#you can catch a ride with a fucking eagle

[fluffypichu876]

i have never played sonic '06 before, for obvious reasons, put after playing p-06 there's something i got to say...

KINGDOM VALLEY IS THE COOLEST LEVEL EVER MADE

[girl-lostconnection]

Little continuation to this because I can’t help it

Seal Soap that gets along with seal Reader better than anyone else: better than Price, better than Kyle, better than Ghost.

Drives the latter one a little mad that his boy is so fucking whipped.

That his boy can’t help but stick with you and smooch you like there is no tomorrow. Like that’s a perfectly regular thing to do.

And while Kyle (who came back flustered and smitten) tried to explain the delicacies of seal to seal communications, Simon doesn’t fucking buy it. There is no such thing as wordless communication, there are scents of course, there are signals and sounds. But completely silent talk initiated by kisses? No, that’s bullshit if you ask him.

Unfortunately, no one fucking does.

Johnny walks you to breakfast and lunch and dinner. Johnny jogs to yours side as soon as you enter the gym, Johnny rolls over so you can have a spot next to him when he’s sunbathing (and bastard never rolls over, he’s greedy fuck who doesn’t like sharing his warm sunny place).

Johnny twitches his upper lip to show off sharp teeth when someone else gets too close to you, guarding new seal on his team like a bloody treasure.

And you don’t seem to mind all the attention.

No, you hum pleased when Soap shares his fish with you, you give him back scratches and quietly groom him in the rec room, you share parcels from home with him.

Simon doesn’t like that you get so quickly acquainted with his boy. Simon doesn’t like that you seem not interested much in whether or not he likes things.

Simon is used to be the biggest meanest dog in the compound, but when he presses you don’t back down and don’t cower. Seems like he isn’t the biggest one anymore.

You smile at him, sharp points of your teeth peeking from under your upper lip but your eyes are cool and it takes him every ounce of willpower not to growl in your face.

Slippery fucking seal, he hates that he doesn’t have grounds for being a bigger dick to you than he already is.

He hates that both Kyle and Johnny seem to disapprove that.

But you aren’t going anywhere.

You chuckle when Gaz shows off his sharpshooting skills, you patiently watch their eagle’s training routine and offer to spot him. You pretend not to notice the way sergeant Garrick stares unblinking at the sliver of skin that shows when you stretch your hands above your head and your T-shirt rides up a little.

You kiss Soap whenever and wherever you feel like, not paying any mind whether or not someone might see it.

You press a short smooch to Soap’s lips during the drills and missions — getting returned one as quickly as yours was given, because Johnny is whipped and “it helps to calm the nerves”. Because apparently you can’t just communicate with words like the rest of them and need to have this secret third thing.

You catch Johnny’s lips routinely, biting his lower lip, rubbing against his stubble like it really can give you some information that you can’t get otherwise. You kiss him after swimming, getting salt off his lips, getting his spirits so high a little more and sergeant is gonna become a bloody kite.

You cup Johnny’s face and press your lips to his — slow and gentle, tongue already sliding between his lips, Soap’s hands holding onto your hips — fingers sinking into the fatty tissue of your ass. It’s not rushed in the slightest, your cool lips meeting his, Soap thumbing the dimples on your lower back so you arch into him. So he has a “just” reason to get handfuls of your ass.

Simon accidentally walks in onto one of these sessions and like a bloody creeper stays in the shadowed corner because the two of you seem a bit preoccupied with whatever “conversation” you have been having.

But to give you two your due — the make out session is indeed silent. There are no whispers, no exchanged sweet nothings, no secret confessions. Nothing.

Like you two can actually talk like that.

Like it is an actual thing.

Simon doesn’t want to admit that it unnerves him ever more. A fling, a moment of passion added to urge to mess with the team he could understand. This? Whatever this is, he can’t. He doesn’t know how.

There is a quiet soft intimacy in the way you hold each other, in the way your kiss seems never ending, in the way you two break it only to rub cheeks or noses. It’s intimacy Ghost hasn’t seen before and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

Not like he can ask, right?

Simon leaves as quietly as he came, trying to mull it over, trying to come up with something — anything — that would fill in the gaps he can feel under his ribs.

He is all heavy bulk and heavy boots and heavy glares, but it doesn’t seem to phase you when you finally corner him in the gym.

Eyes so calm it drives him up the wall, eyes so gentle he feels like wrestling you to the floor so you finally get the point and stay the fuck away from him.

But you just angle his face to you and tap the hem of his mask silently. Eyes calm and chest pressing into his, pressing him into the wall so he can’t run and hide. Slippery fucking seal, he should teach you some fucking manners so you don’t get too cocky around your superiors.

And maybe if you said a single thing he’d push you away. Maybe if you asked him for something, he’d bristle and growl and sneer. But you don’t so Simon is not sure what to make of it.

He just pulls balaclava just above his lips, scar crossing them, part of his upper lip gnarly ugly thing that healed a little too high and left him with perpetual snarl. It’s not pretty.

He isn’t pretty.

Not like Johnny with his shiny eyes and wide smiles, not like Kyle with his full lips and proud slope of the nose.

He knows he isn’t pretty but the wolf in him still gets ready to snap jaws on your neck the moment you mention it. Simon knows he is nothing special, he’d rather a pretty seal didn’t comment on his appearances.

You don’t know his story and he prefers it stays that way.

The feel of cool fingers on his jaw snaps Ghost out of it, your eyes still calm and endless, your breathing ghosting over his lips — you are close enough to drink into his every breath. Close enough to taste desperation rolling off him in waves.

Close enough for him to get handfuls of your ass and pull you flush against him.

Got you, slippery seal. He caught you. He won.

But you don’t seem to mind it, your nose just pressing to his cheek — slowly, like you aren’t sure how much you can do before Simon loses his mind and either mounts or mauls you right on the floor of this gym.

Simon isn’t sure himself what he’d like to do more.

Your breathing on his cheek is feather-soft when you gently rub on his stubble. The same way you did with Johnny just a few days prior. The seal greeting you two do tirelessly.

Ghost hums quietly and tilts his head to the side, so you can reach better, his hands no longer gripping but slowly groping your bum now. Like he is finally letting himself savor it without the fear of your slipping right through his fingers.

There is a beat after which you finally press your lips to his, catching them like he’s an old friend you are happy to see — your tongue asking for permission like Simon isn’t pushing his in your mouth the moment you kissed him.

Simon is all hunger and sharp teeth and heavy glares, but you kiss him and he melts. You open the soft wet heat of your mouth and be pushes his tongue inside, finally tasting for himself salt on your tongue and points of your canines and the gurgly needy sounds your throat makes when he devours your mouth.

When his fingers get to underside of your ass and inner side of your thighs.

Slippery seal, don’t you know that he is the biggest meanest dog in this compound?

But your palms slide under waist of his pants, your nails digging into his lower back so he can’t help but arch into you.

Well, not anymore, he is not.

Ghost grins in your mouth and licks the grin off the tips of your teeth, hoping to poke himself too hard and finally bleed in the chatty mouth of yours.

Seal to wolf communication, eh? That’s something he can understand.

That’s something he’d like to become proficient in.

The next time you press a kiss to Johnny’s lips is during brief and no one spares you a second glance.

By this point, it’s a routine and you two never lose too much time doing this so if seals need to communicate, the rest are going to leave you to it.

Only this time you don’t limit yourself with just Johnny, reaching out to Simon right after — pulling him in by the scruff of his neck and giving him a short smooch as well. Like it’s a completely normal thing too.

Price pauses mid sentence, giving you a long unreadable stare before finally arching his brow, thick cigar between his lips heating up when he pulls air in.

Komodo dragons thrive on hierarchy and you are starting to push it. Thin ice there.

“Seal to wolf communication, sir.”, your grin is wide enough to show off tips of your canines, eyes crinkling when Kyle looks at Ghost with the look of utter betrayal on his face.

Yeah, you will need to come up with something to sweeten it for pretty eagle sergeant as well.

“Didn’t know it was a thing. Can he talk with seals too?”, Price looks utterly unimpressed, eyes heavy with something you can’t quite make out.

“No, sir.”, the answer is as honest as they get, your grin only widening when Ghost slowly licks his lips, lieutenant’s eyes heavy in a way that unrolls a sweet aching in your belly.

Big mean bastard he is. Big bad wolf.

“But he can feel the vibes. Right, L.T.?”, you turn to him and Simon tilts his head to the side, his tail wagging behind him, his tail smacking your thigh every time it moves.

Price looks at Ghost with the look of exasperated parent but lieutenant seems to be finally content with the way things are.

Lieutenant finally doesn’t mind the seal to seal communication.

Not when he has his own now.

Big bad wolf just wanted to be included, didn’t he?

“Yeah. I sure can.”, he finally huffs out and leans on you, corner of his lips twitching when you have to steady yourself not to tip over. Big mean bastard.

Simon tilts his head to the side, like never before reminding you of his animal side — deep seated eyes of his glimmering from underneath the dark hover of his brows.

“Though I feel like the first check was too hasty”, he muses words slowly, syllables rolling on his tongue, accent thickening. There is laughter simmering on the bottom of his irises, the heated sort of fun.

“Mind givin’ it another go, luv?”

Next one>>

[chelseeebe]

the luck you hold

this is very simply a rehash of fiona and jimmy/steve from shameless sksksks, especially steve’s occupation and readers family life lol. it is also essentially just smut- but i am interested in writing this dynamic further bc it’s so fun!

18+. mdni. smut, like really just smut. steve is a baddd boy but it’s so sexy so who cares.

✧ ��� ✧

the club is loud, strobe lights flickering onto the crowd of moving people.

steve hadn’t even wanted to come tonight, much favouring his bed. it had been a shit day already, made worse by the thumping music filling the room.

his eyes wander the crowd, detesting the fact that everyone seemed so ecstatic to be here.

and then, he spots you. perfectly illuminated by the purple light. hips moving in time to the beat, clearly unbothered by the drunken stupor of the people surrounding you.

you’ve got something to prove, swaying to the music, dress riding up your thighs. there’s a message there, steve thinks, you’re trying to tell everyone or maybe, someone, that you don’t care.

he has to know. leaving the comfort of the balcony to descend on the crowd, eagle eyed for the girl in the black dress.

something takes over, wrestling his way through the hoards of people until he spots you, still wriggling your hips, away in your own world. somebody elbows him in the ribs, earning a quick glare before continuing his mission.

steve typically carries himself with much more composure, he wouldn’t dare to do this on any other night but his hand finds your waist, pressing his body to your back. moving to your rhythm.

you’re not bothered, still moving along to the music, steve’s not even sure that you know he’s there until an arm snakes around his neck, fingers knotting in his hair.

he takes that as a sign to move closer, pressing against your ass, almost howling into your ear when you grind against him.

his breath is strained, he wants to kiss you, hoping you’ll spin around and feel the same.

it’s only when the song changes that you do, stood in such close proximity that he can see the smudged eyeliner lining your eyes and the tiny curve of your lips. you’re studying him, examining his face but for only a moment.

and then your arms snake round his neck, keeping your chests to one another. as he leans in, your finger comes to press against his lips, not allowing him to kiss you. he scowls, throat rumbling in protest.

“what’s your name?” you say, just loud enough for him to hear you over the noise.

“steve,” muttering under your finger. honestly he’d appreciate if you’d just slide it between his lips, he needed to taste you some way, some how.

“steve,” you echo, running your delicate finger down over his bottom lip, pulling the plump skin with you.

the corners of his mouth turn, without sounding like he was crazy, he was sure you were made for him. something had drawn him into coming tonight, and now he thinks he knows what, or who.

“d’you wanna get outta here?” trying his luck, steve wasn’t interested in the long game.

and neither were you, nodding before you slide your hands down his chest, making sure to cop a feel before you ultimately leave with him.

-

by the time you reach your house, guided by your unhelpful directions, you’re ravenous. pulling him by the hand into your building, ready to jump his bones.

it’s not as if he wasn’t feeling the same, he’d been eyeing your dress riding up the entire journey. his hands find solace on your waist, gliding down to your ass, squeezing onto any and all flesh he could get his paws on.

you’re barely in the corridor, groping and grinding like some fucking high schoolers. steve’s lips brush against yours, appreciating the beauty in not-quite and nearly. it wouldn’t last long. not with the way his pants were already strained.

“you gonna kiss me then?” panting against his soft mouth, arms already hung around his neck.

“maybe if you ask nicely,” wanting to drag it out just a little while longer.

a laugh catches in your throat, gazing into his eyes with pure lustrous intentions, “please kiss me.”

he indulges, connecting your lips at long, long last. immediately overcome with the urge to just fuck you here against the wall. the kiss is messy, the kind he loves. all teeth and tongues, colliding in a haste, soft grunts fill the echoey hall.

breaking free just long enough to instruct you to, “jump,” large hands supporting your thighs as you do so, wrapping around his hips.

he’s not a clue where he’s going, deciding that your bedroom was far more appropriate than right beside your front door.

“on the right,” you pant into his mouth, there’s a sickly sweet taste on your breath. it’s addictive, steve wants to keep you attached to him at all times.

he clumsily backs through the door, struggling with keeping you upright while also not tripping over his feet and smashing backwards into the floor. grateful to drop you onto the mattress, immediately poising himself above.

“you live alone?” he asks, well aware that your bedroom door was wide open and anyone else would be subjected to performance he was about to give.

“no.. just me,” latching your lips onto his stubbly jawline, brushing your fingers against his belt buckle.

“good,” he grunts. working your dress up, exposing your delicate panties. if he’d known what was waiting for him underneath, he’d have just had you in the car.

your body works with him, hips canting as he removes the thin fabric, chest pressing to his while your hands work their own mission. the metal clinks, his pants unbuttoned, tugged down his thighs.

he wants to grab and squeeze every inch of you, fumbling his way down to your panties, tender and gentle but also rushed, like he needs to be inside of you right this second.

his shirt comes off with the help of your skilful fingers, sliding off of his arms and onto the floor. “you’re beautiful,” making a point to tell you as he gawps at your soft thighs, the way they’re spread so for him.

you shy away, shrinking into the covers. steve towers over you, kneeling on the springy mattress, “y’gotta look at me baby,” hands bringing your legs up onto his shoulder, held together by your ankles.

he can see how wet you are, slick and ready for him. your eyes find his even in the dark of your room, lip tucked between your teeth. he fists his cock, pre-cum leaking from the pink tip.

sliding between your sticky folds, teasing himself, teasing you as you whimper in anticipation. “can you..” you speak, trailing off into the air.

“hmm?”

you grumble, “please?” hands grabbing at his arms, clinging onto anything you could reach.

he teases the tip into your cunt, exhaling deeply as you envelop him, “shit.. you always feel like this?” he pants, sinking into your heat until he bottoms out. the long game wasn’t over, waiting for your response before he can give you what you need.

“i don’t.. i don’t know,” whining from underneath, your fingernails starting to sting as you urge him to move.

“so wet.. hm, perfect,” unable to resist any longer. his hips slam against the backs of your thighs, the intense sound of skin colliding with skin fills your night-lit bedroom.

his movements draw a long mewl from your lips, all glossy with spit and shared kisses. the angle is just right, stretching around him perfectly. like you were made to fit together.

“fuck,” you whine, turning into a wreck right in front of him. steve’s not one for meaningful sex but this feels different. he repositions your ankles, balancing them either side of his neck as he presses his chest to yours, finally able to kiss those plump lips, catching the sounds that tumble out with his own mouth.

he’s buried even further inside with this new position, slow thrusts that have you squeaking with every move. it’s music to his ears, spurring him on further.

you’re folded up under him, knees to your chin, pressing your tits together. steve wishes he had the capabilities to have his mouth in a hundred places at once, biting down on your bottom lip to stop himself from growling.

“yeah.. right there,” affirming his pace as your eyes roll back, dissipating into a cock-drunk mess.

you squeeze around him, he doesn’t have to be told what’s next. your breathy gasps are doing enough, drawing his own orgasm to a high. “is that good? yeah, baby?” nudging against your sweet spot, every pump of his hips had you in even more of a daze.

words fail to form on your tongue, a babbling mess of hoarse moans and barely audible mumblings of his name. christ, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to leave now.

your palms spread out on the white blanket, fisting the fabric as you teeter of the edge, calves trembling around his neck. you squeal, squeezing around him before descending even further into your pleasure.

“where d’you want me?” he rushes, tempo faltering as your cunt pushes him to his own orgasm. there’s a split-second thought, an amorous feeling even, to just cum inside. it’s quickly pushed aside when you mutter something about your stomach.

he pulls out, the shlick sound of your cunt making his head spin as he releases his load into your quivering stomach, moaning some chorus of your name as he does.

his breaths are laboured as he lets your legs fall, chest heaving as come back to earth. steve collapses onto the bed, stretching his stiff legs when the lamp flickers on, brightening up the room.

“hold on,” he ushers, climbing off the bed to grab something, anything, to clean the mess he’d made.

he picks up some old towel, clearly discarded from earlier this evening and wipes the stickiness from your skin. re-dumping it on the floor before sitting on the other side of the bed.

you’re even prettier in this light, mascara slightly smudged, hair tousled with wisps all over the place. he’s even more sure that he’s never gonna be able to walk out of here, at least not with his dignity.

“d’you want me to..go?” well aware that he’s stood fuck-ass naked in the middle of your room as you busy around with a t-shirt. god he hopes you say no.

“no,” shaking your head, sliding the shirt over your head, an unwelcome addition.

he smiles to himself, pulling his boxers back on, at least for his own dignity before laying back down on the other side of the bed. in the heat of the moment, he hadn’t actually taken any notice of where he was.

using the opportunity to peer around the bare room, a small vanity in the corner and a slightly cracked full-length mirror was all there really was. maybe you were a minimalist or some shit?

“where the hell did you learn that?” you ponder, pulling his attention from the lack of your belongings and back to you.

“what’re you trying to say?”

your lips twitch, turning over to turn the light off again, encasing the room in a familiar darkness. “goodnight, steve,” his name curling off of your tongue in that tantalising way it had all night.

he scoffs, burying himself beneath the blanket while his arm searches for you aimless, catching onto your waist to pull you into his chest.

maybe it’s just his brain or maybe it’s because he already thinks he knows you so well, but he’s sure he can feel your smile, your heartbeat rippling through your skin.

he could get used to this.

-

when he wakes, you’re still sleeping soundly beside him. eyelashes fanning out across your cheeks, an image to behold.

he wills you awake for what feels like hours, eventually growing tired of your soft snores and nudging his knee into your leg, pulling you from your slumber.

“you’re still here?” you groan, eliciting a sudden laugh from his throat. brutal or what?

“well shit, and here i was thinking of buying you breakfast,” he doesn’t take any offence, nestling his face into the nape of your neck. pressing soft kisses to the warm skin as he drapes his arm around your waist, running his hand underneath your t-shirt.

“i didn’t mean it like that,” you sigh, still groggy as you relax into his hold. the back of your head comes to meet his shoulder, “d’you usually hang around for breakfast?”

“no,” steve smiles in between kisses, “but you’re different,” walking his fingers over the curve of your waist, inching higher and higher.

you really were. and he’d known it from the second the dizzying club lights had perfectly illuminated you to him.

“different, hmm?” sighing softly into the morning air.

“mhm,” he hums, palm meeting your breast, drawing a sharp breath out of your mouth. “i think i know what i want for breakfast,” teasing your nipple, loving the way you shudder in response.

“what’s that?” you breathe, placing your hand atop of his.

“you.”

he’d been gagging to taste you, pretty sure he’d dreamt about it last night too. he climbs on top, hovering over your sleep-laden body, making the descent down between your legs.

peppering kisses between your plush thighs, savouring the feel of the soft skin encasing his ears and cheeks. his hands hold you steady, keeping your hips pressed into the mattress as his mouth attaches to your pussy, licking strong lines between your folds.

hand travelling upward, grabbing at the too-big shirt, palming at your breasts. this’d be enough to get him off too, he’s sure.

his phone buzzes repeatedly, the nightstand shaking with every message, he groans into your core, sending your head back into the pillow. “ignore it,” you whisper, urging him to continue.

he tries, only for a brief second before sighing, “i can’t,” he frowns, kneeling on the mattress before reaching over for the fucking thing.

he really can’t.

shit.

“fuck, i’ve gotta go,” he swallows, glancing back at you, really, really not wanting to leave.

“are you joking?”

“no,” clambering off the bed to find his discarded clothes, god he wishes he could stay. “it’s.. work, if i don’t answer, i’m dead,” his eyes fall to your barely covered chest, he’ll have to fight the stiffy on the way over to the yard.

you’re pouting now, trying everything to get him to stay. and he knows he’s an asshole, getting you riled up and soaked before disappearing. but he also knows his dad would wring his neck if he found out he’d ignored him for some girl he’d barely met.

steve leans over, planting a kiss to the corner of your downturned mouth, “i’ll be back,” nodding as he gathers his things from your nightstand, shoving them into his pockets.

“what?” you exclaim, brows furrowed as if you weren’t understanding him.

“i’ll be back.. later, so be ready,” before sliding out of the door and down the hall. fingers already re-dialling his dad as the sunlight hits his face. god, he wished he’d brushed his teeth, or at least asked for some gum.

“where the hell are you?” his dad barks down the phone, steve holds the thing away from his ear. it was far too early for him to get his ear chewed off.

“i was.. with a friend, sorry,” not exactly a lie. he assumes this makes you friends or more.

“friend my ass,” his father scoffs, huffing out a deflated, “just get down here,” before the line goes dead.

he rolls his eyes, finding the haphazardly parked car and jumping in. he had approximately twenty minutes to get rid of the boner in his pants and the taste of pussy in his mouth.

-

steve’s knuckles rap against your door, he’s a little later than he had hoped to be, but he’s here, just as he said he would be.

the door swings open, revealing a very obviously not-ready you, brows furrowed.

“you’re not ready,” he says flatly, eyeing the large sweater and shorts you had on instead. hey, you look great but not for where he wants to take you.

“i thought you were joking,” half-laughing at him and the fact that you’re stood in your pajamas in your doorway.

“i don’t joke,” shaking his head, “go on.. we’re going out.”

“where?” you question. couldn’t you just get ready without all of these questions?

“it’s a secret,” tapping the side of his nose inconspicuously.

you look baffled, mouth hung open before you disappear into the dark hallway, leaving the door ajar which steve takes as an invitation inside.

he closes the door behind him, knows the way to your room already, following the faint sound of your voice coming from down the hall. who the hell were you talking to?

“no he’s here nance,” speaking in hushed tones, not intending for him to be eavesdropping. “we’re going out.. no, no i don’t know where,” he nears the door, lurking behind to listen to whatever else you might reveal about him to nance. “okay.. i’ll call you later.. yes, i fuckin’ hope so.. okay bye.”

you go silent for a minute, steve hangs back, stood beside the door like some creep. until you come rushing out, holding two dresses. startled to see him you freeze, staring at him like you’d seen a ghost.

“that one,” he nods towards the one in your left hand, a little red number, “definitely that one,” he’s not even going to acknowledge the fact that he was listening to your conversation.

“uh- okay,” walking back into your bedroom, leaving the door open just a crack.

steve decides against going in, making his way to your living room to peruse your personal belongings there. he wasn’t doing it to be weird or intrusive, he just wanted to know more about you.

the decor is.. interesting. pictures of kids that he assumes are your siblings, hang all over the walls, the couch is clearly second hand, his eyes drawn to the peeling leather.

he doesn’t mind, in fact he’d buy you a new one tomorrow if you asked.

there’s something sweet about it all though, that even after you’ve moved out or away, you’ve still got their pictures hanging on your wall. sometimes he wished he had siblings, at least then his dad might not be so hard on him.

his self-pitying thoughts are interrupted when your clatter into the room, still brushing lipgloss over your lips. “is this good enough for you?” you ask, as if he’d ever disagree.

his eyes linger on your figure, “perfect,” deciding to now meet your gaze, “you ready?”

you nod, glossy lips curling into a smile. he hopes you’ll share some of it with him later.

he leads the way, holding the door open for you like any gentleman should, opening the passenger door of the shiny new bmw, closing it gently as you sit inside.

“i thought you had a different car last night?” you ask as he slides in, eyeing the pleather interior.

“i did,” is all he replies. he’ll tell you some point, he’s sure. “nice day?” filling the car with small talk as he drives.

the restaurant isn’t far from your place, he’d called giovanni for a table earlier, assured that it’d all be set up before he got there.

and it is, his favourite table laid out on arrival. nodding towards the young waiter who just wriggles his brows in response.

steve doesn’t like how quiet you are, obviously not accustomed to anyone going the extra mile for you. “so, tell me about your family,” nudging the conversation along.

“it’s a long story,” you sigh, sipping the overpriced wine he’d bought for the table.

“i’ve got time.”

your eyes narrow slightly, deciding whether to trust him he supposes.

but you do. tales of younger siblings and working three jobs, deadbeat mothers and a dad that couldn’t have cared less. it’s like nothing he’s ever heard before and it’s no surprise that you’re not used to being so looked after when all you’ve ever done is look after other people.

“so what about you, pretty boy,” poking your shoe into his shin, a question he’d hoped you wouldn’t ask.

“oh you know.. the usual,” pouring the rest of the wine into your glass, “i.. sell cars with my dad, he’s an asshole too but you’ve got me beat there,” sipping on his own glass of the bitter liquid.

your nostrils flare, scoffing at him from across the table, “ohh.. i get your schtick now, it all makes sense,” nodding at your own apparent revelation.

“you think so?” tilting his chin toward the ceiling, quirking his brows. enlighten him, please.

you hum, smirking to yourself, thinking you’d got him all figured out. “yup.. rich kid, lives off of daddy’s money but hates him anyway and now you fuck around, take girls to fancy restaurants,” your eyes glide around the extravagant interior, “maybe you’ll hang around for a couple’a months and then you’ll leave, run right back to daddy.”

you’re so smug about it too. so smug and so wrong.

steve can’t contain his grin. fuck, he likes you so much.

he doesn’t reply, keeping his gaze steady on you. he’s decided that tonight is the night. yeah it might be a little quick but you were obviously worthy of knowing.

“you know i told you i sell cars?” he asks, leaning over the table.

“what?”

“follow me,” he orders, the glint in his eye only meant one thing. it was probably stupid and his dad would definitely be on his ass about it tomorrow but it’d be so worth it.

you look baffled, eyes following as he stands from the table, throwing a couple hundred dollar bills down. his hand is extended, waiting for you to listen.

after a second, you oblige, taking his hand, following cautiously behind. he realises that this definitely makes him look like a crazed weirdo, but he can’t wait. licking his lips in sheer anticipation.

the street is quiet, thank god. so he pulls you over towards the shiny red porsche parked outside, muttering a hushed, “watch this,” before getting to work.

he’s done this a thousand times before, not usually with a pretty girl watching, but he still had it. fingers messing about with the keyhole, doing what he does best.

voices emerge from the alley, forcing him to think quick. instead of abandoning the car, he presses your body against the door, kissing your lips with a haste, keeping one hand over the nearly-cracked lock.

“ste-,” you start, only to be interrupted by his lips. eventually you relax into it, smiling against his mouth. it really was absurd, be he had to prove himself.

the couple from the alley turn off, disappearing off down the street, letting him break the kiss to check they’d really gone. you look at him in amazement, gormless and most likely wondering what the fuck was even going on.

“what the fuck?” you whisper, amused as you step sideways, letting him continue with the car.

“what? you didn’t enjoy it?”

“well.. i, i wasn’t expecting that,” shying away from him, your bashfulness isn’t necessary here.

the door pops open and he turns to you with a satisfied smile, “get in,” holding the bright red door open for you. he’d have to swing back and get the bmw tomorrow but if it meant you wouldn’t just write him off as some daddy’s boy, it’d be totally worth it.

“this is fucking crazy,” you remark but slide into the car anyway. watching intently as his fingers fiddle with the underwires, a process that was normally incredibly tedious but had him feeling like james fucking bond in front of you.

the engine roars suddenly, sending him back to his seat, pulling the seat belt over his chest before he speeds off.

it’s exhilarating, the rush never wears off no matter how many times he had done this. steve’s eyes peer over to you, your mouth hung open in what he can assume is a mixture of terror and thrill.

“you figured me out yet?” poking his tongue into his cheek, he could feel the cockiness exuding from his pores but couldn’t help it. you’d been so sure, so set on him being some rich asshole and now he was really anything but.

you laugh, a real, maniacal laugh, nails digging into the leather door handle, “no,” your eyes shining as the streetlights whiz by.

he pulls into some abandoned parking lot, the porsche stood out like a sore thumb surrounded by the bricks and rubble left behind.

“i told you i sell cars, i didn’t say it was exactly legal,” leaning over the centre console, goading you, smug as all hell.

you stare back, realising that he was no longer the man you’d expected him to be. his dad did have a lot of money, but hell, they had to work for it. he’d been doing this long before steve was ever born.

“what else don’t i know about you, steve,” inching closer in your own seat. god, he hopes you’ll desecrate this car with him.

“you’ll have to stick around and find out,” cocking his head to the side.

your smile is worth more than anything you could’ve said, smacking your lips together before reaching over and kissing his. it’s slow, worlds away from how you had jumped on him last night. he just wants to pull you over onto his lap, christen the car before it gets sold to some stuck-up prick.

steve takes that as a sign that you’re willing to hang around, god knows how long it’d last or hell- if it’d even ever work but for you, he’s more than prepared to wait and see.

[pythi-the-drawing-writer]

Welcome back for part 2. They weren't kidding when they called this Giant-Sized

Let's Talk About:

Giant-Size X-Men; Issue 1

And so we begin chapter 2 and I'll be able to cover the rest of the chapters here too. So we begin with a frankly beautiful full page illustration. I love love love these kinds of things where the artists just get to go all in on a single piece. It's beautiful to me.

And side note on the narration... Is Xavier just that multilingual or do his psychic powers just auto translate for him somehow?

Oh and that's a very fun detail. The red dots on the visor are where his eyes are. Because like... I don't know my stuff but from pop culture osmosis... His eyes are just constantly firing lasers and the visor blocks them right? So you can still sorta see the lasers firing even while being suppressed, that's cool

Anyways. To summarize Cyclops' story. Some new incredibly powerful mutant popped up on the Mutant Radar. The original X-Men consisting of Cyclops, Angel, Iceman, Havoc, Marvel Girl, and Lorna Dane went to the island of Krakoa to check it out. They were ambushed, Cyclops' suddenly was back on the jet and couldn't control it as well as having his optic blasts temporarily disabled. Once back at base the blasts came back and were uncontrollable, Xavier goes to find more mutants to help find the missing X-Men and here we are.

And here we finally get the proper codenames for those who didn't already have them. Peter as Colossus, Ororo as Storm, Kurt as Nightcrawler, and John as Thunderbird. Note I am... most likely gonna be using these names completely interchangeably whenever I feel like it. Also for the mission we've been split into teams of 2. Sunfire and Nightcrawler, Wolverine and Banshee, Storm and Colossus, Thunderbird and Cyclops. Speaking of

Thunderbird you've been the most argumentative the entire freaking time.

Anyways, the party splits for their brief one offs, facing strangling vines, giant enemy crabs, aggressive boulders and eagles with the temperaments of geese. All the while arguing or bonding along the way, depends on the pair. But everyone has one location in mind a mysterious temple that rises above the trees that suddenly appeared when everyone had landed and sure enough they all arrived at around the same time too.

And after some... Concussive maintenance we break in and find the rest of the OG crew tangled up and with vines and tubes sucking something out of them. Rescue, temple comes crashing down and we finally reveal what the fuck is going on.

Tbh I love this as a concept. A whole ass living island that has mutated. This is some Kaiju shit and I LOVE Kaiju shit.

But anyways unfortunately for the X-Men. All living things have to eat, and apparently radiation makes islands carnivorous so we gotta take that down. A fun fight is had with even Xavier joining in for a mental assault from halfway across the globe. And we finish out with Krakoa being sent into fucking space via the power of magnets thanks to Lorna getting a super charge from Ororo. But after all that and with some celebration the day is saved and my first X-Men comic is over.

This was very fun frankly. Just a big old wild ride with some bits here and there to catch the eye or provoke thought. Fun designs, cool powers, very engaging to read dialogue and narration. Yeah I need more of this shit. Sooo thanks for getting me in here Nitpick, I'll see what's up with the rest of the comics.

[alyjojo]

August 🥵 2024 Monthly - Capricorn

Preshuffle: Someone’s been kind of jerk, but they didn’t expect to lose whoever they’ve been a jerk to. A partner, friend, family member, whoever. It was fine while they were acting up - but after the fact, it’s all regret.

Meditation: Wow, I had a my first repeat vision. The first time was a horse galloping to the edge of a cliff, throwing the person riding them off the cliff to their death, then turning into an eagle and catching them. Except this time, it was hundreds of horses doing the same thing. This time when the person was caught by this eagle they said “it was cute the first time, now fuck you,” and ripped out a handful of feathers, to make it hurt, to get them back. It was a Sagittarius reading that vision was for, and this has a similar vibe to their reading. And what about everyone else? Do they just die? 🤷

Main energy: Page of Swords rev

What a strange message, and there’s not a single Cap out there that’s going to listen but…the message is to lighten up. Page of Swords rev in this story is looking like imposter syndrome. You don’t allow yourself to reach for more because you don’t feel like you actually deserve what you already have, and certainly don’t think you could do better. You probably never treat yourself and abide by some 1950’s rule that grandpa taught you back when it was necessary. This message is a personal one all about your self-worth and allowing yourself to not only revel in your successes, aim for higher, and feel you truly deserve JOY, but to open your mind to other possibilities too.

This also touches on a financial issue you’re having, and don’t feel like you’re smart enough or know enough in order to do something…creative? You have cards encouraging creativity, and I got a vision here - Mr and Mrs Incredible when they first meet, and she acts all flirty, telling him he needs to be more flexible 😉

What’s going on in August:

4 Pentacles:

If you’re saving money, it could be to the point of manipulation - that’s only applicable towards relationships, and comes from a lack mentality…probably instilled in childhood. Easy to say, right? Not to live. It’s being shown if you’re a saver it’s ultimately for nothing because you don’t want to actually spend on anything - out of fear of having nothing later. Or not enough. If you’re wanting to move up in your company or at work, you could be restricted by a degree or something that you don’t want to “waste” money on. Apply to everything, there’s an excuse for everything you don’t want to buy, but do, but won’t. Some may have a massive debt they don’t know how to pay for. A separate story I’m getting is having lost someone in your life - to what degree I don’t know - and feeling very emotional but internalizing it. Waiting to get over it, not really dealing with anything, not talking about it. Holding back, not only from this person but probably everyone else too.

Ace of Wands rev:

There’s no desire to move on or change from where things sit. You don’t think they *can*, and so long as you don’t see it, it looks like you’re the one holding the reins tightly, keeping yourself from moving forward. Negative thinking and clinging on tightly to money, mindsets, whatever this is regarding is helping more than it’s hurting. Or you could have a job you like but doesn’t pay well, you don’t want to leave and would rather wait it out to see if things get better, you move up, etc. And again, some of you may have dealt with the loss of a loved one recently, my condolences for anyone going through this. The financial concern could be over funeral costs or personal belongings and the vipers in the family that try to swipe them. Or this could be about your own, if you’re trying to work creatively or as an entrepreneur, you could have retirement concerns, healthcare, and I’m literally seeing a 401k package. You’re thinking big fish. Or that’s why you stay at a job that pays meh. You don’t want to leave that, it’s safe.

The Magician:

The Magician is upright and as such, able to create whatever he wants, he has every tool at his disposal. But the tool being used by you is this self-defeating mentality of “I can’t do it because xyz,” which ultimately leads to you not doing the thing. You don’t commit to the process or the goal specifically, and so there may be some lost potential going on. A lot of this has to do with money, you don’t want to make an investment and lose. For the inheritance story I’m seeing you be the one that maybe cleans house and doesn’t say anything to others - or you’re dealing with that with another family member. You could feel manipulated by not getting the family picnic table because Aunt whoever thinks she’s running this shit (and may have the power to, what can you do?) For some a big part of this is like losing the opportunity to speak up or say something - maybe there was a small window and you didn’t know or do something that you now stand to lose something you didn’t even know you had. Grandma gave you the picnic table but you had to respond in 48 hours and didn’t, now what? Maybe it’s gone now, auctioned or something.

The Fool rev:

In whatever this situation is, there’s so much going on that you want to defend or stand up for, argue or point out, and you feel like you just can’t, it would be useless, or foolish depending on who/what it is. You could feel that someone has purposely confused you in order to miss something they should’ve known or acted on - or switch it. You could be doing that to someone *because* there are a lot of angles and you’re not open to arguments at all, or outside perspectives. You’re either ignoring the problem, a person, or a solution but it’s like…active, insistent, and you defend or justify doing that. But it doesn’t get you what you want. But you do it anyway. Ya see? Or that’s someone you’re dealing with and you’re not interested in arguing about it, so you maneuver quietly and seem kinda shady.

The Sun rev:

This row could be talking about this reading. Your energy is 4 Pentacles, a Capricorn card of holding tightly onto our money, perspective, whatever you have and value - so it’s not stolen, questioned, and you’re not discussing it either. I always say Cap could give fixed signs a run for their money on stubbornness. That’s what The Devil is. Sure it’s lust, temptation, greed, drugs where they exist - but with that it’s also the rigid belief systems that keep us in negative or toxic cycles, materialism, working till you die, feeling chained to the material world and cursing everyone else to the same fate as you, holding on to outdated things, feelings, and experiences - and still using them to judge present things, feelings, and experiences. Love as duty. Only effort matters, put these chains on and earn your place - when you deserve it, no chains necessary. If you’ve been dodgy about an inheritance, people don’t trust you & they think you’re out for the money or some other kind of twisted motive. You’re not happy with what’s come out and how, because there are things for you to defend but you’re not clear on what. Not talking matters 💯 That’s probably what got you here. But it doesn’t matter because per this, you are NOT open to other perspectives. Not even mine, this reading. So why are you here 💜 Lucy indicates there is going to be someone that fills a friend role and makes you feel less crazy, someone you can rely on, could be anyone. Beyond that, you’re very rigid, and you keep yourself in that mindset because of confidence, lack, toxic cycles, and an alarming lack of communication (or lying) that isn’t being addressed. Idk if it’s going to this month, it feels like a process you might just be becoming aware of. Slowly. Rigidly. And you’re not happy about it one bit either. A new perspective is in store for you, or necessary, about the things that keep you or someone else chained to a situation - possibly financial - but you’re not gonna like it, it’s not something that’s welcomed or appreciated. If not you, could definitely be dealing with a fixed sign.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Gemini, Aquarius, Leo, Capricorn & Pisces

Oracle: ✨

39 Creativity 🖼

This is a profoundly creative time period for you - whether it is in the traditional arts, music, or writing - or it could be a new curiosity about exploring a way to funnel your creative urges. To be creative, you need to access your right brain - your emotional, sensing, feeling center. Do this by trying things you’ve never done before - get physical, dance, doodle.

When we acknowledge and act upon our impulse to create, we are aligning our will with Spirit. In this we can experience the flow of being on your highest path. Start creating and notice his time has no meaning anymore. Hours fly by before you realize it. It is not a struggle. It is pure inspiration. This card can also signify the birth of a child, or of a whole new way of being!

Jupiter Virgo - Patience 😌 rev

Sun Gemini - Versatility 🤸‍♂️

Could be signs of you/others or could be the message they share. Jupiter Virgo is taking a critical look at the work you put into something and why it’s not giving the results you want, that’s probably what you’re impatient about. You don’t want to face Devil bs or toxicity, don’t want to do the shadow work or be accountable, or just don’t want to deal with it in another person - but you probably have to and could stand to be more flexible with how you handle this, especially if it’s not you. But if it’s you, allow yourself to be open enough to understand something for what it is. And then apply that to the possibly 7 other things that have you up in arms with 7 Cups. I’m hearing “it’s a process.”

We enter into August as:

Final Sunset 🌅 :

“A life has come to its spectacular conclusion.”

This is a reminder to cherish all of the beauty in your life, including endings. Spirit embraces you and the loss you are aware of at this time. When we watch a day’s sunset, we can recognize the beauty of an ending. All things have a completion, even life. This is the end of a long journey. It is a time to reflect on your part of history, and discover what you value most. This could be a long emotional road ending, or simply a project at work that took a lot of effort and time. Too often we look to what is “next”, and miss the spectacular beauty of the finale. Do not fear the completion. Stay in the now, cry, laugh, reflect. Be with the fullness of your experience.

What is to be learned in August:

Lucy From Indigo 💟:

“I’m so glad you’re in my life.”

If this card has come to you, then you’ve been graced with a connection and you are most fortunate. One of the most valuable assets in our lives is friendship. This is a reminder to be grateful for the people in your life, this itself raises our vibration to a higher level. If you are unhappy in any relationships, Lucy is a reminder that it is always in our power to change it. Whatever lack you are feeling in your life, if you give that to others, you will receive the very thing you feel deprived of. The time is now to become what we want to become. If you are withholding from anyone it is you who will suffer the consequences. Be the example and live this day with gratitude. Kindness is contagious. In order to be who we want to be, we must simply be that person, there is no mystery to being a good person. Good people do good things.

Purple may be a lucky color 💜

[kovacs-of-courage]

Downspiral--A Eclipse AU Sky one shot

-------------------------November 8th, 1943------------------------------

-------------------------Pacific Theater------------------------------------

Sky gritted his teeth in concentration, jerking the yoke of his fighter plane forward. A myriad of alarms shouted demise from the view of his fractured canopy, smoke trailing his battered wings.

There’d be no landing this bird, not softly anyway. The brakes were the first system to go when the guardian’s laser hit, along with the rest of the empennage. Controlling its speed was an impossibility now, leaving Sky as the lucky(and not very grateful) pilot of a forever accelerating one-way carriage to hell.

The radio at his right sparked and flickered to life, incoherent static bubbling through charred wires and melted steel.

“Canary-O-...Canary One, Can you read me?” 

Sky recognized the voice immediately; It was his captain, his ship’s captain that is.

“I read you command,” Sky said casually, like he was on any other mission, and not riding a miles long death spiral over the pacific. He thought it lucky that he’d regained his memories days before, given the fact that he’d be most likely disobeying orders if his captain contacted him for the reason he presumed.

“The order to retreat was signaled, all airborne pilots need to fall bac-”

Sky put his right hand on the throttle, cranking the level forward; a hurricane's worth of wind blasting into his goggles.

“I’m sorry sir, but I’m not doing that,” Sky said, unphased by the rapidly increasing g-forces of his chaotic descent.

“Oh yes the hell you are, petty officer. Some rat-fuck brass eagle and a beehive of metal flies wipes out half the fleet in an afternoon, and you think NOW is the time to start disobeying orders?” The captain screamed, his bafflement turned volatility evident.

“I do, actually,” Sky curtly replied. It didn’t bother him much, the idea of provoking the wrath of the military, and he reported to a higher authority anyway; whom he hoped he’d see again, if he survived this aerial bonfire.

The Captain, barely restraining his frustration, reacted as one might expect to hearing his best pilot casually go awol, in the heat of battle no less--

“Petty Officer, I am ORDERING you to turn back. You have five seconds to do so before I decide to take your cute little joke seriously, and order you blown halfway to hell.”

Sky scoffed, breathing unsteadily as plume-ing smoke flushed through the cockpit’s damaged windshield, “I’m...ha...touched you think me so important, sir. But I’m trying to focus here, so please shut up and let me fly.”

“Who the fuc-WHO THE FUCK do you think you are? You are disobeying a DIRECT ORDER; DON’T THINK I WON’T HAVE YOU SHO-”

Sky slammed his hand into the crackling speakers, disabling them, “This conversation’s over.” 

As skilled as Sky was in the air; even he needed some piece of mind to do his job right. 

He let the speed acclimate over his spiraling craft, the cranked throttle working its pistoned engine to the limits. He’d dropped out of the main area of devastation, the graveyard of falling tonnage where both the American and Japanese forces had been ambushed by Vah Medoh’s Guardian escort.

The fleet of propeller-mounted constructs swarmed the airspace, blotting out clouds and sunlight; more than worthy of protecting their prize. They numbered in the hundreds, maybe thousands at a generous estimate. Their numbers alone were enough to overwhelm any standing airforce, nevermind the lasers that boiled hotter than the surface of the sun.

Sky knew that there was a snowflake's chance in hell that he was going to catch up to Vah Medoh, in the state his plane was in. He’d worry about the flying war machine later--after he landed his soon-to-be pile of scrap metal.

It was a task easier said than done, Sky was finding. Fighting in the square center of the world’s largest ocean left his hands tied.

He did have an escape plan, if one could call it that.

North of his current, fiery heading was a thin wafer of land, two miles long at best. A paltry forest lined its inland paradise, surrounded by beaches of jagged stone and untouched nature. 

For most pilots, trying to land across such a makeshift, unwelcoming strip would be an effort in self-destructive fatality. A recipe for an explosion of shrapnel and blood; the makings of a grim cautionary tale.

Sky was not most pilots.

Landing would be the easy part; in that Sky was confident. It was the trio of guardians patrolling the island that worried him; an all airborne attache, separated from the main fleet, and primed to blast him to kingdom come at a moment’s notice.

He’d known of their presence before his dive to scrape the waves, deciding regardless to follow through with his daredevil scheme. It’d been apart of the reason he was so dead-set on his forward acceleration--faster targets tended to be harder to hit. 

He was flying the glass cannon of glass cannons; the slightest touch of a guardian’s laser beam an instant game over for him and his rumbling coffin on wings. Playing to his strengths, however few, would be essential to his survival.

That, and some out of the box thinking.

Sky had dropped in red-hot over the ocean waters, falling like a man made comet from the stars--riding his fighter a dangerous half-thousand feet or so above the surface. At his current, bone-rattling velocity, he’d reach weapons range in under a minute. Times like this made him thankful he was born and raised on skyloft; letting him shrug off g-forces that’d stop a human’s heart stone-cold dead.

The enemy horizon filled Sky’s cockpit in a moment’s blink; his craft racing toward the unsuspecting guardians like a goddess-thrown thunderbolt. They were spread thin across the island, a unit of one and a team of two patrolling to northern and southern ends respectively.

Sky went for the former, jostling his control stick back to raise his altitude, quickly matching that of his target. He breathed in deep, steeled nerves unshaken by the raging fires growing behind his seat.

Neutralizing a Guardian, according to his brother’s account, was a simple process when it came down to the mechanics. Its central eyepiece, the pulsating blue spiral at the bottom stalk of an aerial guardian’s chassis, doubled as its main cannon and only onboard optic.

Applying sufficient force to the shared hardpoint would, in theory, temporarily overlord both systems--disarming and blinding it simultaneously. An achilles heel of staggering proportions, something that Sky’s comparatively primitive weapons could easily exploit.

Pressing down on the control trigger to his wing mounted guns; Sky exhaled out as streams of cascading lead and destruction spat from his left and right. He clicked them on in the crucial seconds before collision, letting loose his full arsenal at as close as point-blank realistically possible.

The armor-piercing, high caliber ammunition tore through the immobilized guardian, shredding it’s ancient metals and circuity with the ease of a buzzsaw cutting up flesh. 

Sky pushed further still, the smoking shrapnel and crackling debris flying past him in seconds; swooping wide around the island’s western side, aggressively fighting his half-responding controls--the metals of his cockpit quivering in unsteady unison.

“Come on..come on...stay with me here,” Sky said, mumbling under his breath, “only a few minutes longer.”

The plane turned to it’s side, committing hard to it’s broad arc; thin lines of blinking scarlet dotted across it’s wings--signaling greater damages to come. 

Sky’s vision panned out, following the trailing reticles to their sources; finding the remaining guardians fast on his tail, primed to kill.

“And looks like the guests have finally arrived,” Sky said, thinking aloud.

The burning aircraft snapped from it’s exposed position, leveling it’s flight and moving between the paths of the ensuing energy blasts--avoiding contact by inches. Sky let the attacks pass, beginning a rapid ascent the moment after, the thrill of a thousand falls pumping his heart like an adrenalized sledgehammer.

The pair that followed Sky split into two roles, aiming to entrap him. He understood their strategy almost instantly, watching one guardian follow his steep climb, and another follow at a distance--leading its shots ahead of his predicted flight path.

Sky flew erratically, reacting to each timed strike with a knee jerk turn or roll seconds before impact, a playfully insulting dance through the smoldering air. He spat proudly in the face of the reaper. 

However impressive his aerial acrobatics were, Sky knew that it was a bandaid fix to a gaping bullet-wound of a problem. Neither he nor his fighter could do this forever. He’d eventually slip up and suffer the consequences, or his deteriorating ride would fail and result in the same.

Landing as initially planned wasn’t an option anymore, it was becoming clearer and clearer that the only way his bird was touching the ground again was by gravity alone.

So he climbed.

Sky pressed his machine to the limits, rising steeply into the clouds. He’d increased the curvature of his trajectory until his flight path was nearly wholly vertical, the guardian in pursuit coming close on his quivering tail; it’s blinking reticle dead-set on leaving Sky as an airborne cremation.

The chase breached the heavens and gleaming sun, the amber horizon reflecting patterns of infinite rays off each machine’s chassy--manned and unmanned. Sky pressed the bulk of his strength into the jittering controls of his cockpit, geysers of broiling steam screaming from its torn gaps. The ship was tearing itself apart by the seams, velocity and injury mixing together in a fireball cocktail of catastrophe--Sky’s cue to leave, in other words. 

Holding onto the windowless ridge of his canopy, Sky peered at the space directly below, the sight of the advancing guardian affirming his plan; it’s cannon mere moments from firing. He rushed to his instruments, speeding through its systems--and shutting down them all--effectively turning his ship into little more than a nine thousand pound paperweight. 

It was a win for both sides, really. The Guardians got to clear the airspace, and Sky got a golden ticket to freefall--on top of not dying no less! Now that’s a bargain, a steal some might even say.

That’s what Sky thought, at least. He was unreasonably calm about the whole affair, eager to plummet through ozone once again. So eager he didn’t bother to bring his parachute, only his beloved sword and shield. He had an escape plan, and it sure as hell didn’t include letting an oversized sailcloth make him a sitting duck. 

Sky hit the air running, finding his footing among the clouds and the setting sun almost instantly--like an angel being sent back to the heavens. It was like he’d never left, traversing the world among the stars as natural as he did the one below. He extended his hands to be level with his eyes, bending his knees--subconsciously arching himself against the wind’s pressure.

He’d left in a dash, faster than the guardian chasing him could process. The fleeting image of the pilot bailing not registering, as the airborne sheikah tank continued towards a head-on collision with the burning fighter plane; its beam cannon well into the process of firing.

The resulting shockwave rattled the air, the force hitting Sky’s back like a moblin punch, propelling him downwards. He shut his jaw tight, the taste of copper surging from his winded throat, the suffering mitigated by the visage of falling debris; comprised of charred steel and gears alike.

That was two down, and one sorry machine to go.

The remaining guardian, the supporting barrage from before, had a red dot on Sky the moment it’d realized he left his craft. A fast-ish response; good enough to handle most skydiving, sword-wielding maniacs, however many of those there happened to be. Its algorithms anticipated and prepared responses based on logical assumptions, predicting the opponent’s most sensible move and aiming to best counter it.

A key flaw in that thought process, as one might expect, was that it struggled to adapt to something truly stupid, a tactic so reckless that even a machine built for wave combat was left puzzled for answers. The type of bold, headstrong zeal that made it default to its base targeting mechanisms, throwing all advanced computing methods out the window and into a burning trash fire.

The type of bold, headstrong zeal that, to the bane of countless servants of demise and Ganon, was championed by the hero’s spirit. Sky’s landing strategy being the current example. He’d glided forward, giving each laser a wide berth in his swinging descent, choosing to fall closer to the Guardian.

He’d holstered the master sword, putting his head and chest behind his down-facing shield, his determination burning hotter than suns. The lasers increased in frequency, lines of calculating energy missing the hero upon each attempt, the cannon firing faster as Sky inched nearer.

Sky reached into his equipment, not more than a thousand feet from landing directly on the Guardian’s spinning propellers. He pulled forth a clawed, chain-loaded mechanism into his right hand, it’s ordained bronze and ivory reflecting the dimming sunlight. 

Seconds away from contact, Sky readied his shield to the guardian; It’s cannon seething energy, it’s cerulean pupil ablaze and overloaded. It was now or never, the final tipping point of many to decide the battle’s climatic conclusion.

Rippling lightning on it’s edges, the juiced-up laser bit jaws of scalpel precision through the skin of reality; gouging wounds of jagged white bleeding in it’s wake. It drilled into the goddess shield, the god-like thunder popping molecules and devouring matter in voracious hunger.

The force of the attack was immense, a malignant battering ram of bone snapping hatred. Sky was spared from it’s carnage, the idol of his goddess rewarding his faith--protecting him entirely against the forces of darkness. He pressed his strength, what remained, into his left arm; moving the shield in the initial stages of the impact--deflecting the projectile back to it’s creator.

Unable to avoid the parry, the Guardian was forced to swallow it’s own medicine. An eruption of smoke and whining electronics layered the space separating it and Sky. Not that it stopped Sky, who’d already reached out his clawshot, aiming square at the burning machine.

The clawshot hit, finding home in the lower region of the guardian; sinking into the darkened sight of it’s disabled cannon. Sky clicked it’s return button, snaking himself into the suffocating cloud, navigating with ease. He made contact in seconds, pocketing his grappling device once he’d gotten ahold. 

The time for gadgets has passed. Fi would guide him home, as she always had.

Brilliant light pierced the chaos, a beacon of hope and justice held righteous. The master sword dissipated smoke and doubts alike, humming softly in her master’s grasp. Sky held tight to her, climbing himself to the top of the guardian with his sparehand--a difficult task given the turbulent spiral it’d adopted.

Reaching the top, it wasn’t hard to see the reasons why.

It’d been left a shell of it’s former architecture, the explosion blowing craters in the roof of it’s inscribed carapace. One of it’s propellers had been blasted clean off, and another was bleeding sapphire flame in unsteady rotations. That left a single fully functioning propulsion mechanism, and little ability to repair it.

Which, to Sky’s credit, was his intended outcome.

He shakily hung to the guardian’s roof, his foot digging for leverage in bundles of exposed circuitry and gears. He reached into his equipment again, the golden hilt of his scarlet whip soon revealing itself. 

Sky slung his arm forward, circling his whip tight around the center shaft of the damaged rotor. It barely avoided the blades, the tilted angle of flight leaving it spare from injury--and allowed Sky the stability for decent footing standing atop the guardian, not at fear of being blown off. 

Still, that did little to stop or slowthe incoming crash; a cursory glance would make it seem like he’d just traded one suicide boat for another. Sky only hoped that the opposite was true, otherwise this entire effort would be in vain, and the world he vowed to protect would be less defended for it.

It’d be a tragedy of multiple degrees, spinning gears in a heartbreaking clockwork of guilt. And it’d stay as a possibility, a future that wouldn’t come, for so Sky sweared it.

He hadn’t died a martyr yet, and by the grace of hylia, he wasn’t going to start now.

Sky rose the master sword above his head, swaying under the rapidly changing heights. He closed his eyes for a second, a precious infinity of connection between him and the powers that he forever served, and the people he protected.

He let his will go onto his blades, and his blades onto the heavens, or their remnants. She answered his call, as she had countless times before, the vestiges of his love’s divinity whispering cascading adoration across the essence of Sky’s soul.

Thunder struck down onto the blade of evil’s bane, warm benevolence radiating from it’s cerulean shine. Sky let the sword absorb the energy, choosing then to drive it deep below his feet; an ocean of power and awe surging within the guardian, cleansing the corruption and rejuvenating it’s salvageable systems.

The Guardian whirred to life, as best as the circumstances allowed anyway; the mauve malignant replaced by backdrops of blinding white. It didn’t adjust itself upright, seemingly aware that Sky was aboard. It spoke in unintelligible garbles, in a language Sky had no understanding of.

It kept on it’s trajectory, spinning it’s damaged rotor faster as to compensate for the speeding descent. Sky held onto his whip like one would the reins of a horse, having sheathed the master sword in a desperate two-handed attempt to steer the now hylia serving machine away from the treeline.

An effort that was, in the end, only partially successful. The guardian’s meteoric drop had hovered precariously above the island jungle, the blades of it’s rotors shredding the stray branch of leaf that reached to it’s height. Inevitably though, it dropped lower and lower to the surface, brushing against increasingly denser and harder fauna.

The Guardian’s solution? Open fire on everything in it’s path. 

Sky recoiled, due both to the physics of being a crashtest dummy on a makeshift shiekah rodeo, and at hearing the buzzing, broken sound of the guardian’s main cannon recharging in full. A main cannon that, this time around, wielded the cosmic divine as it’s power source.

Blistering might spat from the unsteady machine, a singular line of searing light cleaving molten-hot mayhem through the forest; an erratic light show of fatal consequences. The pathway before Sky was little more than fuel for the newborn forest fire, the unintentional consequences of his gambit more than evident in the carnage.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel, however, as the beachside clearing of the island grew larger in view. The guardian barely a few feet above the earth, running over charred bark and flaming stumps like a bull in a china shop. Sky dug his foot into it’s metal, hoping to ride his rollercoaster to the end.

The island had other plans.

A boulder, to be more specific.

Hidden by foliage and dug into the sand, the several ton rock laid at the edge of the forest, and was unshaken by the goddess powered robot. The collision with it’s frontside  had been the final nail in the coffin for Sky’s ride--and the reason he was currently shaking sand out of his ears.

It’d launched him a dozen feet in the air, ragdolling across the beach like the other wreckage, though he was significantly less worse for wear. Unlike the other crashees, HE was still in one piece.

Sky continued rolling, his leather jacket and cap doing well to prevent the sand from completely flooding his clothes. It took five minutes, five minutes of tumbling limbs and groaning regret for the universe to take some sense of pity on him and stop his fall. 

Despite how loud his spine was screaming for him to sit down, Sky found that recovery was faster than he’d thought. Getting to his feet was a reward in itself, more than any punishment that his body tried tempering it with.

Sky looked down at himself, ruffled and disheveled, his legs and arms coated with blemishes and burns. His brother had once told him that scars were hallmarks of victory, if that were true, then Sky’s stunt had earned the hero rounds of roaring applause. It didn’t bother him, not really, himself was the last thing Sky was concerned about--didn’t even make the top five.

Getting a way off this rock was his main concern, maybe finding one of his brothers, either or at this point. That being said--with no ship, no radio, and being deserted on an island in the middle of nowhere; finding an escape would take some creativity.

A problem for another day, another night perhaps too. He’d just spent his working afternoon losing his job and making death for theirs, energized was not the word to describe himself after that.

Right now, he’d appreciate his survival for what it was; a victory.

And that was enough.

I made this due to the wonderful art(as seen above) my friend @ikaishere made of Ace Pilot Sky! Go check them out, they're wonderful!

[aniron48]

close to the sun in lonely lands

Felix decides to take Bond's mind off his troubles by taking him eagle-watching. It goes about how you'd expect.

Coming in with a 00leiter fluff-adjacent ficlet for 007 Fest 2023, just in time for Felix Friday! This fulfills the 2023 Prompt Table entry "The great outdoors: the sun, the smoke, the bugs, the scenery. bring it on," and is also a Rare Pair and an entry for a Theme Day!

I apparently cannot get enough of writing Felix Leiter in Maryland doing Maryland things, so here you go. I hope you enjoy, friends--you can read on ao3, or after the cut. 💜 🦅

James Bond isn’t the only one who likes nice things.

Felix has been known to splash out on an immaculately tailored tux, when the occasion calls for it. He found his favorite cologne at an atelier in Paris on a temporary duty assignment years ago and has never looked back, and some of his shoes are, admittedly, statement pieces. His taste for fine things isn’t limited to the things he puts on his body, either—the sound system for his home in Annapolis is so state-of-the-art it’s got its own line item in Felix’s homeowner’s insurance.

But Felix knows himself, and he also knows that he thrives on balance. He sticks to a detailed budget for grocery shopping and eating out—a government salary only stretches so far. He drives a mid-level sedan that is modest but more than adequate, thank you very much, even if Bond turns up his nose at riding in anything less than an Aston Martin. And Felix is at his happiest in a pair of trunks and a faded Terps t-shirt, taking his boat out on the harbor.

Or, on a day like today, in cargo shorts and that same worn out Terps shirt, trying to get James Bond to shut the fuck up before he scares all the birds away from the nature preserve.

“I’m disappointed, Felix,” Bond says, lowering the binoculars that were trained on the enterprising bald eagle that has taken over the osprey platform in the middle of the marsh. “I thought it’d be bigger.”

Felix snorts, in spite of himself. “And they say Americans are obsessed with size.”

Bond takes the bait, as Felix knew he would.

“You can hardly say size is irrelevant, after last night. Not with a straight face, anyway.”

Felix chucks his water bottle at Bond, catching him in the sternum.

“My face hasn’t been straight since 1982.”

Bond chuckles at that, and Felix feels that familiar sense of vertigo that they’re here, that this is how it is between them. It’s ridiculous that one of the easiest things in his life would turn out to be the sometime-colleagues, sometime-rivals, always-with-benefits thing he has going on with James fucking Bond. And yet.

“I’m not sure why you were so keen on taking me eagle-spotting in the first place,” Bond says. “They’re your national symbol, not mine.”

Felix shrugs. “Thought you could use the peace and quiet. Besides, you’ve got a lot in common.”

“What things, exactly?”

Bond’s face is doing that thing where all the softness leaches from it, as if he’s preparing to take a punch. But Felix has seen the man in a fight a time or two, and the thing is, when he’s actually throwing punches, he looks relaxed. He only looks like this when he’s afraid you might do something really stupid, like be kind to him. It’s taken years, but Felix has finally learned that if you want to show Bond any tenderness, you have to go at it at an angle.

And so Felix refrains from saying resilience or strength or determination or any of the myriad things that the noble bald eagle, survivor of decades of overhunting followed by decimation at the hands of DDT, only to rebound right off the endangered species list, actually has in common with James Bond, himself a frequent returner from the dead and persistent bearer of loss after loss, and who, on this occasion, is fresh from burying Olivia Mansfield, his mentor and the most fucked-up version of a mother figure that Felix has ever had the dubious honor of meeting.

Instead, Felix says, “I’ll have you know that not all of the founding fathers liked the idea of having the eagle on the seal of the United States. Benjamin Franklin hated it because they steal fish from other birds of prey. He hated it so fucking much he wrote a letter to his daughter calling the bald eagle a ‘bird of bad moral character’ that was incapable of making an honest living.”

Bond is laughing, then, his eyes wrinkling at the corners in the way Felix loves best, and after a quick check to make sure there’s no homophobic prick with a hunting license waiting in the scrub to shoot them, he leans in to kiss him. Bond’s lips are warm and chapped and familiar against Felix’s own, and Felix pours everything Bond won’t let him say into the kiss. He likes Bond like this, sweaty and slightly rumpled in clothing he’s borrowed from Felix, far away from the demands of Queen and country and all the ghosts he’s refused to bury. He more than likes him like this, he’s afraid, but that’s a problem for another day.

After a moment, Bond breaks the kiss and lifts the binoculars again, looking for the eagle.

“I’ve revised my opinion,” Bond says. “He’s a majestic bastard, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Felix says, “yeah, he is,” and affectionate fool that he is, he isn’t even pretending to look at the bird.

Title comes from the Tennyson poem "The Eagle."

[topazadine]

The Eirenic Verses but make it Southern

"Black Velvet" came on the radio while I was driving and I was immediately hit with the intense, all-consuming urge to turn all the Eirenic Verses main cast into Southerners

Cerie Korviridi: Swamp Cryptid

She's that mildly intimidating woman who scuttles into the gas station at 5 am, purchasing a whole carton of Eagle 20s and five Monster energy drinks. Why is she up so early? No one knows. May not have slept all night.

Cerie's got some book or somethin coming up, but no one's read a damn thing of hers; she's too weird. Rants about strange things, and many people are pretty sure she's a witch. Certainly haven't seen her at church come Sunday, and by now, everyone's a little afraid to ask why not.

Talks shit and gets hit but comes back for more anyway. Reminds everyone that Uileac is the undisputed mounted shooting champ in these here parts and that her brother-in-law has a sawed-off shotgun he's not afraid to use.

(Everyone in town knows that Orrinir would not use said sawed-off shotgun except for hunting or self-defense. Uileac? Well, that's a different story.)

May or may not have driven her ATV through protected wetlands going muddin' with a shrieking Haniya. Feeds all the local raccoons no matter how many times everyone tells her not to.

Uileac Korviridi: Horse-Crazy Mounted Shooter

A handsome stud on a gorgeous horse who can do tricks no one could even fathom. Facing backward in a gallop, hitting all the shots? No problem. Hell, he'll even do it after a few beers and still not miss.

The local girls swoon over his pretty-boy looks and his luscious Southern twang, but he's only got eyes for his husband. And given how terrifyingly accurate he is with a pistol, not even the most homophobic bible thumper would dare say a word to him.

Uileac is masterful with the "bless your heart" passive aggression. He'll insult you right to your face with a smile, and it's not until you walk away five minutes later that you realize he just called you a cunt.

When his sister starts shit, he's the one that has to finish it on her behalf. It's an honor thing, after all. Don't be surprised if you get a knock on the door and open it to find the barrel of a gun in your face, with Uileac calmly asking why you insulted Cerie.

Orrinir Relickim: Good Ol Boy With a Heart of Gold

Orrinir Relickim appears to be a Southern stereotype. The guy's got the flannel, the "Fish Fear Me" ball cap, the Dale Earnhardt shirt, the faded jeans and the scuffed-up leather boots.

He's big and muscular, looks like he could throw a six-point buck right over his shoulders and carry it halfway up a mountain. Drives a beat-up old truck with a shotgun in the cab and a tacklebox in the bed.

But before you assume everyone who looks like him is some rampant homophobe, just listen to Orrinir talk in his thick Southern drawl.

When you hear the words "the biggest catch," you are in fact hearing him rhapsodize about his husband, not the walleye he picked up at the lake last weekend. He feels awkward going to the big-city Pride parades, but that's more because he's a country boy who feels a bit bashful around the city slickers.

Orrinir will suck it up though, because Uileac is riding his horse in the parade, and there's nothing more important to him than backing his #1.

Haniya Aina: Southern Belle With a Bite

Haniya is the epitome of the stunning debutante. Screams if she breaks a nail, and her home is done up like something out of Gone With the Wind (without the racism, thank god).

You think you'll see her shopping at Winn-Dixie? Hah! She'd never be caught dead in the place. Actually, Haniya has no fucking clue where her groceries come from. That's someone else's job.

How in the hell did Miss Priss end up with a swamp cryptid for a wife? Well, it's simple. Cerie lets her indulge her wild side.

She's prissily fixing her makeup in a hand mirror while yawning at the Kentucky Derby, making her appearances to keep up the mirage of Demure Southern Darling. In reality, she's counting down the minutes until Orrinir shows up in his piece of shit truck.

As soon as she can, she wiggles into the bathroom and changes into a Budweiser t-shirt with cutoff shorts, sprinting into the parking lot. There, she hops into the bed of the truck with Cerie, and the four roar off, going to fuck up some backwoods trails in their 4x4s.

Just don't make her dress a deer. Icky! Her hands will get dirty!

[cedarboughs]

Hiking Journal: The West Coast Trail

Day I: Trail Guardians

August 28

Woke early and packed up to be first in line at the Coastal Cafe, the only breakfast spot in Port Renfrew. Didn't have much time to look at the fun books and souvenirs. At 8:30 A.M. sharp the door opened and we were at the head of a fast-moving queue to get breakfast and lunch - a breakfast burrito (not as good as the ones in Bamfield) and a veggie sandwich to pack on the trail. Plus, I'm a sucker for specialty drinks with localized names, so I had to get a Port Renfrew Fog (lavender earl grey latte.)

It was a shorter bus ride from town back to the Pacheedaht campground for (actual) orientation. So far most of the trail experience had been a matter of waiting for things, and here we waited again.

There was a burger shack across the street from the campground called "Don't Pannock We Got Bannock." It wasn't open but I just thought that was worth noting.

While we waited we chatted with an older guy named R—-. He wasn’t doing the Trail right then, rather waiting on family to arrive coming southbound. But he had hiked the Trail four times and shuttled people more than that. He told us that the last time he’d been there in Pacheedaht, he’d heard the best description of the trail from trekkers coming off. “‘That’s not a hiking trail, it’s a fucking obstacle course!’ they’d said. They got it right. It’s a seventy-five-kilometre fucking obstacle course.”

I don’t think we appreciated the warning at the time.

Orientation led the starting group through notes to scrawl in my all-important trail map and tide chart. A cheer went up when it was announced that the fire ban— nationwide since the start of this hot, dry summer— would lift at noon. Blisters and Bliss, the Bible of the West Coast Trail, told much about the joys of beachwood fires. So does modern folk music.

“The Old Shenandoah gonna keep me right / and hold me like I was forgiven / take me down and let the beachwood alight…”

“Holding on close / holding onto / any kind of ring I can bring you / And at the beachwood pyre good news / it’s wet but it’s catching easy”

A Pacheedaht trail guardian ferried the group across the wide Gordon River in a Normandy-style landing craft. Two herons alit on an island. On a branch right at the trailhead, a bald eagle watched over the entrance. All these birds seemed to me like trail guardians too. The ferryman extended and dropped his ramp onto the gravel bank, and with a hop to shore, the trek began—

— Vertically! The ladders are famous, but this first one was exactly vertical, so that your pack feels like its weight is pulling you into open air.

The trail in the woods travels through ferns and salal- and through, over, and under huge old-growth Sitka spruce and red cedars. My favourite! My namesake on this blog!

But there’s little time to look way, way up at the trees when you must always be looking down to navigate the step-by-step maze of high, ankle-breaking root holes, which if you’re lucky for a particular metre, can serve as steps over huge logs— logs either crossing and blocking the path, or just barely serving as bridges over steep gorges. Sometimes there are “board”“walks”. Both parts of that compound word are euphemistic. Few boards remain, and there are very few spots where the remaining piles of scrap wood can be simply walked across. So scrapdances, or scrapsquelches, might be more accurate. Everything is also mud. The good part about the mud is that it's home to giant yellow banana slugs. The bad part is it's awful to trudge through and pick footfalls around.

We stopped after a few kilometres, which took much longer than anyone could reasonably expect, to eat our Coastal Cafe lunches by the remains of a huge rusted-out logging engine.

This was where we first chatted with F——- and S——-, who became steady trail friends over the next week. She’s a pretty blonde Irish nurse living in Vancouver. He’s a strapping Canadian. We first met him trying to literally tape his insulin monitor back into his arm beside this hulk of a steam engine, so that’s a bonding moment. The hardship of the trail makes comrades of all.

It’s a hard side km down to the first camp at Thrasher Cove. More ladders!

But I was still feeling good about the trip as we pitched camp in the trees just hidden away from the beach. A two-masted sailing ship anchored in the cove for the night, which added a wonderful touch of piratical fantasy to camping by the sea. Though really we were still on the edge of Port San Juan, facing Port Renfrew across the sound, not the international span of the Strait of Juan de Fuca, let alone the true open Pacific.

I was feeling not very social - tired, and embarrassed to be hiking with parents - but all the same I went to stand in a circle around a communal firepit, and that was nice. No sunset that night. It was hidden by the cliffs still ahead.

[maginxlia]

Tokyo Revengers Men ✰ In Dirty Pictures of You PT 2

Cast Line Up✰ Draken, Takashi, Takemichi, Chifuyu and Taiju

Rated TV-MA

Minors this isn't For You

Summary ✰ You wanted More, I’ll give you more! What kind of Filthy (Consensual) Pictures the Men have of you on their phones plus Them touching themselves cause you're so fucking sexy. The Sequel Baby!

No pronouns up in here but the Reader has a Kitty

Ken “Draken” Ryuguji

✰ Draken Has his share of pictures of you on his phone and he treasures all of them but the photos that his eyes always linger on is the ones of you Topless on his bike

✰ Your titties free as you sat there all sexy and delicious make the tall man want to crawl to you

✰ His home screen is you sitting on his bike with nothing but barely there panties blessing your frame

✰ He's not ashamed to say he pulled those panties off with his teeth that very night

✰ Mikey Nearly making him jump out of his skin whenever he sees his phone in his hands “I didn't know Y/N knew how to ride a Motorcycle” Mikey said as Draken Turned every shade of red

✰ Had it been anyone else their asses would've gone missing

✰ Draken dirty little secret is that he has a video of You riding his dick while he sat on his bike

Draken is happy that the shop is nice and empty, He looked at the video of you balancing yourself on his dick and now his dick is heavy, Hard & In need of your pussy

He had to resort to fucking his fist as he sat on his bike imagining it was you on top of him

Sweat beading on his forehead as his hand glided up and down his dick making him grunt “I cant wait to bury myself in you, make you feel every inch baby” He groaned out as his head went back

His Hips bucked up into his hand as he chased his pleasure, his balls tightening as he fucked his fist harder

Draken stopped himself before he had the chance to cum. He snapped a quick picture of his hard dick before sending it to you with the text along “Wanna go for a Ride? Come to the shop, I’m saving every drop for you”

Takashi Mitsuya

✰ You are Takashi`s Favorite model, That's why he has so many pictures of you in lingerie he made especially for you

✰ His phone is filled with pictures of you scantily clad in different positions and his excuse will always be that it's for his portfolio

✰ But there are no excuses for his Home Screen being you standing on his desk spread eagle, Your body bare to him

✰ He keeps his phone to himself and he doesn't let anyone use it, let alone breathe on it

✰ He gets off to your photos whenever he is alone. How can he not touch himself when you give him so much inspiration that keeps his dick nice and hard??

Takashi had his right hand stroking his dick as his left hand held onto his balls, He was looking at the photo of you spreading your pussy for him

His Lilac eyes worshiped your body as he pretend that it was your hands around him making his eyes roll back

“I want to lick you up and dick you down so bad right now, I want to cum inside your pussy and fill you up” He groans to himself as his hand continued their work in getting him off

His breathing was irregular while he toyed with himself with expert hands, Goosebumps on his skin as he felt himself close to cumming

He closed his eyes as he came hard, his body shaking while he thrust up into his fist

Groaning as he regulated his breathing again while his hand found his phone to text you “I Hope you're ready to be overstimulated tonight Because I'm going to fuck you so good you'll be trembling when I'm done”

Takemichi Hanagaki

✰ Poor Takemichi, you use his phone to take pictures of your ass and titties.

✰ Every day is a new tempting picture of you gracing his home screen, He swears you're trying to kill him ( A Death he would happily accept cause he's a SIMP)

✰ Your Titties already make his dick stand but you adding your ass to the equation?? All his blood gone to his dick quick

✰ He studies the pictures of your ass and titties like he's getting graded

✰ Chifuyu and friends catching him with his eyes locked on his phone all the time making him get all flustered while clenching his phone to his chest talking about “It's nothing!” when they ask him what the hell can be so interesting

✰ Crybaby Hero's phone is practically glued to him, No one can peek inside but him

✰ Takemichi would legit bawl like the crybaby he is if you stop taking dirty pictures of yourself

✰ Newest Obsession of his? The Video you took of him while he ate you out good

Takemichi currently was laying down on his belly in your shared bed, His left hand was holding up his head as his right palmed his dick through his pants

His eyes were focused on his phone that sat up against his pillow before him, the video of Him lapping between your folds played as your moans filled the room

“Ugh so Pretty” Takemichi Moaned as he grind his dick into the mattress, His hips keeping up with the pace of your moans

Tears of pleasure pricked his eyes while he continued to fuck himself to the video of you, “ Yes Baby I want to lick up your juices, please let me have a taste” He grunted to himself as his hips began to tremble

Takemichi couldn't stop himself from cumming along with you as the video ended, He came in his pants but he felt no shame as he grabbed his phone to text you “ Please come home, I need to taste you”

Chifuyu Matsuno

✰ Chifuyu the King of your Lewdness, So many pictures of your naked body litters his room, and his phone

✰ You making a fucked out face? Your ass? Your Titties? Your pussy? Your Tongue with his cum on it? Chifuyu has pictures of all that

✰ Chifuyu can be balls deep in you with his hair in his face and still take the most flattering pictures of you

✰ He cherishes all his dirty photos of you and he hides them well, No one knows he has these photos but you

✰ His Home Screen is you laying on your back in a maid outfit with your ass in the air with your panties showing to him

✰ He has his phone in his manga when he's reading it around his friends cause he can't go without looking at you every ten minutes

✰ His eyes roll in the back of his head whenever you send him videos of you playing in your pussy

✰ You drive him crazy but He's happy to be driven insane by you

✰ Your photos already keep his dick mad hard but your videos? Nearly ends him.

✰ He cums to your videos whenever he gets a chance. He can't help it you make him needy

Chifuyu runs his free hand through his bangs while stroking his dick to the Video of you fingering yourself

“Yeah Baby, Just like that. I bet you can't wait for me to replace those fingers with my dick, Yeah? Mhmmm” He groans out as his hand works his shaft

He could barely keep his body from shivering as he continued pleasing himself “ Pussy all pretty and wet for me just the way I love it” He said to himself while he kept up with the pace your fingers entered in and out of you

Chifuyu knew he was going to bust soon if he kept this up, he couldn't keep himself still in his chair as his rate of breathing increased

He grabbed his phone to record himself as he went over the edge, cumming all over his thighs

He gave himself a few more pumps as he enjoyed the euphoric feeling before sending the video to you, The Caption? “I need you baby but before you can sit on this dick, I'm going to need you to ride this face first”

(Bonus) Taiju Shiba

✰ Taiju Has the audacity to have you saved in his contacts as “Angel” while having the most sinful pictures of your body saved on his phone

✰ Pictures of you sitting naked on his clothed thick thighs are only a meager example of the type of filth he has of you

✰ His home screen is a picture of you fucked out on his dick

✰ Taiju has videos of him fucking You and They are good quality too

✰ “Keep the Phone Still, I want to see how well I fucked this pretty little pussy up” Taiju commands you while he drills your guts

✰ If you don't keep the phone still?? If the video isn't to his liking??? Taiju fucking you again twice as hard and he's going to fuck you until you get the perfect video for him

✰ His phone is always near him, He never lets it out of his sight. Plus who's going to touch TAIJU SHIBA's phone?? Mans a walking ass beating machine

✰ When he's by himself he can't help but watches the videos of him fucking you into a babbling mess

Taiju Sat on the couch in your two livingroom, his shirt is unbuttoned as he used his fist to fuck himself

His Huge dick is uncomfortably hard as his Beautiful yellow eyes glare down his phone that plays the video of him fucking you sore

He studies the way he fucks in and out of you as he pretends his hand is your pussy gripping him

His stomach contracts every time you moan like it does when he fucks you making him grunt along

“Who fucks you silly like I do? No fucking one. That Pussy belongs to me” He grunts loudly as he grips himself harder

He was on the tip of cumming right when you entered the living room, He didn't stop stroking himself as he beckon you to come to him with his free hand

As soon as you got near to him, He pulled you to him so that his lips were by your ear “ I hope you're ready Because I'm going to fuck a baby into you Tonight”

Hotties on the Taglist❤️‍🔥 @obitohno @whatdoyoumeanitsnotcanon @bakarilennox @ransluvrboy @earlmeow

Likes, Comments, Reblogs, And Asks are Appreciated & Loved

Please Don’t Steal My Shit

[mint-yooxgi]

{9} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 9,094

Warnings: Whore Knee Thots, another lotr reference, I don’t think this one is too bad for things. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I forgot to add that a certain line of dialogue Yunho says in this chapter is cutesy of @synthetickitsune​ so thank you!!! And so part two becomes two of three lmaoo, I honestly did not expect this one chapter to get split into three, but with what I still have planned, it would have ended up like, 30k words by the end of it lmaoo. Hope you all enjoy, and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

Main Story - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Mini Masterlist

It only takes a moment for them to all catch up with you as you ride the escalator back down to the first floor. The only downside seems to be that you’ve closed off your mind from them again, your void almost perfectly back in place.

With difficulty, they all attempt to control their breathing for the time being; each male desperately tries to ground themselves, doing their best to keep their entire bodies from shaking as pure need courses through their veins. They didn’t think that they could fall anymore in love with you than they already are, but then you went and did this.

Anyone else have the desire to completely fucking ravish her until she passes out from pleasure right now? San’s gaze is locked onto your back as he licks his lips shamelessly, eyes dark and full of need.

That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Mingi swallows the sudden dryness in his throat, gaze roaming freely over your figure as you head towards the cash line with them in tow.

Did you see the way her personality just flipped in an instant? Wooyoung is nearly panting at this point, barely keeping it together as he stares at your ass.

I didn’t know she had it in her. Yunho replies, somewhat breathlessly. 

Pride swirls in his chest, reflected in his gaze as he recalls every detail of your instructions. He only hopes that they were able to impress you with how well they served you just now. Based off of the lingering thoughts he could hear echoing in your mind before you closed your void, he knows that that is most certainly the case. The fact that you seem grateful towards them, too, is simply icing on the cake.

Could she get anymore fucking perfect for us? Seonghwa bites his lip, needing to suppress the moan that shamelessly builds in his chest as he thinks back on the events that have just occurred. He can still feel his shoulder tingling from where you touched him earlier, too.

She has to know how this affects us, right? Jongho shoots them all a brief glance out of the corner of his eyes, seeing as he’s still standing next to you for the moment. The way you seemingly lean into him for support has a pleased growl building in his chest. What it means to us?

I’d be more than happy to show her. San’s lips part, taking some long, and what are supposed to be calming, breaths. Instead, it only makes his desire for you grow, becoming surrounded by everything you as his senses are overwhelmed. He swears he can practically taste you already on his tongue.

This day is turning out much better than I could have ever imagined. Yeosang admits, eyes roaming the side of your profile before taking a step closer and joining in on your conversation with Jongho in the next second.

I don’t think any of us could have imagined these pleasant turn of events. Hongjoong finally speaks, managing to calm himself down just enough to get his thoughts in order once more. 

Ever since he saw you turn around upstairs after you had finished your little condemnation of that bastard, he couldn’t help but be consumed by his fantasies once more. All Hongjoong could picture was the two of you standing side by side, vanquishing your enemies together, followed immediately by the most passionate love making of his entire life as you bathe in the blood of your victims. He nearly had to adjust himself there for a minute, until he managed to calm himself down enough on the small journey back to the first floor.

At least all of them can agree: you will become theirs soon. Officially. In every meaning of the word. You just have to. They’ll make sure of it, for they don’t know how much more of this that they can take. You drive them so crazy, and you don’t even realize it yet. Or maybe, you do.

Though, they still would never force you into anything you were truly uncomfortable with. They just want you, and bad. To rule at their side. To love and to cherish. To have and to hold. To protect and to keep forever as theirs, just as they are yours. Until the end of time.

Finally, it’s your turn to be cashed out at the front of the line after a few more minutes of waiting. Making your way over to the register, you begin to pull out your wallet.

“What are you doing?” Yeosang’s voice catches your attention as he walks up with both you and Jongho.

“Paying for my books.” You reply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“My Dear, I thought we already told you,” Yeosang smiles softly at you as he places a hand overtop of yours to prevent you from pulling out your wallet any further. In the next moment, he begins leading you out of the store. “Just let us take care of you.”

You blink, protests dying in your throat as you look back to see Jongho already holding a bag full of what you’re sure are your books. A second later, and they’re both ushering you out of the store to wait in the hallway for the others. As soon as they’re all in front of you once more, you’re crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“You know I don’t expect you all to pay for everything for me, right?” You shoot them all an expectant look.

“We know,” Hongjoong smiles, eyes crinkling at the sides.

“It’s different if we want to do so.” Yunho says, somewhat matter-of-factly.

“We’ve already told you,” San gazes at you with a fond look shining in his eyes. “You don’t have to worry about a single thing when you’re with us.”

“We are all more than ready and willing to provide for you in any and every way we can.” Jongho adds, eyes soft as he meets your own.

“Whatever you want,” it’s Mingi that draws your attention to him next, his eyes crinkling as he smiles widely at you.

“Whenever you need it,” Seonghwa breathes out, and only the eight of them truly understand the double meaning behind his words.

“Seeing you happy is all that we really want.” Wooyoung’s voice is gentle as the corner of his lips tug upwards in a grin.

“Just let us take care of you.” Yeosang repeats his words from only moments before, his hand settling on top of yours once more.

“Fine.” You let out a long exhale through your nose, lips tugging slightly downwards in defeat. “But I’m buying you all drinks later, or something.”

“You don’t have to-“

“Um, no.” You raise your hand, stopping the rest of the protest that begins to fall from Mingi’s lips.

“We don’t expect-“

“Ah-ah.” You wag your finger at Wooyoung next. “None of this ‘we can treat you, but you can’t treat us’ crap.”

“But-“

“No ‘but’s!” You round on San, quirking your eyebrow as you look between all of them. “Just let me treat my men to something, okay?”

They all blink, caught momentarily off guard by your admission. Pleased growls build in their chests as your words sink in, Though, from the way you continue, it’s as if you haven’t even noticed you’ve said them, or the affect you’ve just had on all of them.

“If it’s not mutual, I don’t want it.” You shake your head slightly, as if to emphasize your point, turning around in the next moment to begin walking down the hall. At seeing them still standing exactly where you left them after taking a few steps, you’re turning to look at them from over your shoulder with a quirked brow, “coming?”

In an instant, both San and Wooyoung are on either side of you, that single word enough to snap them all out of their daze. The others fall in line shortly after, following close behind as you lead them around the mall.

Just as you walk past your local game store, a product in the window draws your gaze.

“No fucking way,” your jaw drops, blinking in mild shock as you pause in the middle of the hallway.

“What?” It’s Yeosang who follows your gaze immediately, a furrow to his brow at what could have possibly drawn your attention like this.

There, in the front window of the store, sits a giant Snorlax beanbag chair. Though, from how it’s stuffed into the display, he looks a little squished in your opinion.

“Free him,” you chuckle, already making your way over to the storefront to see how much he costs. At the price you see glaring back at you, your eyes widen, “never mind.”

Immediately, San, Wooyoung, and Yeosang all begin to make their way towards the entrance. The only thought on each of their minds is buying that Snorlax for you, arguing with each other over who gets to pay. That is, until you’re stepping in front of them, successfully blocking their path to the store.

“No.” You shake your head.

“What did we just tell you?” San quirks a brow, crossing his arms in front of his chest expectantly.

“I don’t care.” You shake your head once more. “It’s not a need, or a necessity.”

“Yet, books are?” Yunho quirks a brow at you this time, an amused grin tugging at his lips.

“Books are different,” you begin, noticing Wooyoung attempting to step around you only for you to match each of his movements. For a third time, you shake your head. “I’m putting my foot down for this.”

“If you truly don’t want us to, then we won’t.” Hongjoong says, shooting a stern look at the younger demons who look back at him with pouts on their faces. We can buy stuff for her later, when she can’t complain about it. Or stop us for that matter.

“Thank you.” You tilt your head in acknowledgement in his direction, a soft smile adorning your features.

Hongjoong smiles back, following your lead once more as you continue on down the hallway.

I’m coming back for that later. Yeosang immediately projects, quite sternly, into his brother’s minds. All of you find something else to buy for her.

Fine. Wooyoung replies, a bit grumpily. I’m sure there will be plenty more where that came from, anyways.

Exactly. Hongjoong hums, noticing how you enter a store full of soaps, candles, and fragrances, amongst other products, next. I simply believe she isn’t used to being gifted the things she wants, especially when we don’t expect anything in return but her own happiness.

I still wish she’d let us treat her, though. Seonghwa grumbles, walking over to the display of colognes off to the side. Without pushback.

She will, Hongjoong replies, testing out a moisturizer on the back of his one hand. Eventually.

Yunho, keep an eye on her mind. Mingi adds, both him and San helping you decide on some candles as you continuously bring the different scents to your nose to test them.

Already on it. He grins, watching the scene fondly from the front of the store as Jongho and Yeosang stand beside him.

“Oh, I wonder if they have- they do!” Your eyes widen as excitement takes over your features.

In an instant, you’ve taken a few steps to your left, grabbing a specific candle off of the shelf and removing the lid. A smile tugs at your lips as your eyes flutter closed, a content hum escaping you as you take a deep breath in.

Each male cannot help the way their mouths suddenly go dry, that small sound of pleasure ringing through their ears just as it did last night.

“Mahogany teakwood,” you breathe, extending the candle out for both San and Mingi to smell. “My favourite scent.”

San leans in first to sniff it, smiling back at you in response as he straightens to his full height. 

It’s musky. Mingi comments to all of them after his first whiff of the candle. Definitely something a male might wear.

Are there any colognes of the scent? San turns, spotting Seonghwa by the display.

Immediately, Seonghwa is scanning the labels, attempting to find the one he’s looking for before San can finish making his way over to where he is. Luckily for him, he spots the bottle a moment later, snatching it off of the display in an instant. It was the last one, too.

You bastard. San growls, noticing how the eldest grins smugly at him while waving the bottle in the younger’s face.

You snooze, you lose. Seonghwa repeats the youngest’s words from earlier in the day, beginning to move off to a different section of the store.

Relax, there’s also a body wash. Wooyoung comments, already pulling a bottle off of the shelf to check the label.

Immediately, it’s like a race between San and Seonghwa to make it over to where Wooyoung is standing. Each male practically shoves the other out of the way as they reach the shelf, arguing amongst themselves about who gets to use this particular scent as their own.

You can only blink from across the store in shock, an amused snort escaping you as you watch the chaos unfold before your very eyes.

“Are they always like this?” You lean into Mingi who has yet to leave your side.

He sighs, a small quirk to his lips upwards, “you’d be surprised.”

“Honestly, you’d think there’s a sale on toner or something, with how they booked it across the store.” You mumble, chuckling to yourself as you turn back towards the candles. “Oh, fresh pine!”

Taking another candle off of the shelf, you’re quick to open the lid. Again, a smile tugs at your features as you inhale the earthy scent deeply. Almost immediately, you’re extending it out to Mingi who leans in without another thought to smell the candle.

“Another one of my favourites,” you admit, tucking it into your arm beside your mahogany teakwood candle.

Yunho- Mingi glances at his brother from across the store.

Already on it. Yunho grins, heading over to the display to pull two bottles of cologne off of it. I’ll grab the body wash, too.

Mingi nods subtly in the other male’s direction, following you once more through the store as you go to check out the seasonal candles.

See if you can find out what other scents she likes. Jongho’s voice echoes through all of their heads, even if his comment is directed at Mingi for the moment.

Already on it. Mingi repeats Yunho’s words from mere moments before, a grin tugging at his lips as he watches your eyes light up.

“Fresh orchard? Don’t mind if I ‘yes’,” you reach for the candle shamelessly, eyes widening as the faint, crisp scent of apples reaches your nose. Your face light ups. "And the apples aren’t overpowering everything. Hell yes!”

Mingi cannot help but share in your excitement as you extend the candle out for him to smell. He has to agree, the scent of the apples isn’t overpowering the other aromas found within, giving rise for the subtle vanilla, cinnamon, and oak to come through.

Looking up, he catches gazes with Jongho who stands just outside of the store. An understanding passes between them, Mingi subtly nodding his head at the youngest in an instant.

Only, you turn your head just in time to notice him looking at something outside of the store. Following his gaze, that’s when you see both Yeosang and Jongho still standing in the hallway of the mall, the few bags from the bookstore held in their hands. Your brow furrows.

“Sometimes all of the scents overwhelm them and give them headaches,” Mingi informs you.

“I had no idea,” a small frown pulls at your features, lips tugging downwards as you continue to stare at the two males outside of the shop. 

It’s then that you feel two subtle caresses brushing against your void, the water rippling beneath their touch. Tentatively, and probably against your better judgment, you’re opening your mind.

Little do you know of the way such a simple act warms their hearts.

Please, do not feel bad about this, Dearest. Yeosang’s voice is the first you hear resounding in your head. It is not your fault.

We are more than content to see you happy like this. Jongho adds as they both send you reassuring smiles.

You smile back softly, a subtle nod to your head before you’re closing off your void to them once more.

“I didn’t even know you guys could get headaches.” You say, turning back to Mingi beside you.

“It’s rare, but we can still suffer from the same ailments as you,” Hongjoong voices, walking up beside you with a few products in his hands. “Well, minus a few things, of course. Like cancer.”

“Huh,” you hum, nodding along with his words. “Interesting.”

“Granted, we can either let the ailment manifest, or heal ourselves immediately,” Hongjoong adds, watching as Mingi walks off to go grab some things of his own, including that fresh orchard scent for Jongho.

“It’s a little difficult to imagine you guys with something as trivial as a stomachache, if I’m being honest,” you reply, looking through the rest of the display before you.

“Yeah, that tends to only happen if we’ve ingested a really nasty soul,” Wooyoung pops up on your other side, reaching across to grab at a particular body lotion on display.

“Though, there are certain ailments that can affect us, but not you,” Hongjoong tells you, stepping out of the way as you go to move around him. “Others that affect us could potentially kill you if you ever caught them.”

“Gee, that makes me feel so assured,” you mumble, walking passed him for the moment.

“Don’t worry, Gorgeous, we’d take care of you,” Wooyoung grins, stepping in line beside you as you reach the back of the store. “We know all of the cures, anyways. If it ever came to that.”

“Not to mention we could just heal you if you got sick,” Hongjoong reminds you, the conversation he had with you about injuries in the garden flitting through his mind.

“Right,” you nod in acknowledgement, and he just knows you’re thinking back to that moment, too. “I remember you telling me that.”

“Or, we could just feed you our blood.” Wooyoung comments nonchalantly.

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, “excuse me?”

“It would be the fastest way to heal you,” Hongjoong says, shooting a pointed look towards Wooyoung for just dropping that little tidbit of information on you. “Quicker and more effective than our healing abilities, with some added side effects.”

“Side effects?” Your brow furrows.

“Nothing bad, don’t worry,” Hongjoong assures you with a small smile. “We would never let you get to a point where you would need to ingest our blood to heal yourself, anyways.”

“Good to know,” you huff out a small laugh, lips quirking upwards in slight disbelief at the conversation you’ve just had with them.

Hongjoong smiles back at you as the others all come to join you in the cash line, seeing as they’ve also finished looking around for the moment.

“Got everything you need?” Seonghwa asks, a soft smile painting his features as you nod back at him in response.

“They stopped carrying my other favourite scent a while ago,” you sigh, a slight pout to your lips. “So, this is good for now.”

“What one was that?” San is a little too eager in his inquiry.

“Sea island cotton.” You reply, somewhat wistfully. “It was really light and soothing.”

Hongjoong’s brow furrows, holding out one of the bottles of lotion in his hands, “you mean this?”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as you see the label facing you, your free hand coming up to snatch the bottle right out of his hand. Then, you meet his gaze. “Where did you find this?”

Hongjoong points over his shoulder at the back corner of the store, blinking at you in mild shock at the wide-eyed look you send him.

“I’ll be right back,” you immediately go to step out of line, but a hand on your shoulder stops you.

“I’ll grab it for you,” Seonghwa offers, not even giving you a chance to deny him as he steps out of line, already halfway to the display in the blink of an eye.

Hwa, can you- Yeosang doesn’t even get to finish his question before the eldest is replying.

I’ve got you covered. Reaching the display, Seonghwa grabs a few different bottles including a body mist, body lotion, and a few body washes before heading back over to the cash line.

As soon as you see the bottles in his hands, your eyes light up, and each male practically swoons at the sight. All save for Seonghwa, who instead feels his heart fluttering in his chest as you look at him like he’s just brought you the greatest gift you could ever ask for. He swallows thickly, attempting to keep his arms from shaking.

Yeah. They could all get used to this.

“Here, why don’t you give us your stuff and go wait outside with Yeosang and Jongho?” Yunho says, already reaching to take the few items that you’re holding from your hands.

Again, the protests you’re about to say die in your throat as Mingi grabs the final item from you. In the next moment, Wooyoung uses his free hand to begin turning you around gently, ushering you to take a step towards the entrance of the store.

“Fine,” you grumble, a slight pout tugging at your lips as you cross you arms in front of your chest, beginning to make your way out of the shop.

Both Yeosang and Jongho smile as soon as they see you, having gotten a glimpse of your excited expression only moments before curtesy of their brothers. They absolutely adore the fact that you choose to stand in-between them, too, even if you still have your arms crossed in discontent for the moment.

A few minutes later, the other six are all walking out of the store, bags held in their hands. You attempt to reach for some of them, only to be brushed off by each male holding a bag. Even when you complain that you can carry something, they assure you that it’s fine. They don’t want you worrying your pretty little head about anything today, or ever for that matter.

You pout once more, leading them further down the hall and towards the direction of the foodcourt for the time being. Still, you cannot help but mutter about those damn demons once more under your breath, causing smiles to pull at all of their faces.

“If you want to hold onto something that badly,” San begins, a mischievous glint in his eyes that his brothers know all too well, “hold on to this.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s grabbed your hand in his, interlocking your fingers together without a second thought. He can just feel the jealous glares of his brothers on his back as he watches your eyes widen, a momentary falter to your steps as he catches you off guard. At the way he cheekily smiles at you, you can only avert your gaze somewhat shyly in response, a heat rising to your cheeks.

The best part? You don’t pull away.

“I am curious, though,” you say after a little while, San beginning to swing your interlocked hands gently back and forth between you as he hears Wooyoung complaining to him about holding onto your hand in his head. “How exactly do you guys get the money for all of this stuff? It’s hard to imagine you all working any type of retail job.”

“Could you imagine us working at a grocery store?” Wooyoung laughs. “Seonghwa would bite someone’s head off within five minutes.”

You half expect the oldest to complain about what Wooyoung’s saying about him, but at the subtle nodding of Seonghwa’s head, you let out a snort of laughter. 

Instantly, he’s turning to meet your gaze, a sheepish shrug gracing his shoulders as he grins back at you. “Guilty.”

“Jongho and Yeosang definitely wouldn’t have the patience to deal with difficult customers.” Yunho observes, receiving a loud ‘hey’ in protest from the youngest.

“San would be throwing out nearly all of the produce, complaining that it’s not fresh enough to be stocked on shelves,” Mingi joins in with a chuckle, a large smile painting his features.

“It’s true, though!” San retorts, an exasperated look pulling onto his features.

“Yes, yes, we all know about your two hour long rant on produce quality,” Yeosang practically rolls his eyes in response to the male’s reaction, eliciting another of the sweetest giggles from your lips.

“Anyways,” Hongjoong is drawing your attention to him as he speaks for the moment. “To answer your question, My Love, we acquire our wealth through many different means. The main ones being investing, and through real estate. We’ve been around for quite a long time, that we’ve learned a few tricks of the trade.”

“We are also the Kings of the Realm with the whole wealth of the underworld at out fingertips.” Jongho adds, nonchalantly.

The way you nod, clearly impressed, has pride filling their chests once more.

“That’s not to mention our other means of acquirement,” Wooyoung wiggles his brows at you suggestively.

“Never pictured you guys as strippers, but oddly enough, it’s very fitting.” You reply without a second thought, a store up ahead catching your attention.

Mingi nearly trips over his own feet as Wooyoung bursts out laughing, causing some heads of passers by to turn to look in your direction.

“We’re not-“ Seonghwa sighs, shaking his head at the younger demon with the skunk dyed hair. “We’re not strippers.”

“Ah,” your eyes go wide as you draw out the syllable, a teasing lilt to your voice. “Shame.”

“What Wooyoung meant to say, is that we sometimes acquire wealth through other, unfavourable means as well.” Hongjoong explains.

Your eyes narrow suspiciously. “Elaborate.”

“Gambling, the black market, assassinations: you name it,” Yunho informs you, a small shrug to his shoulders.

“Honestly,” you let out a sharp puff of air through your nose, “that doesn’t surprise me as much as it should.”

“Well, we are essentially demons.” Yeosang voices with a small shrug.

“Demonic entities,” you say, somewhat breathlessly, recalling the very first night when you learned of their true nature. “What does that even mean? Aren’t you guys essentially gods?”

San smirks, “you could say that.”

Then, as if recalling another one of your memories, you continue, “you all flinch whenever I say phrases referring to the catholic religion. Or at least, I think you do.”

“Force of habit,” Mingi replies honestly. “It’s difficult to not remember a time when people would use those phrases to curse our names.”

“Would it help if I told you that I don’t really believe in them, and I say those things more as a reactionary phrase just to say them over anything else?” You quirk a brow. Then, quickly, you add, “but I’ll never say them again if it hurts you.”

All of them are touched by your consideration for them right now, that they cannot help but fall even deeper for you in this moment. You all still may not be on the best of terms, but if today is anything to go by, you are both very receptive and accepting of them already. In the little time that they’ve actually been with you, they’ve been able to make tremendous progress. A fact which makes them beyond joyous in this moment here in time.

“It does indeed help.” Seonghwa smiles softly at you, probably the most touched out of all of them by your sudden consideration. “Though, don’t feel as if you have to stop saying those phrases now. Especially if you do not actually believe in them.”

You nod, turning your attention back to the front as you continue to walk down the hallway.

“Then, what do you believe in?” Jongho asks the question on all of their minds, curiosity reflected in all of their eyes as they shift their focus back onto you.

You stare ahead, blinking a few times as you watch the shop that you want to check inside of get closer and closer. Then, the corner of your lips is twitching upwards as you decide to let your thoughts actually be vocalized for the moment. You figure that there’s no harm in letting them know.

“I believe in all of you.”

For the second time that day, tears line the corner of Mingi’s eyes. Both Yunho and Jongho cannot help the way that their breaths hitch in their throats, while both Wooyoung and Seonghwa have to place one of their hands over their beating hearts to keep them from bursting right out of their chests. Yeosang pauses momentarily mid-step as his eyes close, his hand coming up to cover the lower half of his face as he absolutely revels in your words.

A soft smile tugs onto Hongjoong’s features, nothing but absolute fondness and adoration shining in his gaze as he looks at you. His heart swells in his chest, his throat bobbing as he swallows all of the words he wants to say back to you in this moment, in order to simply bask in this glorious feeling.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice San wiping at his cheek with the back of his free hand.

You blink, worry taking over your features immediately as you halt right in your tracks, conveniently right in front of the store you want to enter. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Of course not,” San squeezes your hand reassuringly, bringing it up to his lips to place a tender kiss onto your skin as he holds it there, revelling both in the feeling and meaning of this moment here in time with you.

“It just means a lot to us.” Yunho clears his throat, voice suddenly rough with the rawness of his emotions as he is overcome by the significance of your words. “What you’ve just said.”

“More than you’ll ever know.” Seonghwa smiles softly at you, his eyes shining with something that you don’t quite understand, but once it finally sinks in, you find it suddenly hard to breathe.

You take a moment to look around at the eight men surrounding you. You can see the adoration clear in their eyes, the fondness shining within causing your heart to race. No one has ever gazed at you so lovingly before. A fact of which causes your heart to then swell with an unfamiliar emotion, but a pleasant one, nonetheless.

For the first time in your life, you understand what it feels like to be someone’s first choice. You understand what it feels like to be wanted, to be desired by another person in a way that you are starting to desire them. You feel safe. You feel cared for. More than all of that, you feel comfortable in your own skin around them.

For the first time in your entire life, you understand what it feels like for someone to be in love with you. You, and only you.

A soft smile graces your features as you squeeze San’s hand back, looking between all of them once more as you all share in this tender moment together.

“I want to know more about you guys,” you say, watching as their features all light up in excitement. “But first, let me head in there to see an old friend,” you point to the jewellery store across from you as you gently drop San’s hand, much to his discontent, “and then we can all talk over drinks.”

Smiles pull at all of their lips, and you see a few of them nod their heads eagerly at your words.

“Sounds good,” Hongjoong meets your gaze, tone reflecting the happiness on his features.

“Great,” you smile, already heading towards the shop mere steps away.

The jewellery store is small in size, more of an antique shop than anything else as gems glitter in the display cases surrounding the area. In fact, a lot of the items look hand made, for each piece is unique in its design. Some of the pieces are rare, and some are odd: not typical items one would find in your average jewellery store. 

There only seems to be one person sitting inside behind the counter at the moment, scrolling through his phone. However, as soon as he looks up to see you walking into the store with both Seonghwa and Hongjoong in tow, his eyes are widening.

An excited gasp of your name slips past the male’s lips as he hops off of the stool he had been sitting on in order to practically tackle you in a hug. At the way you hear two pointed exhales behind you, you can just tell the two eldest are staring daggers at this man right now. You chuckle.

“David, hey!” You smile, pulling away to hold him at arm’s length. “It’s been a while.”

“You’re telling me, Missy.” He shoots you a pointed look, voice full of sass. “I thought I was going to die of boredom if you didn’t come to see me again, soon.”

“You’d die of boredom, anyways,” you roll your eyes, smacking his arm playfully.

“Guilty,” he grins, a small shrug to his one shoulder. “Anyways, how’ve you been? I heard you’re no longer working at the mall, which is why you haven’t come to visit in a while. Thanks for letting me know, by the way.”

“Oh, you most definitely don’t sound upset about that,” you snort, rolling your eyes teasingly in the next moment. “I meant to tell you, I really did! Just, shit happened.”

“Oh my god, was it Henry?” Immediately, concern is written all over his features.

Behind you, you can practically feel both Hongjoong’s and Seonghwa’s chests rumbling with suppressed growls. So, for the first time, you attempt to do to them what they’ve done to you. With difficulty, you envision reaching out to them with your void, hoping that they’ll be able to pick up on it if they’re still constantly monitoring your thoughts. You’re sure they are, especially if their sharp inhales are anything to go by, which can mean one thing, and one thing only. It worked.

“No, no, luckily not,” you’re quick to shake your head. “I have a feeling he’s not going to be bothering anyone ever again.”

“Bastard finally got his comeuppance, did he?” David quirks a brow at you.

“A well deserved punishment dealt swiftly, and quite flawlessly, if I do say so myself,” you smile, and you fail to realize just how proud you’ve made the two males (and the six in the hallway) standing behind you at your words.

“Thank fuck,” David breathes, closing his eyes momentarily as a sense of relief washes over him. Then, it’s as if his whole demeanour flips, a bright smile painting his features as he meets your gaze once more. “What brings you in today?”

“Can’t I come in to see my lovely friend?” You quirk a brow, grin tugging at your lips.

“And here I was thinking you came to pick up that necklace you commissioned from me.” He replies, already moving back behind the counter.

“Necklace?” Your brow furrows only momentarily until realization is crossing your features. With so much going on, you completely forgot about the fact that you had him make one for you. “Oh, right! That necklace.”

“Honestly, woman, how do you survive?” He chuckles teasingly, opening the door to the backroom to peek his head inside. “Suzy, can you bring out order eighty-seven?”

“I honestly forgot about that,” you chuckle, somewhat nervously. You just know that this has grabbed the two male’s attention behind you. Two male who have remained unusually silent for the moment as they pretend to browse through the store on their own.

In the next moment, a shorter woman appears almost eagerly, holding a somewhat large black velvet box in her hands. As soon as she sees you, her eyes light up, an excited squeal of your name escaping her lips. “I just knew it was you as soon as David told me to grab this order!”

“It’s good to see you, too, Suzy,” you smile at her enthusiasm.

“Well, here you go,” she hands the box to you and you turn to place it on top of the counter. 

David now stands across from you while the two demons step in behind you, casually observing from over each one of your shoulders. They have no idea what this necklace could be, considering your thoughts are closed off, and all they’re getting from both Suzy and David are how excited they are to see your reaction.

Slowly, you begin to open the velvet box in front of you. 

A gasp escapes you as you take in the elegance of the design, noting the little details of the craftwork as you lift the necklace carefully out of the case. The way the gems gleam in the light has your eyes sparkling in awe. Your breath catches in your throat at the amount of effort you know David put into this for you, and you cannot help the way your heart warms at that fact alone.

There, dangling like the brightest star in the night sky, is a perfect replica of Arwen’s Evenstar necklace.

“I’m sure you two know all about her little obsession with that favourite series of hers.” David grins, directing his comment towards the two males standing beside you at the moment. He’s noticed how close they’ve been to you since entering the store, not only physically, but with how they seem to watch you carefully, a tender look in each one of their eyes.

“Believe me,” Seonghwa breathes out, projecting your beautiful, awestruck expression to his other brothers currently waiting outside in the hallway.

“We know.” Hongjoong concludes just as breathlessly, his own eyes catching on the way yours reflect the light just like the piece of jewellery in your hand.

“David,” you meet his gaze, the sincerity shining in your own, “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You commissioned it.” He grins back, seemingly shrugging off your praise for the moment. “I’m just glad I could deliver.”

“How much do I owe you?” You begin, settling the necklace back in its box for the time being as you softly close the lid.

“You already payed for it, remember?” He chuckles, reaching over and grabbing your free hand that you have resting on top of the counter before you, giving it a gentle squeeze in the next second.

“Right,” you chuckle along with him, “I did.”

“Sometimes you have to treat yourself to the things you want most.” Suzy directs her comment at you with a smile, repeating your very words back to you that you had told her when you first commissioned this piece of jewellery. “You should indulge yourself more often; let yourself have nice things.”

You smile softly. “Right.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it because it’ll make what I’m about to tell you less painful,” David leans against the counter, motioning behind you to a specific display with his chin. “It sold.”

Your jaw drops, immediately turning and stepping across the store to take in the case that held one of your two favourite items in the shop. “No way.”

“What sold?” It’s Hongjoong who asks the question, casually looking over all of the items in the case before him.

“Only her favourite jewelled dagger.” David grins, meeting Hongjoong’s gaze for the first time since he entered the shop. “It was ceremonial, too."

For the second time that day, Hongjoong needs to lean onto the display in front of him for support. His breathing nearly comes in jagged pants, were it not for the way he manages to control himself for the time being. Barely. Still, he cannot help the shiver of pleasure that runs down his spine at learning this specific fact about you.

“You don’t say,” his voice is airy, turning to look at the way you circle the glass case before you.

“I’m surprised whoever bought it didn’t buy the matching sword.” You hum, noting the jewelled handle with the same exact design as the dagger.

“I tried to sell them as a set, but the girl that bought it only wanted the dagger,” David replies with an exasperated sigh.

You scoff, “shame the set was separated, but they are both expensive items.”

“I guess so,” David sighs once more, resting his head in his open palm as he continues to lean against the counter. “Perhaps it’s a sign that you should buy the sword.”

At the suggestive wiggle of David’s brows, you let out a puff of laughter. 

“You know that if I buy myself a sword, I’m buying a replica of Anduíl.” You shoot David a look, shaking your head in the next moment, muttering under your breath, “just wish it wasn’t over two-fucking-thousand dollars for one.”

The two eldest share a look.

“I didn’t know you liked blades,” Seonghwa voices, attempting to control himself as well for the moment. The mental image alone of you holding one of his swords in your hands has his knees weak, throat suddenly parched as he looks towards you for the time being.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s just the stereotypical bisexual in me,” you shrug, nonchalantly. “I’ve always had an affinity towards them. Swords, knives, daggers, you name it.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know you’ve got a knife kink,” David waves you off, standing back to his full height with a teasing grin on his face. “Goes hand in hand with that blood kink of yours.”

Your mouth falls open in horror, a heat rising to your cheeks. “David!”

Even Suzy looks caught off guard by his statement, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head as she leans against the wall.

Most importantly, though, you don’t deny it.

Little do you all know of how this little admission affects the two males in the shop, but especially one in particular. Now, Hongjoong barely suppresses his pleased growl, his mind running wild with this new information. 

Perhaps he should take you to see his knife collection at some point, letting you pick out the ones you like most to use as you play out all of his darkest fantasies with him. The trust alone you would have for him at that point in your relationship sends a shiver down his spine as he envisions it now. Not to mention the added effect of you and him covered in blood, laving your tongues over each other’s skin to drink in the victory of vanquishing your enemies together.

You literally could not be more perfect.

“At least we still have the other item you always love to stare at when you’re here,” David breaks the growing tension in the shop, voice cutting through the silence as he moves back to his original spot by the stool.

“Really? It still hasn’t sold?” You choose to move on from the embarrassment you’re still feeling, hoping that the two males won’t bring up what they’ve just learned about you any time soon. Though, with how dark their gazes are as they look at you, you know they won’t be letting this go so quickly.

“Even I’m surprised,” Suzy adds, seemingly back to her normal, chipper self after those scandalizing comments from David about you.

“What is it?” This time, it’s Seonghwa who asks.

A knowing smirk pulls onto David’s features, “I’ll show you.”

“No, David-“ you don’t even get a chance to protest as he’s unlocking the cabinet in front of him and pulling out the item in question.

Both Hongjoong and Seonghwa cannot prevent the way their breaths catch in their throats at the object now presented to them. Moans nearly spilling from their lips as they take in the sight before them.

There, on a red velvet display pillow, resides a beautiful crystal crown. Diamonds and white sapphires sparkle along the base, interwoven between the opaque quarts gems rising into a sharp point from either side. Small chains adorn the bottom, and as David lifts the crown, they fall, only to dangle with more small crystals hanging off of the ends. The intricacy of the design alone takes their breath away. Not to mention how it absolutely glimmers beneath the artificial lights of the store, each gem sparkling beneath their gaze.

Truly, a crown fit for their Queen.

“I think today should be the day you finally put it on.” David directs his comment towards you, seemingly nonchalant as he quirks a brow.

“We couldn’t agree more,” Seonghwa replies breathlessly, as both he and Hongjoong turn to look at you, eagerness shining in their eyes.

“Uh,” you hesitate, unsure of what to do.

“Oh, please?” Suzy whines, eyes shining and hopeful. “I’ve always wanted to see you wear it.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as all four of their gazes are now locked on you. Even as your eyes drift past Seonghwa’s head, you can see the six males waiting in the hallway just outside watching on intently, an almost pleading eagerness to their own features.

You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat, voice but a mere whisper on the air, “Alright.”

Stepping towards David, you begin to do whatever you can to steady your nerves. You know this will mean more to the eight of them than to you right now, but if you’re being honest with yourself, you have always wanted to wear a crown. You’ve just never had a reason to have one before now.

For a moment, the shared memory of you in that field with Yunho flashes through your mind, and you cannot help but to smile softly. A sentiment which is shared by the tall male in the hallway as he catches a glimpse of that moment flitting through your mind. At least this won’t be the first time one of them is seeing you in a crown.

Shifting your attention back to the situation in front of you, you notice Hongjoong standing before David.

“May I?” He asks, and you think that this is the most regal that you’ve ever seen him.

“Be my guest,” David grins, handing the crown over to Hongjoong without a second thought.

Hongjoong’s hands are shaking, whole body trembling as he turns towards you with the crown now held in his grasp. Even Seonghwa, who stands slightly off to the side, is having a hard time keeping it together at this very moment as he supports himself with one hand on top of a display case. Both cannot help but to hold their breaths, waiting in anticipation for what is still yet to come.

Then, as if your body already knows exactly what to do, you take a knee, lowering your head as Hongjoong approaches you. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his presence before you, your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

Ever so slowly, and with the grace of a thousand moons, Hongjoong places the crown gently upon your head.

The moment you feel its weight on you, your eyes open. In the second it takes for him to take a step away from you, you stand back to your feet, lifting your head to see all eight of them already looking towards you.

The sight of you, standing before them in a crown, nearly sends them all to their knees right then and there for the third time that day. 

The first had been when you turned around in that bookstore, your condemnation of that bastard fresh in their minds as they all nearly went wild from your change in persona. The way you commanded their attention, and dealt your judgment, made them feel like a true ruler stood before them. Their Queen.

The second was when you told them you believed in them, only solidifying the fact that they are always ready and willing to do anything for you. They are so desperately in love with you, and to know that you trust them, that you believe in them, made them so unbelievably happy, their souls ascending like never before. Their confidant.

Now, they are finally able see one of their greatest desires coming to fruition before their very eyes, and none of them can deny the way that you look absolutely stunning. Words cannot even begin to describe your beauty to them right now, nor how much this moment means to them at this point in time. The love of their lives.

If they could, they would be on their knees in a heartbeat, worshipping and praising you in every and any way imaginable. After all, it’s what they’ve always wanted, and it’s what you’ve always deserved.

“You look absolutely regal.” David’s lips part in a gasp, pulling upwards into an excited smile in the next moment.

“I always knew you were a queen!” Suzy comments cheerfully, nodding her head enthusiastically.

Our Queen. Growls of approval build in their chests as they continue to take in the ethereal sight that is you before them like this.

If you don’t buy that for her right fucking now, Wooyoung begins, the sentiment being echoed by all of his brothers in this very moment, I will.

In your fucking dreams, I’m buying this for her. San retorts, his eyes swirling with that all too familiar darkness as he turns towards the younger male beside him.

As much as I agree, you guys can fight over this one, Yunho voices. I’ve already given her a crown of my own.

At this, all five males standing around him turn to glare harshly at Yunho. Were it not for the fact that they are in public right now, Mingi’s hands would already be wrapped around the elder male’s throat.

“How much is it?” Hongjoong’s voice manages to draw all of their attention back into the shop before them.

At the way your eyes widen significantly, you’re quick to take the crown off of your head and place it back onto the plush pillow on the counter.

“Don’t answer that.” You shoot a pointed look at David, shaking your head subtly as he glances at you out of the corner of his eyes. 

Then, he’s making a quick zipping motion across his lips, shooting you a wink in the next moment before turning back to face Hongjoong.

“Sorry, brother,” David sighs, putting the crown back inside it’s case. “Lady’s wishes.”

The snarls you can see beginning to tug onto both Seonghwa’s and Hongjoong’s features have you reacting quickly.

“Anyways, we should get going!” You cut in, reaching over to place a hand each onto both Seonghwa’s and Hongjoong’s shoulders to turn them around and guide them out of the shop. Only, just as quickly as your touch comes, it’s gone, you reaching over to grab the velvet box with your necklace in it in the next second, shaking it slightly in your hand. “Thanks again for this, you don’t know how much I appreciate it.”

“Of course!” David responds, coming around to give you a big hug once more. “Stop by anytime.”

“Come see us again, soon!” Suzy adds, scurrying around the counter to give you a hug of her own.

You chuckle. “I will, I promise.”

Waving a final goodbye to the two of them, you turn back around, noticing how the two eldest seem to be having a silent conversation with the six males outside of the shop. It’s only when you gently tap their upper backs, helping to guide them both out of the shop, do they move.

Stepping back up to the other six, you’re quick to continue making your way down the hallway once more. Only, there’s a slight nervousness to you now. They can see it clearly in the way your shoulders are tense, your hands gripping onto that velvet box for dear life.

It’s Yeosang who manages to break the sudden tension between the nine of you.

“Can I see?” His voice is soft as he falls into step beside you, eyes briefly glancing to the box held in your hands.

“Huh-“ you blink, seemingly pulled out of your thoughts as you turn to look at him gazing at you so fondly. You smile softly, “of course.”

Carefully, you open the case, slowing your pace to make sure you don’t accidentally drop the necklace now held in your hands. Again, that same twinkle in your eyes makes an appearance as you continue to gaze at it in awe, your heart racing in your chest.

“Would you like to put it on?” It’s Wooyoung who asks you, voice kind and caring as he glances between the necklace and your eyes.

You take a moment to consider his words before you nod gently in response.

Without wasting any time, Wooyoung takes the chain from your hand, undoing the clasp as he steps in behind you. He can practically feel you shiver against his touch as his fingers brush against the back of your neck, securing the necklace in place in the next moment.

He can’t help it. Wooyoung trails the tips of his fingers of his one hand along the nape of your neck and all the way to your shoulder as he steps around you to see the piece of jewellery now hanging from your neck. The way you shiver once more beneath his touch has the corner of his lips quirking upwards.

Despite the fact that it’s not something that they have gifted you, each male cannot deny how perfectly the jewel suits you. The gem gleams beneath their gaze, seemingly making you shine brighter than before. A fact which makes them swoon for a second time that day.

“Beautiful,” Mingi breathes, a gentle smile gracing his features reflected similarly on all of his brother’s faces.

Again, you avert your gaze, a heat creeping up your neck as you clear your throat. “So, how about that drink, then?”

[vigilvntes]

You cannot convince me that Chris doesn’t pull you into his lap at every chance, even the inappropriate ones. He insists you ride on his lap in the van to “save seats”, that you sit on his lap in the office to “save seats”, tbh, most of his excuses revolve around saving seats.

i've never needed anything so bad in my entire life gimme a minute i need to catch my breath—

oKay i think you're so right about this. chris loves having you in his lap. literally every single opportunity he has to get you sitting on him, he takes it.

at the headquarters during briefings, at the bar, in the van, even in a CAR (definitely in the vigilante mobile) (cue vigilante telling you he'd kill you both if he wasn't besties with peacemaker and by default besties with you because you're peacemakers partner). like holding hands is not enough for this man, he needs to be as close to you as physically possible so having you on his lap is perfect. like you said, he definitely makes excuses and claims it's to save seats or save space. why take up a seat when you can just sit in his lap? (there are more than enough seats) (literally a seat reserved specifically for you) (but why be wasteful?). really it's because it's a comfort for him, seeing you so peaceful and content with your head resting against his shoulder and his big strong arms wrapped around you makes him so !!!!! because deep down all he wants is a genuine, human connection. also it's kinda because i think he's very territorial, and he needs to let everyone in the room, their mothers and their gay fathers who are madly in love with the man they left the mothers for know that you're his. even the team, who literally already know and are GAGGING because why the fuck do you have to be all over each other in the middle of a BRIEFING???

swooning at the thought of his huge hand resting on your thigh gOODbYE (his hand would gradually move to your ass, and he WOULD be very grabby. and then EVERYONE would be begging him to pLEASE STOP GROPING YOU BECAUSE WE ARE LITERALLY TRYING TO SAVE THE WORLD)

it's not just when he's around other people though, i think this obsession with having you in his lap would definitely be A Thing™️ when you're alone, too. like he could be in the most FOUL mood after a bad day at work, and the one thing that could possibly make him feel better is you straddling his waist. he'd have a beer in one hand, the other resting either on your thigh or your waist and he'd instantly feel a little lighter. you'd run your fingers through his hair gently and ask him so sweetly what's wrong and he'd cave immediately and spill EVERYTHING. it's the only way to get him to talk. also he'd probably have a hard-on. no, he'd definitely have a hard on.

a little nsfw from here

i think you in his lap, riding him would be his favourite thing ever, like by FAR top 10 moments for christopher smith. sure, he likes doggy (but he also maybe feels like that's a little impersonal sometimes?) and missionary (even though he probably thinks that's a little BORING). loves the eagle for uh. obvious reasons. but nothing can beat you riding him. i think he'd love to be taken care of, to just sit back and allow you to take control. of course if he wants to really fuck you he can do that, too. he just likes to watch you, to see every single reaction in your face and really pay attention to every noise that leaves your lips while you fuck yourself on his cock. also would LOVE to be praised during. this man needs to know he's good enough at all times.

christopher smith i cannot guarantee that i could fix you but i could love you so hit me up!!!!!

[sednonamoris]

pony up

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: John and Abigail continue to argue. You and Jack are both stuck in the middle, so you make the best of it by teaching him to ride.

Warnings: Toxic relationships, arguing, strong language

Word count: 1,464

A/N: Two chapters in one day - PHEW!! I have to say I’m pretty pleased with how this one turned out. If you didn’t catch my earlier post there will be a bit of a break between today’s updates and Ch. 15 so I can take a moment to read and rest and make sure the coming chapters are as good as they can possibly be. I feel like a broken record saying this but thank you all so much for your support!!!

Series masterlist • AO3

—

You take to the Heartlands like you were born to endless green and not the cracked desert of your youth. Valentine makes boasts of civilization, despite Hosea’s stance on its mud and morons, but the wilderness that surrounds it is what captivates you. Sprawling and wild. Half-tamed and raw. Unbroken. The chirping cry of the eagle and mournful bugle of the elk command a symphony in your soul that begs to be set free. Each night your heart stampedes the open plains with the wild horses, and each morning it returns when the songbirds first sing. 

Then the fighting starts.

“You ‘n me is one thing, but you could at least show up for the boy!” Abigail says this morning. 

“Jesus, woman, quit naggin’ me!” John snipes back. He’s supposed to meet you to go fishing. You have a feeling that might not happen.

“I ain’t naggin’! If you would just—”

“I don’t have time for this. Ghost and I—”

“I don’t wanna hear another goddamn word about Ghost!” she all but screams. You flinch, even over by the hitching posts as you are. “What about me, John? What about our son?”

John’s eyes go hard. “What about you?”

It’s a low blow, even for him, and the backhanded slap that hits his face a moment later is no great surprise to anyone.

What is surprising is that when Abigail marches away, she marches toward you. You shift a little in place but don’t run, much as you’d like to. She points an accusing finger and doesn’t stop until it jams into your chest.

“You—” she chokes past the tears in her eyes, but when she sees the look in yours she can’t finish the sentence.

Because what is there to say, really? That she would kill for John to spend as much time with her as he does with you? That she wishes he would wait out for her when she goes into town, or comes back from the creek with baskets full of laundry that he’ll help her carry home? You know that already. The same as she knows, deep down, that you’d give anything for him to look at you with that same want in his eyes when he sees her. To have him come to your bed every night and wake together every morning. And isn’t it just sad? And aren’t you just fools?

“You watch out for him out there,” she finishes lamely, and you grasp her hand that’s still on your chest and squeeze the apology that’s lodged in your throat. 

“Sure, Abigail. Take care.”

You let her go and she walks away, glaring at anyone who dares stare. John doesn’t say a word when you hand him his reins and head down to the river. 

— 

Days later, you’re sitting next to the fire enjoying a morning smoke with coffee strong enough to feel in your teeth. Pale, pre-dawn yellow streaks a sky marred only by your curling whisps of smoke. For once it is blessedly, blissfully quiet.

“Morning!” a bright voice chirps. 

You close your eyes and take a deep, calming breath before turning to snarl at them, only to be met with an unexpected face.

“Jack,” you say, trying not to sound surprised. Or mean. “Where’s your ma?”

It’s not that you dislike the kid, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t try to steer clear of him most of the time. Just seems better that way.

“She’s at the river. Reverend is supposed to play with me but he’s sleeping again.”

Fuck. Of course he is.

You look around to see if someone - anyone - is around who can watch him instead, but most folks have already headed into town, and the girls are surely with Abigail doing the washing at the river. Fuck. 

“Well, hey,” you fumble, “why don’t you ‘n me do somethin’ while we wait for him to wake up?”

“Really?” He sounds so excited. It breaks your heart a little.

“Really.” 

You’d been planning to ride out, maybe find a horse to fence, but instead you while away the morning playing every game imaginable with little Jack. He’s way too smart for you, listing off the wildest names you never heard of while you play pretend. You’re Penelope. Telemachus. Charybdis. He always gets to be Odysseus, who must be the hero. Then he wants to go hunting for bugs, so you dutifully lift rocks only for him to squeal when centipedes and beetles come creepy-crawling with all of their legs and pinchy parts. Then he tells you it’s your turn to pick something. You try to wrack your brain, but the only thing you can think to ask is if he knows how to ride on his own yet.

You smile when he says no.

“About time you learned, then.”

With a sweet chestnut Morgan who sometimes packs for you on hunting trips as a model, you take your time explaining how important it is to take proper care of your horse. How to brush with the grain of the hair. What every piece of tack does. You thought he might get bored, but the kid absorbs information like a sponge. He asks question after question, until finally he hits you with one you aren’t expecting. 

“Why are you called Ghost? Aren’t ghosts scary?”

“What,” you say, “I ain’t scary enough for you?”

He suddenly looks nervous, so you smile and ruffle his hair. 

“Relax, kid. I only scare bad guys and little shits who don’t mind their ma.”

“What’s a ‘little shit’?” 

You raise a brow at him. “Take a guess.”

He laughs. 

There’s just enough room at the edge of camp for you to work in, so under watchful eyes you let Jack lead the mare over. He’s terribly proud of himself. 

“Ready to mount up?” you ask, then don’t give him a moment to think about it before lifting him up and into the saddle.

He stares at you with wide eyes, scared and excited all at once. You remember the feeling. 

“Breathe, kid,” you remind him. “And get those feet in the stirrups. Sit deep. Shoulders tall.” You touch a hand to his stomach. “If you’re strong here, it’ll help you both balance. Less likely to fall.”

He nods, trying to do everything at once. He’s only halfway successful, but it will all come with practice. You lead the mare in between and around picketed horses, twisting and turning but keeping a steady pace. Every few strides you remind Jack to tilt his heels down, or square his shoulders. His little brow furrows with concentration. 

You don’t even realize how much time has passed until the sun sits high in the afternoon sky, and Abigail returns with the girls and baskets and baskets of laundry. 

“Reverend!” her shout rings through the clearing. “Where the hell is my son?”

“Over here, Mama!” Jack calls from atop his mount. 

He’s graduated to guiding the mare in circles off the lead, but you’re still close by. She’s being a wonderful sport about it, eyes half closed while she putters about barely registering the butterfly kicks her young rider gives. 

Abigail stops short when she sees you. Before she can say a word, Jack smiles and cheers for her attention to show off his new skills. He makes the mare turn left, then right, then beams over at the both of you.

“That’s,” Abigail starts, “Well, that’s real fine, Jack. Did you say ‘thank you’?”

“Thanks, Ghost!”

“Sure, kid. Any time.” 

The emotion that shines in her eyes is hard to place, but it brings a fragile smile to your face that she mirrors.

You help Jack down and he runs up to hug her skirts, smelling of sweat and horses, you’re sure. 

“Should Jack help cool her out?” Abigail asks.

You huff a laugh. The mare hasn’t broken a sweat. “I’ve got it. You two go on now.”

They turn to go, Jack racing off ahead, but Abigail stops and turns back. “Ghost?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” There’s so much packed into those two words, years of misunderstanding trying desperately to heal the pretty blue hurt in her eyes. The desert cracks in yours. 

You tip your hat, nod in understanding, scared that if you try to speak no words will come. 

—

John finds you later.

“Heard you an’ Jack had fun today.” 

You cut your eyes at him but keep your head on straight at the shirt you’re mending. It’s a botch job, but at least the hole will be gone. “Sure. Good kid you got there.”

“Ain’t so sure he is mine.” His laugh is humorless. Caustic.

“Does it matter?”

He’s silent for a long moment before admitting on a sigh, “I don’t know anymore.”

You don’t either.

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: arthur morgan x male reader

req: no | wc: 2.1k

summary: After Arthur unfortunately loses Boadicea, he’s got to have a mode of transport. With the wagons full, he has to share a horse with someone. That someone happens to be you.

warnings: suggestive, reader blushes and it’s a visible color.

a/n: inspired by Cpt. Monroe and Eagle Flies' hand placement when they ride on the same horse as Arthur. turned out longer than i thought (mainly cause i didn't know where this was going)

Warmth. All you can think about is warmth.

You wanted warmth.

You were in need of it, after riding with the gang for hours at a time in this cold, desolate mountainscape. Why did nature even grow up here? Perhaps to survive in a place it could actually thrive in, just like you once upon a time. You missed it, the wide expanse of desert and rolling tumbleweed, sand beneath your feet and the warm oh… the warm sun. You’d hated it, then, only to be in desperate need of it now.

The sun, ah, she’s only there when you don’t need her.

That was you a few hours ago. Warmth was still plaguing your thoughts, though for a different reason now. At the present moment, it seemed as if you were in abundance of warmth. It was too much, felt like too much, but it was just enough.

Arthur Morgan.

Fucking hell, Arthur Morgan.

His, damn, big hands, big and warm, hooked between the length of your waist and your hip, held you lightly, as if the mere existence of a firmer touch could set you on fire. For the record, even the ghost of firmness, even the tips of one or two of his fingers at a time or the center of his palm gripping harder at your body was enough. God knows what’d happen if he had access to bare skin unlayered by your useless coats.

Arthur Morgan.

His chest hovered right behind you. The large expanse of his broad chest made you aware of his presence, if you weren’t aware of it on your own. You were painfully aware of it.

Silently, you thanked the mountains and cold for covering the fact you were blushing. Though if anyone put a hand to your forehead, they’d think you were sick. You wouldn’t put it past Miss Grimshaw to be concerned even with the cold or her tough love behavior.

There was not much you could distract yourself with, aside from the occasional yipping of a fox or mangled shadow coming into view (it was a weird tree); and you desperately needed something. Least you’d have a settlement to distract yourself with, if you even came across one. You’d been sent out as scouts for a reason. Then again, it’s already been a couple hours or so; you already lost track of time.

Arthur, on the other hand, didn’t seem to think of it much. If he were truly comfortable with you, though, he wouldn’t mind putting his chest to your back. So he was thinking about it, at least a little bit. Although, you thought he was comfortable enough with you. It certainly seemed like it sometimes. What even were you? The two of you?

One moment, you’re under the wide expanse of the night sky, huddled together for a bit of warmth and something more; the next, you’re half-way ‘cross camp from each other, not a thought in your heads about the other. Least, mostly. The spare glances from his seat at the poker table and yours at Pearson's wagon said otherwise.

His grip on your waist comes a little harder now, when his eyes catch another weird shadow. You’re vaguely aware of him peeking from behind your shoulder until you’re fully aware because of his cold breath against your ear. You can see the end of it from your peripheral.

“What do you reckon that is?”

“Hm?” So distracted, you barely registered his words.

“That.” He didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, um, ‘nother tree?”

It was indeed another tree. Arthur sighed, slumping back down from his alerted position. God, he was tired of scouting. He wouldn’t have taken the duty if he had no qualms with sitting around in the misery and hopelessness of his fellow gang members, or if he had Boadicea for that matter.

Oh, Boadicea… he missed her.

“How’ve you been?” He distracts himself from thoughts of mourning by talking to you, which is exactly what you’ve been avoiding.

“G-Good.”

“Just ‘good’?”

To a certain degree, for varying reasons, “Yeah… just said so.”

Arthur can feel how tense you are under his fingers, and he sees the stiffness of your shoulders. That and the state of the gang after the Blackwater job. You’re not ‘good’, he can tell. “You sure yer good? Or, uh, anythin’ wrong?”

“Nothin’s wrong, Arthur.”

You don’t loosen up in the slightest, so he’s keen on knowing whether you’re really alright. ‘Sides, he knows you. “I've been riding with you for long. I know something’s off.”

“Couple hours?”

“Couple years, more like.” Right.

Arthur moves to continue speaking, to coerce your troubles out of your shut lips, before he is interrupted by a sharp yell. It's inhuman, he learns a second later, when a buck runs across the scape right in front of you. Your horse cries out too and jumps on his hind legs.

"Woah! Steady, steady!"

He has to cling onto your waist to keep himself from falling off as you calm your stead down. The moment ends within a minute, but Arthur clings on all the same.

It's after this that he notices a lot of things, your sharp inhale as the horse stands back on four legs, and the remaining stiffness from your alert pose. Even after, you can't find yourself calming down.

He loosens his grip eventually, and then he notices something else, too.

You sigh in relief once Arthur's grip loosens. Not that you weren't quite fond of it –made you feel rather secure, actually– you were just not in need of the scalding heat that it brought.

"Oh." Arthur breathes out audibly as he comes to a realization.

"Oh, wha-" You stop mid sentence as he grips at your waist hard again. You hate yourself for it, but you will admit that you let out an embarrassingly high squeal.

The squeal would've been higher had Arthur pressed his chest to your back at the same time, although it didn’t seem like you’d have to wait any longer for that, ‘cause he pulled that same gesture only a few seconds after.

"Nothin,” He chuckles, “just, thought that Buck's shout was a man's."

Right, nothing; of course it wasn't 'nothing'. Arthur Morgan had you fooled in one lovely way, but he did not have you fooled this way.

“Say, (y/n), I don’t see so much as a shiver in you.”

“Really?”

His grip tightens around your waist. Surely he’s caught on by now… but if he hadn’t, you weren’t going to reveal it to him any time soon. These thoughts about him, Arthur Morgan and his piercing actions that left you stunned, they weren’t new; yet, he hadn’t discovered their effects on you thus far, and you wanted to keep it that way.

For what? Fear of shame, embarrassment.

Though, it seems you couldn’t avoid that anymore.

“Not a peep of it.”

“I got a… tolerance, to the cold, ‘suppose.”

“Uh-huh,” He affirms at first, nodding his head. The tip of his hat bumps against the back of yours and pushes it forward. The brim of it covers the top of your field of view, urging you to look down just that little bit more. “supposedly, anyway.”

Just what was he planning?

Your eyes find his hands and you swear you can see them tighten. You can certainly feel it, too.

Arthur goes silent, so you do too, thanking whatever God decided to shut him up. His audacious actions hadn’t stopped, but at least you didn’t have his sharp tongue and deep voice to accompany them.

You thought that to be a miracle, his lips zipped shut, but where the absence they left was, his hands took over.

“What’re you doin’, Morgan?” You know what he’s doing, clear as day.

His fingers rub circles along your waist, slow and steady and pressing hard, but not too hard. They hold purpose, supposedly, but purpose you know nothing of.

You’re so focused on his fingers that you don’t notice where he keeps his lips. “Eyes on the road.”

The whisper comes right at your ear, along with the subtle touch of his lip against the shell of your ear. A shiver goes down your spine… so much for that tolerance earlier.

You follow his command, anyway, or at least what you can see of the road through the storm and his distracting actions.

Fucking hell, Arthur Morgan, the things you do to a man.

Focus on the road.

“Yer awfully warm there.”

You can’t focus on the road, not when Arthur’s right there. The cold tip of his nose presses against your warm cheek, and he leans his chin ‘gainst your shoulder. Rather bold of him, you think; then again, he’s done bolder things on occasions where you need less warmth and more breeze.

“...ain’t awful in this d-damned hellscape.”

He chuckles, “Y’got that right.”

You bask in the silence that ensues, and even more, you bask in the warmth of him. The scalding heat, like that of your beloved west’s summer sun, that is Arthur’s touch soon becomes comfortable, nice and cozy, like a campfire.

Oh, sitting by campfires was so warm. But Arthur… he, was warmer.

His cold breath hits you right on the cheek like the kiss of a breeze, which in this snowy circumstance is not what you’re looking for, yet it doesn’t drain the heat from your cheeks. And his hands, phew, they work their way down to your hips, finding a steady grip around them. His pinkies work away on the meat of your…

Eyes… eyes on the road.

“Shit! Woah, woah, steady!”

Suddenly, Arthur is thrown off your horse. You’re barely on it, if it weren’t for your deathly (you hadn’t noticed) grip on the reins.

You’d run into a goddamn tree.

You turn, quickly after settling your horse down, to Arthur. The cowboy’s on his ass, on the ground, sunken in a good fifteen centimeters into the pure white. His entire backside –calfs, thighs, hair and all– is covered in a nice layer of snow.

Horror spreads through your face. This was all your fault-

Then, he laughs. He laughs it off, and you follow suit. He distracted you, you remember that now. If anything, it was his fault. And god, if the sight of him messy like this wasn’t hilarious. His mouth is wide, wide open, and even in this bastard of a storm, he’s laughing loud.

Until he’s not.

Suddenly, he’s coughing, and your concern is back. “Arthur? Arthur, y’alright?”

Clearly, he’s not. “I-khoff” He clears his throat, “I, er, think I swallowed some,” (a lot) “snowflakes.”

And you’re laughing again. It’s only after a lung-full of air that you realize you should get moving. “Get up, cowboy! ‘Fore you freeze your ass off.”

“Not helping me, darlin’?” Yet, he stands up on his own.

“Sure.”

So you go behind him, resist all your urge to touch his ass for longer than you need, and wipe him down. Arthur wipes himself down, too, best he can, but for the most part it’s your labor. Still, you don’t fail to notice the shiver in him, regardless of your swift work.

He turns to you, bashful, when you’ve got most of it off. “Seem to have frozen my ass off anyway.” He clears his throat, and despite that fondling he’d done earlier, rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Can I take the reins?”

“Um,” You think about it for a mere second. She was your horse, but this was Arthur Morgan. Even if you’d done the same fondlin’, he’d have handled it better than you. Eyes on the road. “sure.”

Arthur settles on your horse, with you behind him. You’re sure why he’s asked for this, a hug or more than that to warm him down, just as he’d once done to you. He needed that warmth, more than you, after all.

After falling into snow, he was extremely cold, not that it wasn’t obvious. You could notice his shivering, with your arms wrapped tight around him; and from the close proximity, it wracked your body almost like it did his. Your hands were cold, too, from wiping him off, so you kept them intertwined to be warmed up and used later. Your chin found refuge on his shoulder, and Arthur could feel you just like you did earlier.

Yet, even with this cold, he felt warm. You’re sure it’s the butterflies of love or the knowing that you were holding the man you oh so adored; but it was also that Arthur was a warm man, big grizzly bear as he was.

You press a kiss to his temple. Arthur seems to lean into it.

“When this is all over, I’m takin’ ya out on a date.”

“Planning on courtin’ me, Arthur?”

“I thought I was already.”

[flashyfucker]

quinn hughes stresses me out bc I can't figure out whether he's dumb (affectionate <3) and like would have no idea you were flirting with him and/or trying to fuck him or if he not only knows you want him, but is going to be a cocky mf about it (also affectionate). like I can see him going both ways and I can't tell what I want to be the truth.

picture this scenario, you're out at a bar and see him at a table with his friends/teammates and you're sitting at the bar, your friends out on the dance floor, but you need a drink break. quinn comes over to get another drink and a conversation starts after he gets knocked into you. you start flirting with him and you think you're being obvious about your attraction to him and the fact that you want him to take you home, but he doesn't seem to be catching on. you don't know whether he's absolutely oblivious or if he's just not into you and is too nice to say it out loud. now where this goes from here, I have no idea.

now on the opposite side, again at a bar, but this time when he sees you sitting at the bar by yourself, he comes right up to you and offers to buy you another drink which you accept. you sit and talk forever, flirting back and forth and you can tell that he knows exactly what you want from him and how you want tonight to end. he starts moving closer, first pulling his stool closer to yours, then leaning in, relishing in the way your doing the same and you start getting more and more flustered. this wasn't how you expected your night to go at the start, but when you end up waking up in his bed the next morning, after a long night and a few rounds, one of which may or may not have taken place in the bathroom of the bar right before hopping in a cab, you can't seem to care.

no okay this is incredibly interesting to me because i feel like he's both. he didn't come to the bar to pick up, so a lot of initial advances made toward him go straight over his head. neither is he intentionally putting moves on anybody, but this is a dude who you end up hanging out with at the bar. your friend groups meld but you're only really talking to him, then you're going drink-for-drink with him, betting on who will tap out first, but you don't make it past the third drink before you're trading your friends’ table for a secluded corner where you won’t be whistled and chirped for making out in public.

and like, key to this is neither of you knowing where it’s going. doing whatever in the moment cause it feels good type beat. making out in a secluded corner turns into trying to make the bar bathroom work, ‘cause you can’t keep your hands to yourselves but are both a little shy, only for both of you to be escorted out of the bar prematurely by an eagle-eyed security guard, which turns into much more reasonable making out in the back of the cab (and whispered jokes about how neither of you will ever live that walk of shame down). and the entire time you’d both be swearing you weren’t going home together, just sharing the ride, but when the cab’s out the front of your place, you really can’t say goodbye

in conclusion: quinn hughes is boyfriend shaped. but he is also the guy u would cheat on your (worse) boyfriend with. which is another idea i have but wont elaborate on yet thank u for listening to me

[tyler-lawson]

The Eagles Fly at Dawn

I had a report of a thug shoplifter wandering around the mall. Checking surveillance, I had the genius clearly on camera stuffing watches and some other nice electronics into his puffy red jacket, and shuffling out of the store with his pants at half-mast, if that. I fast forwarded through the footage, and walked him penguin-shuffling around the mall, his pants sagging so low they were on his thighs, not his ass. "Well, at least I won't have to run for this one." I think idly to myself as I finally catch up to real time, the boy sitting and eating a burger at one of the tables in the mall's food court.

The mall has been having som issues with these thugs recently, and had asked the police department to set up a permanent post in the mall. Normally, it was staffed with 3 officers full time, but today two had called in sick so I was on my own.

I grab my gear, and head out. With me being the only officer on-duty, I grab some extra gear to prevent trouble. I have a gun that is always strapped in a thigh-holster on my right thigh. I add to my belt a set of transport shackles, wrapping the chain that connects the handcuffs and leg irons so it does not rattle as I walk. I also tack on a taser and replacement cartridge.

"Dispatch, 17-0. I am going mobile, have one suspect at large." I call into my radio as I leave the office, locking the door behind me.

"17-0, dispatch. Copy that. Good hunting."

The mall is large, but the food court and department office are conveniently near the center. I am able to spot my target from a good distance off, confirming he is still at the table, scrolling through his phone. I approach from behind before getting right next to him, blocking him into the bench seat he is seated on. He looks up at me as I crowd him.

"You got a problem, buddy?" I asks, his tone noticeably shifting to be softer as I notices I am in uniform.

"Why don't you go ahead and give me your name and ID." I suggest, brushing off his brusque opener.

"Uhh. Who's asking?" He responds, his voice quavering a bit as he tries to cover his nervousness with bravado. A few people at neighboring tables have started to take interest in our conversation. One pulls out a phone.

"ID, now!" I say, not interested in playing these games.

"Why the fuck you harassing me?" He spits back, gaining a bit more confidence, as he sees the other people start to take notice and pull out their phones or whisper to each other. He is starting to play to his audience.

Time to tamp that down. I grab his right arm at the elbow, and pull him off the bench, his phone getting left behind on the table in his surprise. I pull him across in front of me so he is now facing down the table. I push him face-first onto the table, and pull his right arm behind his back. His puffy jacket rides up on his torso, and his pants drop a bit, his belt worthless at his current level of sag. His black and pink AE boxers flying freely over his protruding ass and down this otherwise uncovered thighs.

"Ow, fuck. Get off me." He snaps. He tamps his feet a bit, slightly spreading them, trying to keep his pants from falling all the way to the ground. I put my leg between his, my knee against the back of his to prevent him from standing. I casually grab my cuffs from their holster with my free hand and unfold them. The folding rigid ASPs unfold and snap in place. I quickly zip one around his right wrist, then transition my hand that was holding his wrist to holding the grip of the cuffs.

I grab his left arm at the elbow, yank it back. "Ow, shit. Let me go." I grab the wrist, and rotate it behind his back, slamming it into the waiting cuff. His wrists are cuffed opposite directions through the rigid cuffs, his arms stacked behind his back and held horizontal by the rigid grip of the cuffs.

"Son, you are under arrest for shoplifting and failure to obey a lawful order, and failure to produce ID. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can be used against you. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you." I say, casually, pinning him with my knee and one arm on his back, pulling my head up to scan the gathering throng of onlookers for any threats.

"Do you understand the rights I just read you?"

"Fuck you." I pull him up from the table, and to standing, moving my knee from behind his. I use his left elbow to guide him, pushing him ahead of me to clear a path through the group of gawkers now surrounding us. He walks with his legs spread wide, his knees almost constantly bent trying desperately to hold the last bit of his pants up as gravity tugs them down.

We make the short walk through the mall to the secured door to my makeshift station. I push him up against the wall next to the door so I can pull out my key and unlock the door. I push it open, pull him off the wall and continue shoving him in front of me past the door.

In the hallway, we turn almost immediately left into an open interrogation room, with just a metal table and two metal chairs inside. A camera in the far upper corner watches everything with a glass eye and glowing red "Recording" indicator.

I close the door behind us, and it closes and automatically locks. I push my prisoner up against the table, his junk just resting on the tabletop. I kick his feet wide, mercifully helping him retain his pants at their current position just above his knees.

"You got anything on you? Anything that is going to poke me, stick me, stab me?" I ask, starting to unzip his puffy jacket and reach inside.

"N-no, officer." He chokes out, his voice catching. HIs bravado stripped away by the realizations of his current predicament.

"Don't move." I order, as I start fishing in his jacket, pulling out his various pilfered items and laying them out in front of him on the table. He starts to shake, and I continue my search. I lift his shirt revealing a smooth torso and slight treasure trail, leading down to his boxers. Higher still, his chest has just a bit of hair starting to grow.

I drop his shirt and move down to his lower body, starting with his boxers, giving him a thorough frisking around his dick, into his taint, and onto his ass cheeks. I move down to his pants, tugging them slightly lower until the fall completely below his boxers, skin peeking out in the daylight between them. I extract his phone and wallet and drop them on the table.

I feel down his lower legs, to his feet, which each get lifted up, his shoes and socks removed and set beside the table.

I pull him back from his braced standing position, and shove him into one of the chairs, facing the unblinking eye of the camera.

"There might be enough here for felony larceny." I say flatly, sitting on top of table next to my captive.

"Dude, that stuff is all mine. I bought it."

"Yeah, and you lost the receipt, right? Look lying to me is not going to make this any easier on you. I am not out here harassing you cause you are dressed like a thug, I am here because I have solid evidence you illegally obtained all of this." I say, sweeping my hand over the collected items on the table.

He sits quietly, head bowed for a few minutes. "Alright, so, here is how this can go. You tell me everything you did, I turn over your confession to the DA with a recommendation of plea deal." I offer, trying to sound conciliatory. "If this is your first stupid thing, you can probably get out of here with probation, maybe even a diversion program that will avoid a record."

He continues to sulk in his cuffs, slouching further in his chain, his sagged pants fully off the chair and threatening to fall off his bent knees.

"Alright, why don't you think about if for a bit, I am going to go log all of this evidence." I say, emphasizing the last word. I scoop up everything off the table, unlock the door and walk through. The door swings shut behind me, a heavy click as it again locks automatically. He is left in silence and solitude, contemplating how his life has changed.

(Thanks to @saggysammy for the picture and the inspiration for this story.)