#that's boredom -> hey what the fuck -> WHAT does this lady know about me -> UHHH

[spark-circuit]

late night (early morning?) thought but my god I love the foreshadowing/lampshading in Not For Broadcast's script. like it's one of those things where you're not really going to see it coming at first but if you've already seen the entire plot and are rewatching it, they clearly point between it and the player like "eh? eeeeehh???".

example in that The Heatwave's final segment looks like it came out of almost nowhere on a blind playthrough unless you're paying attention to the other screens and reading the subtitles, but looking back at the other screens in Rushes afterwards (and also for previous days' other screens/Rushes, see The Election and The Silence), you can just see all the writing on the Advance-funded walls of the newsroom. the main plot of Advance vs Disrupt is good, but the National Nightly News and its casters is what really drives the story forward.

[shadykazama]

Hi Hi!! can i ask for Junkerqueen sfw and nsfw headcanons? <3

Omg yes I'd love to!! I've been waiting for more character requests

I don't know who drew this but god bless them 🙏 and if anyone knows the artist please tell me so I can credit them

Odessa Stone hdcs 💙

SFW💙

She's 7 feet tall so she's most likely taller than you

Will be picking you up and swinging you around like a madwoman just cause you're smaller than her

She will hold things out of reach and make you kiss her to get it

Sits you in her lap whenever she has to do stuff

Sitting in a meeting? You're there ofc and in her lap

In the arena watching junkers brawl it out? You can guess where you'd be

Now on the off chance you're the same height or dare I say TALLER than her?

Great!

Especially if you have a competitive spirit cause she'll want to compete

Who's stronger? She'll demand to wrestle.

(She'll do that if you're smaller than her too she'll just go easy on you since it's not a fair fight)

Regardless of your size she's going to show you off at every given opportunity

Keeps you by her side as an advisor (she just likes your opinion, you got a title as an excuse when someone called her out for it)

Has the STUPIDEST nicknames for you. Ofc calls you Babe, but also other things depending on your personality. Some examples being Snapper (if you're short, since you're an ankle biter aka a snapping turtle), Silvie (if you're competitive cause you'll always get second place if she's competing), she'll call you Doc if you're smart (even if you're not a doctor), prince/princess (if you don't getting dirty) etc..

Favorite place to kiss you is on the lips- will tease you if you can't reach her

Always places her hand on the small of your back to really bring you in close. Bonus points if it flusters you

Is amused by the most mundane things

Rub noses with her to be all cute she'll think it's revolutionary

She'll braid your hair for you if you have enough. Loooves to do it for you, thinks the braids make you hot

Makes sure you get anything you want, definitely spoils you. But hey, perks of being queen.

If she's fighting in the Arena, her eyes are on YOU. Makes sure you see every cool little move she does. Will pick you up and kiss you in front of everyone when she wins

NSFW ❤

Has a strap, no I don't take criticism 🫶

More seriously though, she's experienced but still clumsy especially when it comes to intimacy

Any previous experience has come from nights of adrenaline fueled lust or childish boredom

Being soft and loving is something she'd want with you, but would have to get used to. So by all means, show her.

She'll slow down for you, a night with you means more than survival or winning or fighting. With you she can offer herself gently, and show you just how much you mean to her

Now this ^ doesn't mean she's beyond primal lust, if anything you make it worse for her. But she's capable of variety ;)

Moving on to the hot and heavy

She will sit on your face, good luck soldier

Will expect you to do the same (if you're AFAB)

She gets a lot of joy from that strap, and let's just say it's proportional :)

Will fuck you till you can't talk, and then makes you beg anyway

Wants to fuck on her throne

Please god let her fuck you on her throne

Lowkey into exhibitionism? Like she'd fuck you in front of someone just to prove a point (only if you were okay with it ofc but she def has fantasies about it)

Ass kinda lady, likes it on anyone

Has a clit piercing for SURE

Has definitely put the handle of her knife to use if you know what I mean

Will use it on you too if you say yes 🙏

If you're AMAB expect to be pegged or ridden there is no in between

Does not have the patience to be on bottom unless you're eating her out (and even then she'd prefer to just sit on your face)

Will praise you but in a very patronizing way

Likes to tell you how good you're doing but also remind you that you're serving HER.

Smacking your ass is her favorite cheeky way of teasing you in and out of the bedroom.

[arc-misadventures]

While on a patrol with Jessica (green lantern), Diana (wonder woman) and Karen Starr (power girl), Jaune is asked by Diana what FMK (or SMB) means

Jaune: MFK VII

Whilst on patrol about the city of, Vale, a quartet of Hunter’s a really, really bored. So in the hope to alleviate their collective boredom one among them decides to ask a rather leading question.

~~~

Diana: Bored…

Jaune: So bored…

Kara: He board, she board, they all board.

Jessica: All aboard…

Jaune: I was gonna say that!

DJK: Hehehe!

Kara: But, seriously this is so boring!

Diana: I know! I kinda want to have a, Grimm attack me just to elevate this boredom…

Jessica: I haven’t seen a single, Grimm all day.

Jaune: Consider that a good thing, means there’s no, Grimm around, and people are less likely going to be attacked by them.

Kara: But, it’s so boring!

Diana: The best battle there is, is the battle you do not need to fight.

Jaune: Agreed. People will be at ease if we told them there are no, Grimm around, then that there are, Grimm about.

Jessica: Well can we at least find something to do! We’ve been walking around this forest for hours! I’m sooo bored!

Jaune: Well, maybe one of you can think of something to do then.

Kara: Okay… Oh, here’s an idea! Hey, Jaune~?

Jaune: I just felt a chill…

Kara: Oh don’t be so paranoid, Jaune. I just want to know something.

Jaune: That being?

Kara: Between the three of us; Me, Jessica, and Diana, who would you, MFK?

Jaune: What?! I’m not answering that!

Kara: Oh yes you are~!

Jaune: No I’m not! W-Why do you want me to answer that?

Kara: I’m curious; I mean you’re quite a handsome guy…

Jaune: You think I’m handsome?

Kara: And, we’re a duo of smoking hot babes, and one absolutely adorable little girl…

Jessica: Hey!

Kara: One can’t help, but wonder if you could, MFK one of us who would be what, and why?

Jaune: Do you guy’s serious want to know that?

Diana: I have to admit, I’ve always been a little curious on who you would date among the three of us.

Jaune: Seriously?

Diana: Seriously. I’ve heard plenty of couples have been made between team members. So that being said, who would you like to date among the three of us?

Jaune: What? That’s … I…?! Jessica! Please tell me you’re not thinking the same thing as well.

Jessica: W-Well… I-I’m a little curious myself really…

Jaune: Oh… Well, I’m not going to tell you anything!

Diana: Oh really~?

Diana pulls out her her golden lasso, The Lasso of Truth before snapping it between her hands as she smiled smugly at him.

Jaune: …

Jaune: You have serious trust issues…

Diana: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Jaune: She’s used that lasso on some cheating ex hasn’t she?

Kara: I’ve seen her do it. Man that was something… That lady was…

Jaune: Crazy?

Kara: I would say, psychotic.

Jaune: Yeash… Okay fine I’ll do it… But, I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you, Kara.

Kara: What?! Why are you going to kill me, a smoking hot blonde babe?!

Jessica: You said that with such ease. Do you hate, Karen, or something?

Diana: Are you gonna tell us why, or do I have to hogtie you?

Jaune: Don’t even think about it princess. Here, take a look at this.

Jaune pulled out his scroll before handing it over to, Kara who’s eyes shot out wide in shock, before showing the others.

Jessica: Is this your family?

Jaune: Yep.

Diana: You have seven sisters?

Jaune: Technically eight, one of them is married so, eight sisters.

Kara: And, I look like seven of them?

Jaune: Yeah, pretty much.

Kara: Yeah, I can see why you would, ‘kill’ me. But, Jaune think of all the fun we could have if you didn’t~!

Jaune: If I had a bucket of ice water I’d douce you in it.

Kara: Spoil sport.

Jaune: Okay, I would then fuck you, Diana.

Diana: Oh really?

Jaune: The growing sexual tension between us is eventually going to boil over, and we’re just gonna go at it one day.

Diana: Bet it will be fun if it does~!

Kara: Sexual tension; What sexual tension?

Jaune: Oh we’ve been butting heads ever since we were partnered together, it’s only gotten worse since I was made team leader, and she wasn’t. Because she’s always trying to be the leader, when she isn’t. And, she wouldn’t do a good job at that.

Diana: Like you are a good leader; You can barely stand in a fight against me, how do you think you do against an actual, Grimm?

Jaune: Okay, you’re a superhuman, with super strength, invulnerability, and you can fly, these are things that, Kara also has. And, Jessica also has her magical green ring thingy that makes it so she can also fly, and make what ever she wants. And, I’m just a guy with a sword, and shield. And, I’m the leader of this band of misfits, says a lot about why I was made team leader.

Diana: Such as?

Jaune: That they wanted brain not brawn to lead the team you muscle head.

Diana: Another word out of you, and I’ll put you in your place…!

Kara: Ya, on top of, Diana!

JDJ: WHAT?!

Diana: Are you saying I’m a bottom?!

KJ: Yes.

Diana: That’s bullshit! I am totally a bottom!

JKJ: …

Diana: D-Did I say, ‘bottom?’

Jessica: Yes…

Diana: Well that’s not true, what I meant to say is that I would totally bottom for, Jaune!

Diana: …

Diana: I did not mean to say that! I’d meant to say, I’d bottom for, Jaune! Zeus ass?! Why did I say that?!

Jessica: Uhh… Diana… y-you’re holding the lasso in your hand.

Diana looked down, and saw the glowing golden light of the, ‘Lasso of Truth’ indicating that she was indeed, telling the truth.

Diana: …

Diana: Hera give me strength…

Kara: Does this happen often?

Diana: It happens…

Jaune: So… are we going to talk about this, or…?

Diana: No, no we will not.

Jaune: Okay then. So, after a great deal of deliberation, I shall marry, Jessica.

Jessica: YES!

Jaune: Yes, what?

Jessica: Yes, I will marry you!

Kara: Uhh… Jessy… You’re not actually getting married, you know that right?

Jessica: W-We’re not…?

Kara: No, no you’re not.

Jessica: Nawww man… But, I wanna marry the sexy blonde adonis…

Jaune: …

Jaune: Okay, this has been a fascinating endeavour that I shall immediately start mentally repressing, let’s move on!

Diana: Yes, let’s move on!

Jessica: Yes, lets!

Kara: But, Jaune, if I didn’t remind you of your sisters, would you do me!

Jaune: Oh, I’d totally bang you against a tree right now if they weren’t here.

Jessica: WHAT?!

Kara: Oh, really~?

Jaune: …

Jaune: Diana…

Diana: Yes~?

Jaune: You ever wrap your lasso around me again, I’ll show you what I learned in the boy scouts. Okay?

Diana: Noted.

Jaune: Okay, lets go. There’s, Grimm to kill, and if I can’t find one, I’ll kill, Kara first.

Kara: Excuse me, what?!

[leeofthevoid]

Cold-blooded Beings - Part 3

Farleigh Start x Reader

a/n: Hello guys! I promise this chapter was hard to write because I might be advancing to Saltburn at the next one. A little less confident this time around but would love to hear your thoughts! Please always remember that Y/N is rich so her dialogue can be very tone-deaf. Keep safe everyone!

Warnings: Sex, Nudity, Alcohol and Alcoholism, Language, Applied Stalking, Death, and Drugs

Word Count: 2354

|| Part One, Part Two

Pity and Power

“I just don’t get it you know? I’ve always tried my best to please Felix and I even studied harder in case he would ask me something.” Annabel scowled while eating a handful of loaded chips from your plate. At this point you figured no one knows what personal space is at all and what is yours is theirs. “Look, Annie, you shouldn’t try so hard for a boy. He barely does anything for you and he’s…Felix. You know?”

Clearly Annabel didn’t know when she groaned in frustration and ate more of your food. “So easy for you to say, you and Oliver have him wrapped in your fingers.” You gave her a confused look and scooped up some of the food you were supposed to eat alone. “Look bitch, he makes time for you and Oliver, but me? “Oh fuck you Annie I’m too busy for you.” But then he turns around and it’s “Oh Ollie, you need me? Okay hold on I’ll make time.”” This conversation is getting too heated and annoying for no reason that you just had to take out a pack of cigarettes to clear your head. Annabel doesn’t know shit about Felix or Oliver.

You turn to look at Annabel with a genuine expression and gave her a comforting smile, “You know Annie, you’re a hot girl. Felix is just a stupid boy in a sea of stupid boys. You deserve way more than that. Oliver is just…A new friend that he wants to impress?” Annabel laughed at you and held her stomach with how much she was bursting out. “Oh god, You? Babes you’re also part of the Oliver fan club. Always making Oliver’s life be ten times better than what a scholar snot should have.” You pressed the butt of your cigarette on the concrete thinking hard on Annabel’s accusation. “He just needs help sometimes Annie, stop being a bitch…” Annabel scoffed and rolled her eyes, “He’s poor babes, not handicapped. Quit being a savior.” You sighed and leaned against the pillar behind you.

Your phone buzzed in your pockets breaking the silence between you two. You checked and it was Farleigh, “Hello?”

“Hey pretty lady, can I steal you so I can hangout with my favorite people?” You chuckle, earning a confused look from Annabel that you later dismissed. “Depends. What am I needed for?” He chuckled, a little too deep and too hot for your liking. “An eye-candy would certainly take away from the boredom.” You breathed out and laughed softly. “Alright then. Where is my presence needed?”

“Roof top. Be a doll and drag Felix along.” He said goodbye with some kissy noises then ended the call without another beat. Annabel waved her hand for you to go without a word and you simply gave her a kiss on a cheek, thankful that she didn’t ask any questions.

Dragging Felix out to the confines of the chilly night was the one of the most awkward experiences you’ve had. You were waiting outside his dorm when you could hear the lewd sounds and the bed squeaking from out the hallway. Truly a horrific way to spend your Friday night, especially after listening to Annabel talk about her problems with him. “Umm…Fee are you in there?” You heard colorful lines of curse words and a lot of stumbling around. After a few minutes of waiting outside hearing scuttling, Felix finally opened the door.

Two girls dashed out of the room holding on to their dresses for dear life while Felix leaned against the door, half naked, still sweaty and flushed. “Any reason why I’ve been interrupted?” You look unimpressed, crossing your arm over your chest. “Get dressed. Farleigh told me to fetch you.” He rolled his eyes but went back into his room to grab a shirt, took a few seconds before he was walking out of his dorm with no snide remarks, waiting for you to lead the way.

The rooftop was chilly, and weirdly when you arrived you only saw Farleigh sitting by himself with a ton of bottles next to him. “Finally, you two took too long. What happened? Did Felix fall into a hole? Spoil me, Love.” You can’t help but laugh while you sat down on a spot beside Farleigh, Felix following suit while grumbling under his breath. “Our dear Felix fell in two holes.” You said in a scandaled manner. “Would it be too mean to assume one of those holes was Oliver?” You guffawed and looked back at Felix clearly unamused as he uncapped one of the wine bottles. “Farleigh. I already told you how I feel when we talk about Ollie. He’s a nice kid so…Tone it down, Mate.” Farleigh sighed loudly and draped his arm over your shoulder, mouthing boring while looking at Felix.

“Oh yeah, would I be boring if I asked dad to cancel your Veyron order now, Farleigh.” Felix snagged you away from Farleigh and used you as a headrest. “I wonder what Elspeth would think if she found out you kissed an ugly bitch at the bar, Felix.” Farleigh stuck his tongue out at the boy who was using your lap as his pillow. Chuckling at their childish banter while you played with his hair, chugging down more alcohol.

“Hey Fee, Oliver has been asking about you…I don’t know what to tell him. Kind of weird hanging out with him when he just looks for you.” You mentioned passively.

“You still hang out with him?” Felix asked.

“Well…Yeah. Why?” Felix and Farleigh both look at each other which was both endearing but annoying thing you’ve witnessed. “What. Come on guys what did I miss?” Farleigh just shook his head and looked back at you. “Nothing. Let’s just enjoy our time together, no?” You let it pass and stole Felix’s wine bottle. You three ended up enjoying the company, dare you say that it was a needed moment of solace. Talking about your life in Switzerland and their life in Saltburn the years after you.

You even talked about Venetia and what goes in her life without the three of you. It was nice knowing how she was, knowing she was a little bit more isolated from the group due to her two-year age gap from the rest of you. In a way you empathized with the pressure and the burden of being the oldest daughter. You even dwelled into your sex lives because of Farleigh’s incessant teasing over Felix’s failed threesome. My, these boys haven’t been the most pure, but then again so were you.

You forgot how you got to your dorm room when you woke up the morning after, just glad that you were able to sleep enough to be a sane person for the rest of the day. Felix and Farleigh both sent you some messages and some photos that you don’t remember taking from last night. You lay down with a huge smile on your face, content with your life before the hellish exams start to eat at you.

A few weeks go by when you were out in the field talking to your friends, actually, complaining to them about how stupid the term was and what possessed your professors to fuck with all of you. You were immersed in the conversation when random goosebumps engulfed you out of nowhere. You realized Oliver’s piercing gaze directed at you.

You excuse yourself from your friends and walked up to Oliver from across the courtyard, alone and awkward. “Hey Ollie! How was the exam week for you?” Oliver awkwardly nodded his head, looking down to his shoes. It was a little weird that he changed so fast just because you were near him…Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing type of weird. “Um…How was it?” He finally looked up at you with those lost eyes, pursing his lips. “It was alright. I studied pretty well. What about you guys?”

“I mean…We all managed in a way.” There was an awkward silence in the air and you disliked it so much. “Walk with me?” Oliver nodded the same way and followed you down the path of the courtyard, you were careful to make your steps smaller than usual so he could keep up. “How’s Felix?” You looked back at Oliver, watching him play with the hem of his shirt while walking behind you.

“Felix? Pft well he’s okay I guess? Being a dick and a dumbass at the same time.” He looked so small. So fragile that it unnerved you. It was disturbing but you can’t let Felix and Farleigh’s words eat your own opinions. He was still your friend, you had to give him a chance too. “How have you been, Ollie? I’m sorry I wasn’t able to reach out to you these last few weeks. Been very busy with other T.A. Stuff and it was draining.” He gave a small smile and walked a little faster to keep up with you, “It’s been alright. Carrying small baggage but it’s been good.”

“Oh? Baggage you say?”

“His face fell a little when you asked, “Yeah my mum she uh…She’s a bit of an alcoholic.”

You stop in your tracks to look at him. Truly look at the whole him. He looked meek and fragile and you had conflicted feelings over it. It isn’t real, a part of you say. “Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that, Ollie. No child deserves that kind of parent.”

“My…My father he’s in the hospital and I just…It’s so hard right now especially after the holidays. He tried to look okay but deep down I knew he was struggling. Keeping himself together for me while my mum was wasting away in alcohol.”

It felt weird making a sound, even to just breathe. It felt rude and perhaps disrespectful? Oliver is going through a lot and you were doubting him like the asshole your parents told you not to be. You saw tears run down his cheeks and instinctively reached out to offer your handkerchief.

He took it, quickly wiping his tears away.

You opened your mouth to say some comforting words when some of Farleigh’s friends greet you and hogged around you. You weren't sure if they purposely pushed Oliver out of the group while they dragged you away to compliment you but it was likely. You watched as Oliver looked at you with disappointment as he walked out of your line of sight.

“You look amazing, darling what did you do to your hair?” His name was Mercutio, from what you remembered. He slowly yanked off the ponytail you had and let your hair spill to your lower back. It caught you off-guard but you were careful not to show. “Silky and smooth like feathers.” He said as he ran his fingers through it. You smiled at them while trying to register who they were, there was Mercutio who was descended from an Italian Monarch. Elise, daughter of a powerful family from East Asia. Then there was Leon. He was new money rich and Farleigh made sure you remembered that.

They always said New money burns faster than the jewels that lasted centuries.

They took you to a restaurant to eat dinner together. It wasn’t unusual for people to pull you out to eat with them, people have been doing it way more now that the Catton boys were known to be close to you at a chance to impress you. You didn’t mind the dinner or how they made you pay in the end too. You actually admired how thick-faced they were. It was just another inconvenience that you wanted to get out of the way.

You didn’t tell Farleigh about the encounter but you guessed that they did when he decided to sit you down after a party with Felix, who called for a meeting between his inner circle because of what Oliver told him. The same story about how his father was very sick, dying almost, and how his mother was dealing with it. Felix even told you about how he invited Oliver to Saltburn for the summer to cheer him up.

It started off as bouts of bad mouthing towards Oliver from Farleigh to making you spill what happened between his friends. “Why did you let them take advantage of you like that?” You looked up at him while you cradled your bottle of Champagne. You were at the back alley of the bar, trying to sober up and get away from the head-throbbing music they put on. “It’s nothing Farleigh, they were just being nice.”

“Nice my ass. Those snakes are pathetic liars who can’t fuck off. Did they really think that being all buddy-buddy with you would make them earn a spot to go to Saltburn?” He took a drag of his joint and sat next to you. “Now I hear Oliver gets the pity poor boy card and go to Saltburn because Felix was being a fucking saint.” You snicker and get a shove from Farleigh, hard enough to jolt you.

You rest your head on his shoulder while looking up at him. “What can I do to ease your mind off of it?” He leaned back and looked down at you with a smirk, “I don’t know baby, what can you do?”

You smiled up at him as your faces move inches closer from each other. No wasted moments later, when you felt the warmth of his lips on yours. How soft it felt just like when you made out in the club a few months back. It was too delicate for a guy with a sharp tongue like his. He sneakily snaked his arms around your waist and at the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. His tongue slowly swiped at your lower lip when suddenly…

“Love! Where are you!” India slurred as she walked out of the club. You pulled yourself away from Farleigh and giggled, giving him a kiss on the cheek to tend to your friend. He exhaled loudly while you walked away from him, leaving him alone again.

Previous | Next

[l-eternity-l]

-Loving You

summary. - when a young lady has a little bit too much to drink, a certain singer comes to her rescue.

pairing. - Elvis x Black OC

warnings. - age gap, alcohol, creepy dude

word count. - 3k

author's note. - ahhh okay guys this is my first fic. I'm honestly thinking about turning this into a long series because I already have an idea for a few more chapters. The only thing is I don't know what name to give the character so I literally just named her after me, but I really want to change it. I hope you guys enjoy!!! (also feel free to send request!!)

 ═══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ═══════ ═══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ═══════ 

MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE 1957 The Country Club

    MERCEDES clapped her hands together as her brothers finished rehearsing their new hit song.

  "You guys sound great," she tells her brothers as people walk onto the little stage at the front of the building, fixing the boy's microphones and retuning instruments.

  "We did just as expected" Luther breathed out "everyone was off-key, not to mention Raymond forgot the damn words" he takes a quick sip of his water before handing it to Mercedes.

"Oh, can it Luther!" Raymond speaks up "why don't you focus on whatever the hell you need to do and stay the hell outta my business" Luther sends him a harsh glare.

  "This is my business Raymond, fuck it's all of our business. These people pay us to put on a good show".

"Okay, so what!" Raymond becomes more frustrated by the second "all you ever wanna do is please some white man by dancing and singing like a damn fool, you ever realize I don't put effort into this shit because I don't care!" he throws his water onto the ground before storming off the stage. Mercedes sighs.

  "Why do you guys always have to do this" before her brother can respond she keeps going "always doin' something right before you have to perform. you know he may not be coming back" Luther shrugs.

  As far as everyone was concerned, Luther cared more about the music industry than anyone in the world-- blasting music and putting his all into everything the band did.

  He played the instruments, mixed the records, and wrote most of the lyrics. people may say that he takes some things too seriously but Luther never cared--he was going to be a star and no one would hold him back from that. not even his own family.

  "As if we need him, if push comes to shove we pull you up here and make Jerome a back up".

  "Hey" Jerome yells out "don't punish me for what ray did" Luther just shrugs him off, walking over to his brother Ronnie "Raymond just needs a second to calm down, he’ll come back after he's had a smoke" The boy tries his best to reason with his angry brother.

  Jerome and Mercedes were less than a year apart, their parents not being able to wait another second to try for a girl.

  Even though he's one of the lead singers, people still tend to forget about him, especially his mother.

  Jerome has no interest in being famous--by the time he was born his brother had already started their carer singing outside of their father's barbershop to bring attention to it. Jerome's real dream is to become a pilot --singing is just a small hobby to him.

  "I don't know why you ain't performing now Sadie" Ronnie speaks up causing the young girl to roll her eyes and lean up against the stage with her arms crossed.

  "Because the women specifically asked for a male quartet. those poor girls have a hard enough time keeping their men from cheating under their own roof, much less outside of it" she picks at the skin around her nails in boredom.

  Mercedes has always been the most outspoken of the siblings, the exact opposite of what her mother wants from her. The only one their mother actually likes is Ronnie.

  Ronnie is the quiet sibling, he does whatever his mother says--doesn't matter if it's something small as bringing her the TV remote that's right next to her, or big as donating a kidney, Ronnie would do it in a heartbeat.

  Even though he does all of this for his mother, it doesn't save him from being called ungrateful and useless--but that's just how things went in the Estelle household.

  "If it were up to me you'd replace Raymond right now, he's sloppy and he doesn't care about anything or anyone," Ronnie says fixing his bow tie in the reflection of a mirror.

  In the boys' defense, Raymond has been causing issues lately. if he's not showing up to rehearse late then he's off with some girl, it drives their mom crazy, which only causes her to snap at the rest of them.

  Raymond wasn't always like this. As a child, he was charming and loved to sing and dance when company came over. it wasn't until his mom and dad started fighting, he came a little devil.

  Raymond has gone through more than the other siblings--having to be the one who dealt with their mom and her outburst when dad had got done beating on her. When their dad had just died and their mom left, Raymond was the one to take care of everyone.

  After all these years, Raymond's care for anyone but himself faded, and so did his relationship with his family.

  "You know mama wouldn't let that happen. He has a great voice, he just doesn't like to perform. Thinks it's silly" Mercedes reminds her brother "besides, he's just angry because it's gettin' late and he ain't had dinner yet".

  "Well, he needs to get over it because people are gonna start showin' up soon. We've only got a few minutes of rehearsal time left" the girl pushes off of the stage.

  "I'll go try and find him, you guys just keep practicing".

...

  Mercedes wanders around the expensive country club in an attempt to find her oldest brother.

  After what felt like hours but was only a couple of minutes, she found him leaning against their car with a freshly lit cigarette between his lips.

  "I ain't goin' back in there" Raymond starts before his sister even gets the chance to speak "I ain't gonna make a fool of myself for all of those people. singin' bout love and rainbows and girls all while swayin' back and forth and dancin'".

   He takes a long drag of smoke before continuing "I'm gonna quit and tell momma to go get somebody else to do it. I ain't doin' this shit no more!".

  "Are you done," Mercedes ask, unamused by his outburst "because you have a show to do and all of your brothers are waiting on you to stop throwing yourself a pity party" he shakes his head.

  "You're just as bad as the rest of them Sadie. if you think doing dumb shit like this is what's gonna help us be famous then you go and do it. I know father wouldn't have wanted this for us, he wanted us to be stars, not clowns" he take another long drag "and I ain't gonna be a clown no more".

  "I don't care what you wanna do or what you don't wanna do, it's about what you gotta do. Fathers gone and Mommas crazy, we gotta make ends meet somehow" the boy tosses his cigarette on the ground and crushes it with his heel.

  "I can't keep on doin' this stuff Sadie. I wanna be able to do what I want with my life, not what momma wants." Much as Mercedes wanted to tell her brother he could do that, she also didn't want to lie to him.

  "Look I don't like the way momma does stuff around here either, but as long as we live under her roof, we have to do what she says." he runs his hand through his thick hair "We need you ray" she places his hand on his arm "Only for a few more years, then we can stop doing shows and just make music" he lets out a long sigh.

  "Let's just head back," he slides his hands in his pockets and starts to walk away from the car, Mercedes next to him "Mamas gonna be here in a few minutes and if I'm not there she'll just take it out on y'all".

"See now you're using your brain" his large hand forcefully shoves her away from him "Oww, what the hell-".

"Go find somethin' to do while we rehearse, you look like you wanna put a pistol in your mouth just sitting there".

If Mercedes was being completely honest, her brother wasn't wrong. they've all performed together since childhood, her and Jerome switching who'd lead, often doing duets. Any time Mercedes didn't get the chance to perform she felt an extreme sense of jealousy. Her mother only ever took her out saying it looked better with the boys singing, the boys are too tall and she doesn't fit in, and that four people on stage looked better than five. All this did was make Mercedes want to perform more.

  Mercedes and her mother didn't have the most loving relationship. After Luther was born, all Her dad ever talked about was having a girl-- after begging for years she agreed but they had another boy. This only fueled his want for a little girl more and they immediately had another child, even though Grace never wanted more than 3 kids. Soon after Mercedes was born, her father passed away from an unknown illness-- leaving her mother alone with 5 kids. Because of this Grace had resented her youngest child for years. Mercedes being unruly and never taking no for answer, only made this situation worse.  

She walked around the country club for a few minutes, trying to find something to cure her growing boredom. She feels an arm brush against her and quickly moves over to give the person more room, only they don't walk away. Mercedes glances up at the culprit. The man was older, maybe 25-35, with jet-black hair that was combed over and slicked down. you could see the gel glistening from the lights. He held a cigarette in his hand and sported a kind yet devious smirk.

"I'm sorry sir" Mercedes voices, quick to apologize in an attempt to avoid conflict. he waves his hand as if to dismiss her apology.

"Don't worry honey, it was my fault. What are you doin' here anyways" his gentle voice surprised Mercedes. Though the girl has never had a bad interaction with a white person before, she had heard many war stories of what her people go through on a daily basis-- this lead her to avoid them as much as humanly possible. "don't seem like the kind of place you'd find a nice young lady such as yourself," thought every cell in Mercedes's body told her to run away from the man, something else was begging her to stay--to figure out what it was this man wanted.

"I'm here with my brothers, they're performing tonight" he slowly nods his head.

"And they left you all alone out here, all by yourself" he sets his hand on her arm, a gesture that would normally make her pull away with fear, but the kind smile on his face seemed to soothe the thoughts that ran through her head.

"What? don't think I can take of myself" she says dripping with fake innocence. his smile grows.

"Oh the exact opposite," he moves his arm around to the small of her back, leading her away from where they stood "Why don't you come sit with me and my friends while you wait for your brothers, they're right over here," thought the situation feels off, Mercedes doesn't really have anything else to do at this party-- Not to mention, she loves the thrill of a little danger.

...

  Surprisingly, she ends up having a good time, talking to the men along with some of their girlfriends. They talk about music and performing while they sip on their expensive drinks. the night was going well and her brothers were putting on a good show, even though Raymond looked like he wanted to die the entire time. She sat beside the man she had met earlier, James. He had his arm resting on the back of her chair as he bragged about his yacht club and how much his soap company makes in a month. Even though Mercedes couldn't give a shit about his boat and his money, she did enjoy the drinks that the man kept handing her, Loving the burn of her stomach as she sipped on the fruity cocktails. One of the boy's songs comes to an end as Mercedes laughs at another one James' corny jokes. normally she wouldn't have, but her intoxication could make her laugh at a blank wall.

  "So," he pulls the drink away from her lips "why don't we get out of here" he runs his course hand up and down her knee, going a bit further each time "we should head someplace a bit more private". though Mercedes was so out of it she could barely form a sentence, she knew when something sounded sketchy. and in that very moment, she realized just how close he was to her. she clears her throat, sliding her chair a bit further away.

  "Yeah," she pushes his hand off of her leg, "I think I'm gonna have to pass on that" She lets out a nervous giggle as she takes another sip of her drink.

  "Don't be like that, I bought you all of these drinks and you're not gonna give me something in return" he leans to place a kiss on her cheek before whispering in her ear "Come on baby, I'll take you to my boat."

  "Sorry Captian, guess I'm not the girl you took me for" the man plasters on a fake smile, sliding his hand back onto her knee.

  "Why don't you have another drink, maybe then you'll change your mind" she pushes him off again, the chair letting out a loud cry as she stands with haste.

  "I've gotta go check on my brothers, I'll be back later" Mercedes says in an attempt to remove herself from the situation. She shoots the others at the table a quick smile before she quickly maneuvers her way through the crowd with unsteady feet, using the wall as a crutch. A sea of various people occupied the dance floor as she tries her best to make it to a less crowded area. The girl spots some public restrooms not too far away and makes her way toward them, stumbling with every step. Once she's there she lies against the side of the building before sinking to the plush grass, resting her head against the smooth concrete wall, a nauseating feeling overcoming her. Mercedes knew that people got drunk, hell she had to carry Raymond back into the house several times, but what she didn't know was how it felt. Her vision was clouded and her head was pounding. it felt as though her world was spinning. For a second, she even wondered if the man had slipped something inside her drink. The distant sounds of toilets flushing could be heard as she tried her best to regain her composure.

  "You okay there?" a southern voice draws her out of her dazed state. Mercedes looks up to yet another white man with slicked-back hair, only this time it was a bit longer and more in his face. though she felt like she really shouldn't be talking to him, the alcohol had clouded her judgment.

  "Umm... no. I don't know" Mercedes drops her head into her hands "I drank," she tells him.

  He lets out a slight chuckle "Well I can see that" he sits down next to her, lighting the cigarette between his lips. "What's a pretty girl like you doin' out here all alone?" he asks. Mercedes knows this trick all too well--in fact, she had experienced this trick less than two hours ago.

"I ain't gonna leave with you" her words slurred together, getting to the point as soon as possible.

"I ain't tryna take you anywhere honey, just wanted to make sure you aren't here alone. My name is Elvis, what's yours?".

"Sadie, and I'm not alone, 'm here with my mom and my brothers. There performing tonight." he hums.

"Your brothers are the Estelle's" the girl nods "I used to play basketball with them. I remember when you were just a baby. Your momma let you drink at this age?" he asked tilting his head. she shakes no.

  "No, she doesn't. But what she doesn't know won't hurt her" he raises his brows, amused at the girl's response.

  "Guess no one can tell you anything huh?" Elvis's voice was laced with sarcasm. Mercedes- not finding his little joke too funny, rolls her eyes.

  "What do you want" you'd swear you could see the annoyance radiating from the girl's body.

  "As I said before, I just wanna make sure you're okay" The girl scoffs as she tries to push herself back to her feet, failing miserably. Luckily Elvis helped her before she slid back down the wall.

  "Well, you can go find some other dame to save because I'm fine" The amusing thing is that Mercedes is definitely not fine, seeing as the only thing holding her up is Elvis.

  "I'll believe that when hell freezes over." he moves her arm around his shoulder for support before he leads begins to lead her away from the restrooms "Don't worry little girl, I'm gonna take you to your momma" she immediately starts to resist against his attempts to move.

  "No!" she says franticly "Are you crazy? If she finds out she'll beat me 'till I'm black and blue" Elvis stops for a moment, trying to think of a better option.

  "Okay, then I'll go get your brothers. How 'bout that?" Elvis offers.

  "No they'll kill me too " she argues "If they find out I was talking to a man they'd...they'd...oh, I don't know what they'd do but I know it wouldn't be pretty."

  "Look I gotta tell somebody, I can't just leave you sitting here drunk outta your mind!" Mercedes lets out a frustrated sigh "I don't care how mad it makes you you've gotta chose somebody. So who will it be? Your brothers or your mom?" Though both options sounded like a death wish, she knew that her brothers wouldn't lay a hand on her-- the most they would do is yell at her for a few hours and act distant for a day or two.

  "My brothers have an intermission in a few minutes, they usually smoke by the car." Mercedes reluctantly tells him, slightly pissed at the fact he's so hell-bent on getting her in trouble today.

PART TWO IS POSTED!!

[rezzyromance]

Idk if this is how you request things or if it's just asking, BUT-

How would the Lords react to an S/O that's usually the chillest person that you will ever meet (not to be confused with a pushover because they are not), they've never seen them even mildly annoyed when something bad happens. But then something happens and, turns out, the S/O is utterly TERRIFYING when they're mad.

Hope this makes sense!

Aw man I'm gonna feel awful scaring Moreau and Donna :(

Alcina

You're relaxing on a beautiful morning. The sun is shining through the window just enough to warm the room but not hurt your eyes. You hadn't even changed out of your sleep wear. "How are you feeling, my dear?", a sweet voice rang from the doorway. You were sitting in your favorite chair near the window. You turn and smile at her. She walks over and rubs your face in her large hand before leaning down and giving you a soft kiss. "I'm feeling amazing. And you?", you grab her hand before she pulls it away and you place a kiss on her knuckles. "I'm feeling alright. There's a new maid here. She's a bit slow. I'm giving her until tonight to finish dusting the entire castle or else she won't see another sunrise." It was almost comedic how dark her words were as you both stared out the window and gazed at the beautiful scenery. "Come on Alcina.", you stand up and place your hands on hers, trying to hold them despite the size difference. "Give the girl a break. It's a huge castle AND it's her first day.", you knew your words would probably change nothing. Alcina was rather cruel, but you looked past it. You tried your best to make the nervous maids comfortable whenever they arrive.

"We'll see how she does." She gives you one more kiss before leaving the room. You sit back down in your chair, enjoying the warmth of the sun for a little while longer. You lose track of time, minutes maybe even hours go by. Suddenly, there's a crash not far from the door. You jump and stand up, no longer comfortable after being startled. "What in the name of Mother Miranda?!", you leave the room and look down the hallway. The new maid stood there with a terrified look on her face. In front of her was one of the paintings Alcina had on her walls, now with a broken frame and a hole punctured. Your blood began to boil. It was a painting of you, her, and the girls all together. It was your favorite. "How in the hell did you manage to do that?!", you begin to stomp towards her. She cowers and struggles to find her words. "I-I-I was just dusting! It fell and I-I didn't mean t-", you cut her off. "How the fuck did you knock such a large painting over just by dusting?! DO YOU THINK YOU'RE ALLOWED TO MAKE SUCH STUPID MISTAKES HERE?!", you unravel. "I-I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!", she almost begins to weep. "SORRY ISN'T GONNA SAVE YOUR ASS!"

"MISS DIMITRESCU PLEASE HELP!", she cries out. You freeze, realizing that the lady herself is right behind you. You turn to face her. Her eyes are wide with shock. She has never seen you like this before and never even knew you had this type of side to you. She was impressed as much as she was terrified. "(Y/N)? Are you alright my love?" She had no idea what to do as your seething slowed down. "Why don't you go back to the room, yes? Settle down a little and deal with her later.", she places a hand on your back helps walk with you back to the room. Once you're there, she bends down to whisper in your ear. "I don't know where this side of you has been this whole time, but I am so amazed by you. And also a little frightened."

Donna

The Beneviento house was usually a calm place despite its creepy aura. You and Donna are both quiet and chill people. Never once have you fought or even raised your voices at each other. It was pleasant.

You had planned a nice dinner for the both of you. You wanted to try out a new recipe and surprise her, so you made your way to the kitchen to get started. "Okay, what first? I guess I'll need a pot.", you go rummaging through the kitchen and you find the pots stacked within each other inside one of the top cabinets. You groan and stand up on your toes, grazing the pots with your fingers. It didn't take much to cause them to tumble down, crashing on top of you with a loud sound that followed. "Aw shit.", you sighed and picked up the knocked over pots. A small but annoying pain began to throb in your head from where it made contact with a pot. What you didn't notice was you forgot to pick one of the pots up. It remained unnoticed. "It's fine.", you say to yourself as you maintain your composure. Next, a cutting board and knife. You turn around and begin to walk forward to find the cutting board, but you slam your toe into counter. You wince in pain and grab your foot. "SON OF A BITCH!", you yell.

You calm yourself, still wanting to have a pleasant meal with Donna. "Alright. Everything's fine." You step forward and kick the pot that you had forgotten to pick up. It caused your freshly kicked toe to ache even more. "OH COME ON! GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!", you scream and swear as you throw your arms up in pure rage and shock.

"...(Y/N)?", a gentle voice whispered from the doorway, causing you to whip your head in that direction. It was Donna. She looked absolutely horrified and almost looked like she could cry. "Is.. is everything... are you alright?", she worried. "Yes. I'm sorry. Just got a little pissed off.", you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, feeling bad for scaring the poor girl.

Moreau

You were sitting on the dock together, looking into the water as your feet swung back and forth above it. It was a sunny day and you two decided to spend it outside. Your hand slowly made its way over to his. His feet stopped swinging for a second as you entangled your fingers. "I don't know what I'd do without you, (Y/N)." his words were bitter sweet as a gentle smile formed from his lips. "Oh, Sal. You don't have to think like that. I'll always be here for you.", you kiss his cheek and continue to relax as you sway your legs.

"There it is! There's the beast!", a voice yelled from not so far away. You both look in the direction of the voice and see a few young village boys. Possibly between the ages of 13 and 16. Moreau had become some what of a scary story for the villagers. A tale that kids spread on school court yard and bring up during dares. But, you've never seen a kid brave enough to actually make it far enough into the reservoir to actually see Moreau. Now, there were about 3. All of them stood and pointed, shocked and terrified.

"Hey beast! Come get me!", one kid teases. You glare at the kids as a newfound rage begins to boil inside you. "Let's go back inside.", Moreau says before standing up from the doc. The sadness in his voice was heartbreaking. Suddenly, one of the children gathers the guts to pick up a rock and throw it as hard as he could. His aim was off, but not by much. It slammed into the wood near Moreau's feet, startling him. "Take that you devil!", he laughs. "THAT'S IT YOU LITTLE SHIT!", you begin sprinting in the direction of the immature brats. Two of them run from the direction they came from while the one who threw the rock was frozen in fear. You took the opportunity to grab him by the collar of his shirt. "Listen here you little waste of space. I'm gonna give you 3 seconds to turn around and run for your goddamn life. If you or any of your little snot-nosed friends come around here again, they'll be goddamn fish food. Do you understand?" The kid was too scared to speak and instead began to nod rapidly. You let him go and watched as he ran as fast as he could, screaming the whole way.

You walk back to the shack and find Moreau standing in the same place he was when you took off. His mouth was agape and he looked almost as scared as the kids. "You alright Sal? I made sure those little shits won't be coming around here anymore." "Yeah... I didn't know you could be so... scary", he says. "I'm sorry. But those kids were being cruel. I had to do something.", you say. "Well... it was awesome!", he smiled. "But also very scary!" You laugh which helps sooth him a little.

Heisenberg

"Screw driver.", is all Karl said with an outstretched palm. He was working on some type of mechanical heart for his experiments. He wanted you to lend a "helping hand" even though he could easily do it all by himself. He did this because he wanted to be around you, he was just too stubborn with too big of an ego to simply say it. So here you were, handing him every little tool he asks for.

"Do you want the big one or the little one?", you say with a hint of boredom in your tone. "Aw c'mon don't sound like that! Isn't this exciting? It's like you're working on it with me! Also, hand me the big one.", you do as he says and hand him the big screw driver. "I just don't get it. You literally have powers. You can easily do this by yourself and have been for so long. Why do you need me to help?" He pauses for a second and looks over towards you, his brow slightly furrowed. "I don't NEED you to help. I just thought it would be nice for you to help out. Plus, you're the one always bitching about me constantly working. Well, here you are! Helping me work! So, either suck it up or you can leave." His harshness had no real ill will in it. He was just confused and a bit too ignorant to consider his words. But, he was testing your patience. He continued to use the screwdriver until handing it to you without saying a word.

"Hand me a screw.", he demanded with his hand facing palm up again. "Which size?" "They're all the same sizes, dumbass." You feel your blood begin to boil. "They're different fucking sizes! This one is smaller than this one!", you hold up two screws that are obviously different sizes. This makes Karl angry. Not because you were right, but because you seemed upset over something that seemed so insignificant.

"If you came here just to yap in my ear, then I don't think I need your assistance.", he huffed. You put the selection of tools and supplies he was making you hold on the table he is working on and ball your fists. "You're the one who told me to do this in the first place!", you yell. "Yeah, because you won't stop bitching! Non-stop you're always compla-" you cut him off before he can finish. "SHUT UP!", you yell. The room goes silent. "YOU SAY I'M BITCHING? HAVE YOU HEARD YOURSELF? JESUS FUCKING CHRIST KARL YOU BITCH AND MOAN ALL THE TIME! I'M DONE TAKING SHIT FROM YOU!" He wanted to be angry, but he couldn't. He felt something much more overwhelming. Was he.. intimidated? He didn't move from his seat. All he could do was look up at you with a confused expression. What now? What is there to do? If he pushes you further, what would happen? He was actually too scared to find out.

You take a deep breath to calm down before speaking. "Now, if you want me to help with your shit, I'll stay as long as you keep your mouth shut. Can you possibly manage to do that?" He gulps nervously. "Yes ma'am."

[jangofctts]

Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

Rated: explicit 18+

word count: 7.6k

warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if��I missed any tags!)    

a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT  

There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace. 

Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy. 

Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.    

The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.   

The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.” 

“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”

Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.

Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.       

Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—

Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it. 

Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.     

Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“

The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.

You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”

The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”

The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…  

You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”

As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”

Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.” 

He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.  

“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“

He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.” 

You smile. “Lovely.” 

On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like  a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.  

                                        -=-=-=-

Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality. 

Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.     

That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.” 

You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”

The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—  

There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home. 

You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.  

His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.

You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”

Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”

He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare. 

“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”

Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“

Din tips his head in acknowledgement. 

“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.” 

Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors. 

“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.” 

The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.        

“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”

Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.  

Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—   

With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.  

Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot. 

Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away. 

Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle. 

You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder. 

Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”

Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.   

“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.” 

A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”

Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.     

Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”

He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think…if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”

Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.” 

Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat. 

You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.      

Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”

With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—        

“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."

Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder. 

“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”

Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind. 

You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile. 

Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.  

You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll. 

It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit. 

“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“

“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”

The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak. 

“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement. 

You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses. 

Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short. 

Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”  

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more. 

Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains. 

“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”

Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.         

Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his  calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself. 

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist.  Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”

He nods and utters a breathy yes. 

Fuck yeah.    

Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock. 

Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh. 

Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—    

Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge. 

It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.     

Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.   

He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.” 

Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.   

Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.   

“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation. 

Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.” 

Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from  your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.   

“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark. 

Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now. 

Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.      

You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.  

Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?   

Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs. 

“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question. 

Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command. 

Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.   

As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.    

You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff. 

Fuck, you need more.   

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.    

He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight. 

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you. 

You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure. 

“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth. 

Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.    

“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.        

You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.  

Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”

You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“ 

His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.” 

Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs. 

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.  

Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days. 

Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.          

Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs. 

“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”

Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much. 

“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”      

You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.” 

Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.       

You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”

The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.   

“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”

Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.    

The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat. 

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“

“You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“

Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.” 

There we go. 

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes. 

You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness. 

“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile. 

You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep. 

taglist: @goldafterglow @djxrxn @velvetmel0n @steeeeeeeviebb   @stargazingcarol @ohiobluetip @anxiety-riddled-mando @absurdthirst @thesoftdumbass @huliabitch @max--phillips @silverfish-kingdom @krissology @teaofpeaches @pettyprocrastination @nelba @beskars @jango-fettish @corrupt-fvcker @maybege @auty-ren @legally-a-bastard @bigdickdindjarin @thesparkleslugs @cryptid-candy @mandowhorian @pascaliprincess @mitchi-c @vesperstalksclones @cmakars @cptnbvcks @whewchiles @leias-left-hair-bun @astrochellie @angryares @rise-my-angel @stardust-galaxies @phoenixhalliwell @samhollandssweaters @blue-writes-a03 @hdlynnslibrary @darthadeline @calamity-queen @luxurybeskar @justanotherblonde23 @book-hoardingdragon @fahrenheit-not @princessxkenobi @skdubbs @ben-is-a-hoe @3strogen @chasingdreamer @weebblossom @bobaandthefetts​

sorry if I missed you AH!!!!

[the-iceni-bitch]

No Scrubs

Well a scrub checkin' me, but his game is kinda weak

And I know that he cannot approach me

'Cause I'm looking like class and he's looking like trash

Can't get wit' a deadbeat ass

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Words: 3.1k

Summary: You try to keep Steve from dying of boredom at an Avengers charity gala.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, squirting, public sex), little bit of a fight, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!!

A/N: My official entry for @cockslut-padalecki’s “Not My Ninth” challenge!! My prompt was No Scrubs by TLC and Charity Gala. I picked our boy Steve for this one, but like post Avengers pre Winter Soldier Steve. Also, is Thor the best wingman? I feel like I’ve been using him in this role a lot. Happy 9K babe!

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

Steve had never felt so uncomfortable in his life.

He hated talking about himself normally, and having to parade around in front of a bunch of rich people was a special kind of torture. But Tony was insistent that the whole team had to be there, and it was for a good cause so he couldn’t say no without being a complete asshole.

He downed the rest of his champagne as some other billionaire asked him the same damn question about how different things were for him now, how much he must miss the 40s, like the war was some golden age of Americana. He just smiled and gave the same polite answers he’d been giving all night, wishing he was able to get drunk. Maybe Thor had snuck in some mead, that could usually do the trick.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, Captain Rogers, but Mr. Stark sent me to come find you. Something about the silent auction.”

Steve felt his face relax as he turned to look at you, his breath coming out in a deep sigh. You looked amazing in your silver gown, all shimmery and gauzy.

“Sorry folks, duty calls.” He said with a shrug as he followed you away from the stuffed suits. “What does Tony want? I don’t have anything to do with the auction.”

“Yeah, I know, but your jaw was clenched so hard I was worried you were gonna snap something, so I figured I’d come rescue you.” You said, grinning over your shoulder at him.

“God, you’re the best.” He sighed, following you to the bar and leaning against it as you ordered yourself a cocktail.

“I know, right? You want anything?”

“Not unless Thor snuck anything in. It’s only been an hour and I’m this close to ramming my head through a wall.”

“Sorry Cap, I hate these things too but it comes with the territory.” You said with a shrug, sipping on your Manhattan as you turned to face him. “Now, lets go find our Asgardian friend. As your handler, I can’t have you destroying property out of boredom, and I’m pretty sure I saw that giant sipping from a contraband flask a little earlier.”

He grinned as he moved to follow you, weaving through the crowd as you expertly turned away the whales that kept trying to approach him. You were his fifth handler since the battle of New York, and the only one that had lasted longer than a week. Mostly because you didn’t actually try to handle him, just let him be Steve and deal with any PR fallout that came with that. It helped that you had an easygoing nature that he found endearing, and you could always make him laugh. The fight you’d gotten into with Tony about changing his suit had really done it for him though, he hadn’t seen anyone make Stark back down so fast.

“Odinson!” You shouted, beaming once you found the massive blonde. He’d been cornered by a group of old blue hairs who were tittering and trying to touch his biceps. “Sorry ladies, the god of thunder is needed elsewhere, auction business.”

They all made sounds of disappointment as you extracted the relieved looking god from the group of old biddies, pulling him away towards one of the empty corners of the ballroom.

“What is this auction you speak of?” Thor asked once the three of you were separated from the crowd.

“A clever ruse, my good friend.” You said with a smirk. “You’re welcome by the way. The Captain here is on the verge of committing violent acts out of boredom, and expressed a desire to get drunk.”

“Yes, thank you Y/N.” He said with a grin. “I don’t think I can help the Captain with his problem though, maybe he should head to the bar.”

“Oh, you can’t help?” You said cocking your eyebrow at him before shoving your hand inside his tux jacket and pulling out a silver flask. “What’s this then?”

Steve chuckled as Thor tried to stammer out a reply as you just shook your head and tutted at him, handing Steve the flask.

“Listen, just be a good boy and share. Now, I need to go to the ladies room but if any of these rich assholes tries to come bother you again, just start talking about the horrors of war, and get graphic. They hate that shit.”

Steve handed Thor back the flask after taking a sip, already staring to feel a bit of a tingle in his fingers.

“That woman is not to be trifled with.” Thor said appreciatively as he took a swig, handing it back to Steve. “Have you slept with her yet?”

Steve choked on the mead, his eyes bugging out of his head as he tried to cough up a lung and Thor clapped him on the back, scolding him for wasting good liquor.

“Jesus, Thor! What are you talking about? I don’t want to sleep with Y/N!”

“Oh my god, you midgardians and your hang ups. Your hormones spike every time your around her, it’s very distracting.”

“What?!?! How do you know that?” Steve loosened his tie a bit as he felt himself starting to warm up, telling himself it was just from the booze.

“I’m not just the god of thunder, I’m a fertility god.” He said with a grin. “And every time you two are near each other, it’s like being around a couple of rabbits in the spring.”

“Oh god, please stop.” Steve said as he ran his hand over his face in embarrassment.

“No you stop. We’re in a hotel, just get a room and , what’s the phrase I’m looking for ‘fuck her brains out’.”

“Jesus Christ, who taught you that? Never mind, I know it was Tony.” He said, waving a dismissive hand at Thor as he gave him a wicked grin.

“Oh no.” Thor said suddenly, looking over Steve’s shoulder towards the ballroom.

“What now?” Steve said with a heavy sigh, turning to follow his line of sight to where you were standing, talking to an unsteady looking man in a sloppy tux. “Rumlow.”

“Yes, apparently your STRIKE team leader has been sniffing after your handler for months.” Thor narrated, leaning against one of the columns and taking another pull from the flask. “She’s always rebuffed him, though. I don’t think he’s ever tried when he’s drunk before. Wait, Rogers!”

Steve ignored him as he strode towards you, growling under his breath and loosening his tie even more as he watched Rumlow wrap his hand around your bicep and yank you towards him. Steve was close enough to see you roll your eyes, but couldn’t hear what you said to the man as he wrapped his other arm around your waist and smashed his mouth against yours.

“Hey!” Steve shouted, his brow furrowed as Brock pulled his face away from yours to see what the interruption was about.

You took your chance and head butted him, a curse leaving his mouth in a hiss as he released you. You gripped his left wrist around his thumb and drew it back hard, smirking when you felt a snap at the same time you drove you fist into his ribs.

Steve had to pull you off him as you started beating him with your clutch, opening it up at the same time to search for your brass knuckles.

“You don’t fucking touch me, you goddamn sloppy deadbeat motherfucker!” You screamed as Steve carried you away from the main floor, your limbs flailing as you tried to charge back at Rumlow. “Learn to tie a fucking tie you cocksucking son of a bitch.”

Steve did his best not to crack up at the shocked looks the blue bloods were giving you, a chorus of offended gasps following the two of you as you released a steady stream of profanity. He pushed open the doors to the balcony with one hand as he kept his other hand wrapped tightly around your waist as you were still trying to squirm free.

“Damn it, put me down Rogers! I’ll kick your ass too!” You hissed, turning to swat at his chest.

“Okay, okay, Jesus Christ!” He said as you started to kick him, catching him in the shins a couple of times. “Ow.”

“You’re fine.” You said with a shrug, taking a couple deep breaths to calm down.

“Yeah, well Rumlow definitely isn’t. Who gave you brass knuckles?” He said, pulling the weapon out of your clutch.

“Nat did. And it’s not like I even got to use them on that asshole.”

“Yeah but you would’ve.” He said, shaking his head as he handed them back to you. “He didn’t hurt you did he?”

You just snorted as you shoved the knuckles back into your clutch, leaning your back against the railing.

“Good.” He mumbled, suddenly not knowing what to say to you.

You somehow looked even better after your altercation. Your hair was a wild tangle now, loose strands blowing in the breeze. Your lips were swollen from the unwanted kiss, and Steve could feel the heat coming off you as your chest heaved with deep breaths. He hissed through his teeth when he noticed the torn skin on your knuckles.

“Shit, Y/N, you’re bleeding.” He growled, grabbing your hand to inspect the damage.

“Huh, guess so.” You said, watching him through your lashes as he brought your hand closer to his face.

You felt your breath hitch as he ran his thumb over the back of your hand softly, his brow still furrowed with worry. Maybe it was just the adrenaline from the fight, but all you could think about just then was sucking on his thick fingers.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You must have zoned out for a second.

“You sure you’re ok?”

“I’m great.” You said, your voice a little squeakier than you would’ve liked.

He took a step closer to you and you gasped, suddenly feeling very light headed as you felt a rush of slick flood your panties. His hand left yours and moved to cup your cheek, his thumb tugging at your bottom lip where you had it pressed between your teeth.

“I think I’m gonna kiss you now.” He muttered, his eyes boring into yours, pupils blown wide with lust.

“Good.” You whispered.

His mouth devoured yours, his teeth pulling your lips open so he could slip his tongue inside, curling it against yours as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed you against him. You moaned as you felt his cock hardening against your abdomen, your pussy throbbing with need as he ground himself into you.

He started to sink to his knees and you followed him, your mouth still pressed to his desperately. His hand moved from your waist to dig under your skirt and he let out a growl when he brushed his fingers against your core, pressing them against the soaked silk of your panties.

“Fuck, I wanna taste you so bad.” He grumbled, his lips still pressed to yours. “Wanna see if you taste as good as you smell.”

“Oh god, Steve.” You moaned as he hooked his fingers through the side of your panties and ripped them off you, the elastic snapping against your skin and a shove going up your spine as the night air cooled the wetness between your thighs. “Do it.”

He grinned and gave you a quick peck on the lips before he started to move his mouth down your throat. His hand between your legs started rubbing you in big slow circles as he laid you down, putting just enough pressure on you that you were quickly turning into a wriggling mess.

“Hold still, honey.” He ordered, pulling the sleeves of your dress down just enough that your breasts could pop out, your nipples pebbling in the chilly air. “I’m gonna take my time with you.”

“Fuck.” You moaned as he dragged his tongue over your nipple in a heavy stripe before flicking it softly. Your hands dug in his hair as he sucked and licked at it, just barely brushing it with his teeth until it was raised to an overly sensitive peak before he moved to the other nipple and repeated the process, making you whine.

Once he was satisfied with his work, he pressed a soft kiss to each breast before moving his face between your legs. His hand was making soft wet sounds now as he kept rubbing your sex, and he groaned when he removed it to take a good look at you.

“Fuck if that ain’t the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” He murmured as his lips brushed over your inner thigh.

Your cunt was pulsing with need under his gaze, your plump folds swollen and flushed with heat as he watched you clench around nothing. Everything between your legs was coated in a thick layer of your arousal, and he bit his lip as he watched even more leak out of you.

“I bet I could make you cum with almost nothing, sweetheart.” He teased as he nipped at the soft skin of your inner thighs, inching closer to your pussy before moving away again.

“Steve, please!” You whined, trying to arch your back into his face as you tugged on his hair.

He just grinned before pressing his tongue over your pussy and swirling it through your folds. He had to press his palms down on your hips to keep your body from curling back on itself as he ran his tongue over your sex, lapping at your pussy like his was the first meal he’d had in weeks.

“God you taste so good.” He murmured as he gazed at you through his lashes. “Like fucking peaches.”

You sobbed as he thrust his tongue inside you at the same time his lips wrapped around your swollen clit, making you come immediately. He curled his tongue inside you as your release flowed into his mouth, moaning into your pussy as you spasmed against his face.

Your breath was coming in ragged gasps as you came down, your muscles still twitching randomly as aftershocks shook through your abdomen. He grinned as he sat up over you, undoing his tie before moving to take off his belt as you writhed underneath his gaze. Your brain finally reset and you sat up between Steve’s legs, nuzzling yourself into his neck as you worked to unbutton his shirt.

“You back, honey?” He chuckled as you ran your teeth over his collarbone, dipping your hands under his shirt to press against his chest. “I was a little worried.”

“You’ll find I’m extremely resilient, Steve.” You murmured before sinking your teeth into his pec as you started to undo his fly.

“Shit, good to know.” He groaned as you drew his cock out of his pants and gave it a squeeze.

He gripped your chin and drew your face up to his, raising you up to your knees as he gave you a soft kiss. You moved his cock in your hand to line him up with your entrance, teasing his tip against your folds. Steve wrapped his hands around your waist and lifted you a bit higher before slowly drawing you down onto his length.

You let out a thin keen as he stretched you open, relishing the sting as your cunt fluttered around him, adjusting to his girth. He rested his forehead against yours as he started moving his hips at a languorous pace.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He muttered against your lips before moving to bury his face in your shoulder. “So tight and warm and soft.”

You gripped the hair at the base of his neck tightly as his hips started moving faster, slapping against yours. You felt yourself clench around him as he ground against your clit, making you gasp.

“Shit, Steve! Right there!”

“Jesus, already?” He murmured, running his lips over your throat.

“Just... fuck, you’re so big, Steve. Oh my god, I’m cumming.”

He hooked a hand under your ass to keep you from collapsing as your entire body arched violently, almost bending backwards on itself as you swallowed a scream. Your cunt fluttered and spasmed around him as he lifted you to wrap around him, his breath hot against your neck.

“Holy shit honey.” He muttered as he pulled you down against him, making you whimper. “You ok?”

“I’m great. Don’t you fucking stop.” You said, tilting his head back so you could press your mouth to his.

He grinned against your lips as he fucked his hips up into you, keeping his eyes locked on yours as his cock dragged over every inch of you, nudging against your cervix and making your breath hitch.

“Right there?” He asked as you dug your nails into his scalp and bit at his lips.

“Fuck, oh goddamn it, Steve.”

You shrieked into his mouth as you came apart, your muscles seizing as your pussy strangled his cock. His hips stuttered and you were suddenly flooded with warmth, his spend sitting into you and coating your canal in thick white ropes. He sat back on his heels and pulled out of you, and you shuddered as your release squirted all over the front of his pants.

“Shit, did you just squirt honey?” He asked, giving you an appreciative glance as he started to tuck himself back in and button his shirt up.

“I think so. Fuck, that’s never happened before.” You said with a shrug.

“Well, damn baby.” He said as he stood up, offering you a hand to help you to your feet.

“Shit, we’ve gotta go back in there.” You said, running your hand over your face. “Oh my god, Stark is going to kill us. Hold on and give me a second to think.”

Steve just leaned back on the railing and gave a satisfied smile as he watched you pace back and forth, wringing your hands.

“Ok I think I’ve got it, just one second.”

You went to the door and opened it a crack, popping your head through, jumping when you found Thor leaning against the wall right there.

“Hey, Thor. What’s up buddy?”

“Just keeping the other guests from wandering out and seeing you and the Captain humping like rabbits.”

“Appreciate it. We need a distraction though, cuz we’re both a little messy, and I don’t really feel like explaining that to everyone.”

“Got it, what if I blow out the lights in that chandelier?”

“I think that’ll probably work.” You said, giving him a nod before turning back to Steve. “Alright Rogers, we’re making a run for the elevator. Thor, blow it.”

Tags!!!

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@gotnofucks

[leedosbunnyboy]

Jaehyun; Lunch Break

Genre: Angst, Smut

Pairing: Jaehyun x M!Reader

Requested: no

Warning(s): mentions of homophobia, handjobs, fingering, degradation, rim job, eating out, cum eating, semi-public sex, mentions of exhibitionism, implied penetrative sex

Summary: On your dad's birthday, he decides to have a family dinner. Little do you know, he chose the restaurant your boyfriend works at.

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

"Hide everyone!" My oldest brother yelled as he saw our dad return from work.

All six of us hid behind couches, doors, and tables as we awaited Dad walking through the door.

Thick, heavy footsteps stopped outside the door as the knob began to turn with a small squeak.

"SURPRISE!" We all yelled as dad smiled.

"Thank you kids." He said and invited all of us into a hug.

"Don't forget me!" Mom complained as she pecked him on the cheek.

We each took our turns handing him out gifts as he took his time appreciating each one.

As we cleaned up the mess of discarded present wrappers and neglected price tags, the topic of dinner was brought up by our youngest sister.

"I'm hungry!" Whined Naeun as she plopped on the floor.

"Speaking of it, I am too." My youngest brother, Minhyeon, said.

"I could go for dinner." My oldest brother, Juyeon, chimed in.

Thus started the arguing of which restaurant to go to as your parents rolled their eyes at our pointless fighting.

"QUIET!" Bellowed our mother.

"It's your dad's birthday, so he gets to choose where we eat." She said and looked up to our dad.

We stood around as we awaited our dad's final verdict.

"Alright! I've decided." He said and stood up.

"Where are we going?" My older sister, Songyee, asked.

"That's a surprise." He said and grabbed his keys.

I knew dad would say something along those lines, considering he never gives a straight answer. We all hopped into the car and waited to see which restaurant dad chose as our destination.

Along the way I decided to text my boyfriend, Jaehyun, out of boredom.

Me:

Jae :(

Jaehyun<3:

Yes baby?

Me:

I'm bored and wanna talk

Jaehyun<3:

Why are you bored?

Me:

It's my dad's birthday, and he's taking us to some 'mystery' restaurant to celebrate.

Jaehyun<3:

Well I'd love to keep my babyboy company, but I've got to get back to work.

Me:

:,(

Jaehyun<3:

I'll be on lunch break soon, then we can talk. Okay babe?

Me:

Yeah, talk to you later. I love you.

Jaehyun<3:

I love you too<3

"We're here!" Dad yelled out as he parked the car.

We each hopped out and entered the restaurant.

It was on the fancier side with many intricate designs on the walls and decor.

We waited to be seated as the place seemed to be packed.

"I'm so sorry about the wait. How many to be seated?" Asked the lady at the counter.

"Seven." Dad answered.

The lady gathered the menus and led us to our table.

"We'll have a waiter with you shortly." She said and left shortly after.

"I see someone wanted somewhere 'high-up' for his birthday." Juyeon joked.

"This is a nice restaurant, Dad!" Cheered Naeun.

"Well I wanted somewhere nice to celebrate with my wonderful family." Dad smiled.

"Hi! I'm Jaehyun and I'll be your wai- (M/n! You didn't tell me you were gonna be here." Jaehyun said.

"(M/n), do you know him?" Mom asked me.

"Yeah, he's a friend." I lied.

I could see the smile on his face fade into one of defeat.

"Anyways, I'll be getting your drinks before I go on my lunch break." Jaehyun said and pulled out his notepad.

We each ordered our drinks and I couldn't even look Jaehyun in the eyes.

"I'll get your drinks out as soon as possible." He said before turning around.

"Wait, Jaehyun was it?" Dad called him down.

"Yes sir?" He responded.

"You said you were going on your lunch break soon. So why not join us?" Dad told Jaehyun.

"Are you sure?" Jae asked with a dumbfounded expression.

"Of course! Any friend of my kids is welcome." Dad cheered.

"Well thank you. I'll get your drinks and be right back." He said and hurriedly ran into the kitchen.

"Hey (M/n). Your friend's cute." Songyee whispered.

"Well he's off-limits." I whispered back.

She sat back and pouted and then continued to look over the menu.

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

Jaehyun came back with our drinks and was out of his uniform in favor of a loose black shirt.

"Thank you again for welcoming me." He said as he took his seat next to me.

"Anytime Jaehyun." Mom said with a smile.

I felt Jaehyun's hand slowly attempt to intertwine our fingers underneath the table, but I swatted him away. He responded by looking at me with puppy eyes as I ignored him to straighten my posture.

"(M/n), why don't you ever invite Jaehyun over?" Mom asked me.

"I wonder the same thing." Jaehyun said under his breath.

I elbowed him in the ribs and then turned my attention back to my parents.

"He's usually busy with school or work, so there's never been a good time." I said.

My mom nodded as her attention was taken by the new waiter.

"Is everyone ready to order?" He asked.

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

The dinner was fun and lighthearted, except for me and Jaehyun.

He would try to make conversation with me, but I would simply ignore him or give simple answers.

I could tell he was getting frustrated by the way his grip on his cup was getting tighter, to the point where his knuckles were beginning to turn pale. The tip of his ears turned bright red, and for a second I thought I could see steam coming from his ears.

But somehow, he was still able to keep a smile and make conversation with my family.

I'm pretty sure they began to sense the tension as they would give us these looks of concern.

"I need to use the restroom." I said and left the table in a hurry. I knew he was following me based off the frustrated, heavy footsteps trailing behind me.

As soon as I entered the bathroom I was pinned against the wall.

"Jae! What are yo-!" I couldn't even finish my sentence before Jaehyun's lips met mine. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist and tangled my hands into his hair as he forced his tongue into my mouth.

"Why have you been ignoring me (M/n)?" He asked in a deep, husky tone.

I didn't answer him and instead tried to grind into him to give friction to my aching cock.

"Answer me." He growled and gripped my hips.

"Because I don't know what my dad would do if he knew I was with a guy!" I exclaimed.

He slowly trailed his hand to toy with my cock through my jeans.

"You could've just told me that instead of ignoring me. I felt hurt (M/n)." Jaehyun said as he moved his hand up and down in a slow rhythm.

"I'm sorry Jae-!" I whined when he slipped his hand inside of my pants.

We both kept quiet as Jaehyun continued to work on giving me a handjob. His movements getting progressively louder as more pre-cum leaked from my slit.

Without warning, he turned me around and pinned me against the wall.

"Such a bad boy for ignoring me. You deserve to be punished." Jaehyun whispered which sent chills down my spine.

He gave my ass a hard slap which caused me to yelp in pain.

"Shh! We're still in a public bathroom, remember? Unless you wanna be seen getting absolutely wrecked." He smirked as he lowered my pants and boxers to my knees.

"But you'd probably love that you fucking slut." He growled and spit on my hole.

"J-jae, isn't this your l-lunchbreak?" I asked.

"Don't worry baby. I already found what I want to eat." He inserted a finger into me as he continued to give me a handjob.

"Does that feel good?" Jaehyun asked after he inserted another finger.

I nodded furiously as I whined out an incoherent answer.

"Use words whore." He demanded.

"Y-you're so fu-fucking good, Jae." I moaned as he added a third finger.

"Good boy." He complemented and pulled out his fingers.

I whined in frustration to being empty and Jaehyun smirked at this.

"Calm down sweetheart. I'll get to the main course." He immeadiatly began to lick and kiss around and on my hole.

Jaehyun then slowly began to lick and bite before savagely eating me out my hole as if he had been starved for years.

I digged my fingers into the palm of my hand due to being overwhelmed by the pure ecstasy that is Jaehyun's tongue.

All throughout this, he never stopped giving me a handjob, and I could feel myself reaching my climax.

"Jaehyun~, I'm gon-na bust!" I moaned out.

"Cum baby." He said and then continued to ravage my hole with his tongue.

After a few seconds I came all over his hand and some even managed to land on the wall.

Jaehyun brought his hand to his mouth before licking up my cum.

He smeared the leftovers on my hole before licking it up.

He grabbed a few paper towels and cleaned up his hand, my dick, and the cum that landed on the wall. He pulled up my pants before I collapsed into his arms.

"We should get back to dinner." I said, but Jaehyun instead roughly placed me on the counter.

"We're not done here yet baby. We're not leaving until I cum. So be prepared to ride this dick like a pretty slut." He whispered into my ear.

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

"They've been gone for a while don't you think?" (M/n)'s mom commented.

Their food had arrived 30 minutes and they were prepared for dessert.

"Ju, go check on your younger brother." His dad said as Juyeon headed towards the bathroom.

He walked into the bathroom and was met with...

"Jae, faster, faster, fuck-!" (M/n) moaned.

"(M/n), you're so fucking tight! Take this cock like a good little slut!" Jaehyun growled to the boy pinned underneath him.

"Ahem!" Juyeon coughed.

Both boys looked in shock at the person standing in front of them.

"Am I interrupting something?"

[myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants]

Red lily and kirishima?

Alrighty! I am SO SORRY for taking so long but here is Red Lily (Passion) and Kirishima! And as always!

18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: oral! (fem & male receiving), use of recording equipment, "sir", drinking, Denki/Jirou and Baku/Deku, uhhhh i think thats it.

Cam!BoyKiri & Fem!Reader

W/C - 5.7K

“Ahhh ahhhh, mmfff.” Covering your mouth with your hand you try your best to muffle the sounds of your moans however, your partner does not approve.

His large calloused hand grabs your wrist and pins it to your side, slapping your thigh to get your attention. As you drag your blurry eyes to the man between your legs you are once again captivated by the sight. How could you not be, when such a gorgeous giant man is tongue fucking you dumb.

He lifts his head up for a moment, licking cum from his lips and not sounding the least bit winded even though he has been shoving his face in your pussy for what feels like an hour.

“I told you princess,” he slowly dips three fingers into your cunt “how can anyone learn when you aren’t telling them what feels good?” he raises a scarred eyebrow and winks at you before dropping his head back down and resuming his feast.

“Mmmm o-okay Red Ri- Riot.”

*****

When you hear the front door to your apartment slam you know your time has come.

“Y/N! Get your ass out here now!”

As much as you want to avoid this fight you know that if you ignore your roommate Jirou she will just use that ridiculously expensive sound system she has and point it right at your door. You groan as you get up and trudge to your door, easing it open and peeking around it to see her standing at the edge of the hallway. “Nice to see you back babes.” You pull the door open all the way and step out of your room but not any closer “How was your night?”

“How was my night? HOW WAS MY NIGHT?!”

You flinch at the sheer volume of her voice and slide a wry smile on your face. “Was Denki not as good as you thought he would be?”

Jirou throws her hands up and scoffs. “Ya know, I would be a lot less upset if I didn’t have to wake up at THREE IN THE MORNING when Mineta came back to their apartment SOBBING!”

You try to hold in your laugh, unsuccessfully, so while you clutch your chest to try and calm the wheezing Jirous face gets red with anger. “I’m - I’m sorry but he fucking cried? Please tell me you got a picture, or a video.”

“Of course I fucking did but that is beside the point!” You see a hint of a smile on her face but it quickly disappears. “I thought you were gonna handle him for me until today?”

“Did you not get your nut? I gave you five hours ya prude.”

“Of course we had sex you inconsiderate butt munch. But it was quickly overshadowed when Mineta busted into the room without knocking and got a bloody nose when he saw me in bed with Denki.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes. “It was disgusting, the little freak couldn’t decide whether to drool over me or cry over what you said to him, so he did both.”

You’re hunched over laughing with your hands on your knees but one look at your friend's face sobers you up and you walk over to hug her. “I’m sorry, that must have been really uncomfortable.”

She wraps her arms around you and nods. “It really fuckin was, but Denki got up and threw him out of the room so that was satisfying to watch.”

“Was Denki satisfying to fuck?”

Jirou tenses up and pulls away from you. “Changing the subject isn’t gonna make me forgive you.”

“I know, but telling me about the amazing sex you had will make you forget about it.” She glares at the shit eating grin on your face then huffs out a laugh.

“Fine, but you're buying breakfast.”

“Deal! Now,” you wrap an arm around her shoulder and lead her to the living room, “please tell me he started out with foreplay.”

*****

“The idiot got a fuckin nosebleed?”

Denki nods his head, wincing as a large hand claps his back.

“That’s such a bummer dude!” Kirishima looks at him in pity, “but at least you finally got together with Jirou right? You guys gonna hang out again?”

“I wouldn’t want to.” Bakugou laughs over his very large glass of orange juice.

Denki drops his head on the table in defeat while Kirishima looks over at Bakugou with disappointment. “Dude, if you're not gonna say anything nice then don’t say anything at all.”

Bakugou slams his cup back on the table, the juice sloshing in the cup but not spilling over the edge. “When have I ever said anything nice?!”

Kirishima sighs heavily and shakes his head before turning back to his sullen friend. “Why was Mineta crying in the first place?”

Denki's voice is muffled by the table. “Apparently Jirous' friend Y/N said something really mean to him.”

Bakugou laughs, “Wish I could have been there to see it.”

*****

You had been at the club for almost an hour already, still sipping on the same drink and watching Jirou from the corner of your eye. You knew this was a good place to suggest a casual meet up with the guy she liked.

A two story building with a bar on the first floor and a lounge on the second. The second floor lounge was sparsely decorated and boasted a large open fireplace in the middle and various couches and chairs scattered throughout the rest of the space.

As you sit with your back to the bar you radiate a sense of aloof boredom, just enough of a resting bitch face to keep people from being too chummy but not enough for people to outright avoid you.

She looks like she's having fun, that’s all that matters.

“So how long have you and Jirou known each other?”

Shit, I forgot he was next to me.

You put on your customer service smile and turn to the man next to you, Denki’s friend Mineta. “We’ve known each other since grade school, our parents both work in the music industry.”

“So you’ve known each other through like, high school and stuff?” You try your best to ignore the creepy glint in his eyes and cover your cup with your hand.

“Like I said, we’ve known each other since grade school so yes. We went to high school together.”

“So have you like…. Seen each other naked?”

You cringe when the creepy little brat looks up at you. “Excuse me?”

“Well you know, I’ve heard that umm statistically speaking women have seen other women naked more times than men.”

“Mhm, yeah we did.” You down the rest of your drink and before you set the glass on the bar top another one is being slid over to you by the bartender. You roll your eyes at the pity on their face and tip them. “Thanks Midoriya.”

“Anything for my favorite patron.”

“Only cause I tip well.”

He laughs, his emerald eyes shining. “That and your invigorating conversational skills.” Before you can throw a witty retort back Mineta is asking another thinly veiled offensive question and you are back to entertaining him.

Jirou and Denki leave the bar around ten thirty so he can show her his ‘book collection’ . You laugh, telling Jirou to use protection when reading.

For the next couple of hours you take Mineta to a couple of more bars downtown, ones where you know all the bartenders. He continued asking inappropriate questions that were always followed by an excuse as to why they were actually harmless.

You had just arrived at your favorite billiard bar when you decided to ask your own.

“So you’ve had sex right?”

Mineta chokes on his vodka and redbull, “Fuck yeah I have, lots of sex. You look like you have too.” You ignore the last comment and casually sip your water.

“What do you do for foreplay?”

He laughs and you raise an eyebrow. “Foreplay? I just put it in, pussys get wet eventually and if not, that’s what lube’s for.”

You’re silent for a minute, not fully believing that he just actually said that. “I’m sorry?”

“Foreplay takes too long, I satisfy plenty without it.” He smirks at you, placing one of his hands on your thigh. Taking a deep breath you slap his hand off you and put your chin in your hand, glaring at him.

“Have you asked your partners if they were satisfied?” You hold one hand up, signaling air quotations around the word partners.

“No?”

Taking a minute to have another drink of water you turn to him fully. “Then I doubt you have satisfied them at all. Foreplay takes too long? This is why people need to take a class on how to please their partner. You don’t look like you could satisfy yourself with your own hand much less satisfy another human being.” You wave goodbye to the bartender, and grab your purse. “The only satisfying thing about you is that you are as stupid as you look. Don’t worry about your drink, I put it on my tab. Do me a favor and search ‘how to sexually please a woman’ on wikihow, maybe you’ll learn something.”

*****

Somehow you are invited to hangout when Jirou meets up with Denki again.

They are meeting at the same lounge but he is bringing two of his friends so you are tagging along. You made Jirou swear on her sound board that Mineta was not one of those friends.

You both get to the bar first, grabbing a spot with two couches. Midoriya brings your usual and takes Jirous' order, winking when you hand him your card to start a tab.

You’re drinking and chatting when Denki walks in, excitedly waving to you both and walking over to give Jirou a hug. “Hey ladies! These are my buddies,” He turns to the side to introduce them and you choke.

“Looks like someone already knows me.” The tall beefy redhead has a sideways smile and your face goes red. “I go by Kirishima when I’m not working,” he holds out a hand to Jirou to shake and leans down to kiss the back of yours. “But feel free to call me Red if it pleases you.”

The other friend scoffs at you both and walks off to the bar, a sadistic smile on his face when Midoriya looks at him with wide eyes. “The angry one is Bakugo, don’t mind him.”

Denki is trying his best to hold in his laughter while whispering to Jirou, you can guess what he is telling her by the way her mouth drops open and she whips her head over to you.

The guys head to the bar and you try your best to be one with the couch when your friend sits next to you with a smile on her face. “So that’s what you're doing on Saturday nights.”

“Please just kill me now.”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one babe.”

“I’m fucking lonely okay?”

She puts her hands up. “Hey I’m not judging, it’s perfectly natural to watch camboys.”

“And like I say at the end of every stream,” Kirishima walks up and sits on the armrest of the couch next to you. “I always appreciate your patronage.”

“I have never been more embarrassed in my life.” You finish your drink and try to signal Midoriya for another but he is talking to Bakugou, a flirty smile on his face and a hand on his forearm.

“They’ve known each other for a while.” You look up at the man next to you, Denki and Jirou caught up in their own flirty banter.

“Midoriya and your friend? I’ve never seen him here though.”

“They both are convinced the other doesn’t like them.”

You look back over at the two talking. “Are they fucking blind?”

Kirishima laughs, it’s a deep rumble that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and a shiver go up your spine. “Yeah, they are. Denki and I tried to talk to Bakugou about it once but he’s a little hard headed.”

You giggle when Kirishima knocks on his head with his fist. “Yeah he looks like the stubborn type.”

Your companions have moved to the other couch so Kirishima moves to sit next to you. “Hey uh,” he looks down at his drink, a shy look on his face and a hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

You hurriedly wave your hands in front of you, “Oh no! Please don’t worry about it.” clearing your throat you fidget with the hem of your shirt. “I was just a little flustered, never imagined I would meet you in person.”

He laughs again, and you decide that the sound is more attractive than any you have heard during his streams. “Disappointed?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” You smile when he looks back at you. “Why? You worried Mr. Red Riot?”

He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth looking much more dangerous in real life, you wonder what it would take to get him to bite you. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Hours passed by in a blur, you and Kirishima talked about everything and anything. Denki and Jirou would sometimes join in on your conversation or vice versa. Even the grumpy one came back when Midoriya had to help customers. Eventually Jirou and Denki left together, Bakugou went back to the bar and stayed saying something about ‘stupid Deku’.

When you were both alone you and Kirishima sat in companionable silence for a bit before he offered to take you home. Since you both had been drinking he orders a ride service and while you both wait you check your phone. “Well that’s just rude.”

“Something wrong?”

Shoving your phone back in your purse, you sigh. “The love birds went to my apartment to avoid the pervert.”

Kirishima chuckles, “You talkin about Mineta?”

“Ugh, yeah.”

“I heard you made him cry.”

You grimace, “All I did was tell him some harsh truths, not my fault he can’t take criticism. Besides,” you put your hands on your hips and look up at the man with a scowl on your face. “He deserved it, every bit of it.”

The car arrives and he opens the door for you, “I’m gonna need to hear that story, want to go to my place? Bakugou said he was…. sleeping, somewhere else tonight.”

You hesitate to answer for a moment, not wanting him to assume anything was gonna happen but from the look on his face and the tone of his voice you knew he wasn’t expecting anything. “I would love to.”

The ride to his apartment is quiet, not wanting to inadvertently offend the driver with your story you save it for later. When you arrive Kirishima helps you out of the car and thanks the driver before placing his large hand on the small of your back, guiding you to the front door. You almost stumble, very aware of the size of his hand compared to your body.

It’s so warm

He unlocks the door and you head inside, Kirishima turning on lights while calling back to you. “Feel free to make yourself at home. If you want, I can start heating up water for tea.”

You take off your shoes and place your purse on the table next to the door, grabbing your phone and following his voice. “That sounds good to me, could you tell me where the-”

“Restroom is the second door on the right, Bakugou is a neat freak so it’s spotless, don't worry.”

You head to the restroom, controlling the urge to open the other doors on your way. After taking care of yourself you shoot a quick text to your roommate letting her know where you are and to text you when her and Denki are done ‘reading’.

You get to the kitchen and sit at the table, telling Kirishima about your interaction with Mineta. By the time you are done the tea is steeping in front of you both and he is wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

“Ya know, I was gonna make it a point to beat that idiot for what he said but your response was so perfect I would just be kicking a man while he’s down.”

You stand up, giggling and bow a couple of times. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.”

When you sit back down, Kirishima has his hand on his chin, a look of contemplation on his face. “A class on how to please their partners huh?”

“I don’t know, I’ve been with quite a few guys who had the same mentality as that idiot. Would be nice if someone could teach them what foreplay is.”

“Like a lecture? Or do you mean a live example?”

You shrug your shoulders. “What would a textbook do? Might as well have someone record a tutorial, the recipient would just need to say what feels good out loud.”

“That’s a good idea, most of those people watch porn anyway, might as well make it informative.”

You look over at Kirishima and blush at his smoldering gaze. “Umm, yeah that’s what I was thinking too.”

“Mind if I ask you a personal question?”

Your heartbeat picks up, “Go ahead.”

The smile that appears on his face is down right predatorial. “How vocal are you with your partners?”

*****

You were nervous sure, but so fucking ready. Kirishima had set all of his recording stuff up in his room, after making sure you were 100% comfortable with it, and made sure to let you know that you can stop at any point in time.

“I’m not doing this live stream. Don’t want you caring about what my viewers are thinking if you wanna stop.”

You’re standing off to the side with your arms wrapped around yourself, chewing your lips. “Thank you, that actually makes me feel a lot better.”

After moving stuff around, Kirishima looks over at you in concern. “Are you really okay with this?”

“I’m fine.” he raises a scarred eyebrow, “I promise! I think I'll be less nervous once we get started.”

Kirishima raises both eyebrows and slowly smiles. “Eager are we?”

“Are you kidding me? If you were to grab me by the throat, force my mouth open and spit in it I would say thank you sir.” your face goes red when you realize what you just said. “I-I mean you’re fuckin hot and….. Easy to talk to, and….”

He walks up to you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “It’s alright! Not like I haven't had someone tell me that before.” You huff out a laugh. “I mean not to my face but it was cute coming from you.”

You groan in embarrassment, then Kirishima grabs your hand and guides you towards a chair in view of the camera and your heartbeat picks up. He gently grabs your chin and tilts your face up, moving closer till you can feel his breath on your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please”

He closes the distance, pressing his lips softly against yours as you lay your hands on his chest. The kiss is sweet until you feel his tongue swipe against the seam of your lips and whimper. He growls, sitting down on the chair and pulling you on top of him before cupping your face and kissing you again, biting your bottom lip and thrusting his tongue into your mouth when you gasp at the sweet pain.

Pulling back Kirishima coos at the look on your face. “Did you like when I bit you?”

“Mhm” you nod your head, licking your bottom lip. “Do it more… please.”

“Of course princess.”

You shiver at the name. “Oh god please keep calling me that too.”

Placing his hands on your hips, Kirishima kisses your lips again, biting your lip then kissing down your jaw to your ear. “Anything else princess?”

“T-touch me.”

“Where would you like me to touch you?”

You moan as he kisses down your neck, biting just hard enough to not break the skin. “Anywhere… everywhere.”

He chuckles darkly, slowly dragging his hands from your hips up your sides. You squirm in his lap and drape your arms on his shoulders.

“You’re so soft.” he nips then licks your shoulder. “I would never get tired of touching you.”

Huffing with impatience you grab his wrists and bring his hands up to your breasts. He stops just shy of palming them. “You know, if you wanted me to touch you here you should have been more specific.”

You arch your back pushing your breasts out. Your nipples are hard, visible through the thin material of your top. “Don’t be gentle, I like it rough.”

Kirishima answers by grabbing your breasts softly while lowering his head to bite your nipples. Your hands drag up the back of his neck to grab his hair as you cry out in broken mewls.

He alternates between biting and sucking on your nipples rolling and pinching the other one between his fingers. When he pulls away you take your shirt off, he reaches behind you and unclasps your bra, which follows your shirt to the floor.

You sit up a bit on his lap and help him remove his shirt before you cup his face and kiss him. It’s messy and ravenous, you whimper when his teeth scrape against your lips.

When he pulls away again he goes right back to playing with your nipples.

He feels you buck in his lap and looks up at you. “You gonna cum princess? Just from me playing with your nipples?”

You nod your head. “Yes, please don’t stop. M’so close.”

Kirishima grins, pushing both of your breasts together and managing to get both nipples in his mouth. Lathing his tongue over both before nibbling on them, paying attention to your breathing and the shallow rocking of your hips. When your breathing gets quicker and your hips stutter he sucks them hard and you cum moaning loudly.

He massages your breast while you come down from your high, kissing along your collarbone.

“Can we lay down?”

“Of course. Hold on to me.” Kirishima kisses the tops of your breasts and picks you up walking over to the bed and gently laying you down atop it. “I wanna see all of you,” he grabs the waist of your pants, “I’m gonna take these off okay?”

“Only if I can see you too.” you answer with a smirk.

“You will, but I have a woman to satisfy first.” He pulls your pants off, taking your panties with them and pushes your thighs apart.

He lays down between your legs and slides them over his shoulders, you clutch the sheets in your fists. When you make eye contact you think you might cum that second, seeing a man you had touched yourself to countless times in between your legs was driving you crazy. Kirishima winks, then looks down at your already soaked pussy. “Thank you for the meal.”

He goes straight for your clit, swirling his tongue around it and moaning at the taste. When you cross your legs behind his head and press him harder against your cunt he ruts into the mattress.

“Oh - oh god….m’gonna cum.” Your eyes roll back. “I-I don’t wanna cum yet….. Please.”

Kirishima takes his mouth off your clit as soon as the words are out of your mouth. Kissing the insides of your thighs when you uncross your legs. “I’m sorry princess, was that too much?”

You struggle to get the words out, panting from trying to hold back your orgasm. “A little yeah….It felt amazing but I like….. too amazing.” You look down at him again, “Maybe a little slower? Feel free to use your fingers too.”

“Want me to tell you when you can cum?”

You groan, the heat in your core getting hotter just from his words. “Fuck….. yes please.”

He chuckles, giving one of your thighs a playful bite before moving one of his hands up and sticking one of his fingers in his mouth. You can’t help but shiver when he pulls it out and it’s glistening with spit.

He brings it to your pussy, dragging the tip through your moist folds. “I was taught to never play with my food...” he slowly pushes his thick rough finger into your hole, “but for you I can make an exception.”

“You’re gonna kill me.”

By the time he is done sucking out your soul he lets you cum only 3 times. You had gone from actively voicing your pleasure to tiredly trying to hold them in until he argued against it.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy.” Kirishima sits up, not bothering to wipe his face of your slick. When you wince while stretching your sore legs out he starts rubbing them down.

You moan at the feeling of his large warm hands working out the tense muscles. “Holy shit, I might cum just from you massaging me. Feels so goooooood.” After a few minutes of basking in the orgasmic afterglow you sit up, placing your hands on his chest and kiss him softly. “You’re turn big guy.”

“I thought this was about you princess.” He smiles at you, all teeth and shiny lips.

You push him till he steps off the bed, “This is about satisfying ‘partners’. You are also my partner so you also need to be satisfied.” You slide off the bed and get on your knees in front of him. “Would you like to give me commands?” You see his cock throb in his pants.

“As fun as that sounds, I want to see what you do without them.”

Your smile is feline, lifting your hands to his stomach and dragging them back down by your nails. He moans and throws his head back. “F-fuck.”

You lick your lips as you unbutton his pants, not one for being patient you tug them off as soon as the zipper is down. Your mouth starts watering at the sight of his cock, the sound of it hitting his stomach echoing in your brain. You cup his balls, weighing them in your hand and kissing each one.

Kirishima thinks his heart might stop in his chest. Dragging a finger from his shaft to the head, you watch mesmerized as it twitches at the small movement. You smear the drop of pre resting on the head of his dick, then lick it off. Humming at the taste you swirl your tongue around, softly squeezing his balls while you do so.

When you close your lips around him and suck, Kirishima shivers and places one of his hands on your head. You lift up with a pop and look up at him through your lashes. “Feel free to be rough with me, pull my hair or hold my head if you want.” His lashes flutter at your words. “What did you say to me earlier?” You mockingly tap his cock in contemplation. “Oh yes! Thank you for the meal.”

Sticking out your tongue you flatten it against him and lick every inch of his cock, all 7 of them. You’re gonna need every advantage to fully deep throat him and with his girth a sore jaw is the least of your worries. When you're done, saliva has coated your lips and Kirishima has an almost too tight grip on your hair.

You waste no time, going down on him little by little; giving your throat time to relax and take all of his cock. By the time you manage to get far enough to feel his groomed pubic hair on your nose both of you are breathing heavily.

You can feel his thighs tensing under your hand, his balls moving with every breath. You are tempted to touch yourself but refrain, although you can feel the slick dripping down your thighs; this is about him.

You keep your head still for a moment, enjoying the feel of him in your throat. When you hum, the vibrations caress his cock and he pushes your head impossibly closer to him until you push back. Although you were enjoying yourself, you can’t help but gag and cough a little when you pull your mouth off of him.

“As much as I enjoy this sight,” Kirishima lets go of your hair and reaches down to pick you up, pleasing you on the bed again. “I want to fuck you so bad…”

Your mouth drops open, you can’t help it. When have you ever experienced a man, a very attractive inside and out man, expressing his desire to you.

“Is that a no?” Kirishima Backs up a step, worried that he had crossed a line.

“Oh no! I’m sorry….I just..” you grab his hands and pull him closer to you. “I never imagined I’d hear someone say that without assuming I would say yes.”

You sit up, getting on your knees at the edge of the bed and grabbing his face, pulling him into a kiss. As you slowly back up he crawls on the bed to follow you, never breaking the kiss until finally you are laying down with him over you.

You whimper as you feel the head of his cock drag through your wet folds a few times before pushing into you. He goes slowly, almost cumming at the feeling of your gummy walls squeezing his cock with every inch.

You both moan when he is fully seated inside, his heavy balls resting on your ass and pelvis pressed against yours. His cock twitches inside you, the head pressing against your deepest parts and you come undone. Kirishima breaks the kiss and looks down at you with a slight smug look on his handsome face. “That good huh?”

“Oh shut up and fuck me already.” You look at him with blurry eyes and a smile on your face.”

He pulls out halfway then ruts back into you, pulling another moan out of your mouth. “Like that?” He pulls out again, this time slowly until just the head is inside before slowly pushing back in. “Or is that better?”

“Either, both just please keep going.” You drag your nails down his back and he starts moving inside you, starting out with shallow thrusts.

“Fuck, you feel so good princess.”

You mewl in pleasure, coming undone again at his words.

“That’s it baby, cum on my cock.” Kirishima picks up his pace, drunk on the face and noises you make when cumming. When he grabs one of your legs and pushes it into your chest your mouth opens in a silent scream, your body running towards that cliff one more time.

“Ah, ah, ah, hold that one in.”

Your eyes snap open, Kirishima lifts his head up from the side of your face and looks at you. “Don’t cum again till I say so.”

You whimper but nod your head, using all of your willpower to deny your orgasm. “Yes, Sir.” You said the words as a joke but Kirishima's hips stutter and he groans.

“Say it again.”

You have just enough left over energy to smirk. “I said, yes. Sir.”

He swears, changing the angle of his hips and pounding into you with reckless abandon. You're seeing stars and losing your mental grip on holding your orgasm back. Both Kirishima and you don’t know how much longer you can last. Not wanting to wait any longer you decide to make him give in first.

“Please Sir, can I cum?” tears are slowly dripping from your eyes, the pleasure building dangerously but at your words you can feel his cock twitch inside you. “I wanna cum on your cock, please sir. Cum with me, wanna feel it.”

You are both at your wits end. “Your princess wants to cum with you sir please!”

Kirishima cums first, moaning with every hot rope of cum that coats your insides. The twitching of his cock and broken moans that fall from his mouth tip you over the edge soon after.

Kirishima just barely manages to catch himself before collapsing on top of you, slowly pulling out and flopping over to the side.

You both lay there in silence, catching your breath. You finally realize that cum is leaking out and manage to sit up and walk to the bathroom. After cleaning yourself up and going back to the bedroom you see that Kirishima has put some sweatpants on and is turning off his recording equipment.

“Well shit.”

He looks up at you in confusion.

You laugh awkwardly while a slight blush dusts your cheeks. “I… kinda forgot we were recording that.”

*****

Many years later…..

“I can’t believe Scarlet is in high school already.” Eijirou, your husband, walks out of the bathroom, freshly showered.

You're sitting on a bench in front of the window, reading a book. Already dressed since you had to take your daughter to school for her first day. “I hope it's not too terrible, I hated high school.”

“Aww babe,” He walks up to you kissing the top of your head. “It can’t be that terrible.”

You huff out a laugh and look at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me? Kids are fucking terrible, teenagers are worse. They try their best to find anything to make fun of you.”

Later that day

The front door to your home opens and slams shut and the sound of someone running up the stairs follows. You walk out of the kitchen confused, looking toward where your daughter has run to her room then at the front door when your husband walks in. His face is beet red, eyes watering just slightly.

“What the hell happened?”

“I HATE BOTH OF YOU!” Scarlet screams down the stairs then slams her bedroom door shut, muffled sounds of crying worrying you further.

“Turns out teenagers are very horrible…. And so are we.” Eijirous face is filled with guilt and you walk over to cup his face.

“What happened honey?”

He turns his face away from you and sighs heavily. “Turns out some of the fathers recognized you when you dropped her off at school.”

“No.”

“And some of the moms recognized me when I picked her up.”

“Oh god.”

“One of them called me Red Riot.”

@eyebagsbutglam @doinmybesthere @patchworkpuzzle @sendhelpimstupid

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Tell Me A Story

Loki x f(magic reader)

Summary: Stuck in an Asgardian cell for your crimes, you meet an intriguing fellow prisoner who you can’t help but start to feel something for.

Warning: angst, fluff (you’re not leaving sad on my watch)

Masterlist

The ground feels hard. And your head feels incredibly fuzzy, like waking up from a deep slumber by some rude acquaintance who can’t mind their own damn business. Not to mention the throbbing sensation emitting from the left side of your cheek like two annoying disturbances. Were you smacked twice?

What in the bloody shitsticks?

The light in this place is so bright too, you have to squint when opening your irises for the first time to really get a good look at your surroundings. With the light in this awful place too much to bear, you cover your eyes with your fingers to lessen the harshness from above. Soon your gaze trails up witnessed a clean ceiling of pure marble white.

Wait. Are you dead?

Adjusting to the brightness, you slowly bring yourself into a seated position on the equally as shiny clean floor. To your left is a bed and a small nightstand while your right is a see through golden tinged barrier showing the other cells and a single guard walking down the hallway. Cells? Cells!

A prison? You’re in a fucking prison. Shit.

Letting out a dramatic sigh, head in your hands, you suddenly hear a knock on the white section of the confinement hold that turns into loud pounding. Thud! Thud! Thud! And a second later the white disappears, in place shows the same see through golden tinge. A guard on the other side.

“You’re awake.” He says, voice casual as an old friend.

You give him a puzzled look before feeling your face, “I think so.”

He takes a step into your prison where a sword is held in your face, maybe not so much an old friend after all, “As protocol, I must ask you three questions.” Delves the guard, stance never changing.

“Go for it tough guy.”

He remains unfazed, “Do you know your name?” Easy.

“Y/N.”

“Do you know why you’re here?” Uh.

“Well it wasn’t for stealing a child’s favorite toy.” You muse before quickly changing your façade, “But yes.”

He scoffs unamused, “Do you know where you are?”

Now this question you don’t have an answer for so instead do you give him your sweetest most innocent face possible, “uh, maybe you could enlighten me?”

The armored man rolls his dark eyes, “You’re in the royal dungeons of Asgard, placed here by King Odin for crimes against our realm. For that. You will remain until otherwise noted by the King.” Barks the guard, you stare up at him with wide eyes. Shocked and bewildered that you’re stuck in Asgard of all places.

“I didn’t even have a fare trial!” You protest.

“You didn’t deserve one, filth.” He counters before sheathing his sword back into its scabbard and off he goes into the golden tinged door. Out of sight in an instant. Rude.

Leaving yourself very puzzled and irritated at the whole ordeal, you never even got a trial to speak your side of the story. Nothing. Now you’re stuck in this dumb shit of a cell with literally nothing to do and no one around to bother, oh wait who’s that across the room?

Jumping to your feet, you swiftly walk over to the glass; there stands a man in green and black attire, leather bound book in hand as his slender face focuses onto the pages. He’s rather handsome in all honesty, with that dark shoulder length hair of his and the thoughtful expression across his face. You’re now fully intrigued.

Then your mind swirls with a thought, you’re in Asgard. So, this must be prince Loki, the one who failed to conquer Midgard. Soon a devilish smirk crosses your features, “What are you doing down here? I thought princes were the ones to put delinquents behind bars?”

Loki’s face shifts from surprise to amusement as he keeps his eyes onto the pages, “Kings.” Corrects the Asgardian prince.

You smile, “Well this king can eat shit!”

He lets out a breathy snort before finally drawing his gaze up to you, his expression quickly diminishes from amusement into star struck fascination when those beautiful blues land upon your beaming mischievous face. Loki has never seen someone so magnificently enticing in his whole entire life. But here you are, whoever you happen to be.

The raven haired man sets the book onto his nightstand before sauntering over to the glass wall, “And who do I presume you are? My new source of entertainment.”

Waving him off like a blushing maiden, you pretend to get all hot and bothered by his sly comment, “Oh wouldn’t you like to know.”

Loki smirks, “I would indeed.”

You curl a piece of hair around your finger, gifting him a shy smile as you avoid his steely gaze. “Sorry.” You mutter, “I only tell men who can take over whole planets in under three days.”

He immediately loses his humored aurora, replacing it with a slightly taken aback yet somewhat pissed off one. “Ouch. But I can’t image you’re any clever if you happen to be stuck down here with me.”

You point up a finger, “On the contraire, my faults are less hefty then your own. So who really lost here?”

“From the looks of it. Both of us.”

You nod, “That is a truthful observation, but what has gifted us a sentence in exile are two entirely different sides to the relatively same coin.”

“Mine being, failure to conquer and rule Midgard. And yours being?”

“Fine. I’ll satiate your appetite.” He raises a brow as you trail your hand down the buzzing glass, “I may have tried to steal some pretty gems downstairs. Blah blah and I got caught by some lady named Frigga who’s a lot more skilled with magic then I had first realized and now I’m here. Granted I don’t remember getting to said “here” but alas my body remains.”

Loki smirks, “My deer mother got the best of you. How is she up in the real world these days?”

“Oh you know, told me she loves reading, doing the usual witchy stuff, and she hates you so go burn in hell for eternity you shit head little boy.”

Loki could have choked on his own spit, “Pardon me?”

“You heard me, she said she loves you. Is that not what you heard? I really thought I was being pretty clear.”

The Asgardian prince shakes his head, “Forget I asked.” Turning around once again to find his way onto the comfortable looking mattress, new book in hand.

You pout at the lack of attention, what did you say to annoy him? Was it the little shit head boy? Maybe he’s just having a bad day.

——

There he is. That incredibly attractive Asgardian prince of Mischief, just standing there. Reading yet another book in his beautiful greens and blacks and golds as he chooses to ignore you. The insanely gorgeous but deeply irritating woman across the cell from him.

You’ve been in here for about four weeks now and Loki has not cracked once. You’re really trying too! All he’s done is gift you with some telling facial expressions or the wonderful side comment to address your theatrics or harmless shenanigans.

All you want to do is get to know him better. And maybe along the way get the fuck out of here with a little help, and then preferably take the prince along for the ride. If it was only that easy.

Levitating in your cell just because you’re tired of standing all the time, you keep your usual unabashed stare-down with the prince when a random guard marches by. He looks from right to left and forward again before doing a double take over to you.

“Hey! Stop that!” He shouts, lance raised at your smirking face while you continue to float, “You can’t do that here!”

You simply roll your eyes, “Who has made this new rule law?”

The guard pauses for a moment, clearly indicating that he just doesn’t want you floating because he’s a party pooper. He swallows, “By king Odin.”

“By king Odin? Doesn’t his son fly?”

“Huh?” He glances over to Loki who’s not paying attention to you two in the slightest.

“Not that one.”

The guard makes a frustrated grunt before removing his lance away from your face, no matter the safety of the glass, “You can remain afloat but only under my authority.” And with that does he stomp off down the corridor.

Idiot.

You beam a victorious grin as he leaves your sight when a sudden slow clapping can be heard from across the hallway. Immediately do you snap your attention up to the prince who’s already sharing one of his infamous smirks, “Congratulations. You’ll now have an enemy down here. And it only took you a few weeks.”

You scoff, moving yourself to float casually on your back, “It’s about time too. Things were starting to get unbearably dull around here.”

Loki hums, “Ever try reading?”

You snort, “No, no I haven’t. Hmm, but I’d love it if you could read to me, since I don’t happen to have any books within reach. It’s only fair.”

Loki raises a brow, “Only fair?”

“Yes. I have the guards annoyed with me, so, they won’t care much about you. And. You get to read, but also to me as well.”

“That’s a possibly compelling suggestion.” Says the prince, mulling over your words.

“I thought so.”

You close your eyes as a couple moments pass before he speaks again, “But I must decline.”

“What!” You shout in bewilderment as he lowly chuckles, “I might just about die of boredom, you want me on your conscience when I pass into oblivion from lack of entertainment!”

Loki smiles at your adorable face, “Make your own fun.” He teases, though you don’t realize this.

Moving yourself into a standing position, yet still without touching the ground, you press your hands against the golden tinged glass, “Loki! You are a beautifully great annoyance and if I wasn’t stuck in here I would throw all your books about! And then….then I’d knock down your nightstand!”

He smirks, “Charming.”

You pout while your fists clench in irritation, “Fine! I didn’t want to listen to your loathsome voice anyways!” He gifts you with a proud half grin as you turn from him to magically throw your wooden nightstand across the room.

You land, reaching a hand out to launch the nightstand back across the room once more before repeating this action again and again until the whole flimsy thing combusts when it crashes violently into the closest wall.

Breathing heavily, you slowly turn to face the irritation watching you do all of this, “Feel better Y/N.”

Pursing your lips together, you release your tight fists, “Yes.”

He nods, “What would you like me to read?”

“Something joyful…….please.”

Loki shares a handsome grin before giving you a respectfully small bow, “As the lady wishes.” Loki shares a small glance with your curious face before turning to search for a book. He kneels down and soon picks out a book colored in a deep blue, something foreign written in golden cursive on the front.

You slowly return to the ground, this time seated criss crossed as you lean half of yourself upon the glass as you try and get as close to Loki as physically possible. Which is difficult considering the hallway’s short distance keeping your cells apart, but you try anyways. He opens up the book and quickly looks up to catch your gaze before smiling and looking down at the first page.

Loki reveals the smallest blush before clearing his throat, “The Fox and the Raven.” You smirk at his adorable face, how focused and deep in thoughtful concentration he becomes as the words flow off of his sly tongue like molten gold. You could listen to him all day.

“Once there were two beings, equal in skill and game. Best friends since childhood even, but there was one thing that drove a wedge in their long relationship. Another. This beautiful being was beyond compare to that of any god or goddess alike. And the two friends where undoubtedly in love with them.

It began one windy day by the river, the beauty stood, washing their hair by the waters edge with not a mind to mess with anyone in their head. The two friends saw them and smiled. “I shall win their affections.” Claimed the dark haired admirer, Tala. “Not you silly fox, I shall be the one to draw their heart to mine.” Spoke Essek with great confidence, his bestfriend in the whole entire realm.

They looked to each other with clear frustration sculpted into their faces, so, the friends came to an agreement. Whoever failed to win over the water nymphs heart, that friend must stay in their animal form forever while the victorious one could live on as they always have. Maybe it was cruel. Maybe not at first.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months as the two friends would speak with the water nymph as often as they could. Tala in raven form and Essek as a dashing fox. All was going well as they played their little game of love until the water nymph began to grow quit fond of the raven for his talents in the sky and witty personality.

So much so that on the next full moon, the raven revealed himself to his true form before making love to the joyful water nymph on the rivers edge. And so the very next day when the fox arrived to speak with the nymph, he was surprised to find Tala laying underneath a weeping willow with the nymph in his strong arms.

The fox recoiled with jealousy before his heart shattered in two, Tala smiled a triumphant grin as the fox turned away in disappointment before rushing off into the woodland. Never to be seen again.

So that is why you can never trust anyone who is truly dear to you, for love is a fleeting thing and can turn friends into beasts for something as silly and pathetic as a beacon of affection.” Finishes Loki in an almost sour tone as you sit there on the cell floor, feeling a bit off and out of place from that abrupt turn of events.

You frown, “I thought you were going to read me a happy story?”

Loki closes the book, “I did.” Blue eyes on you in an instant.

“No. You really didn’t.”

Loki gives you an almost dumbfounded look, “The raven got to keep his original form and make love to the water nymph what else is there to want?” He questions like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. Not.

“The fox is depressed now. That’s not very happy.”

“It was happy for those two, was it not?”

You roll your eyes, “It was. But a happy story should have a happy ending for everyone involved. That’s the point of a happy tale being told.” You counter as he lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Not everyone gets what they want in the end, Y/N. That’s just life, some are fine and persist while others turn and run with nothing of any significance still clinging to them.”

You sit there a moment in bewilderment, soon rising to float threateningly by the glass, “That’s ridiculous! A happy story should be fucking happy! Love is supposed to be kind and beautiful, not this wedge that turns people against one another and supports a game that shifts into jealousy and disdain for one.”

Loki hums, “Well it is just a story after all. Love does that because it isn’t truthful ever, it’s a fleeting thing without any weight that only causes pain and disappointment.”

Your brows soon furrow at these dark words, “Oh and what do you understand about love?” You hotly challenge, voice accusatory and fierce.

“That it isn’t real.” Mutters the prince with a casual shrug, though his face flashes with uncertainty.

You scoff, “Is it now? You think love is a simple lie? A trick from the universe to keep races existing until their worlds collapse?”

“Yes.” Nods the Asgardian, “That’s what I believe.”

You take a breath, feet slowly touching the cool tiled floor as you speak, “You have no idea what it feels like then. So how can you claim it to be false?”

Loki crosses his arms, “True love isn’t real because that just cannot be realistic in any sense Y/N. Same thing as feeling happy or when you sneeze….the feeling is a feeling like butterflies in your stomach when you get excited. But like every emotion given, it leaves and the feelings are dulled or just dissipate altogether.”

“You’re wrong.” You bitterly mutter, voice low and filled with a somber hurt.

“And how would I be wrong then?” He wonders, truly curious to see how on earth you are able to counter this. He doesn’t wholeheartedly believe in love, though his growing affections for you seem to have him conflicted. He still wants to know.

“It is like magic, to be in love.” You reply, a faint smile ghosting your lips as you press your hands against the glass, “It is bright and brilliant and beautiful. It does not come and go like a fleeting spark from a dying flame. Love, like magic, forms from within when let into someone’s vessel. It is a power that always remains no matter where the person travels, or how old they become. Love, in the end and always through existence will remain. No matter what.”

Loki could have shed a tear at your beautiful explanation, yet his stubbornness persists, “A fairytale. Nothing more.”

“A fairytale? A fucking fairytale!?” You shout, voice rising in fury, “You don’t know anything but the lies you tell yourself you heartless bastard! All I wanted was a happy story that made me smile before I’m executed! And you couldn’t even give me that you selfish prick of a man!”

Loki’s heart grows cold as a winters morning, he blinks, forgetting how to properly breath at your heated declarations. He steps closer to the thin glass, brows furrowed in puzzled apprehension, “You’re being executed?” He asks, tone low and thoughtful.

Face falling into a deep frown, you lower your head in shame, “I have been condemned to die for my crimes above. Guess they’re not so simple as I had first claimed.”

“What do you mean?”

You let out a telling sigh, “I didn’t try and take the queens jewels, I tried to murder her..”

“You what?!” Whispers the Asgardian prince, eyes wide in shock, “What do you mean?”

Your gaze keeps trained onto the floor, “I am…well, I was….an assassin. Who, ultimately could not force myself to murder your mother Frigga, so I let myself be caught and taken. It’s the least I deserve for the life I’ve led. This is just how it goes, and I’m ready.”

Loki’s mind races, he never even suspected such a thing coming from you. Sure you’re indeed a beautiful mystery of a person who enjoys levitating in her cell for the hell of it. But your appearance and pose never revealed someone capable of homicide as their profession, least of all you.

And now, his father is condemning you to death rightly so, but Loki can’t help but think you don’t truly deserve this fate. Maybe, just possibly, he’d feel like he was losing a close friend. Someone who he never had any intentions of developing these strange new feelings for.

“I won’t let him end your life.” Suddenly speaks the prince, “You didn’t kill her, you actively chose not to, so I believe he could sway his final decision.”

You let out a breathy laugh, “Wishful thinking.” Just as three guards dressed in their true Asgardian golds walk to the front of your cell. Loki swallows, they dissipate the golden tinged force field, leaving you with nothing but air to keep you from their clutches.

“Y/N.” Softly calls the dark haired prince, voice small and desperate, he didn’t think they would take you so soon but what does he truly know anymore? Your sad eyes lock onto his as one guard snaps metal cuffs against your wrists, and another around your throat before he ushers you out.

Loki can’t tear his eyes from yours the whole time, and even after you’ve been dragged down the hallway and out of sight. He thinks, maybe you’ll return and it was all a big misunderstanding, a simple nightmare and he’ll wake any second now. But he knows this is foolish thinking, you’re never coming back. And he’s beside himself.

Loki bows his head in silent anguish, fists clenched tight as his heartbeat begins to race when suddenly he releases his grip and a small blast of green magic emits in the aftermath. Just enough power to knock some books onto the floor in protest. He doesn’t pick them up.

In the following days, Loki would pace around his cell like a nervous lion. Reading book after book to help pass the time though he couldn’t stop his racing mind from thinking about you. Where were you now? What had they done to you? Did it hurt?

He didn’t know and what’s worse is the guards only seemed to mock him about it, claiming your life was worth more dead then anything else. It stung like a heated iron spear left too long in the hot coals, he missed you beyond compare. How did you make him feel this way? When did that happen?

He missed your mischievous smile, your alluring eyes of curiosity and concealed chaos. The way you spoke to him like a person and not just a prisoner, or even a prince who’s disappointed his whole kingdom. You didn’t care, sure you lived to tease and pester him relentlessly, but you didn’t truly care about his current status.

You drew the attention out of him without even needing to try, brought a smile upon his face weather he was aware of it or not, and made him feel genuinely excited about waking up the next day. You became everything to him and more, and Loki hadn’t even realized this until it was too late.

But now you’re gone. And he will never see another Y/N for as long as he is to live.

Loki sits with his back against the wall, hair undoubtedly a wild mess closely matching that of the room about him. Books, clothing, furniture, and other personal belongings lay around his cell like the aftermath of a furious hurricane. He didn’t mean for this to happen, but when he got word that his mother was injured in the attack by the dark elves and freed prisoners. He new it was his fault, he led them to freedom after all.

With his mother healing from her non fatal wounds, and the loss of his dear Y/N to the axe. Loki has been doing less then tremendous these past few weeks, clearly. The prince now closes his weary eyes, breathing steadily as a new presence makes itself known across the golden tinged glass. He doesn’t care to look.

“Well don’t you look sad.” Teases a familiar voice, not condescending but just enough to make him laugh if he felt like it.

He opens his eyes to find your smirking face, body safe and sound wrapped in a cloak of white and intricately laced gold. How absolutely beautiful you are. His brows furrow as he mutters, “You’re just an illusion.” Voice horse and filled with doubt.

You raise a brow, “So is this?” You ask in reference to the clean cut illusion Loki is controlling, “I think not. I can see right through it.”

He forgot about the illusion he’s been creating since his breakdown, of course you’d see right through it, “You died. And my mother is hurt.”

“So you lost control within yourself and chose self deprecation? And apparently…chaos.” The trickster god rolls his tired eyes which causes you to chuckle, “I see my passing onto greater things has weakened your ego.”

He scoffs, “Your ghost form does not amuse me.”

Taking a glance down the vacant hallway, you step right through the golden tinged force field like it’s nothing more then air. “Loki Laufeyson, I am not a phantom or a dreary pigment of your imagination you foolish prick. I am Y/N, Goddess of Chaos and Magic. And someone who has missed you deeply.”

Loki frowns, blue eyes focused up at your truthful face as he sighs, “I….I don’t think I understand what is happening.”

You approach his side before kneeling down to reach his level, you two have never been this close before, “My tale was true as the forming of this realm itself. But your mother saw me for who I am, not what I have been enchanted to do with my life. So she gave me another chance to live, and so I did. To protect her and guard her until she deems otherwise, that’s why I’m still alive and that’s why your mother still has a beating heart.”

Loki reaches out for your hand that you gladly let him take, “Those prisoners..”

“I killed them. Every last one of those fuckers and the damn dark elves who attempted to crash their ship into the great hall. Let’s just say, it didn’t go according to their plans.” You explain, pausing for a moment to share a longing look with the Asgardian prince.

The corners of his lips rise into a soft smile, a deeply relieved one while you look down at your laced fingers, “Loki.” You whisper before drawing your head up to properly look at him.

“Yes.”

“I’m still counting on a better story.” You muse as he lets out a breathy laugh.

“Unfortunately none of these books happen to provide a decent tale, my dear.”

You gently squeeze his hand, “In that case I’ll bring you all the books stuffed in that giant library. There’s bound to be a good one, something happy.”

“I’d like that.” Nods the prince.

You smile, “But I have to ask you one thing.”

“Of course.”

“Did you miss me?”

Loki squeezes your hand right back, “More then I’d ever missed anyone.” Reveals the dark haired prince as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, though his fingers linger on your cheek a moment longer before he slowly pulls them away and into his lap.

You can’t help but snicker which causes his face to scrunch up in puzzled embarrassment. Immediately do you reach up to cup his cheek, “I felt the same way. And I think I might feel a bit more too, quit possibly a lot more. No. Yes definitely a lot more then I first led on from a few weeks ago in fact and all I must admit to you now Loki Laufeyson or Odinson..prince of Asgard I think I’d like to kiss you now if that’s okay with you.”

Loki blinks, did he hear you right? “oh.” He mumbles, clearly unsure of himself or whatever wonderful thing you just said.

You immediately remove your hand from his cheek, “Too soon. Sorry I just thought I read you right maybe I was wrong I can just leav….” You don’t even have a moment to finish your sentence when his lips press pleasantly against yours.

His hands hold your face while your own hands gently grip onto his forearms for support in your awkward positioning, with him sitting and you still crouched. But it matters not when his lips move in time with yours, he feels so lovely, like a hundred roses pressing against your skin.

Giving you that soft velvety feel, you could kiss him all day if he’d let you. Though soon enough the two of you must break for some air, and with that do you pull him to his feet while you float just inches off of the messy ground. Loki never once taking his hand away from yours.

“How can you….how can you do that?” Wonders the prince as he glances from the ground to your face.

You shrug, “How can you move things with your mind?”

He smiles, “I guess, I just can. A terribly lackluster explanation I know, but perhaps I’m not truly certain how either.”

“Well let’s not dwell on the unknown for too long, this moment right now is too sacred for anything else. And though I have to leave, I will return to you…..and next time with more books. Then you will have no choice then to read them all to me.”

Loki hums, “I don’t see a problem there.” Before whispering in your ear, “Maybe bring some wine, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend an evening.”

You share a bright grin, “As the spoiled prince asks, but it will cost you.”

Loki raises an intrigued brow, “Cost what?”

“A kiss. Before and after I do your bidding. Can you settle for those terms?”

Loki’s lips pull into an adorable smile, cheeks almost dusting pink at your new flash of boldness. He’s never met anyone quit like you in all his years alive. “I believe those terms are acceptable.”

You give him a wink, “Good. See you then.” And with that do you crash your lips against his for on more heated embrace before leaving one final kiss to his slender cheek and floating out of the cell you go. Stopping behind the glass to give your new lover one last fleeting look, “Miss me you prick.”

Loki smirks, “Always.”

[ijustwant2write]

Model Wife-Thomas Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @nofckingfighting​)

(REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND I HAVE ALSO CREATED A PROMPT LIST HERE IF YOU WANT TO TAKE SOMETHING FROM THAT)

Masterlist

Requested by @justsimplyme93​: ‘Hey! How are you? I read the last tommy shelby one you did and i love it. Could you do another arranged marriage with tommy where he still go’s to lizzie and the reader asks to speak with him.’

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Cheating, sex, swearing, arguing slight violence

                                      *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sipping on my tea, I looked around at our guests in the house, all members of the ‘Grace Shelby Institute’. We had to keep up appearances, and although both Tommy and I hated socialising with people who used to turn their noses up at people like us, they were the ones providing the money. Normally, we would keep most events out of the house, but Tommy had pissed me off, and seeing as he was too busy to help organise it, I made all the arrangements; being petty was sometimes the only way I could get back at him.

“Mrs Shelby, what a lovely home you have! And the decor for today is just lovely.” an older, highly posh woman gushed to me.

I smiled.“Thank you. I am quite proud of myself.”

“I have not had the chance to speak with your husband yet. It seems he keeps vanishing into thin air.”

“Yes, he does have a habit of doing that.”

Knowing that there was no point in trying to track down Tommy, I suffered through an awfully dull conversation with the lady, having to disguise my boredom with polite smiles as more women joined us. They were all much older, I had seen a few young women here, all married to very rich men who were twice their own age; I suppose I couldn’t judge, it wasn’t like Tommy and I were actually in love.

“You know Mrs Shelby, I have always wondered how you met a man like Thomas Shelby.” one of the women said.

She was bold to say something like that, especially to me. I refrained from sighing as I started to recite the story Tommy and I made up.

“Well, it seems very cliche, I must say. We met when he was meeting with my father, obviously wanting to unite our businesses. I ended up being in the right place at the right time, we easily fell into a conversation with each other which was unfortunately interrupted by my father. Thomas was very confident to take me out to dinner, right in front of my father may I add! Surprisingly he was a charmer, and I guess we just fell in love along the way.”

The ladies all cooed, some covering their heart with their hand as if it were the most romantic thing they had ever heard. It was all bullshit. We had to make it as vague as possible, make sure that they had nothing more to gossip about. Both Tommy and I had been married before, they were our real loves; and both had been murdered by a rival, but who received more sympathy after they died? And who was called vicious, degrading names when she re-married to a wealthier, more powerful man? People of ‘society’ were disgusting.

“Finn,” I called out as I approached him, luckily escaping the women,“have you seen your brother?”

“Which one?” he smirked.

I smiled back, ruffling up his hair to annoy him.“The one I’m married to.”

He quickly smoothed it back down.“Not sure. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Alright, just keep an eye out for him, yeah?”

Although it wasn’t uncommon for Tommy to disappear (especially to avoid these groups of snobs), he had been gone for a while. He may have been frustrated by my choice of venue, but he would still inform me if he had to leave for business. This made me all the more suspicious.

Leaving the main room, I hastily walked down the halls, leaving the noise behind me. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, wishing that I didn't have an idea of where he could be...and who with. Brushing past staff carrying food and beverages, I made my way upstairs, checking our bedroom first. He was the lowest of low if he was up here; luckily, they hadn’t used this room. Checking through our bedrooms, it was only two doors down from our own when I heard heavy breathing. Taking a deep breath, I gripped onto the handle, bursting in and confirming my suspicions. 

“If you’re almost finished, we have guests waiting for you downstairs.” I stated, averting my gaze away from the scene before me.

Lizzie had been bent over the bed, with her dress pulled up over her hips (how classy), and my husband right behind her. She bolted upright, shimmying her dress back down and pulling her underwear up; even after being caught in the act, she looked smug, head held high as she walked past me. Looking back at Tommy, he had an annoyed expression as he did up his trousers. I didn’t want to speak to him, but he called me back before I had a chance to leave.

“We need to speak about this.” he said.

“We do. But not now, not whilst I am hosting this event for the organisation you created for your dead wife.” I snapped, slamming the door shut behind me.

Luckily I had put a time limit on the event, and this time there was a genuine smile on my face as they all left. That was before I remembered what I had witnessed earlier. It was going to go down much messier than I first anticipated, especially since the tension between us had been building up after I caught them in the act. My footsteps were heavy on the way to Tommy’s office, not even bothering the knock before entering. In his usual spot at his desk, whiskey already poured, there was no reaction from him when he saw the fury in my eyes.

“Glad you’re settled for the evening.” I spat, hands on my hips as I stood opposite him.

“This is about earlier?” he coughed.

“What else would we talk about?”

“I’m guessing it has upset you.”

“Not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

He didn’t reply, instead lighting a cigarette.

“Tommy, I understand that there is that bullshit saying ‘all men have urges that need to be fulfilled’, but it doesn’t mean you can disrespect me in my own home.”

“Your home?”

“Yes, my home. I’m here a lot more than you are anyway. And of all the times to be fucking her, you chose the annual Grace Shelby Institute meet up?”

“Don’t say her name.” he mumbled.

I scoffed.“It’s the only way I can get your attention nowadays.” 

Tommy raised from his chair, still smoking.“Attention? Since when have you ever wanted my attention?”

“We both knew that this marriage wasn’t based off of love, nor were we ever going to fall in love along the way. However, I have been nothing but a model wife to you. I keep up appearances on your behalf, I make up excuses for your disappearances, I also ensure that your reputation isn’t tarnished by people speaking about you behind your back! And if that doesn’t deserve some fucking respect then I don’t know what does! Also, don’t you think I miss the touch of a man? How many times have I come across men that have shamelessly flirted with me whilst you’re not around, and how easy would it have been to sneak away for just a moment to gain some satisfaction?!”

I could feel my face burning up as I ranted, hating that I wasn’t gaining any sort of reaction from him. Was he this blank with Grace? Was he this blank with Lizzie?

“So you’re asking me to stop seeing Lizzie?” 

“I’m not asking you that, because even if I did, you would keep doing it anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. I just want respect. I don’t deserve to be humiliated like this.”

“No one knows.”

“Your family does! And even if they didn’t, that means I don’t deserve respect?”

He sighed as he stubbed out his cigarette.“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You said it nevertheless.”

“What do you want me to do then?”

“Really Tommy? I want some common fucking decency.”

“Ask and you shall receive.”

I groaned, leaving before I said something I truly regretted. He was acting as if he didn’t give a shit (which he probably didn’t), which only angered me more. Who would want to be stuck in such a place? Letting out an angry scream, I picked up an expensive vase, raising it high above my head before throwing it on the floor with all my might. The pieces glided out across the hardwood floor, some spraying onto my shoes. A few servants rushed in, obviously alarmed by the noise. Instead of apologising, I marched past them, heading up the long stairs and to the bedroom; I would have preferred to grab the leftover bottles of champagne as a nightcap, but exhaustion from my anger would have to do.

Tommy still slept beside me that week, he still ate breakfast with me, sometimes dinner if he wasn't busy. He also tried to have normal, short conversations with me, though even when we glanced at each other, the tension was thick between us. It pissed me off that he was acting normal, and I knew that's why he was doing it...making me even more mad.

"I have a potential business partner coming here today." He informed me over breakfast.

"Why are they coming here?" I asked.

"I couldn't have a meeting elsewhere."

"I thought you said you don't like bringing business home...though come to think of it, you don't really do that either."

"Glad that's settled then."

I assumed that Tommy would want me out of the way when this 'partner' arrived. A good place to go was out to the stables, tend to the horses to take up time. However, I wasn't in the mood for riding or mucking out, instead opting to watch them be trained for racing. Leaning against a fence, I wasn't surprised that my mind was elsewhere, wondering why Tommy was still being so nice to me. We very rarely argued, mostly because neither of us wanted to face the problems at hand, especially when there were more pressing matters to deal with. But after yelling at him like I had, I expected some sort of silent treatment, or even for him to avoid me completely.

"Mrs Shelby?" a butler said from behind me. He continued as I turned around."Mr Shelby's meeting was to commence at twelve, but he is not here at present. However, his business partner has arrived. And..."

"And?"

"And Mr Shelby has asked that you keep him company whilst he is gone. He has assured me he shall be no longer than half an hour."

It was highly unusual for me to meet any of Tommy's associates. This meant that the man couldn't be any sort of threat, he wouldn't expose me like this. Following the butler back inside, I followed him to the parlour, preparing to act as a good host and a good wife.

"I'm sorry that my husband has kept you waiting, he's never been great with time keeping." I said as I walked in, the man having his back towards me.

As he turned around, my eyes widened, as did his.

"Christopher?!" I exclaimed.

"(Y/N)?!" He smiled, rushing towards me.

"Is that really you? What are you doing engaging in business with the Shelby's?"

"My firm is expanding, for some reason Thomas Shelby stepped forward and offered to become partners. I haven't heard about you for years!"

"Neither I about you. Ever since you moved away, we lost contact."

"And now you're the new Mrs Shelby. Bit risky isn't it?"

I laughed."Come sit down, u want to hear everything you have been doing since we last saw each other."

Christopher was a very old friend of mine. We had known each other since we were eighteen, becoming friends after our families were connected through business. We had been young people wanting to rebel, wanting to have fun; we were never in a relationship together, though we would sleep with each other, spend long nights out drinking with our friends. As a lot of my friends went off to get married to higher business men, he was still there, until I selfishly left him behind to marry my husband, the man I truly loved. I had loved Christopher, not so much as someone I wanted to spend my life with, though neither just a friend; it sounded more complicated that it was.

"You know, I always felt slightly bad for marrying and leaving you like that." I admitted.

"Only slightly?" he nudged me.

"It's not my fault I fell in love! We both said that we would never marry each other, it wasn't right."

"No, you are correct. Though, that didn't stop us doing things that couples do."

I giggled."And we did that a lot."

"I'm sure Mr Shelby keeps you busy."

"He would...if he was ever here. Though even if he was..."

"(Y/N)?"

"I've said too much already."

"Have the two of you ever...or haven't rather-"

"No we haven't. And I am telling you this in full secrecy, it must never leave your lips." I pointed a finger at him, becoming serious.

"I promise. I would never do anything to expose you like that."

"Thank you Christopher." I laid my hand on his thigh, thinking nothing of it until he placed his over mine.

Slipping away my hand, I looked away from him, feeling how intense our eye contact was becoming. It was stupid that my heart was beating faster, I was becoming hot under the collar over the tiniest amount of contact.

"I'm assuming your wife knows who you are making a deal with?" I said to start the conversation again.

"There is no Mrs in my life at the moment. I'm afraid work came first and well...there has never been much time."

"Oh Christopher, that's no excuse! Let me guess, you've lost your charm?"

"It's been working on you, hasn't it?"

He got me again. Glancing around, I saw no servants, though I wouldn't be surprised if they were eavesdropping. However, it was Tommy and I that employed them, if they wanted to lose their job, that would he the way to do it. Standing up, I gestured for Christopher to follow.

"We're going on a walk." I announced.

"What about your husband?"

"He will be ages before he gets here. And I'm allowed to show my old friend around the place."

We headed out of the front door, and without saying anything, I guided him down the path that led away from the house.

"(Y/N), I thought you were showing me around your home?" Christopher pointed out.

"I am. We're just starting at the beginning."

"What is that...hut?"

It was a small stone shed, one that would have been used to either keep guns or tools used to maintain the land, keep it tidy. Tommy had another one built closer, initially wanting to knock it down but soon forgetting about it. Now it was empty, the only things remaining being a desk and a chair. It was in front of the trees, slightly hidden by them. You would have to have a sharp eye to spot it, whether you were walking or driving by. Using my shoulder to budge it open, I stepped inside, closing the door after Christopher walked in.

"(Y/N), I'm not stupid, I know why we've come here." He said, staying close by me.

I hesitated to speak, knowing that I hadn't thought this through properly."Christopher... I wouldn't be doing this if-"

"Your husband is Thomas Shelby, this is dangerous for both of us."

"It isn't. He's allowed to go off and do what he wants, because he's Thomas fucking Shelby, and he's a man. Even if he found out about any of this, he wouldn't hurt someone if I asked him not to. He's good to me in that manner."

His hands came up to either side of my face."I'm worried about you, I've never seen you so..."

"Desperate?" I clung onto his jacket, pulling him closer.

"I couldn't believe it was you when you walked in. You're still as beautiful as you were when we were eighteen."

Although he was being a sweetheart and I hadn't received such compliments in a long time, I was inpatient. We both knew where this was headed, and it wasn't going to be as romantic or adventurous as it used to be.

Hungrily kissing me, his arms wrapped around my torso, reaching down to my arse as I pulled off his coat. Pulling away for a moment, he pushed me towards the desk, helping me scramble on top of it. My legs instantly spread as I ruffled up the bottom of my dress, using one hand to grab the back of his neck and kiss him again. I felt his hand slide up my thigh, gasping as he pulled my underwear aside. The sensation filling my body had been badly missed, and I felt myself writhing against his fingers. Leaning back against the wall, I moaned loudly, heavily breathing as I grinded my hips. He slowed down his movements, knowing how much it was frustrating me.

"Christopher..." I struggled to say."Fuck, please...don't stop."

He leaned in to my neck, sloppily missing it as he spoke in between."I loved teasing you like this."

I groaned as he removed his fingers, instantly reaching down to unbuckle his trousers. Before I could take a turn to torture him back, he pulled me off the desk, quickly turning me around and bending me over it. I yelped out in surprise, smiling at the thrill of it all. He tapped my legs apart, moving my skirts out of the way. I felt his skin on mine before he thrusted into me, making me cry out in pleasure. It didn't even matter if anyone could hear us, I hadn't fucked for God knows how long.

He was slow at first, building up the feeling that was in the pit of my stomach. I moaned out his name, reaching back to grab any piece of hm. He had a tight grip on my hips, especially as he started to quicken his pace. The noises escaping his mouth were somehow exciting me, I needed to feel and hear all of this. The pinching of skin from his hold didn't bother me, both of us shouting out each others names along with profanities before he came, but he kept going until I did too. With both of us finished and out of breath, Christopher gently collapsed over me.

"Fuck." I sighed as he pulled out.

Shakily straightening up, I made sure I was dressed correctly, kissing him gently one last time. My body couldn't believe what it had just gone through, and it already wanted more. Before we could say or do anything else, we heard the distant sound of a car, and it could only be headed this way.

"Shit." Christopher stressed, hastily getting dressed.

"It's OK! It'll be OK, Christopher!" I tried to calm him down.

"He's back already!"

"We'll head back and act like nothing happened. I was just walking around with you."

Making sure we both looked normal, we nervously made our way back to the house. My legs were still shaking as he speedily walked, but I said nothing, seeing the stress and fear plastered on his face.

"Ah, Mr Alexander, I see you have met my wife." Tommy was stood in the foyer, unnaturally smiling.

"We actually know each other. We grew up together." I explained, standing beside him.

Then it clicked.

"If you don't mind, I just need a quick word with my wife."

Christopher nodded, politely smiling at both of us before following the butler to Tommy's office. He turned to face me, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

"You invited him on purpose." I said.

"You might want to go lie down for a bit." He didn't say it maliciously, but I was still wary.

"Tommy, please don't hurt him. I initiated it, please don't-"

"I'm not going to do anything to him. He's done what I thought he would do."

"I'm confused. Why would you want him to sleep with me?"

"You said so yourself, why should it just be me doing what I want? You're Mrs fucking Shelby, you've got the power." He started to walk away, leaving me to still think about what he had done.

Still shaky but reeling from the events that unfolded, I ended up smiling."That scheming mother fucker."

[atsunflower]

Hospital for souls — The Line

Rated: SFW

Author note: I gotta nothing to say. This took me really long and I struggled a lot to write it. Thanks for being patient with me. Also, big shoutout to @neonghxst, who helped me a lot with this one. I love you bby 💕

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of anxiety and this chapter contains gore towards the end.

IV — The line

Previous || Next

"I don't wanna go" Your voice showed distaste at the invitation.

Since the fight with Sakusa, you avoided all human contact like the plague. The only ones that talked to you were the maids and, occasionally, Komori, who had warmed up to you since you saved his ass — to be honest, you weren't very fond of his change of character.

"Listen, you're the new lady of this household." Komori explained in a tired manner."This gala is held every year in some sort of diplomatics, to grant no family crosses the line. All the important members must make a presence."

"Yeah, but I'm sure no one cares if I don't show up." You deadpanned looking at his face.

"It's just a fancy ass party. I'll take you to get a dress myself, but I gotta run some errands and find a suit too. If I'm late, then Izuna will take you." Komori saw you stiffening when you heard the name. Ever since you arrived in Itachiyama, Izuna was the most hostile towards you. "Hey, don't worry about him... He'll be nice."

"I gotta remind you that no one has been nice to me since I came here, Komori-san." You stated the obvious and the male before you grimaced.

"Look, we're not as bad as you think. Neither we are some sort of low life criminals, you know." His voice sent shivers down your spine. The hazel-haired man has been treating you better, yes, but you could tell the words you said to Sakusa that day affected him too.

"Yeah. But you all did nothing to prove me wrong." You stared at his eyes, the sincere tone meaning each world "If anything, all you did was make me miserable even though I'm not a threat. And you know it." You saw when the hazel haired male shook his head, face softening a little.

"I'll be back in a few." And then, Komori left. 

To your relief, it was Komori himself who showed up at your bedroom door. Now, you were at some boutique somewhere in the fancy side of Shibuya, trying a beautiful strappy off-white dress.

You loved how the silky cloth hugged your body and how the pearly color complimented your skin tone. Definitely, it was the propper gown for an event as important as a mafia gala.

Taking in the figure reflected in the mirror, you recalled the last time you wore something so fancy was at your wedding. Suddenly, you felt ugly — after all, you were a woman of surgical scrubs and white coats. Wearing something like this dress was a reminder of what kind of life you were living now.

"[Name]-san, have you decided?" Komori asked with an undecipherable look on his face. 

"Ah, yes, I'm taking this one" You said to the salesperson, already getting back to the changing room.

From the inside, you heard a knock on the door. It was Komori.

"[Name], are you good?" He asked in a soft spoken manner, as if he was concerned.

You know it's not the case, don't let your guard down, you reminded yourself.

"Yes, Komori-san. Are we ready to go?" He hummed in agreement, saying he was going to do the payment.

The two of you had yet to arrive in Itachiyama. The silence was heavy inside the car and you could see the man opening his mouth as if he was trying to say something.

"I never asked, did you see a doctor?" You started, breaking the unnerving atmosphere.

"Ah, yes. I'm all good, no sequels or whatever." He cleared his throat, side-glancing at you "Those guys took us by surprise that night, huh? We were lucky you were there to help us out." You hummed, staring at his elbow, as if you could see through the material of his jacket.

"I shouldn't have opened your arm that way. It was really irresponsible of me to do it and it was a miracle things ended up well."You said in a reflecting manner.

Does she regret saving me?, Komori couldn't help but wonder.

"The doctor I saw said the surgery was perfectly executed, so don't beat yourself over it. Besides, I can see the passion you have. You'd make it right anyways." The male said truthfully and you frowned. You didn't want his trust because he would never have yours.

You also didn't like the appreciative tone he used. A doctor isn't a hero, You reminded yourself everyday, to never let it go to your head.

"I'm passionate, but it's about my personal ethics, you don't need passion to be good at what you do. I think you know it very well." You still frowned, not liking what he implied. You never wanted to be some sort of hero, much less to someone like him. 

"Yeah, I don't need to love the yakuza to be good at it. But I don't think a passionless person would make a good doctor." He argued, trying to prove his point.

"In my line of work, a mistake costs your whole career. Passionless and unethical people exist everywhere, a hospital isn't a sanctuary." You said matter of factly — it wasn't about the romantic lenses people saw the health workers. After all, medicine was a field made majorly of people with the means and the money. You learned it the hard way when you made into med school.

"Why would you say that?" The traffic light signalled to stop. The Kobun used this opportunity to take in your figure, eyes roaming over your crossed arms and unfazed features.

Duty takes a toll in everyone, huh?, He internally stated.

"Because I know someone. And as passionless someone could be, he's still the best at what he does." And Komori didn't miss the feeling displayed in your eyes.

It wasn't merely passion. Something deeper resided in those irises of yours.

An awkward silence overtook the atmosphere as the car resumed its movement. He felt uncomfortable, trying to figure out what you meant.

"Well, what matters is that everything ended up well. Who would have guessed they would attack us that night?" Komori conceded, trying to break the unsettling quietness.

"Yeah, this whole yakuza thing is really scary." You said looking through the tinted window, a pensive look in your face.

"You'll get used to it. And it doesn't happen on a daily basis either" He brushed you off, turning in a curb.

"Yeah, but ignoring the threat isn't an easy task." You retorted, tiredly.

"How do you know it? Besides, since you're our lady, it's not like we'll let  something happen to you." The brunette said, in hopes of comforting you. It had the opposite effect, as a silent rage ran down your body.

"Komori-san, how do I know?" You bitterly laughed "My whole life, I was at the line. My mother didn't want me to be born, Inarizaki wanted my head since I was in the womb and you guys will get rid of me at any given opportunity." You saw him opening his mouth to argue "Your household won't protect me if the order comes from Sakusa." 

As if in a cue, the car approached the gates of Itachiyama. Komori was rendered speechless, knowing you were right.

Personally, you weren't one to offend people and make them feel bad. You couldn't help the pang in your chest every time you exploded at any of them. But by god, were you tired.

I just want my life back, you thought. After all, it was infinite times easier to be a target when you were somehow detached from the life inside the families. The Kobun said something you paid no mind to.

Banging the car door shut, you ignored his calling.

The nagging feeling was a constant in his life.

Roaming through his memories, he could never pinpoint a time he felt comfortable under his skin. He was too anxious and life never treated him kindly to do so.

Maybe he overreacted a lot, too. But it wasn't his fault he had to be hyper aware of his surroundings.

The alert state was essential in an ambience full of people who could stab him in the back.

Fuck the diplomatics, he cursed.

It was one of those nights he hated the most. The suntuous ballroom was full of people going back and forth, bragging about futilities and throwing insincere flattery at each other. All because the ever so generous Karasuno was hosting a dinner at The Crow to assure no one disturbs the deal between the families.

Bullshit, he thought. It's only Karasuno trying to show off their influence over this frail peace.

And, as much as he appreciated said peace, he hated how everyone faked they got along with each other.

Not that he cared about politeness either. And his signature scowl did nothing to keep people away. After all, everyone wanted a piece of Itachiyama.

"Kiyoomi." The ravenette heard the deep voice from his back. A wave of relief washed over him.

At least, Wakatoshi-kun is here. I won't die from boredom, He mused.

"Wakatoshi." He responded, nodding at the other. From outside Itachiyama, Ushijima was the only one Sakusa considered a friend.

"I thought you wouldn't come tonight, I know you don't really like the crowd."

"People would find weird if I didn't, considering Inarizaki and everything."

"Speaking of which, did you bring your wife?" Ushijima asked, looking around. Sakusa nodded before speaking.

"Yeah, she went to the restrooms. Komori is with her." And speaking of the devil, you came into view.

He knew you had a fine taste for things, and he would be a fool to say you didn't look good tonight. But he would never admit it.

A Miya isn't worth you time, he repeated it like a mantra, observing as you made your way onto him.

Komori enthusiastically greeted Ushijima and you merely nodded out of politeness, looking at the bulky male with caution. Given Ushijima's intimidating vibes, Sakusa couldn't really blame you.

"I see you're Sakusa's wife. I'm Ushijima Wakatoshi." He offered his hand at you "It's a pleasure to meet you"

"Likewise, Ushijima-san" You introduced yourself as the Oyabun of Itachiyama watched the scene unfold before him, recalling how his friend was the blunt and introverted type. He couldn't help but admire the way the two of you conversed smoothly; earning Ushijima's sympathy required effort. You did it with ease.

"She's a good woman." Sakusa didn't see when your conversation died down and Ushijima turned to him. He found himself dumbfounded at the other's statement.

"She's a Miya"

"She worked with Shirabu. He spoke highly of her" A waiter passed by offering them whiskey. The rich scent of Yamazaki reached his nostrils as he drank it, throat used to the burning sensation "And you know he's not one to lie."

"Still…" His retort was halted when he felt the weight of a gaze on him. In the far corner of the room, none other than Oikawa Tooru had all his attention turned to the general direction of you all "What is he looking at?" He squinted at the brunette's direction, trying to make out his intentions.

"He seems to be looking at your wife" Ushijima bluntly spoke "But don't worry about him, Oikawa may have his reasons. He is a reliable man, after all."

"You're indeed soft today. What happened?" The other opened his mouth to respond before being interrupted by a startled voice.

Your husband was doing a good job ignoring you while speaking to Ushijima — you wouldn't complain, since you didn't want any of his attention.

Listening to Komori speaking wonders of the whiskey he was drinking, you felt a little at ease. You imagined the gala to be much scarier than this, but all you could see was snotty people too full of themselves. It was almost comical hearring them bragging about things you couldn't even dream of.

"This is a 25 years old Yamazaki. It's a favorite of mine and Kiyoomi—"

"Is this real life?" A surprised voice cutted Komori's middle sentence.

Before you, a handsome man looked appalled, staring at you with an emotion you couldn't identify. You were feeling uncomfortable as everyone around you was paying attention to your interaction.

"I'm sorry, sir. But am I supposed to know you?" You asked, in hopes to remember if you knew him by any chance. He beamed brightly at you.

"Of course you wouldn't remember me!" And he laughed again, earning a frown from your husband.

"Do you have any business to do with my wife?" Sakusa's cold-steel voice asked. The pretty man ignored it. And, at this point, everyone in the area stopped their actions, watching the scene with interest.

"I'm Oikawa Tooru, the Oyabun of Seijoh. Two years ago, you saved my nephew's life in an accident at the Dinosaur Bridge, only using a needle. After it, you held his hand until the ambulance came." The man bowed deeply, and only now you noticed he was accompanied by another spiky-haired male, who was also bowing at you. Observing them, you faintly remembered saving a little boy in a traffic accident a couple of years ago "For that, I'll be forever thankful. In return, I wanted to say you have Seijoh's gratitude whenever you need it." He stood tall again, staring at you dead in the eye to confirm he meant every single word he said.

You were speechless.

"I… sir, I'm thankful, but I did what had to be done. You don't owe me anything." You said uncertainly, glancing at the startled faces of both Komori and Sakusa. Ushijima looked fondly at you, as if he knew something.

"You had a choice that day, and you choosed to help us when we couldn't do anything. And it's enough for us to pay you back." The spiky-haired man said. It was rare for someone to address you with so much respect and sincerity. You appreciated it wholeheartedly.

"I— thank you." And you bowed at them, trying to show your gratitude to both males.

"Well, we won't disturb you anymore. Please have a good night" The Oikawa guy said, handing you a business card which you secluded inside your clutch.

"See?" You heard Ushijima saying, but you were too stunned to register it.

You didn't have time to process the event, as someone announced the dinner was about to be served.

"Seijoh's favour, huh? You sure are skyrocketing this mafia thing." Suna said, sitting on the chair on the opposite side of the table.

You all were addressed to a table with ten seats. It looked like Itachiyama was paired up with Inarizaki and another household you were yet to discover. The atmosphere was already stiff, as Sakusa kept throwing dirty glares at the twins.

"Impressive how you're doing well inside the yakuza. I thought you weren't going to last a month." Atsumu snickered as Osamu and the others ignored everything around them, getting ready for the dinner.

You mimicked their actions before Izuna joined you; you tensed seeing him taking the seat by your left.

Sakusa sat by your right, side-glancing at you. It looked like he had a newfound interest since the interaction with Oikawa earlier.

To your surprise, Seijoh was addressed to your table. Though, both Oikawa and Iwaizumi — Suna let you know his name and the fact he was also a Kobun — said nothing, sensing the tension hanging in the air.

None of the men said anything as the food started to be served. Instead, they busied themselves with the entree, keeping the smalltalk inside their household circle.

You heard Osamu saying something about the wine but you didn't register it. Soon enough, the waiters brought the main course in silver trays.

It smelled fabulous and your mouth watered at the scent.

"A lovely meal for the lady. Please enjoy it, I'm sure you won't forget this occasion." The blond waiter said, as he uncovered your plate. You took in the deep red sauce made of berries and the way the meat was perfectly cooked.

With fork and knife in hand, you went for it.

And indeed, you wouldn't forget the occasion.

Sliding the meat over the plate, you noticed it  hiding something. The scream was caught in your throat as you recognized the obnoxious structure, because years of unveiling the human anatomy would never fail you.

The cutlery clattered in the porcelain surface, spilling the sauce all over you. The white of your dress was now tainted with crimson, as if blood seeped out of your chest.

But you didn't even feel it. All you felt were hands shaking your body, trying to draw some reaction from you. The screams also came in a white noise through your ears, because all you could register was the sight before your eyes.

In the middle of the plate, a finger rested limp and dirty. Dead.

In a similar manner, you did too. 

Among the chaos, you sat there, also limp and dirty. At the end of a promise of death.

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[gellavonhamster]

ghost stories

Suicide Squad (2016) || characters: El Diablo feat. everyone else || post-canon, sort of a fix-it

ao3 link eng || this was first written and published on ao3 in Russian in 2016 but I didn't attempt to translate it into English back then.  

Harley is the first to see him.

She catches the smell first. Something appears to be burning, and she checks cautiously if there is something wrong with the coffee machine. She doesn’t find anything suspicious – not that the appliances about to flame up smell like that anyway. Could it be that there’s a fire starting? That would be funny, but seems like there’s hardly a chance. It is the smell of a bonfire at the beach, of the fallen leaves being burned in the yards in fall, of a melting candle in the church; weirdly, all this at the same time. A smell that seems too pure for Belle Reve, for Gotham, for everything that makes up her life these days.      

Harley looks around once again – and springs to her feet like she’s been stung.

Chato Santana is standing next to her cage.

“Diablo?” she whispers, unable to believe her eyes. She would’ve thought she’s lost her marbles if there were any left to lose.    

“Harley,” says Diablo, and it’s his voice, his shy, sad smile, his eyes and his tattoos, and Harley squeals in delight as she rushes to him. The bars of the cage are live, so she only dares to stick out the tips of her fingers. He touches them with his hand – certainly alive, certainly not a product of her mind being tortured by boredom and monotony – and she laughs.

“You’re alive, alive, alive! How did you survive? And how did they let you in?”

“It’s a long story. And I don’t think I have much time,” Diablo looks guilty. He’s still holding her hand and looking at her so earnestly it’s almost worrying.  “Harley… don’t go with him.”  

“Huh? What do you mean, honey?”

“He’s coming here. Don’t leave with him, Harley, stay. It sounds strange, but this would really be for the best.”  

“Don’t leave with whom?” she can’t follow him. He gives her a melancholic look – and suddenly disappears. Without any smoke or flames or any other special effects. She can’t wrap her head around how it happened – it’s just that he was here a moment ago, and now there’s no one beside her, and she’s reaching out towards nothing.      

“Diablo?” she calls, and when she gets no answer, she decides to get things straight by asking the guards. What kind of cruel joke is this? Only one person is allowed to joke here, and that person is her. “Hello there! Mister jailer, yoo-hoo! Where’s my friend?”  

No one is in a hurry to respond. Finally, one of the armed-to-the-teeth guards approaches the cage.

“Why are you yelling, lady?”

“Where’s my friend?” Harley asks petulantly. “He was here just now, and we didn’t finish talking. Where did you take him?”  

“There was no one here.”

“What do you mean ‘no one’? I just talked to him!”

The guard examines her from head to foot. Looks like he’s chewing gum, which, combined with his empty apathetic stare, makes him look like a cow.

“Definitely crazy,” he sums up, and leaves. Irritated, Harley forgets to take caution, hits the bars and falls down on the floor right away, writhing in pain.    

“Well, well, well,” she whispers, playing the recent events over in her head. Chato was very much corporeal – not a ghost, then. Yet the guards didn’t notice him, and then he vanished into thin air. Harley thinks about the being Chato transformed into by the end of the battle – an ancient one, as if straight from the walls of some Aztec temple. Could some petty bomb kill such a being? Could the Enchantress’s brother have survived too?  

“I am friends with a god,” she informs the ceiling. “Incredible.”

About an hour later, her Puddin’ comes for her, and she forgets the advice Diablo gave her.  

  Croc sees him on the night of the same day. He knows for sure that it is night thanks to the TV listings – the only reference point for time and days of the week that he has. Not that it was bothering him too much, truth be told. Monday or Sunday, every day in Belle Reve is a carbon copy of the day before. However, Croc doesn’t complain. He has a roof over his head, water, food – even better food than he used to have in the sewers in days gone by – and a TV, and it is honestly not too hard to do without such extras as companionship and fresh experiences. Still, he is glad to see Diablo. Even though first he lunges at him with his fangs bared, because he doesn’t immediately recognize him and supposes that Waller and company are sick of feeding him and decided to kill him. Or to put someone else in his quarters, which would have been no less audacious.        

“Croc, it’s me,” Diablo hastens to say, and lights up a flame over his left palm – so unusual and out of place in the dampness of Croc’s cell. Croc freezes and watches the flame for some seconds. That must really be Diablo; there are hardly many people in the world capable of such tricks.

“Hey, man,” Croc says. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Just checking up on you.”

Well, that must definitely be Diablo. Croc knows that there are hardly many people in the world who’d care to check up on him, but that sounds like something El Diablo would do. Back then, during the mission, he was friendly, asked “You okay?” after each skirmish, and could clap him on the shoulder without shuddering. And there are definitely even less people in the world that would touch him willingly.      

“Did they just let you in like that?” wonders Croc. Diablo gives him a slight smile.

“They don’t know I’m here.”

“So you’re, like, a ghost?” Croc asks. It occurred to him from the very beginning, but it sounds particularly joyless when said out loud.

Diablo gestures vaguely. “I’m still figuring it out myself, to be honest.”

“Hmm,” Croc glances over his cell. A bag of food on the cot catches his eye. “You want a burger?”

“Nah, I’m good. Save it for yourself.”

“They’ll bring more today, I’m telling ya.”  

“Then I want one.”

“Then you’re not a ghost,” grins Croc, and the fact that Diablo doesn’t flinch or try to look away also proves that this is the real Chato Santana, because most people don’t like seeing Croc smile.

And so he and Diablo, who kind of is a ghost but kind of isn’t, sit there eating burgers and watching some crap on MTV. Life has taught Croc not to be surprised by anything, so everything’s fine.  

“So what happened after the bomb went off?” Croc asks. Diablo opens his mouth, and then closes it again, apparently at a loss how to explain.

“I was smoke,” he speaks finally. “Then I was flames. Then I became myself again.”

“I see,” Croc replies, although, of course, he can’t see shit.

“Who are you talking to?” comes the guard’s voice from behind the door. “Hey, scum!”

Croc puts the burger aside.

“Wait a bit,” he tells Chato, gets up, and heads for the door.

When he comes to the bean hole, the guard already looks like he regrets calling him.  

“No one,” Crock smiles as widely as only he can, and the guard, who isn’t among the people able to watch him smile without blinking an eye, steps back reflexively. “But come inside, and I’ll talk to you if you wanna. How about that?”   

When he turns around, Chato has already disappeared, and Croc could have assumed he has dreamed it all, but there are two half-eaten burgers on the cot, not one.

  Digger sees him next, and he isn’t even amazed. The bastards keep drugging him with all sorts of shit to calm him down. Usually after the shot he just lies there, feverish, and can’t even move, let alone stand up, but who knows, perhaps they’re testing some new poison on him. Or they’ve started using something stronger because they noticed that a couple of hours after the usual stuff he’s already able to yell, bang at the door, and do everything he can to get the best of them while cooped up inside. Or it’s simply that there’s already so much of this shit in his blood that it’s impossible not to have any screws loose, try as he might to keep them in place. In any case, he’s not exactly shocked when, as he tosses and turns on the floor after another injection, he turns his head and sees El Diablo, large as life and twice as ugly.

“Fuck me sideways,” Digger says. He doesn’t have any energy to be mad yet. “I must be tripping.”

“You’re not tripping,” Diablo objects.

“You died. So I must be.”  

“I didn’t die either.”

Diablo sits down cross-legged on the floor next to him.

“Has it crossed your mind that if you stop getting on their nerves, they might start treating you better?” he asks.

“Go to hell.”

“Message received.”

There’s a footfall outside; a whole bunch of people must be running somewhere.

“They’ve turned the entire joint upside down,” says Digger, because it’s been ages since he has spoken to anyone who’d at least pretend to listen, so a hallucination will do. “Blondie escaped.”  

“I know,” Diablo replies gloomily. “I tried to warn her not to go with the Joker, but she didn’t listen to me.”  

“Why warn her?” Digger asks. Harley Quinn is no bosom friend of his, but she kind of tore out the heart of the witch who kind of tried to end the world, and anyway, teammates probably should take interest in each other’s lives. Probably. He’s never really made sense of that teamwork stuff. “What’s he gonna do to her?”    

“At best, what he always does.”

Two tiny figures of fire appear on Diablo’s open palm – a man and a woman. The man backhands the woman across her face, and she falls down. Digger watches the dancing flames with fascination, and meanwhile in his head, bit by bit, stroke by stroke, a plan starts to take shape. He wouldn’t be Captain motherfucking Boomerang if he fails to use any opportunity that turns up – even a ghost of one. 

“Listen, mate,” he begins cajolingly. “If you’re really here and it’s not just me tripping… help an old friend out, won’t you? I’m fed up with being stuck here, you know.”

“I’m not gonna help you escape,” Diablo says calmly. “How do you imagine that would even happen?”

“Can’t you just burn the entire Belle Reve to the bloody ground?”

Diablo smiles.

“I can,” he admits. “But I won’t.”

The next thing he knows, the son of a bitch is gone without a trace. Anger and offence must be giving Digger strength, because he manages to leap to his feet. Like a lunatic, he thrashes around the cell, looking for at least some kind of proof that someone else was here a moment ago.  

“Oi!” he shouts, knowing damn well that the guards have long stopped listening to what he has to say. “Grab the devil! A convict escaped! Hey, wankers!”  

But he’s feeling lightheaded, and this shit must be really strong, and he collapses, badly hitting his head.  

  Tatsu sees him next – late at night, in her apartment. She’s a light sleeper, and wakes up as soon as she hears footsteps. The sword is close at hand, and she grabs it instantly, blade swishing through the air.  

“Who’s there?” Tatsu asks, and then repeats in English. “Who’s there?”

There is nowhere to hide in her bedroom. The only furniture is the mattress and the pair of chairs she uses to hang her clothes on. Everything is on the floor or on the windowsill – weapons, her laptop, the book she tried to read before going to sleep but could not concentrate on. It is an ascetic, comfortless dwelling that does not look permanent and is not supposed to become so. Fate and Amanda Waller, though, seem to have other plans in this respect.  

There is nowhere to hide in her bedroom – but someone’s definitely walking in the antechamber; she flings the door open – and sees El Diablo, standing by the entrance and looking around. In a blink of an eye Tatsu is next to him, and the blade of the Soultaker is pressed to his neck.  

“Katana, it’s me,” Diablo says, unfazed. “Chato Santana.”

“Chato Santana is dead,” she says through her teeth. Chato Santana was a gangster who killed, albeit by a tragic accident, his own family – but she fought side by side with him, he sacrificed himself to save the world, he called their squad his family and died for them. That is enough for her not to let anyone use his name as a cover. “Who are you?”    

“I’m alive,” Diablo replies. He puts his hands up to show he’s unarmed, and forks of flame appear on his palms. “Or sort of.”  

Sort of.

Tatsu lowers the sword and looks warily at the man standing in front of her.

“How did you…”

“You’re gonna have a new mission soon. Demand that Waller tells you everything.”

“About what?”

“I couldn’t overhear that,” he says with regret. “But…”

Something knocks on the window. Tatsu turns around quickly, but that must’ve been just a tree branch hitting the windowpane. When she turns back to Chato, he’s already gone, and her apartment is silent.

It’s just four in the morning, but she can’t make herself fall asleep again. Having poured a cup of tea, Tatsu sits down on the mattress and thinks, think, thinks about what just happened. Tatsu believes in ghosts – her sword is teeming with them, so she wouldn’t say that her worldview is shaken. Still, this is strange, very strange. What did he want to tell her? Why did he disappear so abruptly? Like… a broadcast was interrupted.    

Colonel Flag calls her at daybreak and tells her that there’s a shoot-out between two gangs on the outskirts of Gotham, with metahumans on both sides. When Tatsu arrives at Belle Reve, it turns out they must have considered it to be not enough to ruin her Saturday morning, because she is asked – more like ordered, actually – to escort an inmate from his cell, an inmate who attacks anyone who tries to enter and has already injured three guards with his bare hands, and it’s not reasonable to sedate him before the mission, and “he’s likely to obey if it’s you, Katana” – the last is Rick’s argument, and if he told that to her face and not on the phone, she would have had to strain every nerve not to hit him with something.    

No one tries to attack her when she enters the cell of Captain Boomerang – Harkness is sitting on the floor quite still, his arms around his knees, and when he notices her, he even smiles with bruised lips.  

“Hello, gorgeous,” he says. “Am I hallucinating you too?”

“No,” the question is unexpected and confuses her. “Why?”

“Well, they keep injecting me some crap, and lately I’ve been seeing things,” Harkness explains peacefully, even eagerly. His voice is quiet and hoarse, which, combined with his Australian accent, leads to Tatsu being barely able to make out half of what he’s saying. To hear him better, she crouches down next to him, still gripping the sword hilt – there is no telling if he isn’t just making her come closer to take her down and bolt. “Saw the devil yesterday.”      

“The devil?”

“Our devil. Día… de fucking Muertos. Chato Santana.”

Tatsu gives a shiver and, having lost her balance, half sits down, half falls on the dirty floor.

She isn’t the only one to have seen him. She isn’t the only one he wanted to send a message to.

“Hey, luv,” Harkness frowns and reaches out to touch her knee lightly. “You all right?”  

“Same as you, more or less,” she wants to reply, which of course would mean she isn’t, not at all.

“What did he tell you?” she asks him instead.

  When Floyd sees him, he is hardly surprised, since the others have already warned him. Boomerang, Croc, and Katana tell him everything while they’re waiting for the helo, and had it been just Boomerang, who believes inexplicably that he has a sense of humour although he certainly doesn’t, Floyd most likely wouldn’t have believed his ghost stories, but it is even harder to believe that Croc, let alone Katana would agree to take part in such pranks. Which is why he listens to them closely and takes note: okay, then he doesn’t have to worry about his mental heath if the late Santana suddenly appears out of nowhere to give some advice or share some news or simply ask how he’s doing. So the four of them keep whispering to one another like kids at the back of the class until their transport arrives – just the four of them, which is a pity. If there is anyone on the team that he had missed a little, it’s Harley. Floyd knows some things about the Joker, for it isn’t possible, as they write in the papers, to belong to the criminal world of Gotham and not know anything about the Joker. Floyd knows what Flag had spilled to him when visiting him in his cell or escorting him there after a visit to Zoe. Floyd thinks that in his entire lifetime he hasn’t understood a thing about love – is it even possible to understand it, on the other hand? – but he feels like the mad and brilliant Harley, Harley the whimsical, Harley the loving deserves better.                

“What’s with the gossiping?” Flag inquires suspiciously.  

“Nothing!” Croc and Digger answer in unison, in unison, and Floyd facepalms because seriously, are they in some cheesy movie or what? They don’t tell Flag anything yet, but Floyd is almost sure that sooner or later Santana will visit him as well, because Flag is one of them too, after all. Not that he’s even trying to deny it; no one’s making him drop by Floyd’s cell every other day to chat about some nonsense through the steel door.          

So Floyd is hardly surprised when, as he makes his way behind the dumpsters loading one gun after another, he notices a familiar, head-to-toe-tattooed figure standing nearby.  

“There are snipers on the roof over there and around the corner of the shop,” Chato says instead of greeting. Floyd nods.

“I noticed.”

“Eight men in the drugstore on the other side of the street. Each with a machine gun.”  

“How do you know?”

“I’ve just been there.”

“Got it,” there’s no time for lengthy conversations. No time to say: glad you’re alive, man. No time to ascertain: are you alive, though? So he thinks over the plan of action, making a mental note to ask all these questions later, when there are no bullets whistling past their ears.  

People like them deserve no guardian angels, frankly speaking, but they may have managed to earn one for all of them.

[bokunowritingacademia]

Crimson Wings and Broken Masks

AO3 Version

Relationship: Reader/Hawks

Rating: T

Summary: To most people, that’s all he was. An actor in a mask, playing his part on the greater stage. It didn’t matter who he actually was, but solely that he kept up the appearance.

But you saw the moments where the mask broke. When it shattered into nearly unsalvageable pieces, sharp and stained with old blood, scratches and dents from experiences of long years past that even you had yet to learn about.

What mattered is that you saw him as vulnerable sometimes—a person, not just a hero with a good quirk.

-

To the average viewer, fan or even tabloid-based critique, Kiego Takami—known only as Hawks to the greater public—seemed nothing more than a self-absorbed ladies’ man who cared more about mixing up the status quo than being something of a traditional pro hero. Even outside Japan, his reputation (where it wasn’t overshadowed by a country's local heroes) he was just another shallow celebrity who just happened to have a powerful quirk, and a heart half-in on using it to better the world.

To most people, that’s all he was. An actor in a mask, playing his part on the greater stage. It didn’t matter who he actually was, but solely that he kept up the appearance.

But you saw the moments where the mask broke. When it shattered into nearly unsalvageable pieces, sharp and stained with old blood, scratches and dents from experiences of long years past that even you had yet to learn about.

But what mattered is that you saw him as vulnerable sometimes—a person, not just a hero with a good quirk.

So when you find him perched upon the top of his hero agency’s building, you find yourself wholly unsurprised. Worried, as any partner would be for their emotionally enigmatic boyfriend, but unsurprised. You knew the last couple weeks had been hard on him, and that was only based on the few things he deigned worthy to burden you with (‘it isn’t a burden, Takami, I promise’)—you can only assume the water was far deeper than what it looked at the surface.

The sunset cast a soft orange glow over everything it touched, the shadows growing longer with every passing minute. You can feel it against your back, with the last warm remnants of summertime.

You approach with no attempt to hide the sounds of your footfalls on the cement, but Hawks doesn’t make a move to show he’s realized your presence. Instead, he sits, over the edge of the roof, wings expanded wide on either side of him, crimson feathers looking all the more brilliant in the deep warm glow of the fading sunlight.

The breeze, as soft as a whisper, caresses against them, each feather trembling against it. But silent does he remain, an unwavering pillar overseeing the vastness of the city below--and not a single person to realize that even now, someone watches over them.

A society where heroes can enjoy a little boredom... I'll make it happen, I promise.

“Hey.”

Though soft, the sound of his voice brings you out of your thoughts. 

A small smile starts to tug at your lips as you step closer. “Your desk secretary said you’d probably be up here.”

“Eh? Thought I told Iwata to keep my rooftop brooding on the downlow.”

You move another step closer, almost an arm’s length away from him. The view over the city is mind-bogglingly expansive, even from a few strides back from the edge. Had he been sitting here all this time, since his last patrol of the evening?

Watching?

“In fact,” you say, almost sheepishly. “he told me you’d say that too.”

The man doesn’t respond. The only indication that he might have even heard you is the gentle shuffling of his crimson wings, slowly pulling back towards his body. You can practically feel the stress echoing from his body, feel the tension he keeps bottled up somewhere so deep that not even you can scarcely reach.

But you can reach out, physically. It’s mostly just an instinct to touch him somewhere, to offer an anchor of touch so that he knows he’s not alone. You can’t quite reach his shoulders--the wings are still stretched open enough it’s nearly impossible with him facing away from you--but your fingers do manage to touch, and then card through the layers of soft red feathers that cover one of his wings.

Soft to you. You know how they can each, individually, be used as tools. 

As weapons. 

Things used to save lives as much as they likely have been to take them.

As if it stung, the wing beneath your fingertips trembles. You’re about to pull your hand back in mild alarm, thinking you’ve done something to hurt him--perhaps even aggravated a wound he’d gotten and not told you about--but the wing settles against your touch.

It’s hard to understand what’s going through Hawks’ mind at the best of times when he has such a careful control on even the smallest facial tells--

But you hear him sigh, and the comfort it brings to you is almost silly for anyone who didn’t know him as well as you do. Though it is true you have a hard time reading him physically, there is but one point of expression that seems to elude him and come easy to you: the way he sighs. 

The stilted push of air in stress, as if he’s trying to force the tension out of him.

The deep, languid exhale of peace, letting himself settle into its comfort.

The rushed, half-hidden chuckle he tries to hide.

You wonder if there’s anyone else in the world that notices it.

The gentleness of how he sighs now, with your fingers buried in the feathers of one of his wings, is the single but powerful declaration that your touch feels good to him. So you repeat the motion, over and over, slowly moving closer until you have both of your hands slowly stroking through feathers that mimic the rich, warm glow of the sun as it starts to dip below the horizon at your back.

“...it’s been a while since you’ve let me do this,” you murmur after a few moments, picking out a few feathers that seemed to have met the last of their days; color fading, as if the breeze itself would have had them flying loose and free into the evening wind.

“Yeah,” Takami agrees. “Been a rough couple of weeks.”

“You can take a day off.” Another few fading feathers fall from the rest, through your fingers and towards your feet. “-the stress is starting to take its toll. I can’t remember the last time you’ve had this many molt at once.”

“Eh.”

If the single syllable wasn’t enough to show his disinterest in being honest about his feelings, the vague shrug--or what you assume is a shrug--does plenty to send the message.

“Takami.”

Though gentle, his name on your lips still falls firm and worried. You’re about to open your mouth to say something more, but there’s no chance to do more than part your lips before his wings are stretching out, and upwards, arching so that you can see his face looking at you over his shoulder, leaning on one of his hands.

With the other, he reaches out to you, expression relatively unreadable save for the quirk at the corners of his lips.

“C’mere and sit next to me already.”

Though some part of you wants to stand firm on your concern, the rest of you knows it’s not the time for a talk like that. It knows that, in the end, you just want him to know you’re with him for everything his life and career throws--big or small.

But you don’t make it easy for him. A dramatic sigh leaves your lips as you tilt both head and eyes to the side, as if having to think about it.

“I dunno,” you bring a hand up to your chin for extra emphasis. “You did make me wait at the apartment for like, an hour, and didn’t return my call at lunch.”

Hawks purses his lips together as if pained and pouting. “Oh come on baby bird , don’t be like that.” He reaches his hand out again, expression shifting into something coy. “Just sit up here with me for a few minutes, and then I can fly us home all romantic-like, sound fair?”

Though there’s not one singular detail that acts stronger than the others, the culmination of them--the softness of his expression, the tease of his words, the honest adoration in the petname--is enough to make you drop the act like a rock into a lake.

You reach out to take his hand, letting the man pull you into his lap in one strong, careful motion. If this had happened several months earlier in your relationship, you might have worried about being so close to the edge of the roof, overlooking the steep drop down several stories onto the pavement below. But this isn’t several months before, and your mind trusts the man whose arms envelope your body and hold you tight against his chest.

Hawks perches his chin over the top of your head and, for a few seconds, the two of you simply watch the flickering landscape below. 

Car lights in the street, the office lights turning on in several buildings as the sunlight fades into dusk. Even as the day winds down, the city yet remains vibrant and bustling, and it makes you vaguely grateful that Hawks doesn’t have to work as many overnights as he did when you first met him. Or, at least, you’ve managed to convince him to sleep on occasion. It doesn’t always stick.

“So,” you break the silence and reach a hand up, idly stroking a thumb over the man’s cheek. “You gonna tell me about all the shit happening with work?”

“Nah,” Hawks says as honestly as he does casually. You’re half a second away from giving him an annoyed flick before he quickly explains, “I’m still working through some case details and my brain just needs some alone time with them is all. I’ll give you all the dirty details once it’s over--just a few more days.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah.”

He tilts his head into your touch and allows a sigh to escape him. Gentle, languid--and you believe his words.

“Besides,” he continues after a moment, tone turning amused and teasing. “Nobody can keep me away from my lil’ hummingbird for too long. I’d go fucking nuts without you.”

“You can say that again, birdboy.”

“ Excuse me, ” Hawks tenses up suddenly against you, and you can hear as much as see his wings stretch out, wide and imposing--though a little less so when you’re snuggled up against his chest. “I’m a bird man , thank you very much.”

“Uh huh.” laugher bubbles up behind your tongue, spilling out when you simply can’t hide how silly--and yet how sweet--his overdramatic posturing is.

But when the laughter between both of you die back down into silence, and the sun finally settles behind the horizon to let darkness start taking over the newborn night sky, you pat a hand on Hawks’ chest.

“Alright, birdman , how ‘bout you get us home like you promised. I had dinner on and everything.”

“Dinner? Oh, now that changes everything.” He moves, lifting up to his feet even with you settled comfortably in his arms, wings outstretched. “What’cha make?”

“A surprise.”

He lifts from the roof, gradually up and into the air with just a few meaningless flaps of his brilliant crimson wings--even with nobody around, there’s still a remnant of that actor putting on a show.

“Okay then,” he says. The wind brushes over your cheeks, like an evening kiss, and you settle into his arms without a single worry for the cityscape below you. “How about we take that surprise dinner and pair it up with a movie?”

“Now you’re thinking like a man who cares about his mental health.”

“Well, I got someone like you t’help make that possible,” Hawks nuzzles his chin over the top of your head, and repeats the words of just several minutes before. “I’d go absolutely nuts if you weren’t here to help pick up all the pieces of me when I fuckin’ drop them down the stairs.”

To that, you say nothing; words aren’t needed. At that point, all that mattered was the feeling of the air rushing past the two of you, the warmth of his body, the steadfast strength of his arms holding you,

And the soft, fading sunlight, shining brilliantly on Hawks’ crimson wings.

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without context

Miscellaneous Edition, for those quotable lines from between sessions

"All I wanna do, is fork a giant woman! A giant woman!" "Jonni, I'm pretty sure she is some type of undead, probably a vampire. Are you sure that is a good idea?" "If I don’t get turned into a blueberry it won’t be my worst date." "Okay, but if you have to defend yourself just don't burn the place down for once." "Oh, Nyx. Sweet summer child. I never make promises we both know I won’t even try to keep." "Jonni, if I wake up to my bed surrounded in flames again I'm short-sheeting your next bed every night for at least a month." "I know you're trying to score here, but Lady Dimitrescu's daughters are literally vampires AND bugs. I can overlook one, but as a Paladin, it is my sacred duty to burn this place to the ground and stir the ashes."

"We don't let Marshall make breakfast anymore." "Those waffles are well-fortified." "I'm going to be charitable and call it hardtack." "We can use these waffles as melee weapons." "Well if we need to deflect siege engines they'll be good to have." "This is still carbon based and digestible by human systems without any poisons." "I can't serve this. It'll cause ... death." "Marshal we've been over this. This Pizza has 10% less of a lethal amount of grease." "Plus they signed the waivers when they bought a ticket. It's fine." "And don't forget to push the Cakeon." "Cakeon being slices of cake wrapped in bacon." "The special sauce is a mixture of mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, ranch, horseradish, cheddar cheese, sour cream, and anything unfortunate enough to fall into the mixing vat."

"You do have a copy of the legal code I requested in my letter? As landed gentry you should actually have legal avenues to... I'm sorry did you say Burning child?"

"First I'm going to nail a crossbow bolt through your heart. Then I'm going to mount your balls to walls on opposite sides of this chamber." "I need Three Barrels of Butter" "Are you serious? Those Claws could crush an elephant in full plate!" "You're Right!" *Turns to first person* "We might need more than three barrels of butter."

"So Ioun is the patron of poor college kids. that scans "

"its hardtack or a mug of molten cheese-fried... something in a woven mug of bacon. your choice."

"Welp, all this coke ain't gonna snort itself..."

"Right hand me that dress and the bail money. I'll get Jonni." OOC: Well I mean they allow men in the city. Its just no men live in the city. "I stand by my statement. I'm allowed to look pretty every now and then." OOC: And dragons are the most unprejudiced lovers of anyone after bards.

OOC: Well I mean come on, its Ravenloft: saying a place is of death and madness is like making the observation the day ends in y. "Going out. Getting laid." "Jonni, she’s a werewolf." "Going out, forking a werewolf." OOC: Well Lycanthropy isn't usually sexually transmitted. Its just that Mercedes is a biter. OOC: ...I don't have an appropriate response to that.

"You seriously think I’d turn on my friends for a pile of gold?!?" "sigh I’ll show you my tits. "Hot damn, let’s get these murders done!" "No, Jonni, stay good. Besides, there are plenty of other girls who will do that without asking you to murder us." "Hmmmm… this is the moral quandary of my life…" "I’ll give you five bucks." "Scales tipped!" "Phew, I thought I was going to have to cover her next trip to the topless bar." "No, no, I have the bail money right here."

Nyx: So what’s the inside of Jonni’s head like? Edmund (with thousand yard stare): Imagine every ladies only smut magazine you’ve ever heard of going on forever into infinity while everything is on fire. Food was good though.

"It’s cool. They stole it." "And you know this how?" "Magic." “90% of Ravenloft deaths are mysterious vanishings.” "Why does everything come out covered in glitter and … is that …" "Lube. I’ve got a few theories." "Please don’t share them."

OOC: This is a plan that ends with Strahd having fewer brides, his castle is in flames, and he’s lost his cape.

OOC: Our team consists of a horny pyromancer, a gnome who can fillete you in five seconds, an HP lovecraft protagonist with actual magic backing them up, a literal slab of iron with a face, and a guy with a "I went to the eternal city of Ryleth and all I got was PTSD and this lousy T shirt". Gorbash smashing his shield into their face: "Have! You! Considered! Therapy!" OOC: Good news is you guys will no longer be the most conspicuous guys at the masquerade now. Jonni: Challenge accepted! "Nyx, the bounty on stealing his fake mustache is still on."

"Vanilla is the king of flavors. What does it say about society where vanilla is considered just 'regular'?" "That they have a lot of vanilla." Lash: "Don’t you want wishes?" Jonni: "Do I need wishes to get to see you naked?" Lash: "No?" Jonni: "Fuck ‘em." Vesh: "Oh dammit its my arranged fiance." Pit Fiend: "Milady." Vesh: "An extra wish to whoever punches this douchecanoe in the nards." Jonni: "I wish…for Bigby’s clenched fist of nard punching."

Soth: "Oh, gods, why am I on fire and why is Immigrant Song playing?" Jonni: "Take a guess." Hazlik: "Okay, so its a partridge, stuffed inside a chicken, stuffed inside a duck, stuffed inside a turkey, and the whole thing is fried on a stick. Congratulations, that's the most horrible thing I have ever seen, and I once crossbred an elephant and an owl." "I give him the 'itis, and we run like we stole something." OOC: ...weirdly Curse of Strahd has stats for Strahd zombies but not Strahd Skeletons. Or Strahd's skeletal Steed. Strahd once went to a branding seminar hosted by Bane and it changed his life.

"Are we on a high enough floor that if I throw him through the window he'll be killed by the fall?" "Oh, but when I say stuff like that it’s all 'Jonni, murder is wrong.'" "When they say pick your battles they don't mean to pick all of them. That's too many battles Jonni. Put some back." OOC: He's technically already got a symbiote. OOC: They can get married. Gorbash: "I'm increasing the rent." Venom: "Can I keep the pool table?" Gorbash: "I'm not a monster." Giant Brain: "Jonni… I have summoned you here for… WHY AM I ALREADY ON FIRE! PUT ME OUT! PUT ME OUT!"

"Hello We're the party-crashers. This is Jonni, she's here to steal your women and burn your shit down. That's Nyx, she's going to repatriate certain items from the premise. Marshal over there, is here to studiously ignore our shenanigans. This is the New Guy. He seems pretty chill. I'm Gorbash... and I have been distracting you."

"Will you walk into my parlour?" said a spider to a fly. Jonni: "Hold up. Trying to sex a spider." Nyx: (throws her hands up) And then Jonni wakes up with a spider venom hangover webbed to a wall waiting to be eaten. Jonni: "Eh, I’ve had worse one night stands. I’m not a fucking blueberry." OOC 1: Hey, where does your weed elf grow [her] crops? OOC 2: She probably just grows them in the room she hasn’t paid rent on. OOC 3: Because I was also considering a circle of spores druid tortle. OOC 2: We could be partners! We could turn this into road to el dorado staring Cheech and Chong. OOC: Wait, I just realized five people are hanging out in a pirate bar, and none of us are rogues. We are gonna need someone to get thieves tools. OOC: We have a barbarian with a big stick.

"Are we Foxhound now? Blunderbuss Octopus." OOC1: You want to put the stoner in charge of food. OOC2: Eyup. OOC1: I see no way this can go wrong! OOC3: We need the four basic food groups. Beans, Bacon, Whisky, and Lard. “We pray to Almighty Darkseid! Give us a sign! Thumbs up, for the triumph of the human spirit! Thumbs down to begin the everlasting reign of darkness!” “Where did you find this guy?” “Me? I thought you hired him.” OOC: Yup, nature, arcana, history, investigation and religon at +6. MJ got baked and watched the Discovery Orb a lot. Tordek: "But we have a cleric, Jozan, over there." Strahd: *sigh* Snaps fingers, and suddenly one of Strahd's brides sucks Jozan out the window, cue screaming. "Oh look, you suddenly have an opening, how fortunate." Tordek: "We also have a druid...." Vadania: "SHUT UP, TORDEK!" Edmund: "I think the first order of business may be to discuss your Human Resources strategy..." Strahd: "I have a guy for that too."

"When someone as smart as him talks with himself, it's not crazy...They call it monologing." "I thought it was soliloquy?" "No, soliloquy is when you're talk at someone else when your talking to yourself." "Most people would run from a demon, you run towards it to study it." Professor: "THIS IS ABSOLUTELY FASCINATING! A FROGHEMOTH, AND RIGHT UP CLOSE, IT WILL BE AMAZING TO SEE THIS PERFECT KILLING MACHINE IN ACTION." OOC: Also note the Professor is Lawful Good, Archie is Chaotic Good, so collectively they balance out to Neutral good. OOC: That's good. "The incinerations will continue until morale improves!" “You never incinerate the women!” “Because I’m fucking them!” “I… was not expecting you to be so honest about that…”

"You got what you wanted....but you lost what you had...." "Yes, I'm familiar with how capitalism works."

OOC: Dragons are like, “That’s Krandor the shiney. He only fucks other dragons. Weirdo.”

Gorbash: "D'awww, so tiny... perfect size... FOR PUNTING!" *boots tiny mind-flayer into the horizon*

"Dracula hasn't been spotted in almost recently. Whats he gonna do, destroy all we know and love like he definitely can?" "... my god you people are too stupid to live." "What are you doing in my house?" Gorbash: "...well Edmund has been reading your books, I've been sorting through your armory, Nyx and Irost has been going through your other shinies, Marshal has been cleaving anything monstrous that gets too close, and Jonni has been lighting things on fire to stave off boredom." Gorbash: "Okay Marshal, Jonni. Rock, paper, scissors over who gets [to kill] the bishop."

Jonni: "Did you really think this would make up for what you did?" Nima: "I… killed everyone you grew up with." Jonni: "Yeah, and I’m still not forgiving you for what you did to Eddie." Nima: "I am missing some key context here…" Nima: "Also I committed identity theft on you by having my new undead army tell everyone you are running the show." Jonni: "Oh, no. You’ve fooled the boar tribe. Who still haven’t figured out shitting in a hole." Nima: "Yeah I noticed that. I ruined two pairs of shoes attacking their camps."