a long table, with a smorgasbord of men and women on top. From your vantage point, you could see two women with their heads between the other’s legs, one on her back, the other over her on her knees, both writhing and exaggerating their pleasure as their surgically enhanced breasts jiggled in one unmoving spot. Next to them were two handsome men on their sides, performing the same act and moaning deeply around the other’s shaft. In the middle was a piano bench with three women of widely varying ages in an embrace, busily alternating positions and acts. Around the table sat the more important attendees, watching, some stroking themselves or others under the table. The first woman you’d seen dressed in a black robe sat on the lap of a bony old man, his skin hanging like wet paper over his frame. She wriggled on his lap from his touch under her robes and pulled up a sleeve to offer her arm. He produced a syringe and injected her with a cloudy substance before resuming his ministrations. Julian walked by and caught the woman’s attention. She reached out for him and he extended her a hand, letting her pull him in close as she arched her back and spread herself across the table for him to sample. Julian loomed over her until she couldn’t wait anymore and tugged on his arm, splaying his large hand over her comparatively small breast, instructing him to knead at her chest. He did so, leaning closer over her so he could swipe the empty syringe from the floor and tuck it into the folds of his clothing. When he accomplished his task, he disengaged from the woman and you could see her roaming hand had found his way in between the folds of his toga and was trying to get in another one or two strokes as he retreated. As his partner, his wife, for the evening, you felt no need to disguise either your proprietary sense or your jealousy. Grabbing for his elbow, you jerked him towards you and spun him out of the way, positioning yourself between the woman in black and the object of both your desires. Too late it occurred to you that it could be huge mistake to challenge a high-ranking member. Your body spoke for itself, like a cat bristling and hissing, ready to claw out any eye that rested too long on Julian. You looked at her hand, suspended in midair as she considered demanding Julian back. With what relish you would break each and every finger, enjoying the snap of each knuckle. The flash in your eyes seemed to communicate this rather eloquently to the women and she turned back to the decrepit old man she was sitting on and threw her head back, her deranged laughter muffled behind her mask. The scene drew many masked faces to turn towards you and examine you with uncanny glittering eyes from behind impassive disguises. They had the eerie curiosity of carrion birds, waiting for their prey to become carcasses.

Julian drew you close, acting possessively, as if the fighting and territorial behavior was part of your foreplay. Grinding his hips into your backside, you felt him stiffen reflexively. His hands squeezed your hips and you threw your head back against his broad shoulder, letting him play out the scene and get you safely away. His hands roved up your body, following the contours of your waist and ribs. One hand slipped inside your dress and drew a lazy circle around the nipple, drawing it into a stiff peak and rolling it between his rough fingers. You let a shudder roll visibly through you and pressed your thighs theatrically together for the benefit of those savoring your reaction, creating some friction and relief. Julian’s other hand snaked up and coiled around your throat as he bent to whisper in your ear. “Fuck,” you heard a guttural grunt as he panted behind his mask, and his strained voice sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. You arched your back into him before you could think not to and his hips responded with a deep thrust as his stiffening cock sought some relief against the curve of your ass. “We should get out of here, he’s--” words failed him and he had to swallow hard before resuming, “he’s not here.”

As you straightened up, trying to find the closest exit point and make for it, one of the marauding sex workers, emboldened by whatever chemical cocktail she was on, made her way to you and placed one hand over the breast Julian wasn’t cupping, and the other around his neck, inviting herself into your company. Not worried about causing trouble due to her rank, you unceremoniously slapped her hand away from Julian, to delighted comments and encouragements from the throng watching on. She tottered like a toddler and you knew a single push could knock her down, and in her state, she likely wouldn’t even feel it. Still, she did not take the hint and tried to touch Julian again. His hand fell away from you and you caught her wrist, twisting only a little before she crumpled into the ground.

As you turned to leave, you nearly bumped into a woman, stripped to her waist, holding a young man’s wrists over an antique letter writing desk. Another woman, with sagging breasts that suggested breast feeding several children, bound in a leather harness, was whipping the youth across the back while an old man in black robes held his hips and frantically pumped. His legs were wiry and crooked and his gut was visibly round as he worked around the protruding flesh to stick his small member into the young man. You squeezed Julian’s thigh in question, as the gesture could be viewed as announcing your eagerness to join in. He wrapped his hand around yours and stilled you, signaling no. Rostov was scrawnier than this round-bellied man. But you were likely getting close. 

Julian raised his masked head towards the upper levels of the chamber. All along the top floor were small viewing chambers, like opera boxes, and most of them held a member dressed in black, with a select guest, or guests, keeping them company. It was there he spied him.

Rostov, ever the attention seeker, was the only attendee with a mask made entirely of gold. Noticeably shorter than the naked woman accompanying him, he seemed to be watching Julian too. Without flinching or looking away, Julian stood and waited for a few beats. Finally, Rostov seemed to make up his mind and with a quick summoning gesture, a servant materialized next to you and asked you to join the host on the uppermost level.

As you were led along the balustrade to Rostov, you saw peep show-like personal rooms with acts going on in glass cages. These seemed to be one per box and, anticipating that you were brought here to perform rather than talk, you were grateful you wouldn’t be ogled by a multitude of criminals. Just one.

In one box, there was a woman in thigh-high boots and a collar around her neck, with a leash leading to some unseen master, bound to a velvet-cushioned chair. The viewer was issuing commands on what was to be done to her and you tried not to listen as you passed that box and approached another. In the glass box, a throuple was enjoying hot wax and blindfolds. At Rostov’s box, you saw a naked man wipe himself down as he exited and a pair of servants untied the woman and helped her out of a harness. The truncated scene confirmed what Julian had shared about Rostov and his penchant for more dominant men and submissive women. Gage’s impish and dominant behavior was a departure from that, so you made sure to remember not to play a meek, passive role.

The small man, hardly larger than a child, wore a golden mask that was reminiscent of hannya masks from Japanese theater, with large eyes, and a twisted grimace with a gaping mouth, revealing sharp teeth. Rostov examined Julian first, holding his large hand in his two small ones, looking at the golden band on his ring finger. He gave yours a glance to confirm he had it right, and let Julian’s hand go. As if examining a thoroughbred, he ran his hands over Julian’s thickly muscled chest, the marvelously  sculpted ridges and valleys of his arms.

“You hold Gage so close, so very close,” Rostov said in a thick accent and sighed. “I can see why.” He ran a finger over your mask, down its smooth, cool cheek, and lower still, dragging his small hand flat down your chest, down the valley between your breasts. Julian shifted his weight and his chest involuntarily puffed up, making Rostov huff a small laugh.

He walked a few small steps away, into his box, and Julian surmised he should follow. When Rostov lounged on the divan, Julian did the same, and they were at last on the same plane.

“From the moment you two walked in, I had one single thought.” He waited until Julian leaned in closer, tacitly asking for an answer. “I want to fuck your wife,” he stage-whispered, loud enough for both of you to hear. “This is a family, Cipher,” Rostov placed a proprietary hand on the back of his neck, pulling him intimately in. Without the masks, they would have been a hair away from kissing.  Julian heard Rostov’s labored breath behind his mask and was sure the man was hard to bursting, though his proportions were such that robes successfully hid on his body what they could never hope to hide on Julian. The man’s eyes devoured him, taking in his body greedily, lust shining in his beady eyes. “We do everything as a unit,” he coaxed.

Julian did not blink. He was playing the role of a man who did not share the woman he loved, and it came naturally to him. Both he and Cipher were the sort to risk powerful people’s displeasure for what they truly wanted. He observed his host, aware of his own intensely masculine appeal and let the man’s desire win out, breaking his determination and making him willing to negotiate.

“Bah,” the little man waved a frustrated hand, “I can see that your wife is not the sharing sort – for a moment there, I was worried she would break my wife’s arm when she was playing with you. And you can imagine the sort of pain in the ass she would be then,” Rostov laughed and phlegm rattled in his lungs. “I’m saddened to see you have the same sick notions of fidelity.” He sighed again and shook his head. “I’ll satisfy myself with watching you this first time, then.” With the matter decided in his mind, Rostov rolled away from him, and servants came in to escort you and Julian inside the glass box, while the pair that was in it before you came back and fell into an embrace with their host.

*

@thegrislady @lumberjack00fantasies @queeniebee @vedavan @mythrielofsolitude @house-of-cadwyn

[consularmain]

Alliance Commander Ask Game

THE WAY I SCREAMED WHEN I FOUND THIS IN MY DRAFTS. I was tagged a very long time ago by @sullustangin to do this and I completely forgot

1) Who’s your Alliance Commander? What class are they? Alignment? Random other facts you wanna share?

My Jedi Knight is my canonical Commander for my legacy. Her name is Minerva and she’s been through a lot of changes since I started playing her in 2018. She is a Guardian tank with a Shadow secondary class. She’s trapped at Light 5 because of how the old alignment system worked, but I headcanon she’s closer to Light Three. She has one of the most detailed backstories I've ever made for a character and I'm so proud of her :') She's like my child lol

2) What’s a reason or two you like that this character is your Commander? Minerva is not and never wanted to be a leader in any way and I live for that kind of inner conflict. Plus the expansions feel very natural with the Knight as the Commander imo.

3) What’s a reason or two you don’t like about them being Commander? I can’t think of anything other than I wish the writers would let her get some rest. Give me a cutscene where she's just enjoying being with her friends and boyfriend pls

4) Why did this character of all your OCs become Commander? Like I said earlier, it felt natural for Minerva to continue her fight against Vitiate and she was also the first character I got to endgame before Onslaught came out so she's just fixed as the Commander in my mind.

5) Who did they side with? Did they stay loyal or go saboteur? Or maybe you headcanon they defect properly? Minerva decided to side with the Republic, but she kept the Alliance separate and declined the offer to become a member of the Order again. She believes in the Republic but she hasn’t been a Jedi for a long time – even before she was put in the carbonite. And it would be incredibly inappropriate given a new “attachment” in her life. 

6) Are there any NPC’s from the class stories you’d like to see/HC join the Alliance? Ex: Master Timmns, Ardun Kothe, Watcher One, etc. Lord. PRAVEN. In my hc, he was on Ossus during kotfe/kotet and joins the Alliance after Onslaught. He's Minerva's bestie and the writers can't take this away from me.

7) How’s your OC feeling about the current Malgus situation? She's over it, honestly. She is so tired of people coming back from the dead.

8) Are any of your other OC’s part of the Alliance? If yes what do they do for the Alliance? Do they get along with your Commander?

My Chiss trooper, Jame Harper, is Minerva's cousin but they're closer to sisters. Harper had given up hope she was still alive and attacked Zakuul to avenge her. Once she joins the Alliance, Harper is responsible for training new recruits and strategizing for the big battles.

After the incident on Dromund Kaas, Acina sent her Wrath to Odessen to show the Empire’s support. Tegan and Minerva’s old rivalry picked up right where it left off but now that they're on the same side, they actually start to respect each other. They become frenemies but it doesn't last long.

Freya and her Clan join Torian on Odessen and are responsible for keeping the peace between Imperial and Republic personnel. Freya knows Minerva doesn't have much family so she takes on an almost motherly role, fussing over her and making sure she takes care of herself.

My Smuggler, Lyall, is Minerva's eyes and ears in the Outer Rim. He's a friend to the Alliance, not an actual member, but he appreciates what they're trying to do. He and Minerva share a history so it's no big deal for him to help out on the occasional mission.

9) How does your OC feel about Odessen? (Bonus: how do you feel about it) Despite all the craziness around her, Minerva feels at peace on Odessen - something she's not felt in a long time. She loves the wild forests and the endless lakes and rivers. It feels like home. She's never felt that way about anywhere before, not even the Jedi Order. I personally love Odessen. I wish there was a stronghold on Odessen so I could decorate it to Minerva's tastes.

10) How does your Commander feel about being the Commander? To say Minerva has a complicated relationship with it would be an understatement. Some days, it's great. She's doing more for the galaxy than she ever could as a Jedi. But sometimes she realizes just how many lives will be effected by her decisions and she feels trapped. She doesn’t feel anyone should ever have so much power. But she's lucky to have such a strong support system behind her and they make it bearable.

11) Favorite place in the Alliance base? Minerva's favorite is the little pool at the base of the statue in the Force Enclave. She meditates for hours in the sunlight coming in through the crack in the ceiling. As for mine, it has to be the war room. I love seeing my companions just vibing with each other.

12) Favorite mission in KotFE? Definitely visiting the old world on Zakuul with Senya. I wish we got to see more of it or at least get a Zakuulan stronghold but I doubt the story will ever bring us back to Zakuul :(

13) Favorite mission in KotET? The palace mission, just because it's where we get Arcann lmao

14) Least favorite mission in either? Why? The walker missions are brutal. Except for the one on Iokath. That one is so much fun lol

15) Is your Commander successful because they’re skilled? Or are they perhaps just really lucky? Minerva has worked hard to hone her body and mind into a weapon, but she also believes the Force is on her side as long as she listens to it. To her, luck doesn't exist.

16) From our OC’s point of view, SoR -> KotET wasn’t a fun experience, did they develop any fears as a result? A lot of her fears were realized. She was abandoned by the people she trusted and the Jedi Order, the only constant in her life, was practically wiped out. Valkorion was once again in her head and the fear of him taking over at any given moment made her distance herself from the people around her in order to protect them. It was the loneliest period of her life. 

She also has a fear of public speaking so she hates it when she has to give speeches to encourage people.

17) AU time! If your Commander wasn’t Commander, which of your other OCs would have likely taken their place? Harper has a habit of falling into positions of leadership despite her loner attitude. I can see her somehow accidentally becoming Commander in Minerva's place because no one else stepped up.

18) Who’s someone your Commander hopes they never have to deal with again?

19) Does your Commander hold on to/still use any titles they earned before KotET? Minerva's begun to let go of her old life but she doesn't mind being called "Master" or "Battlemaster" by other Jedi. She earned those titles so it's a sign of respect for her.

20) Share something, anything at all, you want about your Commander that you’ve not really gotten the chance to share before but really want to. Minerva loves trashy entertainment. Holovids, shows, books - it doesn't matter, she loves it all. It's antithesis to everything she was used to growing up that she found it so compelling. She's also a sucker for those romance books you see in line at the grocery store.

[fredmundo]

3, 17, 28!

Twin bestie nemesis🤩🤩🤩

I'm just assuming these are from the most recent of ask games that i rb'd.

3. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?: 1. Pacific Rim, Pride and Prejudice (2005), annnndddd LOTR trilogy (i have seen them literally hundreds of times bc this trilogy was my trauma response in elementary and middle school)

17. name 3 things that make you happy: Husband (he's nice and cute), Mr. Darcy (my cat, she is the light of my life), Winter (i love snow and cold weather and my absolute happiest times are always with a candle burning, christmas decor is up, snow is falling, my husband and I turn on either a fireplace vid or Monteray Bay Aquarium fish lo-fi vids and play 6 hours of board games)

28. do you collect anything?: YESS!!! I actually have a few different collections. I collect copies of Pride and Prejudice (i usually get a new one every year or so sometimes a few a year but nothing fucking crazy). I collect stickers (I have them on three water bottles, my laptop cases, and in little piles all over my apartment). There are others lmao but I will stop with those two

fun questions ask game for anyone to ask me

[chatte-noire]

Light bringer x scheming

an appreciation and condemnation of the schemes, moves and manouvers in light bringer. who served them the coldest, and who was bamboozled? This is only about stunts, not about morals or likability.

Lysander:

Lysander's scheming took a whole new level and I was really surprised at the little coup he staged with atalantia in the collosseum. In the first half of the book he really had the monopoly on well placed and daring maneuvering.

I think his best stunt was the compromise on the dockyard of venus, managing to keep apollonius, and win the carthii and julias block while simultaneously showing up atalantia, reinforcing the alliance with the rim and starting the attack on mars.

I wouldn't have expected him to be able to hold the alliance with applelonius for even a few weeks, now its been a whole book, I'm exited to see if Darrow can use the minotaur against lysander in red god.

yes in the attack on phobos he wasted ships and men and money and copied darrows helldiver strategy.. but he also surprised virginia with his strategies and finally took enough of phobos to have the upper hand in negotiations, something I wouldn't have expected him to be able to do. esp. after atlas called phobos impregnable.

Darrow:

in the first half darrow honestly took the scheming L. when I read the excerpt 2 weeks before buying the book I was CONVINCED that they didnt just land in apollonius obviouss trap, like pls let this be a trick. Darrow is such an experienced schemer, he must have expected a trap? but no he was like, tattoos look right, must be my bestie in this easily accessible prison. Its especially naive because he broke apollonius out of deep grave and so knows that apollonius knows how he would plan a prison break. and that backup plan was also flimsy, I expected better from him haha

on Europa Darrow had a nice scheming comeback, like recreating the Dead Horse strategy and beating Fa? Iconicc. bringing both obsidians (with a vote) and rim (with diomedes' oath) closer to democratic values? inspiring. Brokering collaboration between Rim, Daughters and Obsidians? A strong feat. that speech with the daughters was nice too.

but.. (and I'm not saying it didn't cost him a lot and will probably keep costing him dearly in red god) lysander still kept his scheming level established in the first half of the book. so much trickery, let's see how long he can keep it up before he drowns in it. He was backed into a corner by atlas but managed to trick both Atlas and Cassius, defeat the rim and gain a horrible weapon with one move.

It cost him the Rim Alliance and his humanity, but we already know his morals and ideology are a feeble construct held up by delusion and wanking off on silenius. and the rim armadas were destroyed by atlas so to lysander it probably only seems like a temporary loss until they come crawling back to society when hunger defeats them.

Sevro's stunts were refreshingly constant and awesome. Like.. escaping apollonius and fighting him in his own house?? rescuing his bumbling saviours? and the most bestest move: convincing the Daughters of Ares to work together with them by holding such an iconic speech like.. wish we would have gotten to see that in first person. just like Volgas ascension as obsidian queen. They both had such iconic and smart moments off screen. pierce doesnt want them to steel the stunt limelight me feels.

Aurae was able to follow her goals throughout the book, while managing the boys, the daughters of ares and diomedes. she had an emotional and moral bond to each one of them, but managed to stay true to her own values even as the parties were conflicting.

honorary mentions:

Lyria smuggling herself unto the archie, she knows how to take advantage of her size, even more impressive because darrow had the same experience with rhonna and still didn't realise (or didnt care?)

Apollonius snatching up Darrow and Cassius

Virginia having an informant in the Society (her clone bro?) and her making a pact with and freeing the obsidians. I would have loved to see more of her, she always delivers top tier schemes (except for when she is outschemed by society rats).

they were outschemed, honorary mentions:

Volga following Fa: even if he wasn't Atlas puppet,,, he's still such an obvious upholder of Gold values and tyranny, but volga didnt want to see any of it. this makes her following him so horrible, I hope it doesn't all get blamed on Atlas, I mean Volga was fine with everything except for atlas' involvment. I don't know if she was naive or blind or ignorant or greedy but that was some top tier delusion.

Lysander bedazzling himself: this is the most hilarious and complete trickery. That guy just believes every fucking excuse he can give himself, he just gobbles them up. He might have freed himself from his AA Puppetduo, but the real puppeteer in his life is his delusional ideology and hybris.

Atalantia: she had such a good and safe plan, she just didn't realize that lysander doesn't care for his friends enough. now she is some ships and influence poorer, lost her watchdog, her nephew/lover (ew) and the grip on Lune's heir

Diomedes: Lysander had him wrapped around his lying finger and he did nott see that dishonorrr coming. Cassius didn't see it either, but I think he would have tried to save lysander anyway. The himbo bamboozlement lost them the garter and Cassius was murdered, at least he could kill Fear on the way.

[rhettabbotts]

dancing in a snow globe - r. abbott x fem!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to find love in wyoming, but that all changes one night when you meet rhett at a mutual friend’s party.

a/n: this is for my sweet emmie’s @jostystyles 2.6k celebration!!! i love you bestie and i hope you enjoy this, congrats again on your followers. you deserve all of them and so much more <;3

warnings: just pure fluff, language and drinking, some smooching

w/c: 2.2k

this is based on the song you are in love by taylor swift.

“I want you to meet someone.”

You were sitting at brunch with your best friend, a weekend tradition you started in college and continued after you graduated. You were sipping on your mimosa when she dropped the ball. Your eyebrows shot up at the statement, humming around the rim of your glass.

“Please, I don’t think I can take another blind date. The last one was too painful, all he talked about was his ex.” You poked at the eggs left over on your plate. It was hard trying to date someone when you were still fairly new to town. You moved to Wyoming after graduation, needing a change of scenery. While your family was hesitant about you moving so far away, you couldn’t pass up the job offer you received.

“I think you’ll really like him,” she leaned in from across the table, lowering her voice as she spoke again, “he’s a cowboy.” She pulled away, smiling when she saw your eyes light up. “He’s friends with John, they’ve been buddies since high school. He just got back to town not too long ago.. I heard he went through a pretty rough breakup last year.” She went on and on about this mystery guy, telling you things she heard from her boyfriend, John. “He’s going to be at the party tonight.”

“Does this guy have a name?” You couldn’t lie, you were intrigued. He used to ride bulls before he got injured pretty badly a couple of years ago, left town with his then girlfriend, came back after his dad passed away and his ex left him.

“His name’s Rhett. Rhett Abbott. You’ve heard of the Abbott ranch, right?” You nodded as you chewed on your muffin, washing it down with another sip of your drink.

“Yeah, I know which one you’re talking about. So he’ll be there?” You asked her, trying to not get your hopes up. You’ve had one too many failed dates recently, you think one more might put you off dating for good.

“Wear that black dress you bought a few months ago, it’s sexy,” she giggled as she placed her card down on the table. You rolled your eyes as you downed the champagne and orange juice.

You stood in front of your mirror a few hours later, smoothing your hands down the front of your dress. It was a satin material, hugging your figure in all the right places. The dress looked good on you, you just never had the opportunity to wear it. You touched up your lipstick and sent a text to your friend to let her know you were on your way. The party wasn’t very formal, and you were afraid you were a tad overdressed. Your stomach was in knots as you walked through the door, anxious to meet the infamous Rhett.

You had barely made it through the door when you tripped over the lifted lip of the rug that was on the floor, causing you to fall right into the arms of a stranger. Leave it to you to make a grand entrance.

“You alright there, ma’am?” You looked up to see the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Tendrils of hair fell down onto his forehead, his deep blue eyes staring back into yours. And that voice. Its timbre ran a shiver down your spine. It sounded so warm, a gruffness to it that made your palms sweat. You swore he could probably hear your heart racing.

“Oh good! I see you two have already met,” your friend declared, hand in hand with John. “Rhett, this is the friend I was telling you about!” Your face heated up immediately when you realized you were in the arms of Rhett Abbott. Your hands were still gripping onto his firm biceps. You prayed at that moment to every god and deity that the earth would open up and swallow you whole. You friend didn’t stick around long, moving to greet more guests that came through.

“I am so sorry,” you finally spoke up, your voice nearly leaving you. You found your footing and stepped away from him, his hands dropping from the hold they had on your waist. You took in the sight of him. He wore a pair of dark wash jeans and a simple black button up, the sleeves rolled to the elbows. My god, you thought to yourself, he looked like sin personified.

“It’s alright. It’s not every day I have a pretty woman throwing herself at me,” he smirked.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t.. I just tripped- the carpet,” you rambled on before you realized he was laughing slightly. A warm smile was spreading across his face.

“I’m just kidding, sweetheart. I’m glad I was there to catch you,” he shifted on his feet, sliding a hand through his hair. “I’m Rhett, well, I guess you already know that.” It was your turn to smile up at him. You introduced yourself and extended your hand for him to shake.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rhett,” you said, trying to ignore the feeling that washed over your body as you felt his callused hand take yours.

“Likewise. You wanna grab-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence before your friend was grabbing you by the arm and pulling you away. You threw him an apologetic look over your shoulder, mouthing “later” to him.

You didn’t see much of Rhett throughout the night, you were both too busy mingling with different people. He was catching up with old friends and you were making new ones. You were listening intently to Lisa talk about her new plants that she just repotted when you looked to your left and saw him. Rhett was taking a swig of his beer when his eyes met yours, a look that says everything and nothing all at once. It lasted all of two seconds before you’re being pulled back into the conversation when someone uttered your name. You saw Rhett make a move towards the door, he looked back towards you, a silent invitation. You waited a few minutes before excusing yourself, following after Rhett.

He was propped against the wall, taking a drag off a cigarette. His face lit up when he saw you, standing up straighter and pushing away from the wall.

“Hi. You gonna fall into my arms, again?” There that smirk was once more. You couldn’t deny that it made your insides twist and turn in the most delicious way. God, he was so handsome.

“Only if you’ll catch me again,” you joked. You made small talk as he finished his cigarette, telling him about why you moved to Wyoming and how you ended up in Wabang of all places. He talked about how he met John and how your friend never stopped talking about you when she was around.

“You wanna go grab some coffee?” Rhett asked, kicking at a rock that was at his feet. His hands were shoved into his pockets. “The diner down the road has the best coffee and ap-“

“Apple pie,” you finished his sentence, grinning at him. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You hesitated in your answer, not wanting to sound too eager. “I’d love to get a cup of coffee.” He walked you to his truck, opening the door for you. You talked the entire drive to the diner. You both got coffee and shared a piece of the apple pie. You stayed until Mrs. Mabel, the diner owner, was closing up shop for the night.

You stood outside the diner, not wanting the night to end. When there was a lull in the conversation, you fell into comfortable silence, walking down the street back to his truck.

“Hey, look up,” he said quietly, stopping on the sidewalk. You did as he said and the sight took your breath away. The sky was clear, the stars on full display. They sparkled like little diamonds, flickering like fireflies. You stood close to Rhett, shoulders brushing and hips knocking into each other. You looked to him, his face still turned upwards and you felt a wave of emotion wash over you. The soft glow from the street light enveloped him, and you took your time examining his side profile. You noticed a small scar at the edge of his jaw, barely noticeable under his stubble. Your fingers itched to trace it.

You never believed in love at first sight. Hell, you were close to giving up on love in general, but there was something simmering inside you as you looked at Rhett staring up at the stars. A feeling that wrapped its way around your heart and squeezed tightly. He looked down at you eventually, smiling that smile you were growing extremely fond of.

“Let’s get you home,” he said. You prolonged your goodbyes, neither of you wanting the night to end. You exchanged numbers and soft smiles before you got out of the truck. He watched until you got the door unlocked and waved at him to let him know you were okay. As he drove off, you shut the door, pressing your back against it and sliding down slightly. You felt giddy, a smile taking up permanent residence on your face. Rhett texted you when he made it home. Not too long after, another message came through.

“Would you like to go on a date next weekend?”

“Shit, shit, shit,” you cursed as you pulled the burnt toast from the toaster, nearly burning your fingertips in the process. “Damn it.”

“Well, that’s a sight a man could get used to,” Rhett said from behind you, causing you to jump slightly. He was propped against the entryway to the kitchen, pajama pants slung low on his waist. His eyes raked over your body, letting out a low whistle that caused you to turn away shyly. You were wearing just his flannel and your panties, foregoing pants since you knew you’d end up back in bed if Rhett had anything to say about it.

You had been dating for a few months now, spending nearly all of your free time together. You couldn’t get enough of each other, never running out of things to talk about. He listened to you complain about your office drama, getting so invested in who’s having an affair with who. You knew you were in the honeymoon phase but you loved every second of it. You had never felt this way about someone before. You were able to be yourself totally and completely. You didn’t have to hide your darkest parts from Rhett, nor did he have to hide his from you. You understood each other in a way no one else could.

He pushed off from the doorframe and made his way to you, wrapping you up in his arms and holding you close. He placed a kiss on your forehead and swayed you slowly.

“Trying to burn my kitchen down?” He asked, but there was not a hint of malice behind his words. He smiled softly at you before kissing you lightly, butterflies erupting in your stomach at the domesticity of it all.

“I was going to bring you breakfast in bed,” you said, pouting up at him. Your fingers wove through his soft curls at the nape of his neck, kissing him again.

“That’s sweet, baby. How about I whip us up something while you go get ready for today?” You nodded, pressing a kiss to the scar on his shoulder before walking away. Rhett couldn’t resist himself and he placed a small slap to your ass as you moved past him, relishing in the yelp you let out.

You spent all day in the city, nearly dead on your feet when you made it back to his place that evening. After a quick dinner and a (not so quick) shower, you laid in bed cuddled into Rhett’s side. Your head rested on his chest, fingers tracing shapeless figures where you lay. Rhett was dozing off, replies to your stories becoming few and far between. You were nearly asleep yourself when he whispered your name. You looked up at him and there was a look in his eyes you couldn’t recognize.

“You’re my best friend, you know that?”

Tears welled up in your eyes and you leaned in to kiss him firmly on his lips. You had not uttered those three words yet, but you felt them. You felt so deeply for Rhett, it frightened you some days. You loved him, loved everything about him. You poured all of your emotions into the kiss, hoping that somehow he would know you felt the same.

“I love you, Rhett, so much,” you said before even thinking about it, kissing him harder and moving to straddle his waist.

You were in love with Rhett Abbott. A man who was not always perfect, who was stubborn and hot headed at times. A man who picked you wildflowers ‘just because’ and who made you french toast on Sunday mornings. A man who made you feel so safe and accepted, reminding you of your worth every day. A man who has been catching you when you fall from day one. You loved him in this moment and all of the other moments in between and you hoped you got to love him for the rest of your life.

[hollandsangel]

nye | tom holland

happy new year everyone!! sending sosososo much love and light to every single one of you, i hope this year brings you all the good things 2021 forgot to

in honour of welcoming a new year, i wrote a lil fic (fiercely and in bed im sleepy but didn’t wanna forget my idea, even if its super cheesy and predictable) i hope you enjoy !

summary: tom helps you with your little dilemma

warnings: super short, bestie tom, mentions of alcohol

dear god i’ll never get over him in this shirt

there were five minutes left. five minutes left before midnight and you were standing in the middle of the living room stirring your drink aimlessly, looking around to see if anyone else was just as desperate for a new year’s kiss as you were. you had very little luck.

two miners left. two minutes left and the panic was starting to settle in. more people were starting to crowd into the room with crystal glasses filled with champagne. with a sigh you weaved your way around the dancing bodies (who were grinning, you were a little jealous) and to the kitchen, deciding maybe champagne wasn’t such a bad idea.

behind the kitchen counter stood a devilishly handsome tom. he decided on leather pants for the occasion, having told you “i don’t wear them enough, tonight is the perfect excuse” when you complimented them upon entering the party. clinging tightly to his arms and chest was a soft, red collared shirt. his curls were a bit unruly, but it made him look a little more relaxed and grown up (and maybe it tempted you to jump him, maybe.)

the moment his eyes land on you he’s flashing you a toothy smile, eyes glistening as he raises a nearly empty glass in your direction. you return his smile, because how could you not, and shuffle across the kitchen towards him.

“champagne m’lady?” he offers, setting his glass down and pulling a vet expensive looking one down. you merely nod, already feeling a little bit better with his smiling face so close. albeit you haven’t 100% recovered, and tom notices.

he hands you the glass and inspects the emotion draped over your features. “everything alright? you don’t think my party’s boring do you?” he adds with a playful lot in his voice.

you smile again and shake your head. “no, no your party is great tom, i just…” you shake your head, laying a little too much attention to your finger tracing the rim of the glass he's handed you. “it’s stupid.” you sigh.

“nonsense, tell me what’s going on up there.” he gently taps your temple, downing the last swig of his beer and peering at you over the rim of his glasses.

you sip at your sparkling drink and sigh again. “i just…i really thought i was gonna get a new year’s kiss this year.” you say it sheepishly, as if it’s the most embarrassing confession he’s ever heard.

tom sets his glass down, eyes on you for a moment before they dart to his watch and then back up. “c’mon.” he nearly grunts, reaching for your wrist at pulling you up from the leaning position you had taken against the counter top.

“what’re you-“ tom is dragging you through the living room, and you’re cut off when he stops abruptly and you walk right into his chest.

fifteen seconds left. he’s staring at you, a little giddy but you tell yourself it’s the alcohol.

ten seconds. people start counting down, chanting numbers with the mad grins spread across their lips, taking up all the space in their features.

tom is no exception.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you ask as he steps closer to you.

“because the new year starts in four seconds, nd i don’t have a new year’s kiss either.”

and then there’s no time left, and his hands are on the sides of your face to lift your lips to his and he’s kissing you.

at first you’re a little bit startled, because this is not how you thought you’re conversation with tom about having no one to kiss would end, but then you relax and the feel of his hands drowns out the sound of everyone’s cheers.

he’s flushed and smiling when he pulls away. “happy new year y/n” he beams.

you’re still reeling from that kiss. it was desperate and needy and rushed and longing, maybe even a little warm,. but you’ll have to finish evaluating it a little later.

“happy new year tom.” you beam right back.

tags! @randomlimelightxxx @baby-bearie @averysbestyears @would-you-tell-me-who-you-are @g7aesthetic @babyzachyy @wdwjay02 @chilling-seavey @bessonbabie @my-fangirling-outlet @hiya-its-amber @katie-avery @theduckgoesquack @coffearabica @jonahlovescoffee @babybuckleys @hllandvibbes

[laviethepooh]

falling for the devil | kaeya x reader [pt. 1 halloween event '21]

summary. the ragnivindr halloween party goes a little unexpected when you meet a man dressed as the devil

ft. kaeya and lisa + jean besties

cw. modern!au, flirty kaeya

wc. 1.2k

notes. yeah lisa and jean's costumes are their normal clothes i'm very original. also kaeya calling you petnames jsdkjfskjd (i asked my friend to beta read this and she really thought lisa was lisa from blackpink help-)

parties at the ragnvindr house didn’t come by often. but when you received the news of a halloween party being hosted there, your friend lisa begged that you and jean come along, because it would be a good chance to “liven it up a bit.” you knew that lisa would need someone to care for her after partying too hard so you decided you’d go. jean reluctantly agreed to go afterwards, and lisa dragged the two of you to the nearest costume shop. lisa had already decided that she wanted to dress as a witch and jean had settled on a knight costume. “go for something a bit sexier, jean,” lisa had said when jean came out of the fitting room and the young blonde shook her head saying it would not be appropriate. lisa suggested that you dress as an angel for halloween and she said that she had all the clothes for the costume. you shrugged and agreed.

now that the 31st of october rolled around, the three of you met at lisa’s house to travel together. when lisa opened the front door to let you in, you could see that lisa and jean were already in their costumes. lisa had created her own costume from purple material and her dress was paired with high stockings and gloves. to top it all off, she had a violet large-rimmed hat. jean’s costume was not an obvious one, but the prop sword at her side and the gold accents made it easier to tell that she was dressed as a knight. lisa grabbed your hand and dragged you into her bedroom. the two of your friends helped you get into your costume and urged you not to look in the mirror until they were finished.

“all done, now you can look!”

you carefully opened your eyes and looked up and down at the costume. you couldn’t deny how well put together the costume was. the fully white outfit was elegant yet comfortable, and it showed a bit of skin (undoubtedly lisa’s idea), and you had white-feathered wings on your back. you adorned gold slippers and a gold halo headband which brought the costume full-circle. you had to admit, you looked incredible.

“i must say, y/n, you look amazing! you exude the innocence of an angel; what a darling,” lisa squealed and you could see jean nodding in agreement behind her, “but we must get going, we wouldn’t want to be late to the party, would we?”

it was turning to dusk when the three of you finally reached the mansion. it was your first time going to a ragnvindr party much less even going to the ragnvindr house. you heard that these parties went from dusk to dawn and it was very intense. they said that diluc ragnvindr was the host, but he was never to be seen at the actual party. the real star of the show was his step-brother, kaeya alberich. another person who you had never met, but you heard the rumors that he was a massive flirt.

“alright, are we ready to have some fun?” lisa asked when the three of you reached the door.

“yeah, let’s get this party started!”

lisa laughed, “that’s the spirit, y/n, now let’s go!”

the moment lisa opened the door, you heard music blasting and people chatting. the lights were bright and people were dancing everywhere. you could see food tables set up and halloween props and balloons everywhere. there were so many people, the whole grade must have been in here. but as you looked around, you could barely tell who anyone was in their costumes.

“i’m off to the dance floor, come with me, jean.” lisa grabbed jean’s hands and dragged her into the crowd with a mischievous look in her emerald eyes.

ah, now you were alone in a party where you barely knew anyone. you made your way from the doorway to a corner where there was a table for drinks. at least you wouldn’t be alone. the music was too loud, the atmosphere was suffocating, and you didn’t even have anyone to talk to. you looked for your friends, but they were lost in the crowd. perhaps you should have joined them on the dance floor as well.

“hey, angel, would you care for a dance?”

you whipped your head around at the sultry voice, and next to you stood a tall man, definitely over 6 feet tall, dressed in an all-red suit. one quick glance told you that he was dressed as a devil with his horns and the tail peeking out from behind him. you chose to avert your gaze when you saw that his suit was slightly open giving you a peek at his tanned chest. the mysterious young man had steel blue hair that was tied into a long ponytail and had bright cerulean eyes. well, eye, since his right eye was covered by a red eyepatch.

you blinked up at him. was he asking you? you looked around to see if there was anyone else, but the other people around you weren’t even looking at the two of you.

“i’m asking you, angel,” he chuckled and you felt your cheeks flush at the nickname. it probably was just because you were dressed as an angel though.

“i-i suppose so.”

you mentally facepalmed. you get asked if you want to dance by a hot guy and you respond with the dumbest reply. you’ve already messed up and you haven’t even gotten to the dancing part yet.

he held out his gloved hand and you took it, surprised by how soft his grip was when he clutched your hand. he practically swooped you off of your feet as he led you to the dance floor. the song was slow and quite clearly meant for couples dancing. (which was strange, wasn’t this a halloween party?) you felt panic rise up in you as the two of you started to sway to the music in sync.

you could feel the eyes on you. the numerous people watching you dance with this man. this man whose name you didn’t even know. he led you through the dance and you kind of just followed along clumsily. you couldn’t bring yourself to look up knowing that your face must have been bright red. you could hear him chuckle from above you.

“why so shy, angel?”

his teasing only made you flush further. god, you must have looked so ridiculous right now. slow dancing while looking at your feet the whole time. despite this, you were still enjoying yourself somehow. you couldn’t wait to tell lisa and jean that you scored a dance with someone like him. how you even did it, you had no idea. you were just some random person in a costume but he had chosen to dance with you. it was almost as if he had read your mind when he next spoke:

“there’s nothing to be so self-conscious about. you’re the prettiest one at the party, you know that?”

if you thought you had reached peak embarrassment before, this was the one that had really done it. you unknowingly leaned your head against his chest to hide your face. you couldn’t even say a single word to him knowing you’d just fall apart. you could hear his smile as he said the next words.

“my my, you’ve really fallen for the devil, haven’t you, angel?”

[stolen-pen-name23]

“It’s not that bad.” “You’re [bleeding out/burning up]!” With hurt Obi-wan and Padme? (please, i want them to be besties so bad)

Coalmine!!! Thank you for the prompt, I also want Obi-Wan and Padmé to be besties.

From these prompts//prompts now closed

Here ya go!

--

A Jedi and a Senator walk into a bar.

No, this is not the setup of a bad joke, but rather, the setup for an assassination attempt.

“It’s good to see you, Obi-Wan,” Padmé says over the din of bustling patrons and clinking glasses.

The two of them like to catch up from time to time. In their meet-ups, Padmé will discuss her frustrations with issues in the senate and Obi-Wan will offer his sympathies. Obi-Wan will tell stories from the war front and Padmé will kindly pretend she doesn’t see the way he dances around the darker details.

This is why they like to catch up over drinks.

“It’s good to see you too, Padmé.”

Here, all titles and formalities are dropped. He is not Master Kenobi and she is not Senator Amidala. They like it better that way.

Today’s visit is a more somber affair than usual. Obi-Wan and the 212th have been put on a mandatory week of leave after a devastating battle in the outer rim. The pain of it is evident in the slope of his shoulders and the furrow of his brow.

“There is to be a vote soon,” Padmé says.

“Concerning?”

“Concerning relief efforts.”

“Oh?”

“Some of us want to set up an additional fund for civilians. A nest egg for those unfairly affected by the war.”

“And I assume there are those who don’t wish for that?” he asks wryly.

“You assume correctly.”

He hums. “I’m glad you are in support of it. It’s necessary after… after everything.”

Padmé gives him a scrutinizing gaze. “The mission you were on… it was difficult wasn’t it?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“Are you okay?”

Obi-Wan takes a sip of his drink. The amber-colored liquid makes his cheeks turn rosy, but his eyes remain clear. “The war takes its toll on all of us,” he says softly.

“I hope you’ve been taking care of yourself. So many Jedi…”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says before she can finish the thought. “Many Jedi have been lost to the war. So have many clones and civilians.”

“I mourn for them,” Padmé says. “But I’m glad you are not one of them.”

Obi-Wan takes a sip of his drink and Padmé isn’t sure if it’s because he’s mourning for them too or if it’s because he wishes he was one of them. She raises her own glass to her lips, but before she can take a drink, Obi-Wan is tackling her to the ground.

She’s looking up at him in wild bewilderment and he is looking down at her with eyes focused for battle.

“Hide,” he commands before clambering to his feet. A steady hum accompanies an electric blue beam of light.

Screams and the sound of breaking glass erupts in the establishment. Padmé scrambles behind the bar and peers over its surface at the scene before her.

Obi-Wan is deflecting blaster bolts from a bounty hunter dressed all in black, but people still run around in every direction. The added variables give him enough pause for the bounty hunter to get in a lucky shot. The blaster bolt hits its intended target square in the gut and Obi-Wan takes a few staggering steps backward.

“Obi-Wan!” Padmé yells.

If he hears her, he does not acknowledge it.

The bounty hunter aims his weapon higher, closer to Obi-Wan’s heart, but this time the Jedi does not falter. He raises his own weapon and lets the bolt ricochet off of his blade, burning a hole in the wall behind the bounty hunter. With a twitch of his fingers, Obi-Wan raises a metal napkin holder and hurls it at the bounty hunter’s head. The hunter staggers backward, giving Obi-Wan an opening. He rushes forward and just as the hunter has regained his bearings and re-aimed his weapon, Obi-Wan pierces the man’s heart.

It is over as quickly as it began.

Obi-Wan pulls his lightsaber from the man’s chest and disengages it. The hunter falls to the ground in a lifeless heap and Obi-Wan clutches his stomach, blood already pouring over his fingers.

“Oh,” he says as if he has just realized he is wounded.

“Obi-Wan!” Padmé exclaims, rushing from her place behind the bar. He locks eyes with her for a moment before stumbling forward. He slumps over a high-top table that is unsteady and unprepared to take the weight of a full-grown man. The table crashes forward, taking a stunned Obi-Wan down with it.

A huff of air escapes his lips from his new position on the ground and he rolls onto his back.

“Obi-Wan,” Padmé whispers, kneeling beside him and cradling his head in her lap. She can feel his body shudder. “It’ll be all right, Obi-Wan.”

“‘Course it’ll be all right,” he says. “I killed the assassin. You’re safe now.”

“No,” Padmé says, and she suddenly understands why Anakin is always so frustrated with him. “I meant you will be all right. I’m calling for help.”

“Oh,” he says again.

Padmé flips open her comm. “Anakin?”

“Padmé? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Anakin asks, immediately aware from the tone in her voice that something is amiss.

“I’m fine, Ani. It’s Obi-Wan. He was shot.”

“It’s not that bad,” Obi-Wan murmurs.

“You’re bleeding out!” Padmé fires back.

“Slowly. I’m slowly bleeding out.”

“It still sounds like you’re bleeding out,” Anakin says nervously through the comm.

Padmé ignores Obi-Wan and speaks into her comm. “Just get here Anakin.”

“I’ll be there soon with a speeder. Just sit tight,” he reassures her. The comm cuts out and Padmé refocuses her attention on Obi-Wan. She rips off a piece of his robe and presses down on the wound.

He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw in a tight grimace.

“I’m sorry,” Padmé says. She extends her free hand to him. “You can hold my hand if you want.”

He accepts it gratefully and Padmé does not complain about the tightness of his grip or the stickiness of the blood staining his fingers.

She holds his hand until Anakin arrives.

[soclonely]

BESTIE HOW DO YOU END UP WITH SO MUCH RAVIOLI????

I BET GRIM WOULD DO IT TOO🗡️

The Clones as Things Grim Has Probably Done or Went Through in the SW Universe

Rex- sleep deprived due to fear of Skywalker shenanigans.

Echo- Rolled her eyes at Obi Wan for judging her lack of patience, as he proceeds to turn around and have a meltdown for his tea not heating up fast enough.

Fives- Runs away from Coruscant Guard

Jesse- bad Space Haircut that results in her being tagged in the Garden Bounty Hunter Arc instead of Obi Wan

Kix- somehow adopted by Hondo Ohnaka for 3 weeks

Tup- went apeshit when she sees Krell before Umbara

Dogma- Sharpie Face Tattoo with Ahsoka on Anakin when he falls asleep

Hardcase- makes 300 raviolis instead of 20 when trying to impress Ahsoka with a fancy dinner

Coric- drops Earth curse words like my granny when my grandpa has holes in his socks (she hates it)

Bly- ILLEGAL JEDI MARRIAGE ILLEGAL MARRIAGE

99- becomes friends and big sister to all the younglings in the temple

Cody- drops lightsaber

Waxer and Boil- ope. Probably has adopted 8 children by mid rebels timeline

Wolffe- forced to go on a shopping trip with R2 and C3PO that results in a 4 day trip to the outer rim

Boost and sinker- panics the first time she has to use the star wars version of the sink, shower, or potty and gets water all over the refresher

Hunter- always trying to hide the new weapons she gets from her Jedi master

Wrecker- blew up an entire separatist ship during a recon mission because she hit a switch, thinking it was the lights

Tech- look you just want your iphone to work so you can take pictures to show everyone back home

Crosshair- becomes swamp witch

[binunus]

needy | mj (m)

a/n Y’ALL MYUNGJUN GIVES OFF GOOFY BESTIE ENERGY BUT HE’S EQUALLY A HOT MOTHERFUCKER SO I HOPE YOU GET SOME MMM GRR BARK BARK FEELINGS FROM THIS LIKE I DID

{request: Hii! I hope you are well! :) I was wondering if you could do a Scenario about the reader and Mj from astro smut like the reader just wants attention but Mj is just too* busy* but when he finally gives in, he's kinda pissed off because you're being a brat and he's kinda harsh when you know...but at the end he is super sweet and makes sure the reader is okay. Idk if it makes sense but yea. Thank you 💕💕}

→ pairing: bf!myungjun x fem!reader

→ genre: smut, fluff at the end

→ warnings: this is basically a pwp like i just got right into it mm, choking, spanking, reader calls myungjun sir !!!, slight degradation, unprotected sex (cover your stump before you hump kiddies), rimming??? anal fingering??, semi-public?? sex?? practice room sex, mirror sex

→ word count: 1.7k

______________________________________________

Your POV

You stared at your boyfriend with a pout, sitting at one end of the practice room with your arms crossed and legs hot. You’ve been wet for the better part of an hour now, wanting nothing more than for your boyfriend to finish his extra dance practice so that he could fuck you senseless in the comfort of your home. 

To be fair, you sorta knew what you were getting into. Watching Myungjun dance always somehow turned you on, he just looked so sexy when he was focusing, especially when he brushed his sweat-filled hair back to get a clearer look of his movement in the mirror.

But you promised him you would behave. He needed to get this new routine down and he didn’t want any distractions from you while he was in the zone. 

“Junie, how much longer?” You whined as he took a little breather, resting his hands on his knees. He panted, giving you a smile as he stood to stretch, “Almost done bub, promise. You only have to hold out for a little bit longer.”

He knew that you were aroused, you always were when you watched him practice. Believe him, he would much rather be in bed with you right now, but that was for after he finished this practice.

You leaned back against the chair with a sigh, pursing your lips together as he played the music once again, starting over with the routine from the beginning. Good things come to those who wait, but unfortunately for you, you hated waiting, especially when you were so turned on you could die.

Ten minutes turned into twenty, which turned into thirty, and by the hour mark, you couldn’t just sit still anymore. Myungjun was still practicing, completely forgetting about you and the passing time as he poured his all into the routine. 

Subtly, you inched your way closer, Myungjun noticing your movement immediately in the corner of his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve been sitting for almost three hours, just wanted to move my legs for a bit.” You answered simply, hands behind your back. “Carry on.”

“I’m almost done,” He reminded you, to which you nodded passively. “Bub, are you upset?”

“No,” You shook your head, “I mean, you said you were almost done an hour ago, but it’s fine.”

“Bub,” Myungjun sighed, approaching you, taking your hands in his, “I’m sorry, but I need to ace this routine by tomorrow. I appreciate you waiting patiently for me bub, I really do.”

“You’ve been working hard until now, I think you deserve a little break.” You said encircling your arms around his neck. He chuckled, hands finding your hips as he kissed you quickly on the lips. “My break will be when we’re back home.”

He tapped you lightly asking you to let go, but you weren’t going to give in easily now that he was in your vicinity. You tightened your hold around his neck, lips moving along his jaw as you pressed your front to his. “y/n.”

“Take a little break, Junie.” You whispered between kisses, not minding the salty taste of his sweat as you began to suck on his neck. Myungjun bit the inside of his cheek, the feeling of your lips on his skin stirring some movement in his pants. He released a breathy sigh, letting himself indulge in your actions for a bit. 

In a sudden, you pulled away, sneaking a hand down to give the front of his pants a squeeze before you turned your back to him, walking to the side and taking a seat against the mirrors. Your boyfriend gave you a baffled look, “Carry on with your practice, Junie.”

You smiled innocently at him, a teasing lilt in your voice as you noticed the growing hardness in his pants. Myungjun returned to his dance practice, but you knew it would only be a matter of minutes until he gave in, once he grew hard, his restrain practically disappeared. Your next actions were planned out strategically, your eye contact never straying from his as you spread your legs unashamed, hands resting at the base of your inner things.

Just as you expected, Myungjun only lasted one more run through before he stomped up to you, pulling you up roughly and pressing you against the mirrors. You squeaked in excitement as he stared at you intensely, leaning in until your foreheads were touching. “That was a dirty move, princess. I can’t focus now because of you.”

Instead of responding, you connected your lips in a searing kiss, your hands immediately slipping under his shirt to feel the expanse of his skin. Myungjun held you tightly against the mirrors as he ground his hips into yours, making you feel the outline of his bulge with every movement. You keened, moaning into his mouth as your nails scratched against his abdomen. “Can we go now?”

“No,” He said gruffly, his hand slithering up your body and wrapping around your throat, his fingers pressing into the sides of your neck. “You just couldn’t wait a little bit longer so I’m going to fuck you here right now.”

You whined as he flipped your body around, your cheek pushed against the mirror as Myungjun hastily pulled your leggings down, your ass bared out in the open of the practice room. You braced yourself, palms on the mirror to hold your weight as he delivered a harsh smack to your bottom, the sound ringing loud and clear.

Your body jolted with every spank, eyes shut tightly as the sting quickly morphed into pleasure. Myungjun groped your ass firmly, cursing at the red imprints that his hands made after every strike. Your cunt was absolutely soaked, your slick trailing down the inside of your thighs. This, of course, didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend, the male cupping your heat as he spread your legs further apart. “Shit princess, you’re dripping on the floor. You wanna get fucked that bad?”

“Yes sir.” You panted, jutting your ass back in desperation, “Please fuck me.”

Not letting another second go to waste, Myungjun pulled down his pants to let it pool around his ankles, lining his tip up with your entrance. He ran his length up and down your folds only once before pushing in, letting out a groan as your walls enveloped his cock. You screamed as Myungjun immediately thrusted at a merciless pace, not allowing you any time to adjust to size, not that you really needed it anyway.

Your hands balled into fists, focusing on Myungjun and Myungjun only. The sounds heard in the practice room were obscene, the skin of his pelvis slapping against your ass bouncing on the walls.

You didn’t even bother to mask your moans, too lost in the pleasure of Myungjun’s cock fucking you against the mirrors. At a particular hard thrust, your legs suddenly caved in, causing his length to slip out as you dropped onto the floor.

Without giving you a moment to breathe, he swiftly got onto his knees and entered you again, this position giving him more leverage as his thrusts were more precisely aimed, battering the deepest parts of your cunt.

You moaned as Myungjun spread your cheeks open, his thumb probing at your second entrance. Immediately, you clenched the hole, ears ringing as he let his spit dribble onto the cleavage of your ass, using it as lubrication before he pressed his thumb into your tight hole.

Your mouth opened in pleasure, panting as your muscles adjusted to his thumb, the added intrusion only making your walls tighten around his cock. God, you felt so full.

Myungjun started fingering your ass in time with his thrusts, cursing as you moaned his name like a mantra. His free hand harshly pulled at your hair, your neck straining as he forced you to look up at the mirror.

Your cheeks flushed at the sight, your clothing disheveled as Myungjun pounded into you from behind, sweat covering his face in a light glowy sheen.

“You like this, princess? You like getting fucked where anyone can walk in and see how much of a filthy slut you are?”

“Yes,” You groaned, throat raw from all your screaming, eyes threatening to close from Myungjun’s intimidating stare.

“Yes what?” He gritted his teeth, letting go of your hair as he delivered another spank to your ass. Your head fell forward, leaning on your elbows as you responded to him. “Yes sir.”

“That’s right, princess.” He said lowly, keeping his thumb plugged in your ass hole as he started ramming into your cunt. His pace was bruising, the two of you nearing your highs.

You let out a high-pitched scream when his fingers reached under to rub at your clit, your vision turning spotty as the band of your orgasm quickly snapped. Myungjun groaned as your walls fluttered around his cock, the grip your cunt had pushing him to his impending release.

His hips didn’t relent as his seed spilled inside of you, fucking you both thoroughly through your orgasms. You moaned in sensitivity as you felt his cock pulsating, your body collapsing onto the floor when he pulled out, your limbs skin to jelly.

Myungjun sat back on his palms, trying to catch his breath from your quick little fuck session. After about a minute or so, your boyfriend stood and pulled his pants up before going to the table to grab a couple of tissues. He returned to where you laid glued on the floor, gently wiping the mixture of your releases from your cunt and ass, “C’mon bub.”

He helped you onto your feet, making a noise of surprise as you leaned onto him for support, legs still weak. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” You nodded, still feeling the after effects of your orgasm as you hazily tried to wear your leggings again. Myungjun laughed, holding you up by your waist as he pressed a kiss to your temple, “Are you gonna practice again?”

“I think I’ve had enough practice for today.” He smiled fondly, walking you both to your things. “I can fine tune it tomorrow with the guys. For now, I think it’s time for us to go home.” ____________________________________________

2-12-21

[kurlyfrasier]

Terrified: Part 4

Raph x Reader

Synopsis: Raph saves you from ruffians one night in an alley after watching out for you for weeks without you knowing. Which leads you to getting to know the guys and becoming part of the family. But Raph keeps a distance and you don’t understand why. 

Word Count: 1708

Warnings: None

I woke up later than intended- much later, as in waking in the afternoon later- red-eyed and weary from the tears shed the night before. I had decided, once I had calmed down enough to think beyond losing the boys- most especially Raph- that tonight would be my last movie night. At least, for a while. I also planned on telling them they need not walk me home after work. Granted, I had no idea how I planned on convincing them that they weren’t needed. 

Maybe I could tell them I’m moving? Getting a new job?

I sighed, looking into the mirror. If tonight was going to be my last night seeing Ra- them, then I would make the most of it. I decided I would look my best, without looking desperate...hopefully. Sadly, this meant I did not get to start my new book since l only had about an hour until Mikey would be here to pick me up. Yet another reason to stop burdening the boys. Regretting the fact that I wouldn’t get to wear pajamas like I usually do on movie nights, I trudged to my closet.

A little over an hour later Mikey found me in the middle of brushing just a tad bit of make-up on; to cover up my red-rimmed eyes. 

“Whoa angelcakes,” he drawled once I stepped out of the bathroom, eyeing my long, fitted sweater dress- because it gets cold in the lair- and warm leggings with comfortable Chuck Taylors. 

See? Not desperate. Comfy.

“Raph is gonna lov-” He stopped himself short when I gave him a quizzical look. “I mean, you look hot, dudette. Got any plans tonight?” he wiggled, what one would call, his eyebrows, erupting a giggle out of me. 

“Only to hang out with my besties, that’s all,” I shrugged, grabbing my phone, hoping he wouldn’t comment about my not-so-usual outfit once we got to the lair. I really did not want it made more obvious than it already is.

“Sounds like the best plan, but are you sure you don’t wanna bring pj’s for after?”

“I’m sure, Mikey,” I smiled reassuringly up at him as he plucked me up out of the window and onto the roof. “These are just as comfortable as pajamas, promise.”

“Okay then, let’s go,” he helped me onto his shell. “Can’t wait to beat you in a new racing game I got,” he hopped from roof to roof, holding me tight. I couldn’t help but compare his smaller, bulky size to Raph. I don’t think I would have been able to hold on to his shell quite as well.

“You’re on, man. But don’t come crying to me when you lose.”

He barked out a laugh and we stayed silent until we got to the man-hole cover.

“Hey, angelcakes,” Mikey started sheepishly when we got to the bottom of the ladder, scratching the back of his neck. “I wanted to ask…”

“Yeah?” I gave him an encouraging smile.

“Did somethin’ spook you last night?” He blurted out.

“No,” I furrowed my brows, confused about where this is coming from. Unless…

“Raph said you were running for your life after you got off the subway. I just wanted to make sure everything is okay.”

“Oh,” I tried thinking of an excuse, averting my gaze. “I just didn’t want to be a burden, is all.”

Not a complete lie.

“A burden?” He looked shocked as I turned toward their home and started walking that way, hoping to hide my despondency. “You’re not a burden, angelcakes! Besides, before that night in the alley, Raph was already-”

I stopped in my tracks as Mikey sauntered ahead.

“I mean, we like making sure you're okay. We don’t want a repeat of that night we first met,” he continued rambling, but I wasn’t listening. I wanted to know what he was gonna say about Raph. After a few steps he realized I wasn’t next to him anymore. “Come on, Y/n. Don’t want ya to get lost.”

I nodded, unwilling to ask my question as we continued our trek to the lair. I took a deep, calming breath to brace myself before entering the living room area where I knew Splinter, the wonderful father that he is, would be prepping for homemade pizza. Donnie had made an old brick oven not long ago and built it directly underneath a grate above that they only opened when baking pizza so the smoke would have an escape. I found it ingenious because now they could have pizza whenever they wanted. Which was always. A small smile formed at the thought.

Not five steps in and Raph blocked my path, arms crossed as he assessed me for injuries. I stared straight into his chest, unable to meet his all-seeing gaze. He would know something was wrong the moment we made eye contact, he always did.

“Bro, she’s fiiiine,” Mikey sang, lightly punching Raph’s shoulder as he walked by. “I would never let anything happen to her. She is my precious sister, after all.”

Raph ignored him, grunting in approval with a curt nod before walking away. Allowing me to breathe again, not realizing I had held my breath in the first place.

~~~~~~~~~~

Raph was anxious to see you. He had been attempting to work it off all day, to no avail. Everytime he closed his eyes he saw you, standing in front of him, looking small, keeping your thoughts to yourself. 

He growled in frustration, clenching his hands into fists. If only he knew what had you so utterly shattered last night.

He needed to see you.

He needed to know you were safe.

Raph breathed out a sigh of relief when he heard you and Mikey coming, but stopped short when he saw what you were wearing. Vaguely, he wondered where you had come from to be looking so good. That red sweater stuck to your form as if it was painted on. It may have covered almost every inch of skin from your thighs up, but it hardly left room for the imagination. Thos leggings did the same.

Where were your baggy pj’s?

Robotically, he blocked your path to determine if you had been hurt. Really though, it was all a ruse. He just wanted to have a good look at you. He crossed his arms over his chest to keep himself from holding you close. The fact that you wouldn’t meet his gaze had his blood running cold. You always at least gave him a tentative glance and a smile. Next to him, Mikey said something about you being his precious sister, but all he could think was that you were his precious everything. He didn’t even feel his brother’s light punch as he walked by.

He grunted as if saying “that’ll do” and walked away, wishing he knew what was wrong. Wishing he could make it all better.

“I’m gonna go help Donnie with something before we play, okay Mikey?” You spoke barely above a whisper before heading to Donnie’s lab. 

The moment you were out of sight he rounded on Mikey. “So wha’ didya find out?” he growled in in his face.

“Nothin’, bro!” Mikey held his hands up in surrender, backing away. “She said something like not wanting to be a burden. I don’t know. She was kinda quiet though. I barely got her to smile.”

“But nothin’ ‘bout wha’ scared her?” he asked low, peeking around to make sure you hadn’t decided to come back.

“Nadda. Just said she didn’t wanna be a burden. I told her she’s not. That we like takin’ her home, but,” he paused when he noticed Raph shaking, stiff as a board. “Uh-oh…”

Raph stomped away toward Donnie’s lab, barely able to comprehend what Mikey was telling him. 

You? A burden?

Never.

He planned on shaking you to your senses until he heard what you were saying to Donnie.

“...gonna take some self-defense classes so you guys don’t have to walk me home anymore. What do you think?”

Raph leaned against the wall, going to a whole new level of low with eavesdropping. He decided it was worth it if he could figure out what was wrong.

“We could teach you,” Donnie offered offhandedly. “Besides, we like taking you home. We can actually have a conversation as we protect you.”

“Nah, you guys are busy as it is,” you paused. “Plus, I don’t want to bother you guys even more.”

“What are you talking about, Y/n?” Something clattered, a sign that you have Donnie’s full attention. “You’re no bother. Did something happen?”

“No, nothing happened,” you sighed before continuing quietly. “I just- I might be getting another job-”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that, right?” Donnie chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Is this about last night? I heard you were running from something.”

“Ugh! I wanted to get home faster! That’s all,” you fumed, stomping a foot, demanding why the boys kept asking you about last night.

“We’re worried, Y/n,” Donnie stated calmly. “You spend a lot of time with us. That could make you a target. Especially if anyone figures out how much you mean to Ra- uh… us.”

“Fine,” you seethed. “I’ll stop hanging out with you guys, then. That way nobody will have to worry about my safety.”

Donnie’s call for you fell on deaf ears as Raph snuck into the darkened room across from the lab, your steps echoed down the hall. He sunk low in the shadows and held his head close to his knees, eyes shut tight in a sad attempt to keep the tears from flowing freely. He couldn’t breathe. His heart felt as though it were being shattered into a million pieces.

You were leaving? The thought ricocheted through his brain.

What had happened to bring this about? Everything was fine until last night.

Maybe someone got to you already? The thought had his blood boiling. Allowed him to breathe. He had a purpose; to find out what happened in the ten minutes you were on the subway. He was determined to keep you close. Keep you safe. No matter the cost. Even if he had to lock you in his room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 5

[eutxrpe]

counter

hello! i hope you guys enjoy this fic and that you’re doing well! my inbox and messages are open, so don’t be afraid to send something in! - xio ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ counter   -a play where the offense runs the ball in the opposite direction that the defense expects. usually preceded by a fake in the opposite direction of the actual play.-

pairing: football player!midoriya x nerd!reader

word count: 2.2k words

warning: swearing, fluff ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ you didn’t want to be here.

here at this party where sweaty bodies moved on the floor as if they do that every night. where lips and skin met in a drunken haze and where the bass pounds so loud that you’re getting a worse headache by the minute. brought here by your friend and promptly left alone because they spotted the love of their life, you just wanted to curl up with a blanket and a book. preferably away from all of these people who didn’t even know you were alive.

sitting down in the corner, you look down at your red solo cup filled with water and look up at the sound of a dozen boys chanting across the room. your eyes scan the scene as you think about an escape plan but stop when you see him.

everything around you and him seems to blur except for him. you know who he is, the running back of u.a high’s football team.

izuku midoriya. or deku, as it was printed in every newspaper, social media post, and jersey he had. with his always overgrown, dyed green (you had a feeling his natural hair was black) undercut and innocent smile, everyone just loved him.

he finishes a solo cup filled with whatever popular people like to have in their cup and slams it down on the table, his teammates smacking him on the shoulder and back as he grins. izuku exchanges handshakes and claps with everyone on his team, going around the table and even ruffling a fiery, blonde guy’s hair. in the midst, you two lock eyes.

you immediately look down at your cup, sipping it in an effort to calm yourself down. out of the corner of your eye, you see him searching if there’s anyone with you and excuses himself from the group. there’s a figure in front of you in seconds and you crane your head up to look at him, cursing his height.

“hey, are you okay? i noticed that you’re here alone.” there’s honesty in his eyes that made you fall the slightest bit into the calm jade of them.

“you don’t have to worry about me, golden boy. enjoy your party and your drinking.” ignoring your words, he sits in the corner next to you, bumping his thigh with yours. 

“tomorrow’s homecoming. i’ve been drinking lemonade and water tonight.” midoriya holds up another cup and you snort at his good boy act, tapping the rim of it with your own drink. you take a gulp of it, trying to get the heat from your face to leave. “why are you here?”

“what? i can’t enjoy a party?” midoriya frowns at your response as if you hadn’t just started your first conversation with one another.

“you’re not really enjoying denki’s party. or you’re dancing in the corner and i hadn’t noticed?” you laugh into your cup at that, continuing to listen. “this doesn’t really seem like your scene.”

humming, you turn to his earnest eyes. “and why not?”

“(y/l/n). i know you’d rather be drinking hot chocolate and reading a book.” your eyes widened, and he grins in victory. curse that innocent smile of his.

“how did you know that?”

“i pay attention to the people in the school. that includes you.” he flushes as he says this, taking a sip of his own drink.

“i’m here because my best friend left me to see todoroki. and maybe do more than that.” you chuckle bitterly. “what about you, midoriya? why are you at kaminari’s place?”

“he’s my teammate, and i want to support him. but this isn’t where i’d like to be either.” you turn toward him in surprise when midoriya finishes.

“golden boy doesn’t like parties? that’s something new.” he scratches the back of his neck, blushing at your statement, but his eyes change a little when he smiles sheepishly. they’re still the beautiful jade hue, but there’s a little less innocence in them.

“why do you call me golden boy?”

“isn’t it obvious? you’re a football player with a perfect track record and everyone loves you. the school’s golden boy who wouldn’t do anything out of the ordinary.” midoriya makes full eye contact with you, his big, pure eyes not matching the playful grin on his face. his freckles stand out against his tanned skin, sunkissed from all of the hours in the sun for football practice.

“i’d like to think of myself as a wild card... since being a running back requires a lot of different things from me.” midoriya seems more confident, taking up more space in the corner as he says this. you gulp at how he overpowers and towers over you, but you still can’t believe his words.

“yeah?” looking him in the eyes with all of the determination you have, you poke him gently on the shoulder with your finger. “what can you do that proves that you’re not what i think you are, golden boy?”

you calling him golden boy again sparks something in him, eyes racing across your face and landing on your lips, the bottom one in a pout, a habit you never got over since childhood. midoriya leans forward and kisses you, and your heart finds a race horse and runs rampant. his hands capture your waist, and yours land in his hair.

now, you’ve never seen your football team play, much preferring quiet time to the crowd’s headache-inducing cheers, but you imagine that deku plays just how he kisses.

fast. passionate. there’s a hint of roughness that makes your head spin as his lips dominate yours. he tugs at your bottom lip, making you whine before retreating.

wiping his bottom lip with his thumb, he smirks at you and damn, you no longer regretted coming to this party. “was that evidence enough, (y/n)?”

before you could answer, the blonde that got his hair ruffled by midoriya comes up to you two.

“deku, we need to leave if we want to be the fuckin’ best for the homecoming game.” he sneers, looking at you two, specifically izuku’s swollen lips. “finally got a kiss, you fucking loser? ha, c’mon, we’re going now.”

“kacchan, you bitch.” there wasn't any bite to his words, and the way that the two grinned at each other made it obvious that they were close. midoriya kisses your forehead softly, contrasting with how rough of a kisser he actually was to your surprise and delight. “i’ll see you soon, okay? have a safe night.” 

and with that, he disappears into the crowd and the door-slamming, thanks to the blonde, signals that they both left.

how loud the party was didn’t apply to you anymore. not with deku’s words replaying in your mind. 

i’ll see you soon.

did he really mean that? and how would you two even see each other, considering that you’re in two different cliches at school?

and as you waited for your bestie to come out of that room, preferably without visible marks todoroki gave them, izuku midoriya was all you could think about.

maybe parties weren’t so bad... ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“kacchan?”

“what is it, deku?”

“i need you to find out where this student’s locker is for me… by morning.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“did you enjoy the party last night? i know i forced you to go…” your best friend, in a turtleneck that wasn’t theirs, chats with you as you walk to your locker. 

“yes. i know you forced me to go, because i didn’t enjoy it for the most part.” you don’t blame them for forcing you to go, considering how much of a homebody you are, but they quirk an eyebrow at your words.

“for the most part? what happened? did you meet somebody? is that why you looked so dazed when i met you afterwards?” used to their questions, you look down at your lock, twisting it open and frowning at the scratch marks on it.

“yes, for the most part. i’ll explain later. yes. y-”

a gasp at your side makes you snap your head up as you’re inspecting the freshly made marks.

on a shelf in your locker, there’s a bunch of your favorite candy and snacks in u.a high’s school colors, along with a note that you take into your hands. of course, the school spirit made it obvious who it was from, but the golden boy of the school wouldn’t break into your locker, so what exactly happened?

your best friend takes the note before you could read it, clearing their throat before reading it out loud.

“dear (y/n), -on a first name basis already, hmm?-

i hope you don’t mind that kacchan (number 1 on the team) mutilated your lock, so i could get in. like i said, i pay attention to the students at our school, especially the ones that i like. a lot. i hope you enjoy the snacks whenever, and if you turn around, there’s an important question i’d love to ask you.

signed, your golden boy!”

when you turn around, there’s deku, holding a teddy bear that’s bigger than both of you that has a blue and white ribbon tied around its neck, standing right in front of you. his eyes are tearing up, and he holds the bear out to you as he asks, “will you go out with me?”

you didn’t have to think about the question.

“yes, golden boy. i’ll go out with you.” as you answer, you take the bear from his hands and kiss his bright pink cheek in thanks. izuku picks you up suddenly, making you drop the teddy bear, and spins you around in a hug, elated with the fact that you said yes. he quickly sets out you down, sensing your surprise and apologizes. your best friend snickers in the background, and you have the urge to tell them to shut up. before you could do anything, the bell rings, and the hallway clears out, including them. you turn back to your locker, getting your books and notebook for social studies.

“wait! (y/n)!” you face him, intrigued on what else he could ask after such a way of asking you out. “you don’t have to do this… but will you wear my jacket to the game today?”

you didn’t have plans to head to the homecoming game, but you couldn’t say no to your golden boy’s face. nodding, his face lights up, and wow, his smile is radiant when he’s happy. taking off his letterman jacket to reveal a muscle shirt that reads ‘loose top’, he hands it to you. maneuvering your books so you could get it on, izuku moves to your backside, helping you get your arms into the holes. you are enveloped in the scent of rain, mint, and cotton. it was relaxing. it was so distinctly izuku.

“thank you, izuku.” at the use of his first name, his face turns even more pink. afraid of stammering out a reply, he kisses your forehead in goodbye, and the press of his plush lips against your skin makes you fall just a bit further for him. deku jogs off as the late bell rings, bringing you back to reality. ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ it’s the last ten seconds of the game, and it’s the first time you’ve cared about the outcome of a football game in a long time. you hug izuku’s jacket closer to your figure as u.a sets out on the field after a timeout. looking out in the crowd, izuku makes eye contact with you in the stands and places his hand on his heart. 

the whistle blows, and you cheer louder than you’ve cheered the whole game. the ball moves from one pair of arms to the other and it lands in izuku’s arms. the announcer is practically screaming into the mic, reenacting the surprise play.

“u.a high just performed a counter against shiketsu! after receiving the ball from the quarterback, kirishima, number nine, deku, is lightning out there, already halfway to the goal line! nobody can touch him as he gets closer!... and he’s done it! u.a wins the homecoming game!”

there’s chaos around you as people scream for the team and hug in the stands. you can see izuku remove his helmet to wipe tears from his face as he hugs his teammates. you lock eyes again and with teary eyes, he still managed to send you one of the biggest smiles you’ve seen from him.

and you’re filled with such energy that you don’t care anymore, you rush from out of the stands and onto the field, running to wrap your arms around him in a hug. tossing his helmet to the ground, you can feel his arms tug you impossibly closer to him. his hands pick you up by your waist and you put your forehead against his, both of you laughing and crying in a haze. you can hear the chants of the crowd to kiss and feel the field lights on you, but it didn’t matter when you were so close to izuku that your breaths were practically one.

was it possible for love to blossom in one day? 

you couldn’t bring yourself to care about that question when it was so obvious that it was with him.

you tug him by his jersey into a kiss, passionate and loud. it was a blissful moment, everything fading away except the two of you until you had to inevitably pull away for air.

“i love you,” izuku pants, adrenaline fading away and you smile in his arms.

“i love you too.”

you weren’t expecting any of this, especially the fact that izuku managed to win both the homecoming game and your heart with just a counter.

fin.

[puckngrind]

What’s In A Name: 7 - J. Toews

Chapter 7.

Where we left off: Jon and Bekah were on vacation in Sedona when discussions changed the tone of things.

Warnings: smut, language, mentions of fighting and injury

Word Count: 3,380

Series Masterlist ) Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

Worlds.

Their worlds collided every single time they were together then life went on as normal. Jon ended up winning Gold at the World Cup of Hockey and the first call was to Bekah.

“I wish you were here for this.” He breathed out upon her answering. She could hear his teammates celebrating in the background.

“Congrats Tae!” Bekah felt guilt of saying no, even with her new passport’s arrival, flood her body in that moment. She had taken most of her vacation time off and his schedule for this tournament was tight. “I’m glad you didn’t get hurt.” She bit her lip as she remembers the conversation back in Sedona and could hear Jon’s smile through the phone. Their conversation was light then Jon was getting pulled away.

“I’ll see you in Columbus in a few weeks!” With that he was off. This was the second start of the season Bekah had been talking to Jon, so it was no surprise to her when she didn’t hear much from him during training camp. The team had a rough start and the fight Jon had on the ice against Nashville was proof. Bekah wasn’t sure what to think every time she would see him fight. It was barbaric but yet a turn on. Cursing her body as she sees him swinging at Neal on her screen knowing she wouldn’t see him for another week. She was never a hockey fan but her time at home working on her current project was usually done with Jon’s game as background noise. It became a habit and she didn’t hate it.  Jon secretly relished in the fact that she watched his games.

The following week Jon was in Columbus. And just like every other time, the two spent all of his down time while in town in bed. Even with months between seeing each other, every time they were together it was as if no time was lost. Their bodies didn’t skip a beat when they would meet.  The two had muscle memory for each other. Before Bekah left the next morning Jon pulls her tightly into his chest with a force that was soft but dominate.

“Can we talk about the holidays? Or you coming to Chicago for a weekend? Because, Beks, not seeing you for months and months absolutely kills me.” He admits.

“Like Christmas or Thanksgiving, Tae?” Bekah’s eyebrow and voice question Jon’s.

“Well my Thanksgiving was a few weeks ago.” Jon laughs.

“Oh right, Canadian.” Bekah retorts.

“I meant Christmas, Beks. I have a few days off and my family it coming to Chicago this year.” His fingers lift her chin up to look her in the eyes.

“Oh! Well. Uh...family?” Bekah feels the heat racing to her face.

“I love the way you blush just so you know.” His hand brushes her cheek. “Just think about it. They would love to see you again and of course, I want to see you.” Jon kisses her lips and leaves the conversation open for later.

Thanksgiving morning Bekah’s phone rings super early. She assumed it would be her mom double checking that Bekah had the pies covered for dinner which was really almost lunch. “Mom, I made the pies last night.” Her voice was groggy.

“Bekah, It’s Brynn. Jon got hurt last night. Have you talked to him?” Bekah rubbed her eyes and pulled the phone away from her head. An unknown number called her in the middle of the night and since she only had Jon’s number programmed to ring that late, she missed the call.

“Fuck. What? I... should... is he okay? What time is it in San Jose? Damnit. I didn’t watch because I was baking and fell asleep.” The realization of the unknown setting in.

“All I know is he didn’t come out for the 3rd period and Derek thinks it’s his back but maybe a concussion.” Brynn’s voice was ringing in Bekah’s ear. The two hung up and Bekah paced her bedroom floor then decided to text Jon given the time difference.

“Hey Beks.” She could hear the pain in his voice. He explained the injury told her he was day-to-day and suggested they talk to each other after her family’s holiday festivities. She didn’t know how to take it all in knowing he was across the country hurting. Then when Jon called again to tell her that he was headed back to Chicago and not with the team, Bekah booked a flight and took a cab to his place. She didn’t fully think it through as she leaned against his gate with a dead phone battery and no sign of Jon. She was contemplating walking towards the larger buildings of downtown or even campus when a SUV pulled up. She clutched her bag until Jon’s face was illuminated from the passenger seat and the Blackhawks symbol flashed in the street light as the door swung open.

“What are you doing here and why didn’t you tell me?” Jon tenderly steps out of the car and makes his way to her. Kissing her sweetly cupping her cold cheeks in his warm hands.

“I got worried and I have Monday off plus your voice Jon. Your voice when you told me you were headed back to Chicago said come.” The look of concern written across her face.

“I didn’t ask you to...” Jon’s face contorts knowing he wanted her there but didn’t want to pull her away from her family.

“I wanted to. Can we head in because it’s cold and I’ve been here awhile?” Jon nods and slowly makes his way inside with Bekah at his tail. His injury was bad enough to potentially sit out the next few games she knew it was killing him and she saw the frustration in the way he slept. Before heading to the airport Monday afternoon, Jon asked again about Christmas.

“Could I fly out Christmas evening?” She went to pull him in and stopped when she sees the grimace on his face. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“Yeah, I think that will work. Plus we play a home game on the 27th if you stay that late. You could wear my sweater.” His wink was all she needed. The flight back Bekah took in the short trip and realized in the almost two years of knowing Jon this was the first time they didn’t have sex while in the same city. They made out while watching movies, cooked together, showered together, and slept snuggled into each other. Her focus was being there for him and his injury and less of the sex that seemed to drive most of their shorter trips.  She snuggled up into her sweatshirt trying not to think about what that meant but how she could make sure her Christmas trip was work free.

Christmas came and Bekah was shocked how seamless and not out of place she felt with Jon’s family. Well that was until they spoke French which was frequently and Jon made an effort to switch to English when he noticed Bekah’s face all scrunched up trying to follow. Jon laughed hard when she admitted in bed that night that while she has not a fucking clue what they were saying but she was sure it was about her.

“Not usually Beks. Well some of it was about you.” Jon kisses her and she huffs out with his admission.

“It is damn sexy coming out of your mouth even if it’s frustrating not understanding you.” Bekah runs her finger over his lips and he sucks them into his mouth.

“c'est noté.” Jon whispers. “Noted.”

The next few days were filled with getting to know his family but Jon made sure to sneak out with just Bekah too. The two said their goodbyes with discussions of seeing each other soon then Bekah was back home and back to her routine of life in Columbus.

“See, told ya!” Brynn shouted as Bekah caught up with her friend over wine on New Years Eve. “Name it whatever you two want name it but friend, that all screams girlfriend. Christmas with his family. Romantic stroll in Chicago. Watching another game with the Toews family. G-i-r-l-f-r-i-e-n-d.” Brynn tips her glass towards Bekah.

“We are not doing this again.” Bekah pulls her knees into her chest.

“We aren’t doing this but who is blowing up your phone right now?” Brynn points to the newest text alert.

“Can we just watch the game?” Bekah picks up her phone and flicks a finger at the television.

“Sure your hot ass hockey man is just chilling in his St. Louis hotel room alone texting you while he waits to play in the Winter fucking Classic where we SHOULD be right now... BUT no. I’m sitting here desperate for a tiny glimpse of my husband on the screen because he’s in Minnesota for New Years.” Brynn’s annoyance that Bekah didn’t tell her about the Winter Classic invite until that night was audible in her exhale.

“Rin, I was just with him plus that game is outside, in January.” Bekah looks down at her phone again and shivers thinking of watching hockey outside.

“And you are telling me New Years sex with that man wouldn’t be mind blowing?” Brynn’s eyes flashed to Bekah. “And the Winter Classic outside is kinda the point.”

“Oh! I see Derek!” Bekah points at the screen attempting to distract her bestie.

“Nice try. We don’t have to talk about it for now. When are you seeing each other again?” Brynn chirped.

“I don’t know. He said something about All-Star break but definitely after the season.” Bekah runs her finger over the rim of her wine glass.

“All star break is like your anniversary. What 2 years now?” Counting from the 2015 game on her fingers.

“Cannot have an anniversary when you don’t have a relationship...” Bekah’s voice tapers off.

“For the love of all things, Bekah.” Brynn pokes at her bestie in frustration. “I keep adding to my original list just so you know. ‘Shit that makes this a relationship when the two of you won’t call it what it is’ a growing list by yours truly.” Brynn ticks off her fingers mentally adding to the list.

“Well, All-Star break.  He wants me to come to LA. Some gala before the game. That equals fancy dress Rin. Your girl doesn’t have a fancy dress.” Bekah keeps her eyes on the game and only turns when she realizes Brynn hasn’t responded yet. Her mouth dropped open staring at Bekah. “You okay?” She questions.

“The man wants to take you to the NHL 100 Gala. As his date? We will find you a fancy ass dress Bekah.” Brynn squeals her best friend’s name.

“Is this a big thing?” Bekah feels the lump in her throat.

“Yes. I’m assuming he’s being named one of the top 100 NHL players of the century. It’s a big fucking deal.” Brynn tosses her hands up in the air to exaggerate her point.

“Then maybe I shouldn’t... hmmm.” Bekah eyes Jon’s latest text which have gone from innocent conversation to very much missing her in the course of a few hours.

“Oh you are going!” Brynn almost shouted. “You are definitely going. I’ll request off work FOR you. Here, I’ll do it right fucking now. Ask Jon how many days he plans on sexing you up in SoCal.” Brynn points her finger at the phone again.

“Rin. Did you just?” Bekah just looks at her and back at Jon’s text about FaceTiming later.

“You two are hot for each other and adorable together.” She points to the newest alert. “And damnit have you looked at him? Of course you have. You get that handsome hockey man with the ass everyone is jealous of all to yourself whenever you want it too. Like you could be under him right now instead of sitting on my couch. He clearly thinks the same thing because I’m only assuming he’s sexting by the way your face looks.” Rin sips her wine in satisfaction of reading her best friend’s non-verbals so well.

“I.... uh...”Bekah’s head was spinning.

“You will take off. We will get you one amazing dress that will make that man melt. And you can FaceTime that man when you get home and tell him you are spending those few days in the warmth of Southern California with him before you start other things.” Brynn smile is mischievous as she takes in Bekah’s expression.

Like most trips, Jon met Bekah at the airport in Los Angeles. She was nervous about the events and the inevitable pictures but the way Jon reassured her made it all bearable. She watched him do roundtable discussions with men that the other grown men in the room were drooling over the way she would over a boy-bander in high school. She felt her skin heat up when they walked the red carpet. Jon pulled her close, kissed her temple and whispered, “when we stop just look up at me if you want okay?” She nodded and she did just that. Then she stepped back and admired the way Jon was so easy in front of the camera. He looked back once and she felt his energy radiating through her.

The All-Star game festivities were entertaining. Jon was so relaxed and Bekah felt it. They closed the door of their hotel room after the last event. “Thanks for coming Beks. Being my date. Doing all the standing and waiting things. Looking hot in that dress and my sweater so I could not think straight.” His breath was warm on her neck. His fingers roaming her skin.

“It’s getting easier the more things I do with you.” Bekah admits and moves her head to give Jon more room to suck the sweet spot he knew made her weak.

“Then maybe if we make the playoffs you will come and wear the cute jean jackets the girls have with my name and number on the back?” Jon doesn’t release Bekah from his hold.

“What?” The way Jon was making her feel was clouding Bekah’s head.

“We can talk later.” Jon pulls Bekah’s legs up so her core is pressed against his hard cock. She moans forgetting the need to clear up his statement and wraps her legs around him to move up and down needing more friction. “My girl needs me eh?”

“You are damn sexy in that suit Mr. Toews but I’d like you out of it now.” Bekah bites at his neck.

“You don’t have to ask me twice Beks.” Jon moves and Bekah groans when the pressure is gone. “Oh, my girl REALLY needs me?” Jon laughs and starts discarding both of their clothes. Bekah’s nails scrape down his torso and she drops to her knees. “Beks.” He breathes out and leans into the bed. She licks the pre cum off the head and slowly slides her lips around him. “Fuck.” Jon’s voice catches in his throat. She releases for a moment to look how unglued he was. Always so meticulous but she seemed to have a power over him no one else possessed which sent a current coursing through her body just thinking about it. “Where do you want me Tae?” She kisses under his length and blinks up at him. Jon’s eyes were closed but he blinks them open.

“I want inside you, Beks.” He whispers. She licks from his base to his tip again before moving up his body.

“Oh yeah?” She kisses his lips and feels his tongue asking for permission but she pulls away. He groans out of being denied. “Remember after your cup win when you bent me over the couch?” She smirks at him and runs her finger down his jawline.

“Yeah.” He huffed out. “I was embarrassingly a quick draw.” he looks into Bekah’s eyes and sees a spark. Her eyes flutter towards the couch.

“Wanna bend me over that Tae?” She bites her lip.

“Yes. Fuck yes.” Jon stands and walks Bekah backwards until her ass hits the back of the couch. Tenderly he flips her around and she braces herself. Jon slides in slowly and both moan out of the need. His hips work faster slamming into Bekah as she begs for more. The sweat dripping down both of them as Bekah presses herself into each of Jon’s movements. Bekah releases a hand from the death grip on the leather to her clit. “Beks that’s hot. Come on Baby.” Jon grunts feeling his climax coming. Bekah moans out his name and the two hit their highs. Jon doesn’t let up when she releases her hand from herself. He slowly lowers his body on hers kissing between her shoulder blades.

“Well...” Bekah tries to talk but her breath is labored.

“Well that’s what you deserved after my cup win Beks.” This causes both to laugh as Jon moves both of their bodies so she’s pressed against his chest.

“Oh you made up for it, Tae.” Bekah looks up into his brown eyes that are saying more than the words he’s spoken. “Now can we shower and talk about this jacket thing?” Her fingers dance on his collarbone.

“It’s nothing really just the girls get these jackets for playoffs. You would look good in one that’s all.” Jon leads her to the shower.

“Like a WAG thing, Jon?” Bekah asks as the reach the shower.

“Just a you are mine kinda thing.” Jon pulls her under the water spray.

“I’m yours Tae?” Bekah looks up at Jon with the water rolling down his body.

“Yeah Beks. You are mine. You mean more to me than anyone or anything else.” He kisses her hard letting the water run over their connected bodies. “I don’t care who knows it either.” He pulls her up into him and starts to wash them both.

They settled in bed that night and Jon quickly falls asleep from the weekend of events.

“Jon are you awake?” Bekah whispers in the middle of the night.

“No.” He mumbles in her neck.

“Jon, you got a very big award this weekend. Only 100 NHL players past and present got it. That’s big. Like really big.” She leans back a little.

“Is that keeping you up?” Jon kisses her.

“No, well... yes... no. I’m just curious. Are there awards and things I don’t know about? You were sitting with hall of famers and fit right in. That’s a big deal. You are big deal.” Her voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ve still never googled me Beks?” Jon’s eyebrow shoots up.

“Well, after googling Blackhawks WAGS and seeing a picture of you with someone else I decided that I’d just learn about you from you.” Bekah admits.

“Well, you know about most of them. Three cups, two Olympic golds, some MVPs and such.” Jon kisses her lips again.

“Wait, you have two Olympic gold medals?” She sits up.

“Yeah. I know you watch the Olympics. I’ve seen your closet.” Jon sits up remembering giving her shit about all the Team USA and Olympic apparel she had. He pulls her into his chest.

“Yeah, but I clearly didn’t realize you were on both Gold winning teams and I didn’t much pay attention to hockey before you.”

Jon laughs, “true.”

“And most don’t have all that?” She questions.

“Well, no, not really.” Jon hesitates. “What’s in your brain Beks?”

“Just trying to process why me, I guess. When you are so... you know, you.” Bekah admits.

“Beks.” Jon whispers. “You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met and we have the rhythm I’ve never had with anyone else. Plus I kinda love the fact that you don’t care about all the accolades and almost would prefer not to be in the spotlight even though I wish you were by my side for all the work things.” His lips kiss just behind her ear. Both sat in the quiet for a moment.

“Yeah, but our lives are in two different cities, Tae.” Bekah finally lets his words soak in.

“But they don’t have to be, Babe. You could always come to Chicago.” Jon answers simply but what he was saying had real weight to it and they both knew it.

[princessofgayskull]

somehow I’ll still love you more (kitra fic sneak peak)

so this is a scene from my upcoming fic somehow I’ll still love you more, which at is core is going to be a kitra/baby fic. However, there’s a lot I want to say about this (you know me, can’t keep that word count down) so this fic will be nothing if not a full course meal.

The fic is told in a nonlinear fashion. This particular scene I wanted to share with you guys because I believe it touches on a lot of what the fic is going to be about. It’s set between the episodes White Out and Light Spinner in Season 2. Enjoy! (this has not been beta’d yet)

“Scorpia,”

“Hmm- huh?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”

Pulling up the hand brake, Catra stopped the speeder in its tracks before whirling around, her left eye twitching like the movement was the only thing keeping her eyeball in place. “That- that thing you’re doing with your mouth. That noise you’re making under your breath.”

“Singing?” Scorpia raised an eyebrow. 

“You call that singing?” Catra scoffed at her inferior. Look, Catra got that growing up in the Horde meant there weren’t any private music lessons (even if that was in Shadow Weaver’s job description she’d just relegate that responsibility off to some tone deaf Force Captain so she’d have more time to make Catra’s life a living hell and dote on Adora on the side) that all those half-witted princesses definitely got growing up, but it was like Scorpia was trying for the same sound her pincers made when she dragged them down slabs of concrete. 

Catra’s hand squeezed the brake handle until the pressure hurt the bones in her hand, her left eye still twitching. It was like Scorpia was trying to tank Catra’s recent promotion as Hordak’s second in command by being as annoying as she could on purpose. But who wasn’t trying to derail all of Catra’s hard earned progress these days?

“Oh um, I could stop. If you want.” Scorpia muttered, her face falling into an expression that gave Catra the urge to both scream, puke, cry, and beg for forgiveness at the same time. And lately, every action, every word, every little breath that any took in her direct vicinity set off a domino effect of violent emotions in Catra, every single one too enormous and too consuming for her body. 

Good thing Catra didn’t have time for any of that. 

“Just-” Catra’s breath faltered when Scorpia refused to look at her (what? Now she was the bad guy just because she needed focus or Hordak would have her sent to Beast Island? Or worse?!), “- just don’t do it right now, okay?”

This earned Catra an enthusiastic nod, and she was too fucking tired to do anything but figure that was going to have to do, given the time crunch, and not mention, the insane amount of pressure she was running under. Clicking the brake, Catra pushed the handle down, fucking ecstatic to be driving the speeder the rest of the way in peace and quiet. Finally. Scorpia didn’t say another word, didn’t make another noise, until Catra was pulling up to the edge of Dawn’s Pass and activating the brake again.

That was good enough for Catra.

Just as Catra moved up to the edge to take a watchful stance of the town, Scorpia opened her big mouth. “Uh, boss? Not that I don’t love these recon missions with you lately, but I gotta ask: why are we staking out this village again? The Horde’s occupied this place for the last twelve years, and this isn’t exactly what I pictured when you said we were going to start hanging out over work? I mean, unless Dawn’s Pass has a mean bowling alley. Does- does it?”

“No,” Catra’s tail twitched in irritation. 

“Oh.” 

A cadet, waving his baton in a steady motions, stood at the broad brick wall that blocked off the town as his shift replacement approached from the west, whistling a tune through their helmet so ear shattering it put Scorpia’s new little song to shame. Keeping her eyes trained on the two of them, Catra braced herself for the metallic scent of magic to hit her nose. There was the quick swish of her claws unsheathing, and then, a pregnant silence. 

If they’re going to strike, Sparkles and Rainbow and- and Adora, or any of the other dopey Princesses- are going to strike now.

But Catra watched unfold was a typical exchange between Horde Cadets: a simple salute, a complaint about standing for ten hours, and a wish for good luck during the dull, boring night shift. No Princesses. No magic. No threats anywhere in sight.

Nothing. Just like Dawn’s Pass went from being a primary target to just another boring occupied village and Catra’s paranoia had wasted another night. Grimacing, her claws digging into her forehead, Catra actually found herself hoping Hordak would be too busy wasting pleasantry on the Princess who sat at (or on it, literally, because Entrapta just thought she was the shit and that she could waltz into any room) his throne to speak with her tonight. Her lengthy string of failures was getting harder and harder to choke her way through excusing.

“So um,” Scorpia started up again, sending Catra’s ears laying flat up against her head. She exhaled a hot and irritated sigh, but the Horde’s hostage/princess stayed true to her inability to take a fucking hint, “when you said we were going to start hanging out after we came back with all that tech from the the Northern Reach, I just- I just didn’t picture us, you know patrolling.”

An angry pulse ran up Catra’s back at the mention of their tech victory- Entrapta’s tech victory- back in that shitty winter wasteland she almost froze her tail off in. “Scorpia,” her voice was thin, “I told you a thousand times, I don’t have time. Just take what you’re given and try not to complain.”

Wow, did she just sound like Shadow Weaver right then. Whatever, Catra turned her head away from Scorpia, in no mood to deal with the fallout of seeing her sort-of-friend’s expression, maybe the Old Crone was right about some things in the end.

“Can I ask why we’re here? Like here, here? What makes a place with no bowling alley so interesting?” The second Scorpia let up, Catra let her forehead hit the rim of the speeder and didn’t even blink at the ringing pain. Ugh, Scorpia just never gave up. How many times did Catra have to ask for some damn silence so she could think? 

Running her claws down her face- again- Catra grunted, “Dawn’s Pass can’t fall into the hands’ of the Rebellion. If we lose it, or if they’re conspiring with the Princesses, we’re going to lose the Horde’s longest occupied village and we’ll be giving up the tactical advantage it gives us against that flower Princess’s kingdom.” And I will have another failure under my badge. If I lose another town, I can basically kiss my Force Captain badge goodbye. And maybe my life.

“Ohhhh…” Scorpia trailed off. At this point Catra was going to end up with a bitch of headache just from rolling her eyes at the other Force Captain. “Yeah, that makes sense. This’ll be fun! Patrolling the occupied territories with my bestie!”

Catra made a noise of disgust, but it wasn’t enough to stop Scorpia from pushing herself onto the front seat and almost pushing Catra out of it. Leaning the exoskeleton covered parts of her elbows onto the rim, Scorpia let out a contented sigh, her ditzy gaze trained on the town as Catra struggled- yipping and yelping to no end and scratching up the dinged up leather of the seat- to get her tail out from under the other woman’s butt. 

Do the words “personal space” just mean absolutely jackshit to her? Catra, gripping her freed tail, growled under her breath and turned away from Scorpia. The seat was practically hers now! Looks like kneeling on the floor would have to do! It’s like I’m wearing a sign on my forehead that reads “what’s mine is yours, including the air I breathe!” Ugh, of course Hordak doesn’t listen to me, nobody does! Not even Scorpia! Everyone is too busy with their own heads up their asses to see what I’m trying to accomplish, or to give me enough space to let me do it! And she wonders why I don’t wanna “hang out after work,” or whatever.

Maybe bringing Scorpia as her backup belonged up there with some of Catra’s worst ideas; not like she didn’t have a pretty impressive tab of those wracked up already. Whatever, the universe wasn’t exactly open to responding to any of Catra’s actions with anything other than another round of punishment, so it wasn’t like acting on her impulsive or emotional notions were really going to be her undoing. Not with Hordak out for her neck, her badge no longer wielding the protective force that came with having real authority. 

Catra was an idiot to think that power would’ve actually lasted her longer than a week, that now that she’d taken out Shadow Weaver and left her to her rotting self in a cell that there wouldn’t be another player on the board that could take her shield of Second in Command away from her. Well, that’s what she got for letting Entrapta into their vents. Helping them win the war or not, Horde or not, their resident techwhiz was still a Princess.

And princesses weren’t good for anything other than being annoyances that stood in Catra’s way.

“Are you seriously humming again, Scorpia?!” Catra yelped out, the volume of her voice loud enough to scare several birds from off the town’s wall. Her split eyes had been trained on the town as she crouched at the bottom of the speeder, the only entertainment the angry spiral echoing in her brain, tailing the action of a family and their wagon of sparse supplies as they approached the gate when the grating sound smacked her upside the head. The resulting intensity of her fury was almost enough to give Catra the strength to put her fist through the wall of the speeder.

Scorpia retreated into herself. “Sorry.”

Holding back a response, Catra just scoffed again and turned back to the previous subject of her attention. Watching one of the men of the family reach the gate and request entrance into his town was better than directing a full on meltdown at her inferior, kicking her out of the speeder, and forcing her to walk her way back to the Fright Zone. Catra wasn’t so far drowning her rage to something that idiotic, yet.

It was big yet. Catra knew that as she tried to shift her position, rolling her head on her shoulders and squeezing her fists, breathing only through her nostrils despite understanding that there was no sitting with an anger this encompassing. The feeling pushed and pushed and pushed at her physical walls until it was practically promising that Catra’s building fury would end one mesmerizing explosion, one that would take her, Scorpia, the family, the Horde Cadet, the entire town, all of it, out with a bang. 

Now if only Scorpia had the brains to know that when she started her singing up again.

Catra peeled her blue eye open. The sun was beginning to set, and it had bathed the surrounding forest in shades of soft pink and orange, a scene so painfully ordinary it meant they couldn’t be anywhere else other than reality. Underneath the shadow cast by the stone wall, Catra took in a breath as she watched the first man continue to negotiate his family’s entrance into their own town.

Okay, so she’d hadn’t blown them all to fiery simtheriens- not the speeder, not the wall, not the little girl watched over by another man stumbling barefoot in the grass, letting out happy babbles as she pulled out clumps of grass and started sticking them in her cloth diaper until her father got down on his knees just to get her to stop. Guess Catra could count that as victory that her emotions hadn’t ended in an explosion that ended a child, a baby. Catra figured that given the fact that each step the little girl took on those chubby little legs of hers was a leap of faith that she probably wasn’t even a year and a half old.

The other man, the one that had chosen to forgo the customary negotiation in favor of watching the little girl experiment with walking near their wagon, moved from his kneeling position to pick her up. Something about the way the villager held her with a grip firm enough to keep his child from falling, yet not with so much strength that he hurt left a series of psychosomatic bruises up and down Catra’s ribs. She watched as the man ran a hand bigger than his daughter’s entire head through her soft and downy mauve hair, careful to avoid the tiny stumps in her head that would eventually become long enough and pronounced enough to match the horns of her father’s head. Catra let out a breath she was holding just to suck in another.

“Dada!” Even from the faraway vantage of the speeder Catra’s ears still picked up on the sound of the little girl recognizing her father. Because the universe was both impartial and cruel. Right as Catra realized she had stuck one set of claws in her mouth and she was chewing on them- who was she?! Adora?! Out her biting her freaking nails ‘cause something had the nerve to make her uncomfortable?- the baby stuck her tiny, chubby little hand into her father’s bright orange beard and yanked without mercy.

Now that guy’s screams scared the rest of the birds away.

As the family’s head negotiator rushed away from the Horde Cadet to tend to his husband’s facial hair, their daughter laughing up a riot at their combined reactions, Scorpia leaned over to where Catra sat on the floor, her tail twitching back and forth. “Uh boss?” she started but Catra didn’t turn away, her hand clutched into the fabric that rested above her sternum and not on her Force Captain badge for once. “Should we do something about these guys?”

“Why? They’re not Princesses.” They’re just a normal family trying to get into the place they live, so they can take their daughter home and have a dinner together that’s not mush, and then tuck their daughter in, tell her bedtime stories, be there in the night in case she has nightmares and needs them.

The fathers joined in on their daughter’s laughter.

“Well, that is true.”

A new feeling crept up Catra’s spine, but this time around the discomfort didn’t bring to her the edge of explosion. Implosion, actually. It was the same heaviness that settled in her lungs and crawled up to her throat, a slow and destructive effective infection of Catra’s self, when Hordak shut down her ideas to let Entrapta speak. When the Princesses left a trail of glitter behind running, tripping over themselves to follow She Ra’s lead. When Shadow Weaver cupped Adora’s face and showed her with praise for the simplest fucking task. 

Yeah, Catra knew it made her the world’s biggest idiot to keep her eyes on the seemingly indifferent family and the happiness that radiated off them. She was aware of the damage she brought on herself by not turning away, the risk she ran by letting her emotions run her. So why couldn’t she look somewhere else, anywhere else?

“I can’t wait to be a mom.” Scorpia said out of nowhere. Ears flying straight up, Catra blinked before turning to gawk at her. 

“Wait, really?” A mom mom, as in a  person who takes care of and looks after her children? 

“Yeah, I mean, it’s something I’ve always wanted.” Scorpia shrugged, somehow rubbing her neck with those big pincers of hers. “Why, do you think that’s a bad idea?”

“Scorpia, we’re in the middle of a war,” and that was putting it bluntly, “Besides, Hordak doesn’t even allow fraternization between his soldiers, much less-” her sputtering stops, Catra’s brain still tripping over the word fraternization, “having a family!”

“Well, we’re not going to be at war for the rest of our lives, Catra. Once we get the rebellion to surrender, I kinda wanted to set down roots, do something other than be a Force Captain, not that I don’t love doing that. I’m sure Hordak will loosen up about the whole fraternization thing as soon as we win! I mean, you’ve seen how he was with Entrapta!”

At her words, Catra came close to all out hurling over the speeder’s edge. It was crappy enough of Scorpia to bring up how Entrapta and Hordak were getting closer every day and shoving Catra out of the position she worked her ass off for, but then she had to go and frame it like that? 

Look, Catra got that Entrapta wasn’t the most socially aware princess, but yikes. That didn’t mean she didn’t have some sort of standard.

“What about you, Catra?” Scorpia continued, “What do you- um, what do you see yourself doing after the war?”

Catra met Scorpia’s eyes, only to regret it. “I- I-” she stuttered, looking away and forcing her eyes closed. Pfft, after the war? After the war? How the hell was Catra supposed to picture an after when her entire life, her entire purpose, every goal she’d ever had, was only because there was a war to begin with? 

The Horde conquers the rest of the planet, sends the Princesses running, puts She Ra in the ground, and what, Catra was just supposed to have a plan for after that? What… what was Catra supposed to do when they did win, when the Horde pulled off everything she worked for?

Even though she was expecting to find an emptiness, a blank space, a new start for the after the war when she tried imagining it, all Catra could picture was blonde hair tied up in a tight ponytail, melodic laughter accented by brief snorts ringing in her, the bluest eyes cutting through the longing. The same longing that plagued Catra when she forced her eyes open and saw the two fathers talking to their daughter in gentle yet bright voices, explaining to her that the soldiers had processed their papers and they could go home now.

“I don’t know.” was Catra’s quiet response. 

There wasn’t any promise Hordak would keep her alive that long anyway, or if there would be anything left to live for by the time Catra got Adora down her knees and ended it all- by giving into that implosion that lived deep down in her core, letting it rip right through her and seeing to it that her love for Adora severed the universe in two, creating black hole that would suck them all in eventually- right then and there. Like it always promised to.

A part of Catra tried to push beyond that implosion, tried to picture the future Scorpia envisioned in her mind of setting down roots and birthing legacies. Was there a part of her, beyond the pain and the brokenness, that wanted what Scorpia wanted, too?

Watching that family tonight had been the only part of her mission that hadn’t felt the same as downing a vat of acid down her throat. And as hell bent as Catra was on obliterating any princess that dared to mess with this town’s occupation, there was no animosity in her heart towards that little girl.

She was kinda cute, in the mischievous, funny kind of way. And almost fun- for a baby, that is.

But when Catra closed her eyes once more to picture that little girl and her happy, innocent smile, all that was waiting for her was the image of a shriveled shadow, locked and rotting away back in the Fright Zone.