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littlebabyyd0ll · 7 months

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KINKTOBER DAY TWO, SUBDROP

Dom!Steve x Sub!reader

Her beauty, her sadness. A sweet angel girl who puts her boyfriend first, and let’s her little head get all fuddled. It’s a good thing Steve knows you like the back of his hand.

Warnings: p in v smut! not very vivid descriptions. Subdrop, daddy kink. Reader is just tired and lets herself get into a scene when she should j rest. Soft!Dom!Steve. use of 'dada' in subspace.

18+! enjoy!

Main Masterlist ! Kinktober 2023

It’s normal for you to cry during sex. During anything, really. Steve’s used to your glimmering eyes and trembling pout, the little whimpers that leave your lips. He’s always called you his little crybaby, used to wiping the tears away from under your eyes and kissing your tear-stained cheeks better. Sweet little you, so innocent and purehearted, even the littlest of things set you off. That one time you saw Dustin stand on a spider, when Darth Vader died (‘He’s literally the bad guy, baby.’ “so!’), when your food was too hot and burnt your tongue. Some people would have surely found your sensitive soul irritating, but it was one of the things Steve loved most about you. That, and his chest swelled at the thought of being your saviour from the tears.

But these tears, these were different.

It had started the same, a little wail when his finger circled your puffy little clit, a trickle of saltine tears falling down your cheeks. He’d cooed and mocked your sweet little pout, just as he normally would. But the tears got worse when he flipped you onto your front and pushed inside of you. You’d given a sob as he pushed his cock inside of your dripping hole. Again, it wasn't unlike you to cry and whimper at the burn of the stretch. That’s why Steve hadn't thought much of your little sobs at first.

They just kept on coming. With every thrust, every time the front of his thighs slapped against the back of yours, you let out a pitiful cry. Your head stays flat against the ruffled mattress, tears collecting a puddle beneath you. Normally, in a position like this, you try your hardest to sit up against him, to be closer to him, to kiss his lips. Yet, you're as still as anything, hands bunched up besides you.

Steve allows his thrusts into you to slow, pushes the thoughts of his own pleasure aside to run a hand soothingly down your arched back.

“Where are you baby, huh? You with daddy?” He asks patiently, thumb running slowly across your warm skin. He’s too good for you, and your mushed up mind can’t handle it

you shake your head with a sob, one that wracks your chest and breaks his heart. “‘m gone, daddy.” And then the river flows, sobs wracking your little form as Steve eases himself out of you. He gives a gentle hush as he pulls you up by your underarms. You instantly cower into him, naked and shaking.

“Hey, shh. You're okay, sweet girl. You're so good, you know that?” He tucks your head underneath his chin. Massive hands run up and down your arms soothingly. “My best girl, using your words. So proud of you, baby”

“Dada.” It’s how he knows you're so gone, so lost in confusing thoughts and just being so much smaller than him that you cant even get the right words out – you only ever call him this when youre so far deep in subdrop.

“Daddy’s got you, daddy’s here, baby.”

“‘M sorry.” His heart aches, because you think that he’s mad at you. You think that he’s angry that your tears got in the way of sex. He’s not, never would be. “‘M so sorry, dada.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, angel.” He kisses at your hairline. “‘M so glad you told me. Such a good girl. My good little girl. What’s got you all in your head, huh?”

You whine, pushing your face further into his naked chest.

“You’re okay. You can talk to daddy, brave girl. It’s only words.” It’s then that you realise that he’s rocking you both gently, helping you in your heady, little-like headspace. He’s warm, hes so warm, just like he always is. It grounds you, makes you want to dive into his skin where its safe, where you know he’ll watch over you and care for you forever.

The words come out muffled when you finally speak them, pushed against him and mumbled. “So tired, dada. J-Just wanted to be good for you, wanna be a good girl. Wanted you to,” A choked sob leaves your lips, “f-feel good!.”

Steve huffs through his nose, arms wrapping harder around you and he pulls you close, holds you to him like a vice. His precious angel, putting him and his pleasure first even when it gets you like this. He hates that you let yourself get to this point without telling him, hates that he didn't notice beforehand.

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl. Daddy’s sorry that he didn’t notice how tired you are. Bet you feel all foggy and confused, yeah?” You nod vehemently, sniffling slightly. It feels better to have the words out, to have Steve know. “Thank you for telling me, sweetheart. My beautiful girl. Too good to me.” You shuffle slightly, lifting your head to look at him. “There’s my girl.”

God, he’s beautiful. Handsome enough to have you forgetting all about your sticky tears and shaking limbs. His hair’s a mess and his cheeks are flushed. Steve’s golden brown eyes are focused on you, on only you, and they penetrate into the depths of your heart. You know he cares, know that he ;oves you, know that he would put you before anything else.

You’re the luckiest girl alive.

“Can daddy give you a little kiss, baby? Just a little kiss ‘n we’ll go get you cleaned up.”

The nod you give is small, but the twitch upwards in your lip gives his heart the pulse back to life that he needs. Gives him hope that all this will blow over, and his sweet little crybaby will be back soon.

#<3 steve harrington #Dom!Steve Harrington #daddy!Steve Harrington #steve harrington #Steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington fluff #Steve Harrington angst #kinktober 2023 #abby’s kinktober !#stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you

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ddejavvu · 6 months

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omg can you write a smutty and fluffy fic about reader discovering that aaron has tattoos under that suit of his and also could he drive a motorcycle 🤭 like imagine aaron having a helmet for her and teasing her on it and her grabbing his hips

Perhaps you're crossing an invisible line when you begin thumbing through the pages of a photo album that had been tucked away beneath Aaron's coffee table, but you're a nosy drunk, and he'd invited you to sit on his couch. It's his fault, really.

Emily peers disinterestedly over your shoulder, only paying attention because it's more entertaining than listening to Spencer talk Star Trek. You find baby pictures of Aaron, grainy photographs of a moderately chubby baby, and your giggle is heavily laden with booze.

After the fifth nondescript baby portrait Emily turns away, and only a few pages later, he's graduating high school. Something is unsettling about the way that his memories had so quickly switched from infant to adult, but his smile is dazzling under the weight of his cap and gown, so you let the uneasy feeling wash away in exchange for some belated pride.

"You're a snoop," Aaron observes, when he comes back from the bathroom to find you transfixed by his photo album. He smiles, his own demeanor loosened by liquor, "That was my graduation day."

"I know,' You gush, "I'm not that drunk."

He rolls his eyes at you, but a grin is firm in place over his lips.

Then you turn the page, and it's not Aaron anymore.

Oh, fuck, it is Aaron. Aaron with tattoos littering his toned torso, jeans hanging low on his hips, a cigarette in his hand and his legs straddling a motorcycle. He's polishing the body, pinning it between his knees to do so.

You hadn't realized your jaw dropped, but it did.

"Those were my teenage dirtbag years," Aaron recalls, with a snort that's a mixture of fondness and ridicule, "I thought I was some rebellious-" His brain falters, failing to provide him with the proper connection, and he falls short, "-Uh, rebel."

"Woah," Is all you can muster, tracing your fingers over the page wistfully. He laughs, and you blink up at him blearily, "Do you still have those?"

He quirks a teasing brow at you, "My tattoos? Well, they're kind of permanent. I thought you said you weren't that drunk?"

"You could have gotten them removed," You grouse, "So... do you?"

"Still have them?" He verifies, and when you nod, he bites back most of the force of his smile, "I do."

"Lemme see." You demand, before you can process that you're asking your boss to take his shirt off. His eyebrows raise, nearly merging with his hairline, and you stammer, "Not- like, I'm just curious, they're so... unlike you."

"I've changed a lot," He lets your slip of the tongue slide and you're grateful for it, "I'll show you one."

You watch with wide eyes - you're not aware that you're gawking at your boss, but you are - as he peels away the hem of his shirt from his skin, exposing black ink that you've never seen before tracking up his torso. It's on the left side of his stomach, near his groin: a pair of handcuffs.

"I was into some weird shit," He muses, tongue loose from the drinks he's had. You don't bother gaping at his unprofessionalism, you're stuck staring at the handcuffs.

"Twenty-year old me thought I was gonna be the one in handcuffs, not the one locking them on people," He laughs, and drops his shirt, covering the tattoo. "So, you have any wild teenage tattoos of your own?"

You're a changed woman. Twenty years ago your boss had been whorishly draped over a motorcycle, handcuffs tattooed above his pelvis. You finish the night out in a trance of absent-minded conversation, but it's less from the liquor and more from the stun of seeing Aaron's past self.

If your boss suddenly notices your eyes roving over the spot where his tattoo lies beneath his button-up from then on, he doesn't say a word.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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yourmomxx · 1 year

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[the art of making a house a home]

JJ Maybank x male!reader (no pronouns)

or: most people in jj’s life tend to leave him behind in some way - not you though. never you.

warnings: (mentions of) child abuse, wounds, angst, jj doesn’t know what home is, smoking, weed, hurt/comfort

word count: 2.4k

a/n: I really like writing those kind of imagines, so I’ll probably do more of them in the future! but for now, have this angsty piece of literature

request

JJ took a big step out of the shower. He grabbed one of the towels hanging on the heater and wrapped it around his hips, the fabric feeling comfortably warm against his bare skin.

Opposite him hung a huge mirrored cabinet. The hot water had formed droplets of condensation on the surface, now hiding them behind a thin layer of bright mist.

In fact, this mist actually lingered throughout the bathroom.

Your bathroom, JJ suddenly thought. Your bathroom, your towel, your mirror. Your shower, your heater, your sink.

But somehow it might as well be his, or both of yours, as often as he found shelter and sanctuary with you, when he couldn't bear to be at home again.

Home. JJ involuntarily grimaced. Was that what it was? Were his father – Luke? - and the shabby house where they lived and where so many terrible things had happened to him, his home?

Not really.

He found the idea of the small apartment with the bright seat cushions on the couch and the light-colored curtains, an apartment where you would wait for him, where he could wake up next to you every morning, much more inviting. Much more homely.

He wiped the mirror once with the palm of his hand, clearing a condensation-free spot on the smooth surface.

Sometimes he wished it would be just as easy in his head.

Simply raise his hand and wipe away the wafts of fog with one movement, being finally able to see clearly again. Or at least a little clearer, when he took a closer look at the blurred area.

He supported himself with the heels of his hands on the bathroom sink that was fixed under the mirrored cabinet and looked at himself in the free surface with watchful eyes.

Thin strands of blond hair stood up from his head and hung over his face. The otherwise light-blonde surfer mane had taken on a dark color from the shower water. A few small drops of water still fell from some ends, landed cold on his bare upper body and left an irregular trail of water there.

Despite the blurred water vapor, JJ could clearly make out his figure and the individual moves.

Involuntarily his gaze wandered over his upper body. There was a yellowish discoloration where the towel ended and his defined abs began.

He gently ran his finger over it. Unlike a few days ago, that slight contact with the bruise no longer hurt. The swelling had gone down too, he noted with satisfaction.

Irregular, he could see circular, white scars that split on his forearms. Remnants of burns from cigarette butts to be extinguished.

He caught his gaze in the mirror. Blue-grey eyes stared back at him. They seemed lifeless to him, with the dark circles underneath and the heavy lids that suggested he hadn't had a comfortable night's sleep in days.

Which wasn't even necessarily wrong.

He rubbed his eyes with one hand. Now, when the adrenaline subsided, he felt exhaustion settling in his limbs.

As if automatically, his fingers wandered a little higher on his forehead, just below the hairline. He felt a slight bump in the tanned skin under his fingertips. He lifted his hair out of his face.

The scar wasn't big, probably less than an inch. It was almost directly parallel to his hairline and was therefore mostly hidden by the blond mane that fell over his forehead.

And yet sometimes he felt like it was yelling at him when he looked in the mirror.

The thin white line seemed to mock him. Again and again he found himself struggling to fix his hair at all times so that no one could see it, and only take off his caps with his head bowed when he did so.

It was a too constant reminder of the night his father - Luke? – came home drunk once again and hadn’t been satisfied with the meal his (eleven-year-old) son had cooked.

He had pushed him against the edge of a table that evening.

JJ told the doctors at the hospital that he had tripped over a fold in the carpet and injured himself on the table that way. The doctors bought it from him.

It would have been so easy for JJ to just tell them the truth. Screaming at the nurse, begging on his knees, how awful his father was to him, for someone to set him free.

But he hadn't. Luke hadn't even been to the hospital at the time.

Anger overwhelmed him. He banged his fist on the edge of the sink impulsively. Shit! Shit, shit, shit!

Shit Luke Maybank, shit American health care, shit doctors who should have checked further, and shit little eleven-year-old-JJ who didn't have the guts even then to stand up to his shit father.

He clenched his jaw as he felt a sting behind his eyes. No, he wouldn't cry, not now, not at all anymore. He had brought this on himself, he, and his damned cowardice.

JJ pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. Something to counteract the headache that was coming.

He flinched when the bathroom door opened and caught his breath when he saw you standing there.

"Is everything okay? I heard-" You cut yourself off mid-sentence. JJ tensed when he saw where your eyes were going.

"Shit, JJ," you managed to ground out. He avoided looking at you.

He hated it - when you saw him like that, so wounded and vulnerable, and when your voice took on a pained tone and your sentences started with Shit, JJ.

JJ didn't look up. Skillfully, he just pretended that there was nothing there that seemed worth your attention and kept his gaze fixed on his arm. Just his skin, and the muscles beneath it.

He efficiently ignored how your gaze roamed his back, which had probably already formed red welts and bruises - consequences of the anger of Luke Maybank - his father? - and the one reason why he was standing in your bathroom right now and not lying somewhere in his bed.

There was a thump as you put the first aid kit down next to him.

He frowned at himself as he realized he hadn't even noticed you left the bathroom. Had he been too caught up in his head, had the mist blocked his view too much for him to notice?

You gestured for him to sit down and he complied. He was too tired to argue anyway.

JJ vaguely noticed you take a seat behind him on the bathroom floor and moments later he felt your fingers gently trace his back. He could only imagine what he looked like. Swollen welts and probably even little wounds, maybe crusted blood? He felt sick.

JJ fell into his thoughts. Into the deep nothing. From time to time he almost shied away from your fingers and the cold ointment, but caught himself again immediately.

You sat in silence. You hadn't said anything since discovering his wounds, and JJ himself found the thought of straining his vocal cords far too tedious.

The blond boy caught a glimpse of the mirror out of the corner of his eye, recognizing you.

Your facial features were concentrated on working on his wounds, but your eyes reflected the deep concern in them. JJ loathed that. Hated that you cared for him, cared for him when he didn't deserve it.

For a brief moment, nothing happened, then JJ felt your upper body cautiously leaning closer to his, and you placed a feather-light but honest kiss on his shoulder from behind.

JJ almost winced at the touch, tensing at the softness that lay within it. So gentle, in a way he wasn't used to even after a few months in a relationship with you.

You didn't blame him, you never had. You knew what was going on at JJ's house and why he showed up at your door pretty much every day, head hanging, muscles hurting and mind aching.

There were better days too, when he was almost glued to you, taking your hand, snuggling up to you every moment he could get his hands on.

But of course there were worse ones, like today, for example. Then he didn't talk much if at all, carrying on conversations more in his head than out loud.

But then you always gave him his space without ever leaving him completely lonely. And he was grateful to you for that.

“Come on, big guy. ‘S time we get you in bed." Your voice was hoarse next to his ear, yet so soft and warm he wanted to sink into it. He stood up slowly and you lifted your chin from his shoulder.

Obediently he trotted - or rather dragged himself - towards your bedroom (both of yours?). You just followed him without a word.

JJ liked your bedroom. The king size bed was placed in the middle of a medium sized room. A tall wardrobe stood against one wall and a door led to another room, the bathroom.

On the opposite wall, two curtained windows offered an almost perfect view of the open sea.

Over the months, JJ had found that knowing the ocean so close to him whenever he stayed at your place was immensely comforting, and how the sound of the crashing waves breaking on the beach lulled him to sleep.

You never told him how you didn't really like the salty cold of the sea air and only ever left the window open for your boyfriend.

Without a word, you handed JJ a hoodie – burgundy, no print. With slow movements he slipped the garment over himself, the soft fabric nestled comfortably against his tingling skin. He took fresh boxershorts from a drawer.

JJ took a deep breath. Your scent enveloped him. Coconut palms, perfume and cedar wood.

No cigarettes.

This had to be the sweater you never allowed yourself to smoke in, then. It was a - for him strange - habit of yours. You smoked regularly, and yet there were some areas, or items of clothing, where you absolutely forbade yourself and others to smoke.

How many times had you sent him into the kitchen so the stench of smoke wouldn't eat into your bedroom walls? Or on the terrace so that the kitchen would be able to "breathe" again?

JJ grinned to himself.

He glanced out the window where he could vaguely make out the light sand of the beach and the blue-pink sky as the sun slowly set behind.

He shuffled his way to your bed, where you were already waiting for him, lying on your back and one arm stretched out for him. JJ dropped ungracefully next to you.

He rested the back of his head on your shoulder, felt your body beneath him and stared at the white ceiling, lost in thought.

JJ also liked your bed.

He found it comfortable, with the wide mattress, which even springs back a little when you adjust to it, and that wasn’t saggy, as if Charlemagne had slept in it himself.

A not sagging mattress, JJ thought. Not worn out like at his place... at home? Inwardly he shook his head. Somehow, it still didn't feel right.

“Hey, JJ?” He suddenly heard you say. Your voice was quiet, maybe to not startle him.

“Mmm?” JJ hummed.

“Say something next time.”

JJ felt his stomach drop. He had known. He had known you were angry with him. That you were fed up with how he always came to you to cry to you about his tearful stories, how you always had to take care of him. JJ tensed. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

This would be it. You would tell him to stop being whiny and dramatic, to suck it up and behave like a man.

His hand cranked into the fabric of your shirt.

“Hey,” you softly said. “Hey, JJ!” Abruptly, you sat up and took his head into your hands. JJ hadn’t even realized that he was shaking up until now.

He avoided your gaze.

“Hey JJ, look at me.” Your tone was commanding yet gentle and JJ found himself doing exactly what you asked of him. Stupid welling tears that made his vision blurry.

“JJ, it’s alright,” you calmed him down. Your thumb was softly stroking his cheek. You noticed his breathing even out.

“JJ, I’m here for you,” you said, “But you’ve gotta talk to me. I want to help you but I can’t do that if you keep this from me. Do you hear me?”

For a second, JJ was confused. So you weren’t angry with him, or yelling, you were actually just … worried. Really simply only worried, for him.

He felt his head grow dizzy at the thought.

“J,” you repeated. “I want you to tell me you understand.” A bit of the fog in JJ’s mind cleared, as he looked into your eyes. Then, he slowly nodded.

A small smile started tugging at the corners of your lips. “Good. Now, come on.”

You used your thumb to wipe a loose tear off of JJ’s cheek, and laid down onto the bed again. JJ went back to his former position with his back laid on your side and his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

He was still processing this entire situation.

Well, of course, rationally speaking, there was no chance you would’ve gotten mad at him over this. After all, the bruises weren’t his fault, he had learned that by now.

But a single drop of doubt always managed to mix into his already uneasy mind, and had the habit of turning soft waves into torrential floods over just the right amount of time.

The hiss of a lighter snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned his neck towards you and could see you holding the orange flame to the end of a hand-rolled blunt.

JJ watched as your cheeks drew in with the hit and you took the joint back from your lips. The smoke that followed didn't bother him the slightest.

Then you held the smoldering joint in front of him. JJ frowned and looked up at you.

"The hoodie?" he asked confused. You just shrugged.

"Can be washed," was your short answer. A faint smile formed on JJ's lips and he snuggled a little closer to you, if that was even possible.

The tips of his hair tickled the base of your throat as you watched him take a deep drag on the joint. His cheeks hollowed out, and after a brief moment, holding the smoke in his lungs, he puffed it out in the air toward the window. Like that would make a difference, but you appreciated the thought.

You took the blunt out of his hand and, with some difficulty, stretched to put it out in the ashtray. You would check later whether it could still be used afterwards.

You turned your full attention back to JJ, who by now had rolled onto his side and was snuggled into your side like a little boy, his arm wrapped around your waist.

He buried his face in your tank top and relaxedly closed his eyes.

The sounds of the rushing sea came through the half-open window, the wind seemed to be stronger out on the sea. Here and there a few squabbling seagulls could be heard screeching to each other.

You carefully lifted the arm JJ was draped on and slowly brought it near the back of his head. Carefully and slowly you tangled your fingers in his blond locks and began massaging his scalp.

JJ made a sound, that could be close described to a purr and you dared to apply a little more pressure.

At your feet lay the duvet, crumpled at the end of the bed.

The summer night wasn't necessarily hot, but after all, JJ was wearing your hoodie and you had your boyfriend's body heat to keep you warm.

The blond boy moved his hand, which was on your hip, and slipped it under a fold of your tank top. He placed his hand at your side, just above the waistband of your pants. Automatically his thumb began to draw gentle circles on your skin.

He felt you breathe beneath him. His ear could dully hear the slow beating of your heart.

JJ's breathing also became shallower and more regular. He felt exhaustion catch up with him and sleep drew him to it with open arms.

On the edge of his consciousness he noticed how you pressed a gentle kiss on his hairline.

JJ sighed in content. And this, JJ thought, just before he finally fell asleep, is what home feels like.

@miofrommars

#gif by antoxx on weheartit #jj maybank x you #jj maybank #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x male!reader #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x male reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #outerbanks x reader #outerbanks imagine #outer banks #requested #yourmomxx #the art of making a house a home

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kazimakuwabara · 1 month

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Summary: An encounter with a devil fruit user puts Sanji and Usopp in the spotlight (Sanuso, with a little Frobin too. about 2k) @sanusoweek

***

Another island, another corrupted tyrant, another problem.

It was the same old, same old for the straw hats, and as things continued to look dark and grim, Sanji kept reminding himself, that they'd pull out of this. They'd just have to see this through like they always did. They'd pull through--all of them, somehow, because that's what they did on Luffy's crew. They beat the odds, and they made it-every time.

"Every time, Usopp! Every time!" Sanji choked, stroking Usopp's cheek, brushing flowers out of his slack-jawed mouth. "We don't die Usopp! We don't die! We make it! We live, damn you, we live!"

Salot, the devil-fruit tyrant who had used his strange devil-fruit ability, the byoki byoki no mi, to create a strange and fearsome cult, about love, fate, and flowers to control an island, stood across from the duo and laughed. Flowers, little pink delicate blooms, poured from his hands, the same that poured from Usopp's mouth.

"Get a load of this! Unlike your Captain, it seems this young man has an unrequited love! How sad for him!" Salot boasted, into a little pink den-den Mushi, grinning into the creature's eyes as his visage and voice were broadcasted all over the island, "But I won't be saving him. I won't release him from the curse of loneliness... you hear that Straw-Hat Luffy? I'm going to let your man die, and you can just watch!"

Sanji disregarded Salot, and the den-den mushi and tried to remember what Chopper had told him just hours ago.

***

"Don't let him touch you!" Chopper had warned his fellow Straw hats, his little face serious and stricken. "Salot can affect you with Hanahaki!"

"Hana-loogi?" Luffy repeated, wrinkling his nose.

"Hanahaki!" Chopper snapped. "A strange and terrible disease found on warmer islands on the Grand Line. It's a disease brought about by weather conditions, and..." Chopper hesitated, "strangely enough, by heartache."

"Heartache?" Sanji repeated, his brows shooting into his hairline.

Chopper nodded.

***

Salot held up the small pink flower that had grown from his hand. He leered into the Den-den Mushi's face and spoke, "Angelonia. A very small little flower. You can find them in shades of pink, or purple, or soft blues... looks like the boy's sickness is pink." Salot laughed as if there was some amusement to be found in Usopp's limp body and the flowers that poured out of his mouth.

"They're found in wedding bouquets quite often. Not the prominent flower... a background flower. Something to make a bouquet pop, and add a little something extra to the large flowers. A little flower, that means love, purity, and affection. Quite the strange flower to come pouring out of his mouth. This flower doesn't represent doubt at all... as if this person here was just happy enough to love someone, and didn't fear rejection."

Salot glanced at Sanji, and pointed the Den-den Mushi to the pale blonde's face.

"Say," Salot drawled, "You were his friend. Do you know who he liked? Who he loved? Who he was happy to love, and never planned to confess to? Do you have any idea who it is... that he's about to die for?"

***

"On certain islands in the spring, spores of a tree rain down from the mountains. If the spore gets in your lungs, and you have a..." Chopper fumbled for the right word, "A regret. Um... an unfulfilled feeling... if you love someone, but haven't confessed, or if the feeling is unrequited, you'll grow flowers in your lungs. It takes about three days. If you don't confess your secret, then the flower's roots will choke you out and destroy your lungs. You'll die... you'll drown and suffocate in flowers, and die!"

"So when tried to touch me, Sally-boy tried to get me sick!" Luffy obsevered, smacking his fist into his palm.

***

"Kind of a cheap power!" Franky snorted.

"But that's what his whole island is about! Getting people to fall in love, or come to him for love advice so he can scam them out of their money!" Nami pointed out.

"And then kill them with their own secrets if he can't drain anything out of them," Brook tutted distasteful. "Tragic."

"Look... it may not seem serious, but his version of the Hanahaki disease works much faster! He's killing the people he touches in three minutes!" Chopper pointed out. "If you have any unsaid feelings for someone, and he makes you sick, you need to confess them in three minutes or you'll die! So don't let Salot touch you!"

"Right!" They all agreed.

***

"But then, maybe it was you," Salot mocked as he took a step closer to Sanji.

Sanji looked up at Salot, tears pouring unbidden down his cheeks.

Salot smiled, his grin cutting through his face like a ragged tear through overstretched fabric. "Maybe it was you... he did jump in front of you to prevent you from being hit. Is that why his flowers are Angelonia's? He's happy to love you... even if you perhaps... love someone else?"

Salot's eyes then darted to a nearby screen, where at a glance Sanji saw Nami's face. She, looked stricken, standing over an unconscious goon of Salot's, clearly watching the televised drama from one of the screens. Surely, all of the Straw Hats were aware of Usopp's fate, aware that he'd been put under Salot's spell... and then had said nothing as flowers poured from his mouth. Said nothing, but merely crumpled. Quietly giving in to the effect of the flower.

"Still, it's a shitty power. Just confess the truth if he touches you," Zoro huffed.

***

"Rejection is hard to hear... notice how many on this island are young. Younger people struggle with brokenhearted feelings... Salot certainly found the right people to manipulate," Jinbe mourned, shaking his head.

"If anyone has any secret affections they've been keeping to themselves, maybe they should just say them now, so Salot can't harm you," Robin cautioned. She then turned to Franky and looked him in the eye. "On that regard, Franky. I find I have quite a bit of ardent affection for you."

Franky's jaw had dropped, and his whole face went bright red. Luffy started laughing, while Nami gasped and shook Robin's arm in excitement over the sudden and abrupt confession. Sanji had almost fainted at the terrible reveal, while he leaned mournfully against Usopp who had been very quiet since Chopper had explained the disease.

Before Franky could answer Robin's confession, they'd been attacked and Sanji had lost sight of everyone for a while. At one point, while Sanji was fighting off one of Salot's men, an older man with robotic legs that could kick through steel, Sanji saw Franky on screen.

Franky was choking around the large petals of pale, pink primroses. He had gone to his knees, the flowers sapping him of his strength. Salot had laughed and gloated for a solid minute but then Robin had appeared on a wave of limbs and batted the idiot away like he was nothing. She rushed to Franky's side and encouraged him, "Franky! Hurry and reject me! Then the flowers will clear-"

"R-Reject ya?! Is that what you think! Robin!" Franky coughed spitting out a large full bloom, "Robin, I've loved ya' since I sat with you on the sea train and looked into your sad blue eyes! I never met a woman more regal or strong than you. I admire you for your strength and-" He might have gone on to say more, but he then threw up a literal pile of Primroses, while Robin hugged him with naked relief.

***

It was recalling Franky's return confession and his recovery from the Hanahaki that had Sanji looking back down at Usopp.

"Usopp," Sanji rasped, shaking the limp man in his arms. "Usopp, Usopp, please! There's less than a minute! Wake up and confess! Whoever it is, if they're here on this island, just say it! Please Usopp! Please! Please, fight this!"

Usopp's eyes fluttered as if he were trying to open them, but his face merely rolled to rest against Sanji's collarbone.

"Well, my faithful followers, and you too Straw Hats... this has been rather fun! But I've got another guest here... so why don't we see what flowers he makes too!" Salot simpered and winked into the Den-den Mushi's eyes, always the showman.

Sanji ignored Salot as he approached. He didn't care if the man touched him. He had to get Usopp to open his eyes, he had to get him to speak.

"Usopp! Usopp, please! Please! Say something! Wake up! Don't just let it end here! Don't give up! Don't die! Don't be afraid! You have nothing to be afraid of! Whoever you love, no matter if they reject or accept you, I'll be here for you Usopp!"

Salot touched Sanji on the back of his head, and Wisteria started to slide out of Sanji's mouth. It was painful. His throat itched, and his lungs instantly ached. His breath competed with the flowers that crowded his chest, and the flowers were winning.

Salot laughed, and Sanji choked on a large bundle of purple plumes, "U-Ussop! I'll be here for you no matter... no matter what... because Usopp... Usopp, I love you!"

Many things happened at once.

Luffy's fist came careening into Salot's surprised face, and the den-den mushi fell to the ground, while it kept a faithful eye on Sani and Usopp.

Usopp opened his eyes, Sanji's confession seeming to shock the life back into him, as Sanji threw up all of the Wisteria flowers that were trying to bloom inside him.

And then Usopp croaked a shaky whisper, "I love you, Sanji."

Usopp gagged, and wretched, Angeloina flowers poured out of him in great waves as Sanji held the man to him. Sanji was feeling too much at once. Relief. Fear. Love. Joy. Happiness... and blind rage.

"You idiot!" Sanji hissed clutching the sniper to him, "You fucking idiot! Why didn't you tell me?! You could have just said!"

"I... I thought it was Nami," Usopp rasped, still looking very weak from how close the Angelonia flowers had brought him to death. Usopp's eyelashes fluttered, and he shook his head in the crook of Sanji's arm. "I... Robin had already confessed to... to Franky. And You were sad... I could tell. I didn't want to make it worse."

Sanji would have shaken Usopp within an inch of his life if Usopp hadn't already come so close to death. If Usopp's reluctance wasn't Sanji's fault for not being honest.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!" Sanji spat, and then he kissed Usopp, because as mad as he was, he needed to reassure Usopp, that yes, he did indeed still loved him. He loved him very much indeed.

But Usopp was in so much trouble as soon as this kiss was over!

#doodle #sanuso #kazi fanfic #angst #romance #confession #happy ending #Sanusoweek #frobin

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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 5 months

Text

a/n: my only explanation is that @cheolzip and i were talking and i lost my mind.

[23:42 pm]

you pitied all the people who’d never had the pleasure of being held by seungcheol.

this was a common feeling for you — you thought about it in the mornings when you awoke with his soft breath at the back of your neck and his arms around your waist, at midday when you missed the solidness and safety of him so much you could barely see straight, and at times like now, while your eyes drifted sleepily between open and closed as you trace unintelligible shapes on the bare skin of his waist just above his waistband under his sweatshirt. the world was so loud and demanding of you, but with cheol it all got quieter. through it all, he felt like peace.

even now, you remembered back to the time you’d whispered your deepest secret into the crook of his neck, cried some of your most bitter tears into his sweatshirt, and stuttered your first “i love you” not spoken to a blood relative into the curve of his collarbone. it was in this position that you realized he was the person you could say anything to, and it wouldn’t make any difference. sometimes he’d hold you tighter, and sometimes his own tears would mix with your own, but unlike anyone you’d ever known, you were absolutely positive he’d never leave.

“baby?” he whispers, cutting through the quiet of the room just before you open your mouth to speak.

“yeah, my love?” you mumble sleepily.

“you awake?”

“no,” you say, nuzzling closer into him, pleased when he gives you a comforting little squeeze.

he chuckles, and where your head rests on his chest you can feel the sound vibrating softly. he presses a kiss to your hairline. “i love you,” he says, his voice the only sound aside from the comforting hum of the overhead fan, and your mind catches hold on it just long enough to muster a response before you slip into a dream.

“i love you,” you sigh back.

#seungcheol fluff #seventeen #svt #svt fluff #svt imagines #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol timestamp #svt x reader #kpop #svt fic #svt fanfic #i’m crazy #and i won’t apologize for it

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am-i-interrupting · 11 months

Note

Hello,

Could I have a Rauru x Reader fluff/smut one shot?

Like best friend of Zelda gets thrown into the past with her and he is fascinated with her?

A Story To Tell

Tags: 3.4k words, casual nudity among friends, poly relationship (Sonia x Rauru & Rauru x You), outdoor sex, fingering, penetrative sex, Rauru’s Large Cock, gentle sex, playful teasing, cultural differences

The King was one of the Zonai, he said. He looked like he was covered in a think layer of fur. His ears were long and fluffy. His hair was white like the Sheikah, the only semblance of normalcy you could get from his appearance. Along his hairline he had four horns and it seemed on his forehead was a third eye.

The Queen was a hylian, though unlike any you’d ever seen. Her skin was a beautiful shade of brown, her hair almost cream in color with how pale the blonde was. Her ears were what threw you off the most, long and pointed in a way you’d never seen before. She was wearing clothing unlike any you’d worn before as well.

Though now you found yourself wearing clothes similar to it. It was a sleeveless white dress with the same green detailing. Sleeveless, bellowing styles weren’t common in your time but you were beginning to understand their popularity now. You actually felt very pretty.

It also helped that Rauru seemed to think so as well. It’d taken some discussion but eventually you started dating in the middle of all this chaos. Zelda had been so happy.

Today she even helped you pick out a different set of clothing. Another difference about here from your time was the difference it what was considered appropriate to wear. Sonia had been helping you both understand that.

“Would there be a way to wear something more similar to Zonai clothing?” Zelda asked her. “He is taking you on a picnic to introduce you to Zonai foods, right? It makes sense that you’d wear something more similar to his people’s wear.”

Sonia smiled. “That’s not a bad idea.” A soft smile graced her lips. “I actually remember the first time I wore Zonai clothing around him. It was a very,” she laughed, “a very memorable day.”

“Good or bad memorable?” you asked.

“Good, very, very good,” she said. “One moment. I’ll be right back.”

She left the room. The door clicked quietly when it shut.

Zelda turned to you with a mischievous grin. “What do you think she meant by memorable?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” you said, a blush coming to your face at her insinuation.

She moved to stand right in front of you and grabbed your hands. “Promise me if you have sex you’ll tell me everything. I want every last detail.”

“Zelda!”

“What? It’s not like I’m ever going to have sex with a god-like creature. I want to know what it’s like,” she said. “He looks like he’d be huge. Don’t let him break you.”

“He’s not going to break me,” you said, now avoiding her eyes, “and I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Sure, fine, spoil all my fun,” she said. “You’re telling me every last detail though. Whether you like it or not.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

The door opened once again and Sonia stepped inside, holding an outfit in her hands.

“Here we are,” she said. “If you’ll take that off, I can help you put this on.”

You spared Zelda one last look and she simply smiled. Then you pulled off the dress.

Sonia walked over to you with the top in hand. She tutted to herself. “You can’t wear a bra,” she told you as she reached around your middle (almost like she was hugging you) and took off your bra. “It’s a very open look. Don’t worry, no one will think anything of it.”

She then placed the top so it rested just in the tips of your shoulders and clasped it in the front. It reminded you more of a shawl than a shirt. She grabbed a necklace as well and put it around your neck. It hooked to the shawl, further keeping it in place.

Her fingers hooked her fingers in the band of your underwear and then slid it down. “You won’t be needing that either,” she said.

Zelda snorted from her place leaning against your bed. She then made a very lewd gesture, very unbecoming of a princess.

You flushed as Sonia fasted the bottoms around your hips.

“We’re not having sex, Zelda,” you hissed.

Sonia’s movements haltered. “Unless you truly want otherwise, yes, you will be wearing this.” You flushed and Zelda laughed freely. “That’s the entire reason I suggested no under garments. It just gets in the way.”

She stood up and placed a hand on your shoulder. She brushed your hair out of your face. “You’ll be fine. He is a very gentle lover. Big he may be, in many ways, he won’t hurt you.” She placed a kiss to your temple. “Now go, you don’t want to be late.”

You walked to the spot Rauru had told you about. Your mind went a thousand miles a minute. You hadn’t— it wasn’t your intention to make him want to have sex with you but you weren’t opposed to it. You’d fantasized about it more than you’d admit.

It was more so the knowledge that Sonia and Zelda knew you’d be having sex before you did and where you’d be having sex when you did that made you nervous. You weren’t exactly sure as to why.

He was Sonia’s husband. She had a bit of a right to know if you two would be having sex. As for Zelda, well you’d been stationed outside of her room to guard when Link was indisposed. You’d heard what she sounded like when she orgasmed because she may be quiet sometimes but she wasn’t all that quiet.

Eventually there was no more time for stalling as you saw Rauru in the small clearing. His back was to you but a large blanket was laid out beneath him with many pillows scattered around. A table had a basket atop it on the outskirts of the blanket, likely due to the candles he was lighting to ward off bugs that were placed on it.

He finished lighting the last candle and placed it on the corner of the table. He sat onto the ground. His shoulders slumped as he exhaled. You felt your pounding heart calm.

You walked over to him and sat beside him. “Rauru,” you said.

He began to say your name as he turned to face you but he fell quiet when he saw you. He blinked several times, his hands clenched in his lap, his mouth stayed partially open. He seemed to (what was the phrase Purah used?) short circuit.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“I only speak the truth,” he said.

He cupped your cheek and you leaned into the touch. You looked up at him and met his eyes, a look you’d seen only pass over his face stayed to settle. His thumb moved absentmindedly over your cheek.

Then his hand moved down. His fingers left a trail of awakened nerves as they brushed against your throat. He moved his hand down your collarbone and shoulders. You could feel the press of his hands through the thin fabric of the top before they halted.

“I would really like to have sex with you right now,” he said.

Your voice caught in your throat for a minute. “Yeah?” you finally managed to ask.

“Yes, I would,” he said.

“I’d rather like to have sex with you too,” you told him.

His eyes, once lingering where his hand was, looked up at you right before he kissed you, slow and soft. It was when he pulled back and could look at you that he began to act on his words.

His fingers touched your under boob. He cupped you, fingers pressing into the soft, moldable skin, before he brushed against your nipple. He glanced up when you sighed at the touch.

He lowered his head down until he was level with your breasts and took your other nipple into his mouth. He moaned as did you. His tongue flickered against the bulb as he sucked the skin.

Your hand tangled in his hair, wanting him close. He nuzzled against your skin in response. His hand boy fondling with your other nipple came around your body to support you as he guided you down.

With your back against the blanket, he pulled off you. He reached for a pillow and placed it underneath your head. He grabbed a different one and placed it beneath your hips.

“Just tell me if you wish to stop,” he said.

“I promise.”

“Good.”

He pulled up the fabric of your pants and you could feel the soft winds against your privates. That paired with the feeling of that same breeze cooling the saliva on your nipple, made you shiver and squirm.

“I didn’t take you for the type to go nude,” he said.

“It was Sonia’s idea,” you told him.

He hummed. “She is full of good ones.” His hand rested on your pelvic bone. “I’m glad you’re getting along.”

“She’s a wonderful woman.”

“Indeed but so are you,” he said, moving his hand so it pressed right against your privates, giving you warmth instead of a breeze.

“Seems like you have a type then,” you said.

“I suppose I do.”

He pressed a finger between your folds and you moaned loudly, without restraint into the air of the wilds.

There was a bit of a thrill here, not being completely away from civilization but far enough away that you could be as loud as you wanted, not behind four walls and instead exposed completely, having the warmth of the sun and Rauru but the chill that came with a breeze.

“You’re so wet,�� he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Were you expecting this?”

You tried to wiggle your hips to get some friction but he merely had to put a hand on you to cause you to stop.

“No, yes, maybe. It wasn’t my intention but Sonia and Zelda insisted this world be the outcome,” you told him. “I’ve also never walked anywhere in public with my breasts and privates out so that was kind of thrilling.”

“It can be so easy to forget you’re from a different time,” he said, curling his finger so it was soaked in liquids. “Tell me, why would that be thrilling?”

“In my time, it’s taboo,” you told him. “If you have more than your thighs and stomach exposed it’s considered—“ he slipped a finger inside you and you moaned— considered indecent. You’re only supposed to have other things exposed if you’re having sex with someone.”

He hummed. “So walking here, dressed as you are was like you were telling the world you were coming to have sex with me?”

He moved his finger out and then back in as you managed to choke out a, “Yes.”

“Did anyone see you?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you want them to know?”

“Yes.”

He slid another finger inside you. “You wanted them to know we were having sex or you wanted them to know just the action of walking around so indecent made you so wet?”

“Both?”

“Maybe I should ask Sonia and Zelda to start spreading rumors,” he said. “So that every time you’re dressed like this people will know.”

You moaned at the thought. He curled his fingers inside you. You moaned louder. He slipped in a third finger and started scissoring them. Slow, careful, but with purpose. He kissed you when he added a fourth. His thumb pressed against your clit to help ease any discomfort and though he didn’t move his finger, it worked.

Your hand ran up his shoulders and pulled him close. He nuzzled against your neck, placed a kiss to it.

“I really want to mark you,” he said, “but I fear you’ll say yes to anything I’d ask of you right now regardless of later consequences.”

“You’re probably right,” you told him as you pet his ears.

“Ah, well, I’ll wait then,” he said, settling on lightly mouthing your neck without leaving any marks or bruises.

He spread his fingers again. Your fingers twitched before you relaxed again. He moved his thumb off your aching clit in favor of changing the angle of his fingers inside you. Then he curled them, hitting your sweet spot. He caught your gasp with a kiss.

“I think I’ve prepared you as well as I can,” he said. “May I?”

“Please.”

You whined when his fingers left you wide, loose, and wet.

He sat up. He carefully removed your hands from his ears and hair. He held them for a moment before he surged forward now straddling you and pressed them into the ground above your head. He gave you another kiss. Then he let go of your hands. He settled back.

With him straddling you, you could both see the imprint of him through the loose fabric he wore and feel him pressed against your stomach. He was large. Sonia was not lying, he was big. Zelda was right, actually. He was huge. You hadn’t even seen him yet.

“Breathe,” he told you. He ran his hands up and down your torso. “Relax.” He groped your breasts and helped you relax with him against you (not even in you, not even visible) by turning your anxieties into lust once more. “I’ll go slow,” he said.

He encouraged you to raise your leg so he could get an easier angle, something you allowed him to do. It was almost like he was puppeting you. Raise leg, bend it, keep it in place. Move other leg a bit to the side, bend it as well. Relax against the ground. Breathe.

He kept the fabric of his bottoms around himself, moved it so it covered your privates as well.

You could feel him brush against your folds. It was different than any dick you’d felt before, a bit blunt instead of round. It was also big but you’d already had that established for you.

He moved it up and down your folds several times. His eyes fluttered closed and his mouth hung open. Small noises almost drowned out by the sounds of nature exited his mouth.

You felt him press against your hole. He slipped in just the barest bit, not even his full tip, before he went back to stroking your folds with his dick.

The feeling of him against your clit made you clench. Your eyes fell shut. Your hands, still above your head, wrapped around each other, squeezed tight enough that you were sure they changed a different color.

“Oh, you feel so good,” you told him. “I can’t wait to have you inside me. Please, Rauru, please.”

He halted for a moment before he continued his demonstrations. “Please what?” he asked.

“Don’t make me wait,” you told him. You opened your eyes to see his own hooded ones staring at you. “Put your dick inside me and fuck me.”

He sucked in a breath. “How crude,” he said, “but if you wish.”

He placed the tip of his dick inside you. Even with his preparations and how wet you were, you still felt yourself stretch. It was a good stretch though that brought on an ache you knew you’d feel for days. You couldn’t wait.

Slowly he started rocking his hips. Moving inside you more bit by bit with each movement. It was gradual, good. It felt amazing as he filled you, stretched you, until he couldn’t anymore.

Then he halted. He stilled. Let you breathe.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Good, so good. Goddess, I’ve never felt this good in my life. You fill me up so well. I feel like I’m about to burst but in a good way,” you tell him, a haze coming over you.

He did an experimental thrust. Your hands scrambled for something other than yourself to grab onto and you found the pillow.

“Is that still good?”

“Perfect. It’s perfect. Feels so good.”

He slowly started to make himself a pace. It wasn’t fast nor was it slow. He wasn’t completely soft and gentle. You could feel yourself being pushed up with every couple thrusts. It was perfect though.

You squeezed the pillow and occasionally his arm. Your mouth seemed to permanently be open with moans. You felt so loud. He made grunts and sounds of his own but he was quieter. His ears twitched with every noise you made and by comparison to him you were so noisy. There weren’t even walls to catch your noises. Instead they faded into the wilderness.

Your foreheads pressed together as he gave you a kiss, if one could call it that. It was more so his lips pressed against your open mouth and you moaned directly into his. Then he moved so he wasn’t so easy to grab.

In doing so he moved so he was pressing against your sweet spot far more often. You grew louder.

A hand moved to your chest. He grabbed one breast and then the other. His hands brushing against your nipples. He touched the necklace on your neck. He carefully thumbed them before he cradled your face. You moved your head to the side to kiss it before your moans grew so frequent you couldn’t force yourself to close your mouth.

One hand grabbed the pillow in a vice like grip while the other one slid down your body. You were close. You were so close. He felt so good inside you.

You moved to play with your clit, hoping to speed up this torture of being so close to the edge but not being able to cum. However, as soon as you did it was almost like it hurt. It was overwhelming. You moved your hand away and instead moved it under the fabric of his bottoms. You could feel the slide of him in and out of you. For a moment, that’s all you did, was bask in that feeling.

He sped up at the feeling of your finger tips against him every time he exited you. It only heightened the pleasure, the stretch and relaxation of your walks every time he entered and exited you.

You tried again. This time it was a bit easier. His hands moving across your body and settling on your hips to thrust into you faster helped ease the overstimulation you felt before.

You felt yourself spasm but not orgasm. You felt like sobbing. You just wanted to cum.

He went faster and faster. You were moving up and down with every thrust. Your noises grew louder and louder. You moved your hand faster and faster as he thrusted in and out.

You clenched around him. Your eyes closed so hard all you could see was white. You swore you screamed but you couldn’t eat it. Your legs tingled and kicked, too overwhelmed.

Rauru continued to thrust in and then out of you. Fast and faster. Harder and harder. Then he stopped. You felt him twitch and pulse inside you followed by a new sensation of warmth. Your eyes rolled back.

You both took a moment to breathe.

When he pulled out you whined. He moved behind you and helped you sit up. He brought a container of water to your lips. It was cool as it slid down your throat. He held you.

“Now seems like a good time to try the food I brought and perhaps talk about what is and is not allowed in our sex life,” he suggested.

Later that night, once the moon had taken its place in the sky, you stumbled your way to Sonia’s bedroom. There was dried saliva on your chest and cum inside and down your leg.

You opened the door to a very dimly lit room where Sonia and Zelda were looking over notes at a desk.

“So you wanted to know what sex with Rauru is like?” you asked Zelda as they both turned to you.

“Oh, I should have warned you. He likes to bite.”

#rauru x you #king rauru x reader #rauru x reader #king rauru x you

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bat-stuff · 11 months

Note

Damian Wayne headcanons: “Totally can make girls swoon as long as he’s not standing next to Damian (we’ll talk about Damian’s body and pretty boy features in another post)”, can we get that post discussing Damian’s pretty boy features and how he most likely gets the most people coming after him thx to his perfect mix of Talia and Bruce’s genes (Talia’s brown skin color, her green cat shaped eyes w/long eyelashes, Bruce’s face (tho I headcanon the older dami gets the more he physically resembles Talia until the resemblance is uncanny, or he grows to become a perfect match of both his parents facial features), hairline (unless dami grows his hair out a little more in the future), the Wayne charm etc.)????????? Also how the others (Collin, Jon, & Billy) attractive looks attract others as well?????

Honestly, I totally forgot that Tumblr existed for a while so thess are way overdue. But here we go.

Also, excuse Damian's for being hella long but I've had a lot of time to think about Damian

Ok I also have a feeling that I haven't mentioned this before ...

All my content for these boys is aged up, which means they aren't a gaggle of 12 year olds. I'm imagining them between the ages of 16 and 18 unless otherwise stated.

DAMIAN WAYNE, JON KENT, COLIN WILKES, AND BILLY BATSON FEATURES HEADCANONS

--------

DAMIAN WAYNE

Damian has green eyes, I know people will argue and say he has blue but his eyes are definitely a dark mossy green.

Though they definitely have the capability of changing color in the sunlight, they light up and turn into lighter shades depending on the lighting and time of day, but personally I think they are a dark mossy green.

I don't want to spend too much time on Damian's eyes but for example, in Gotham they tend to be darker because of the atmosphere, whereas when Damian goes to see Jon in Metropolis, they'll be lighter shades because of the sunlight

He 100% has Talia's eyes, and facial structure. I can see him having more of Bruce's features, but his facial and body structure is closer to Talia.

Strong jawline but softer than Bruce's. Damian looks a bit like Bruce but not as sharp, so to speak. His face is slimmer and more rounded, his eyes are more pointed and are sharper but Bruce's are wider.

Bruce is ruggedly handsome, Damian is flawlessly pretty.

Damian's body structure is closer to Talia's too.

I don't see Damian really being able to pack on muscle mass in the future like Bruce. As Damian gets older his body structure looks a lot like Dick's, he's very well fitted.

He does have nice biceps tho. To the point where when he moves you could feel the muscle flex underneath if you were touching them

(If you haven't experienced this personally with anyone, I highly suggest it. Biceps are hot.)

He doesn't have thick thighs like Jason, but he's still very muscular. Sometimes it's hard to tell unless he's flexing, he's not busting out of his clothes, but he is quite strong.

On to other features, Damian isn't white.

I think we've all established it by now but just to make sure.

His skin is a lot like Talia's, light olive skin. Though, in the summer, if Damian gets even the smallest ounce of light he tans instantly. I'm the winters in Gotham, one might mistake him for white because his skin is lighter but once he's put next to Tim it's easy to see that he's not.

Damian has perfect eyebrows. Nothing else needs to accompany this. His eyebrows are flawless.

Ok, so hair. Another thing I've seen some disagreement on.

I believe Damian's hair is Black, like Bruce. But unlike Bruce it's not coarse and heavy. It's light, wispy and soft. When he was younger at the manor he used to gel it up, but now that he's older he's come to realize that it'll just go wherever he wants and it will be fine.

Damian's voice, which I've kinda already covered, is wide range. He can sound like a little girl or Corpse. He generally leans towards a deeper voice, it vibrates a little so if he's talking while you're touching him in some way you can feel the grumble.

He hums a lot. Not musically, but in response to things. He's taken up a habit of humming into words, like saying "mkay" instead of "okay".

I strongly believe that Damian doesn't laugh, he chuckles. Deep, hearty chuckles that make anyone whose near stop and listen to him laugh. He also snickers and sharply exhales through his nose to make that snorting/snickering sound, I don't know what it's called but I think you can guess what I'm talking about.

Damian doesn't have veiny hands, sorry to disappoint. But his hands are very soft for being a swordsman. His skin is very smooth and he doesn't have many imperfections. No birthmarks because of the Artificial Womb, courtesy of Talia.

Not me going back to his eyes, but he squints a lot. Out of confusion, anger, just looking at something, disgust. His eyes generally take the shape of siren eyes, so it doesn't look unnatural that he gives people sharp looks unintentionally.

His lips are on the thinner side but are still soft. Boy definitely uses chapstick. He doesn't have a big mouth or a little one, he's very well proportioned.

Probably has a plump bottom lip tho

Many know this but he frowns a lot. It's not because he's upset, but it's his thinking face. His eyebrows scrunch together when he's doing this too. If he's thinking about something unpleasant his nose with wrinkle. When Damian's thinking hard he looks very confused and upset.

Nicely shaped abs. He has a long torso

HELLA PRETTY SHOULDERS AND BACK MUSCLES MY GUY

Smells like pine needles and sandalwood. Definitely a rich person scent that's strong but not overpowering.

-----------

BILLY BATSON

Figured I would start with Billy because if we're ranking them, he's the second prettiest.

Personal opinion but you'll see what I mean.

So Billy's eyes are brown. Like a dark, chocolate brown.

Some people might say "Well in the dcau and Young Justice they're blue" but I have a personal belief that they're brown. How many blue eyed superheroes and children of superheroes are there? Too many. They're brown.

In the sun they turn into a dark honey color

DEFINITELY has light freckles across his cheeks, I mean really light tho. You would have to be pretty close to him to see them

Billy's hair is soft, and medium brunette.

it's sort of straight, but kinda wavy

the length of it depends on the season, for instance in the summer he has it cut shorter in the back. But in the winter he lets it grow out a bit more

The skinniest of the bunch but it suits him

He's not SKINNY tho, I mean he's being compared to Superboy, Batman's son, and a Gym Rat Gothamite, cut the little guy some slack

Billy has very slender, lean build. Most likely doesn't have Damian-level muscle but he's still easy on the eyes shirtless

Billy has a a bit of a lopsided smile that sometimes expresses laziness

Teeth smile 100%

He has that sort of soft handsome look

Where Damian is very sharp and defined Billy is smooth

He has softer cheek bones (squishy cheeks) and a defined yet round jawline

Billy has thinner lips

I'm not sure how to describe them honestly

Very calm deep voice, deepest voice of the bunch, adding on to this I imagine that he likes to sing and is the best vocalist in the group

His laugh, contrast to Damian, is boisterous and very open mouthed. He's loud and sometimes it sounds like a cackle, but most of the time Billy has a charming laugh that fills the room

Billy almost smells sugary with a hint of linen. Like warm bed sheets but they were washed next to a bakery.

(He once accidentally stole Mary's Japanese Cherry Blossom lotion and now has this sort of addiction to cherry scented things)

Honestly, Billy smells like a lot of things all the time, so the best description is that he smells very warm and sweet

Boy is part of the super soft hands club

Long. Freaking. Eyelashes.

Like, they might tickle you when you kiss him long

(This isn't a romance headcannon but he would be a great person to kiss, OOOH NEXT POST IDEA)

------------

JON KENT

Ok so on to Jonathan

So our boys eyes are a sky blue

An open sky in the country, and where some eyes have grey tones, Jon's don't

Dark, black hair that has a loose curl to it

A lot of times it hangs down in his eyes so he developed a tendency to play with his hair

He has one of those headbands that comb/hold back your hair, and he wears it a lot

Wouldn't wear it around the guys, there's no way Colin wouldn't make a little fun of him for it. Damian honestly wouldn't care and Billy would probably buy one once he sees Jon wear it

He has pretty fair skin, but tans often due to being in the Sun at the farm a lot.

Has tan lines on his wrist and ankles from bracelets, he's that kind of guy

I mentioned in a previous post that Jon isn't really big on sweating so our boy probably always smells very clean

His scent is lemony with a hint of linen.

Not that the other boys don't smell clean, Jon is just less musky

Jon us bulkier than Damian and Billy, but smaller than Colin.

Another member of the super soft hands club, as well as the pretty shoulders club

he has a soft voice, but it also holds a lot of energy. He talks fast

the highest pitched voice of the bunch, and for the longest time was slightly squeaky.

lovely sounding voice, can't sing for shit tho. Hes a bit tone deaf.

has DEFINED dimples, the king of dimples

always has a content look on his face, looks and is incredibly friendly

I have a feeling Jon doesn't have completely straight teeth, but still a beautiful, toothy smile

he isn't a mouth breather but has a habit of staring at people with his mouth open a bit.

kinda like a goldfish

lip biter (In the cute/hot way)

(ok so my best comparison for Jon is Dave Lizewski from Kick-Ass. I feel like they would have similar energy. I feel like he and Jon would sound similar as well.)

Toned abs. He doesn't even try, they just happen

nice arms, not super huge but you can visibly see the muscle

His entire vibe is secretly buff nerd boy

loves his glasses, only takes them off when he suits up

they're the round-ish square ones with the iron rim (Dave Lizewski glasses)

sharp jawline, but has a square face

Pouty, thick lips

Jon has fairly big hands, and skinny fingers.

Slightly veiny hands

Has never had a lick of acne in his life so incredibly clean face

Definitely a pretty boy

----------

COLIN WILKES

Colin is definitely the scraggiliest of the 4

Silly ginger boy

Has straight-ish hair but probably got a perm at some point and it kinda worked for him so he's recently discovered that if he puts stuff in his hair and takes care of it right he has some natural wave

Puppy dog brown eyes that look like melted chocolate

Used to have freckles but they faded as he got older so you only see them if you're extra close

Colin had the widest smile of the group

Never had braces because he couldn't afford it so his teeth are a bit uneven

But they were significantly worse when he was a middle schooler so he's glad they figured themselves out a bit

BIG BOY

THE BIGGEST BOY

This dude has the broadest shoulders of the group, the thickest thighs, the meatiest arms.

Colin is built like a tank

Has the veiniest hands, and they never go away. Just constant veins

Is ALWAYS smirking/smiling.

Has a look on his face that always makes it seem like he'd done something bad and he's proud of it

Obviously he hasn't but it somehow lands him in trouble 9/10 times

Colin is the palest of the group, not just because he roasts like a turkey in the son but because he obviously lives in Gotham, where sunlight doesn't exist

Like Billy, his lips are on the thinner side, but they're NEVER chapped. Loves chapstick, probably would eat it

Colin has a fairly round face, when he was younger he had huge gigantinormous ears, but by 15 he had grown into them

If any of the boys had a glow up it was Colin, he went from Kiddo to Daddy within a summer

Smells like grass and mahogany. Also lysol. Sometimes leather. It depends on what time of day it is.

In the morning, it's lysol and leather because that's when he goes to the gym. But after he showers it's mahogany and like Irish spring. But by the end of the day, for some reason he smells like grass and no one can figure out why

Colin's just kinda strange

His voice is lower than Jon's, but slightly higher than Billy's. (When he's Abuse his voice is much, much deeper)

It's rumbly

Has the best morning voice

When Colin laughs, it's a cackle. He sounds like a hyena

Definitely has toned muscles. The most defined muscles of the group

Has ENORMOUS hands

Rough and calloused from weightlifting but the rest of him is fairly soft

Rougher face because he shaves, puberty hit him HARD

He's not pretty, he's hot

343 notes · View notes

misirosekisiro · 5 months

Text

Toshio and the boy.

In Japan, beneath Tokyu, lies a highly secretive underground prison. Contrary to what the outside world may believe, the inmates confined within its walls are exceptionally dangerous individuals. These are the most perilous offenders, incarcerated here covertly. Many were captured and detained without trials or public disclosure. The government understands their danger; some are deemed so hazardous that the world might be safer if they were eliminated. However, the government holds a different perspective; even the most dangerous individuals can sometimes be valuable. Some are utilized by the government for specific purposes, while others become subjects of scientific study.

Toshio, a new guard, has recently been assigned to this facility. He is a member of the Japan Self-Defense Forces (JSDF) and gained recognition for his remarkable actions during earthquake events. This commendable display earned him a promotion and an invitation to join the guardianship of this clandestine prison. But he have one weakness in his perfect resume. That he never tell someone, he was gay, fetish on smell , underwear and uniform.

His first day in the office is spent receiving instructions from his superior. There is a strict protocol and the inmates must be watched with the greatest of caution.

"The inmates are highly intelligent. They're all experts in their respective fields, and have unique talents that have made them dangerous to society. That's why they're being held in such an isolated location. We don't want any of them escaping and getting out into the world. If they were to escape, the repercussions could be enormous."

"How many people are in this facility?" Toshio asked.

"There are 166 individuals currently incarcerated."

"What's the breakdown?"

"We have 45 females and 121 males. 137 are Japanese. The rest are foreigners, and of those 50 are Caucasian. There's only one person of Chinese descent."

"There are so many foreign people!"

"Well, yes. You'll see more of the specifics later. For now, the main thing to keep in mind is to be cautious. The inmates here are intelligent and can be quite cunning. There's no such thing as dropping your guard around these people. If you make any sort of mistake, the consequences will be dire."

"I understand."

"Good. Now let me introduce you to the head warden."

Toshio followed his superior officer down a long corridor, until they came to a stop at the end. There, a man stood waiting.

"This is the warden," said the officer. "Warden, this is Toshio. He's the newest member of our team."

The warden shook hands with Toshio and greeted him politely. He was a middle-aged man with graying hair, a receding hairline, and glasses. He wore a suit and tie. His expression was stern and serious.

"Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you." Toshio answered, "I hope I'll be able to help you."

"We'll see. First, you should know that all communication with the outside world is strictly forbidden. Do not contact anyone, including your family. We've got a special line for emergencies. It goes directly to the police. In case of an emergency, we'll call for reinforcements. We've also got a medical facility on site. There are a number of doctors and nurses here. If any of the inmates require medical treatment, it can be done here."

"What about visitors?"

"We do not allow any. The prisoners are not official be lock down here. They're being held in secret, so we don't want to draw attention to ourselves. The fewer people who know about this place, the better. Of course, in case of an emergency, the government can step in, but that's very unlikely."

"Are there any rules I need to follow?"

"Just keep in mind what I've told you. The most important thing is that you maintain a healthy distance from the prisoners. You're not allowed to approach any of them. And do not allow them to approach you. Also, you must keep an eye on them at all times. You're not allowed to take breaks."

"I understand."

After finishing his orientation, Toshio started his job.

He went to the guard room, The prison was sperate to 4 wings form A to D, each wings delare to more and more dangerous criminals, he took a deep breath before entering the first wing, A, which is a general prison.

The guard room is a simple white-walled space, furnished with a few chairs and a desk. A single fluorescent light illuminates the room. It smells like cleaning fluid.

At the far end of the room, a door leads into a long corridor lined with cells. The cells are separated by thick iron bars. Most are occupied. The prisoners are dressed in white jumpsuits and wear ankle shackles.

As he walked through the corridor, Toshio noticed that some of the inmates were watching him intently. He tried not to make eye contact. He also notice that some inmates was in differest clothes, some even was tight in leather's strap suit same one that use in mental hospital.

In one of the cells, a man was lying on his bunk. He looked up at Toshio and smiled.

"Hey, handsome. How about a blowjob?"

Toshio ignored, He will station in Male, A zone. All women inmate was on sperate floor with women's guard.

"Hey, how about you come in and let me suck you off? I bet you'd love that. You could shove your dick in my mouth and fuck my face."

"Stop talking."

"Or what? You gonna punish me? Huh? I'd like to see you try. I'm a tough guy. You're not going to hurt me."

"No need to talk to him" another guard comming and said. "He's not worth it. He's just a piece of shit. He's a fucking pervert. That's all he's good for."

"That's not true. I can do lots of things. I can give you a good time. I bet you've never had a blowjob before, have you?"

"Ignore him, that is best way to do here" the other guard said in calm voice.

"Make me! You think you can make me do anything? I'm stronger than you are. I could take you out. Come on, let's go! You and me, right now. Let's fight."

Toshio ignore, he walked away.

But the man continued to taunt him.

"Hey, you chicken shit! Why don't you turn around and look at me? Are you too scared to look me in the eye? What a coward! I'm not afraid of you! I'm not afraid of anything!"

Toshio ignore.

"Hey, hey! You can't walk away from me. I'm talking to you. I'm not done yet. Hey, are you listening to me? I'm not done talking to you. Don't ignore me. You're ignoring me. Don't ignore me. I said, don't ignore me!"

Suddenly the man started screaming and cursing at him. He was shouting obscenities and hurling insults.

"Fuck you! Fuck you! You're a fucking coward. I'm going to kick your ass! I'm going to make you wish you were dead. You're not going to ignore me. You're going to listen to me. I'm not going to shut up. You're going to listen to every single word I have to say."

Toshio continue walking away. He doesn't know why the inmate act like that.

"Fuck you! You're a pussy! You're a fucking pussy! You're a coward! I'm going to kick your ass! I'm going to destroy you. You're a fucking pussy! Come here and fight me, you coward! Fight me! Fight me, you coward! Fight me!"

He kept walking. He could still hear the man yelling at him.

"No worry, This place not like other prison. Most of them can't step outside that case until the end of the world. But they are still human" The other guard said in calm voice. "Some have unique talent, some are scientist and genius, they could help the government in secret, like this prison is exist in the first place"

"You should ignore him. He's just a fucking retard. He doesn't know when to stop. He'll keep doing it until he gets bored. It's best not to give him the satisfaction. Just keep walking."

"Thank you, sir."

"No problem. Don't let him get to you. It's not worth it."

They keep walking and leave the man behind.

Toshio feel relief, But he have one worry, the man's face. The man was young, and have handsome face, but something weird, he have red eye. Like his eyes were bleeding, and the other is black.

"Who is that?"

"He is one of the foreigner" The guard said. "His name is Sigma, and he is a Russian"

"Russian? What did he do to be put here?"

"He is a hacker, he hacked into a Russian bank and stole money. They sent him here after he got out from his jail"

"Why is he have red and black eyes?"

"He is a special case, and he is the first and only inmate with two color eyes, the doctors and scientists are testing him, and they are the one who have control over him"

"I see, so they're treating him like a lab rat"

"Yes, he is a special case, because of his eye color, his power and his brain"

"I see, what's his ability?"

"I don't know, they said it is a secret, and we shouldn't talk about it, so they don't leak the information"

"Okay, thank you"

They keep walking and arrive at the guard post.

"Well, I'll leave you here. Take care of yourself. We have not much guard here, Most of system was automatic unless was override by control key." He point to a key in the box on the desk. "It's only use while some case. And need to report before use it. Most of time, inmate will be in their cell. even food also have automatic system on provide it. As you may know, you need to do patrol on alley ways at least once each hour. I suggest you to just keep eye on them, ignore any request or talk to them. "

"Okay, thank you."

"You're welcome. Just relax and enjoy. It's not so hard"

The guard leave, and Toshio is alone. He look at the key in the box and remember about the rule.

He look around the place, and the cell have one way to open, a small window, the same one that the food was serve.

He look at the monitor, and the screen show a list of all inmates in each cell, and he could see their faces, age and sex.

"Let's see, what have we got here"

"Hmm, 35-year-old male, 174 cm, 60 kg, Caucasian, Russian, hacker, 397,710.23 USD theft"

"What an amount, no wonder he was locked here."

"Hmm, 37-year-old male, 166 cm, 59 kg, Asian, Japanese, serial killer, 677 counts murder, 48 counts rape"

"Damn, a mass murderer, what did he do to deserve that title?"

"Hmm, 42-year-old male, 167 cm, 84 kg, Asian, Korean, scientist, 280 counts child abuse, 10 counts child murder, 100 counts illegal human experiment, 500 counts illegal drugs deal, 1000 counts torture, 10000 counts rape"

"Holy shit, this is a big list."

"Hmm, 28-year-old male, 168 cm, 58 kg, European, German, serial killer, 125 counts murder, 23 counts rape"

"Not a big deal compared to the first one."

"Huh!, 20--year-old male,165,52 kg, Asian, Japanese, - Data consealed - unaviable permission rank to access this data"

"What, why can't I see his data?" His attention was shift to this one. "He is only 20 years old, why is his data blocked?"

He look at the other info and find out that all other inmates are 30 and above. All others data was showed, just only one.

He think for a moment, and then realize something, this cell is not the normal one.

"Why is he locked there? He is so young. What did he do to deserve being here? He is so young. And the system doesn't even show his name."

He think for a moment.

"Could he be one of those 'special cases' the guard was talking about?"

He change the mornitor to this man's cell. then he notice. That cell is one that wear a tight leather straping suit. his face also masked with lether mask. his eye was blined with red strap, and his hand and feet is tied with same leather.

"This is so strange. why is he tied like that? This is not a normal cell. What did he do to deserve being there? Could it be his ability that dangerous enough to be locked in this special cell?"

He look closely at the screen, and notice something else.

"Hmm, why does he have a bulge on his pants? Could he be erect?"

He zooms the image and sees a big bulge in his pants.

"Why is he erect? Could it be his ability has something to do with sex? That could be the reason why his data is blocked."

He also notice that this man got an feeding tube, It's like they not want someone go near him even to feed him.

"Maybe that's it, his ability is so dangerous, and they can't risk it, so they have him locked up like this."

Toshio was curious, the boy is handsome, even his body is covered with leather, he can still see the outline of his abs. And his cock is very big, the biggest Toshio ever seen.

Toshio decide to investigate it more later, right now, he will have to do his job.

Time passed, and soon his shift is over.

He go home and relax.

In his mind, he can't forget about the boy, He was very young, and his face was covered with a mask. Toshio is very curious about him.

And also, he was curious about that man who had the red and black eyes. Why was he so angry?

He was curious about the boy's ability, and why he was locked up. He decided to investigate the matter further.

Toshio's curiosity was growing.

He knew he was breaking the rules.

But he was curious.

The next day, Toshio goes to work as usual.

He starts his shift, and his first task is to check on the inmates.

He checks the monitor, and he sees the boy is still there. He looks at the other cells, and none of them are occupied.

"Hmm, the cells are all empty, but the boy's cell is not. I wonder why. Maybe the boy is a special case. I'm curious about him."

Toshio is still thinking about the boy.

He decides to check the boy's cell.

He approaches the cell, and sees the boy is laying down. He's not moving.

"Huh, he is sleeping."

Toshio watches the boy for a while.

Then he decides to enter the cell.

"I'm going to check on him."

He enters the cell, and sees the boy is laying still.

"Hmm, he is still asleep. I'm going to check on him."

Toshio touches the boy, and sees the boy doesn't react.

He feels the boy's body, and sees the boy's face. He sees the boy is wearing a mask, but his eyes are covered by a red blindfold.

He looks at the boy's body, and sees the boy has an athletic build.

"Hmm, he is a good-looking boy. I wonder what he is like under the mask."

Toshio decides to check.

Toshio touches the boy's face.

"His skin is soft. Hmm, he is a cute boy."

Toshio takes his finger and touches the boy's lips.

The boy doesn't move.

"His lips are soft. Hmm, he is a beautiful boy. He is very handsome."

Toshio decides to check on the rest of the boy's body.

He checks the boy's neck, and sees the boy has a muscular neck.

"His neck is very strong. Hmm, his neck is muscular."

Toshio moves his hand and feels the boy's chest.

"His chest is muscular. Hmm, he is a strong boy."

Toshio feels the boy's chest.

"He has a muscular chest. Hmm, he is a good-looking boy."

Toshio keeps moving his hand.

He feels the boy's abs.

"He has a nice six pack. Hmm, he is a handsome boy."

Toshio feels the boy's stomach, and sees the boy's navel is visible.

"He has a cute navel. Hmm, he is a cute boy."

Toshio reaches the boy's crotch.

He sees the boy's cock is still hard.

"Hmm, his cock is still hard." Then he notice a smell coming from the boy's crotch.

"There's a musky scent coming from his crotch."

Toshio sniffs the air.

"It's a sexy musky scent. Hmm, it's a manly scent."

Toshio is getting aroused.

He decides to touch the boy's cock.

"Ammm Ummm" The boy moans a little.

Toshio touches the boy's cock and feels the boy's shaft.

"Hmm, his cock is long. Hmm, he is a hung boy."

Toshio grabs the boy's balls.

"His balls are big. Hmm, he is a heavy-balled boy."

Toshio massages the boy's balls.

"Ahhh Ahh" The boy moans louder.

Toshio feels the boy's ass.

"Hmm, his ass is round. Hmm, he is a beautiful boy."

"Ahawammam" Boy try to talk something.

Toshio moves his hand down to the boy's ass.

"He has a nice ass. Hmm, he is a cute boy."

"Uhmmam" Boy mumbles.

"What is it, boy?" Toshio asked.

"Amawww" Boy mumbles again.

Toshio doesn't understand what the boy is saying.

He then remove a gagged form boy mouth.

"What are you doing, boy? Are you trying to say something?"

"Yea" Boy said.

"What is it, boy?"

"Who are you, mister?"

"My name is Toshio. I'm a guard here. Who are you, boy?"

"My name is Kaito. What are you doing, sir?"

"I'm checking on you, boy. Why are you tied up like this, boy?"

"They was kidnap me!, bring me here and lock me inside this suit"

"Kidnap? What do you mean, boy?"

"They kidnap me, tie me up, and then lock me in here. I don't know why."

Toshio may not understand, but he feel he can trust the boy, his voice is so soft and so reliable.

"Okay, I believe you, boy. But how did you get in here?"

"They put me inside this suit and blindfolded me. Then they brought me here and locked me in here. I don't know why, sir."

Toshio doesn't know what to do, he can't let the boy go, but he also can't leave him like this. he feel that his head was half blank. He really feel that he need help him.

"What should I do, boy? Should I let you go or should I leave you here?"

"Please, help me, sir."

"What can I do, boy?"

"Can you please take this mask off of my face? I can't see anything."

Toshio takes the mask off of the boy's face.

The boy's face is covered with a leather blindfold.

Toshio then takes the blindfold off.

"Ahhh, I can see again." boy eyes was gaze on Toshio face. their eyes was meet each others.

"So beautiful eyes" Toshio thought.

The boy's eyes were a beautiful emerald green. They were a beautiful green color.

"Boy, you have such a beautiful eyes."

"Thank you, sir. If you like it, may you gaze deeper in my eyes?"

"Sure, boy."

"Ahhh" Boy said.

The boy's eyes were hypnotized.

Toshio gazed deeply into the boy's eyes.

"Ahhhh" The boy moaned.

"Ohhh, ohhh" Toshio was moaning.

The boy's eyes were glazing.

"I know you love my scent, right?"

"Yes, boy. I do. Your scent is so manly."

"My scent is so manly, isn't it?"

"Yes, boy. It is." Toshio fill his face with boy's smell.

"You want to inhale more deeply in my scent right?"

"Yes, boy. I want to."

"Then inhale more deeply."

"Ohhh, ohhh" Toshio is inhaling the boy's scent.

The boy's scent is intoxicating.

"Ohhh, ohhh, it's so strong. So manly."

"My scent is so strong, isn't it?"

"Yes, boy. It is."

"I'm glad that you like my scent, sir. Then why you not take my suit, it's fill with my sweat and odor. You must love that smell."

"I will."

"Take my suit off, sir. I want you to inhale more deeply in my smell."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio started removing the boy's leather suit.

The boy's suit is made out of leather.

"My suit is made out of leather. Do you like it, sir?"

"Yes, boy. I do. I love the smell of leather."

"I'm glad that you love the smell of leather, sir. Then why you not take a deep sniff in my suit."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio started sniffing the boy's leather suit.

The smell of the leather is intoxicating.

"Ahhh, it smells so good, sir."

"I'm glad that you love the smell, boy."

"My suit is soaked with my sweat. You want to taste my sweat, don't you, sir?"

"Yes, boy. I want to."

"Taste my sweat, sir."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio tasted the boy's sweat.

The taste was delicious.

"Your sweat is so tasty, boy."

"I'm glad that you like the taste, sir. Then why don't you take a sip from my balls?"

"Okay, boy."

Toshio drank the boy's sweat.

The taste was amazing.

"It's so good, boy. I love your taste."

"I'm glad that you love it, sir. Now why you not take of your uniform and fill yourself in my suit. I'm sure you love the feeling of my sweat on your skin."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio was completely naked now.

He was wearing only his tight spandex brief.

"You no need that brief. You want to feel your cock soak in my sweat, right?"

"Yes, boy. I want to."

"Take it off, sir."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio took his brief off.

Now he was completely naked.

"Ahhh, I'm so naked, boy. I feel so free."

"I'm glad that you like that, sir. Now take a seat on the chair and feel my suit upon your body. I'm sure you love the feeling."

"Yes, boy. I love it."

Toshio sat down on the chair.

He could feel the boy's sweat on his skin.

"Ahhh, it feels so good, boy. I love the feeling of your sweat on my skin."

"I'm glad that you like it, sir. Now why you not feel your cock in my suit. I'm sure you want to feel my warmth around your cock."

"Yes, boy. I want to."

"Feel your cock in my suit, sir."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio put his cock in the boy's suit.

"Ahhh, I can feel your warmth, boy. It's so nice."

"I'm glad that you like the warmth, sir. Now i will lock this strap on you. I'm sure you love to be locked inside my suit, right?"

"Yes, boy. I do."

"Then take this lock, sir."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio took the lock from the boy.

"Lock my suit, sir. I'm sure you love the feeling of being locked inside my suit."

"I love the feeling, boy. The suit was so tight on my body!"

"I'm glad that you like the feeling, sir. Now i think you want to taste my salivar, this gag is soak with it. And you will suck the drool from the tube. You must love the taste of my drool, right?"

"Yes, boy. I love the taste."

"Take the gag, sir."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio took the gag from the boy.

"Put the gag in your mouth, sir. I'm sure you love to have your mouth full of my drool."

"Yes, boy. I love it."

"Then put the gag in your mouth, and feel my drool."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio put the gag in his mouth.

He could feel the boy's saliva in his mouth.

"Ammhmmamammmu sos..fyooogodyoo (Ahhh, it feels so good, boy. I love the taste of your saliva.)" Toshio was said in muffed form gagged.

"Wow i can't understand what you said. But I'm sure you love the feeling, sir."

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy)"

"I'm glad that you like it, sir. But it's will not complete if you not feel my sweat in my mask, right?

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy)."

"Let's me help put my mask on your head. I'm sure you love the feeling of your head be full with my smell, right?"

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy)"

Toshio put the mask on his head.

He could feel the boy's scent all over his head.

"Ammhmmamammmu sos..fyooogodyoo (Ahhh, it feels so good, boy. Your scent is intoxicating.)"

Toshio's cock was hard inside the suit.

"Your cock is hard, isn't it, sir?"

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy)"

"I'm glad that you're so aroused, sir. Now i think you want to hear the sound of my voice, right?"

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy)"

"I'm glad that you love my voice, sir. Then why you only heard only my voice, and obey it, love it. And feel the sensation of it. Your body is completely in my control."

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy)"

Toshio felt the boy's words.

His mind was full of the boy's voice.

"Ammhmmamammmu sos...my...boyyys (Ahhh, it feels so good, my boyyys.)"

"I'm sure you not mind, if I will fuck your ass. right, sir?"

"Yeaggaas (yes, boy)"

"I'm glad that you want to have your ass fucked, sir. Then let's me put my cock in your ass."

"Ammhmmamammmu sos, boy yyyy (Ahhh, it feels so good, boys. Your cock is huge!)"

"I'm glad that you like having your ass fucked, sir. And don't worry I will not stop. I'm sure you will come from having your ass fucked by me, right?"

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy)"

"I'm glad that you want to come, sir. Then feel my cock in your ass, feel it moving inside your ass, and filling your ass with my come."

"Ammhmmamammmu sos...my....boys.....yeees! (Ahhh, it feels so good, boys. I'm cumming!)"

"I'm glad that you came, sir. Now you will continue to serve me. And your ass will always be ready for me. My cock will always be inside your ass. You will always have my come inside your ass."

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy. Please, Master!)"

"I'm glad that you want me to use your ass, sir. Now let's us taste each others cum"

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy)

"Good, now suck my dick. I'm sure you will love the taste of my cum"

"Yeaggaas (Yes, Boy)"

"Suck it. Suck my dick"

"Yeaggaas (Yes, Boy )"

The boy pull unzip a leather strap crotch and start to suck Toshio's cock.

Toshio was sucking the boy's cock.

They were both enjoying the taste of each others cocks.

"Hmmm, you are a good cock sucker, boy"

"I'm glad that you enjoy it, Sir. Your cock taste so good. And the way it fills my mouth, I just can't get enough. Good to know that this trade is not bad at all."

"What trade are you talking about?"

"Soon you will know"

The boy continues to suck Toshio's cock.

They both enjoy the taste of each others cocks.

"You make me horny, boy. I can't resist the temptation"

"That's what I'm talking about. I'm sure you will enjoy this trade. "

"I'm sure I will"

"Then cum, flood it in my mouth"

"As you wish, boy"

"Oh yeah, flood it with your cum. Flood my mouth with your cum. Yes. yes, fill my mouth with your cum"

Toshio shot his cum inside the boy's mouth.

The boy swallowed the cum.

"Hmm, you have such a tasty cum. I can't wait for you to do the same thing to me.

"Hmm, you are a naughty boy. And I love naughty boys."

"Thank you, Sir. Then drink my cum, take it."

Toshio sucks the boy's cock.

"Ahhh, the taste of your cock. I can't get enough.

"I know, you can't. And the taste of your cum, I can't get enough. So keep sucking it. Keep drinking my cum."

"Hmm, you are a naughty, slut. I love a slut"

"I'm glad that you do. So drink it all. Drink my cum."

"Ahhh, I will"

Toshio drinks the boy's cum.

"Hmm, the taste of your cum, hmm, it's so good. I can't get enough. "

"I know. I'm glad that you do. Now just wait.. ah i can feel it."

"What?"

"My body it's start to morph... Also your."

"My what?"

"Your body also start to morph. Ohhh. Ahhh"

"Oh my god! What is this?!"

"Your body start to morph into my body."

The boy body was growing, his figure was morping to be Toshio.

"No, no, what is this?!"

"Don't worry, It's will not hurt"

Toshio was looking at the boy, his eyes was widen. He was shocked.

"You are me, now, Sir."

"I'm who?

"You are me. and I'm Toshio now"

"How? Why? What did you do to me?"

"It's simple. This trade. You get my body, and I get your. We exchange our body, But you still my slave, right?"

"No! No! You can't do this to me."

"Of course, I can. You are my slave now, Sir. And you will serve me." The boy which now Toshio gaze to Toshio's eyes in shape of the boy, he whipser with slow, calm voice.

"You will serve me. You will obey me. You will do everything I say." Real Toshio eyes was start to blank.

"You will do everything I say." The boy whisper in Toshio's ear, Toshio mind was completely blank.

"I will do everything you say." Toshio said, his mind was full with the boy's word.

"You will do everything I say. You will be a good slave." The boy whisper in Toshio's ear.

"I will do everything you say."

"You will be a good slave."

"Yes. Yes. I will be a good slave. I will do everything you say.

"Good. Now kiss me. Kiss yourself."

"As you wish."

Toshio kisses the boy, he could taste his own lips.

"Now suck yourself. Suck your own cock."

"Yes, Master."

Toshio starts sucking his own cock.

"Good slave. Good slave."

"Thank you, Master.

"Let's stop for today, I'm sure i will enjoy with you later. Now your cock will keep hard but can't release, unless i'm allow you to.

"Yes, Master."

"Good slave. Good slave."

"I'm glad you have a good slave. I will take care of your body"

"You will. Now I will leave you here"

"As you wish."

New Toshio put a gagged back and check the boy's leather strap suit that was seal as normal. Then he look at Toshio's guard uniform. He pick Toshio's brief and smell it. He loves the smell. Think he got Toshio's fetish too. New Toshio took off Toshio's brief and put it on. He could feel his hard cock in the tight brief. New Toshio took Toshio's shirt and put it on. Then he put Toshio's pants on. Then New Toshio put on Toshio's shoes. He could feel the leather rubbing against his body.

New Toshio stood up and looked down at his new body. He was wearing Toshio's guard uniform. His new body was covered in tight uniform.

"Damn, I look hot in this uniform." New Toshio said.

New Toshio smiled and then walked out of the room.

New Toshio walked down the hallway. He was excited. He had a big day ahead of him. He was going to explore his new body and see what he could do with it. He had never been so excited before. He couldn't wait to start his new life.

Toshio, the old one, now was a no name boy, was laid on the bed watching his new master walk out. Toshio can only think he need to be a good slave and obey his new master.

"Yes, yes. I will be a good slave and obey."

#identity theft #stolen identity #gay #steal clothes #clothes stolen #steal uniform #uniform stolen #uniform #male body swap #body swap #body switch #male bodyswap #male body switch

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shellbells-things · 7 months

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What. A. DAY. (Or couple of days…) First, everyone was in an uproar about Jungkook’s song. I won’t lie, my eyebrows went up to my hairline when I heard the rap lyrics. They just seemed so…aggressive. And very un-Jungkook like. Fortunately, there is a version without those lyrics! The song is catchy and will most certainly go viral.

But just when we were catching our breath from the song drama, we were suddenly bombarded with videos that supposedly showed Jungkook in his apartment, aggressively back hugging and chasing a pregnant woman. Also, we got a bunch of accusations about him supposedly harassing woman at work, acting inappropriately at a Karaoke bar, and sexually harassing waitresses. I mean talk about piling on!!! Someone is working EXTRA hard to try and basically ruin Jungkook, and oh-so conveniently on the day of his new song release. Hmmmm….does this remind you of anything? Didn’t some assholes break into Jimin’s apartment, steal his mail and hide it so that he got behind on his insurance payments and then waited until his new OST was released to post a story in the press? All designed to distract from his new song and bring the fandom down on his head. Sounds like the same playbook to me.

Regarding the alleged Jungkook video. I see a lot of people saying the video could be Jungkook, and that they will accept it if it is. I see people blindly accepting this crap. And I’m just…floored by that. Everyone is so afraid of looking like the cult that they refuse to question and investigate? That they immediately forget 10 years of Jikook behavior that makes it clear that they are something special to each other? Excuse me?

People. There is NOTHING wrong with scoffing at this. The blurriness of the video is purposeful. Designed to give the impression of Jungkook without actually showing details that could prove it’s him (unlike the Taennie videos from Paris, which were crystal clear). I mean, we’ve got satellites in space that can zoom in on a pimple on your nose and clearly show it. You’re telling me an iPhone camera or a telephoto lense couldn’t do a better job than this mess? There are a lot of inconsistencies in these videos that I won’t get into, but you get my point.

Please don’t be afraid to question. Truth seeking is a good thing!! Go ahead and draw pictures to help you better understand the apartment layout. Take screen grabs and circle things that don’t match. Talk it out with your friends! And no. This doesn’t make you like the cult, it just makes you someone who supports Jungkook and wants to make sure that you are giving him every benefit of the doubt. Once you’ve done your due diligence, then you can make your mind up based on 1) what you already know about Jungkook and 2) what the facts and circumstances you’ve reviewed show. And let’s be real about this. The person who took the video didn’t just luck into being there at the exact right moment. Either they were straight up stalking the people they were filming or more likely, the scene was set for the purpose of filming this “gotcha”moment.

The bottom line is this. Regardless of whether you believe the video is legit or a lie, someone is trying really hard to hurt Jungkook. And none of us should be ok with that.

I know what I DO believe in, and it’s this:

#jimin and jungkook #jikook #minkook #kookmin #asking question is a good thing #don’t be afraid #trust your gut

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mandoalorian · 1 year

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Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 10: The Daimyo ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2400

Warnings: angst (sorry!)

AN: really did not like Season 3 of The Mandalorian so consider this fic my attempt at retconning.

Series Masterlist

Tatooine was white hot, strikingly hot, and from the second the Razor Crest emerged through the atmosphere, you felt beads of sweat begin to lace your hairline. The temperature was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. As Din flew over the plains of smooth sands, you held Grogu in your lap, your arms wrapped tight around his little body as Din prepared for landing. The little green bean had just woken up from a nap and was cooing happily, his big dark eyes gazing out at the vast landscape beneath him. He was enamoured by it all, captured by the beauty surrounding him.

“Grogu and I have spent a lot of time on Tatooine,” Din informed you plainly, bringing his gloved fingers down to the ship's control panel. You watched him as he tapped away at a few brightly coloured and flashing buttons. You admired how he could fly, and you hoped it would be something he could teach you once this war was over, if he still wanted to be with you by that point. “We’re preparing to land now. The Dune Sea isn’t too far off.”

“I’ve never been to Tatooine before,” you admitted sheepishly. You were feeling a little tired, and you wished you’d had the chance to nap alongside Grogu earlier in the day. Nonetheless, it meant you’d at least sleep well tonight.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Din muttered before pausing and adjusting the propulsions. The Razor Crest made its usual loud screeching noise as it neared the ground. “Tatooine is no place for a princess.” The word tasted like venom on his tongue, like he held some kind of resentment. He’d been distant from you the entire journey, but now as the siege neared, his mood had shifted entirely. This was indicated by his tone of voice and body language.

You hesitated before replying to your husband. Yes, you were a ‘princess’, but more than that you were a Mandalorian. Hadn’t you proved yourself to Din yet? You chose to ignore the way he’d reduced you to that stereotype and tried not to overthink it too much. No matter how hard you tried to escape from your past, he was still right. You were a princess.

You furrowed your brows together and shook your head as if to shake away those intruding feelings. If not for the temperature, you found it difficult to believe that Tatooine was populated. “People… live here?”

Din pulled on a lever and the ship started to lower.

“There are a few nearby towns. Mos Eisley, Mos Espa, Mos Pelgo… but it’s mostly just slaves and scoundrels amongst these sands. It’s a dangerous place,” The ship landed with a gentle waver and Din stood up. Before you, was a palace of some kind. It was grand and mighty, but completely different to the palace you were brought up in. “I’d like you to wait with Grogu on the ship while I speak with Fett and Shand.”

You swallowed the nervous knot in your throat and nodded in agreement. “Okay.”

You weren’t happy about letting Din go on without you, but you knew you had to trust him. After all, he trusted you.

Why did he trust you?

You were married—and yet you barely knew him—and he barely knew you. When it had only been a few weeks, could you really say that you were in love with him? You had never felt this feeling before, but even still, you did find yourself wondering. Was it all down to mere circumstances that were clouding your judgement? The past few weeks had felt like a myth… a fairy tale, but it wasn’t exactly down to fate. Your rescue was planned meticulously by the Armorer.

This is the way.

This is the way your song is written. Saved by a nobody bounty hunter and forced into an arranged marriage before you prepared for the siege to reclaim your home planet.

This is the way.

Your stomach was twisted into knots as your mind wandered, trying to fathom and make sense of everything that had happened so far. You fiddled with the ring on your finger, the ring the Armorer had forged for both you and Din, made out of steel beskar alloy. The ring that symbolised your commitment to one another.

“Din?” you wanted to ask him if he believed you were crazy—if he was having second thoughts—were you having second thoughts? The Mandalorian bared you little acknowledgement.

“Stay safe.” Your eyes followed your husband as he grabbed his blaster from the armory. He placed a hand atop Grogu’s head before bidding his child farewell, and within seconds, he was gone.

Grogu’s curious cooing interrupted your thoughts and brought you back down to reality. “You okay, little one?” you asked the child. “I think we best go find you something to eat.”

Din hadn’t visited his old friend Boba Fett in quite some time, and he’d hoped that this whole ordeal wouldn’t be too much trouble for the new Diamyo of Mos Espa. He did owe Din a favour, and though Din wasn’t exactly pleased he had to ask Fett for help, he knew he didn’t have much of a choice. When Din left the ship, he didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t offer you a kiss or even the smallest ounce of acknowledgement; he just left. You sat there in the co-pilot seat, baby in hand, wondering if you had done something wrong. Something to upset him.

But Din was overthinking too. This wasn’t him. He had never been the type of man to settle down and bear commitment. Now he had a child and a wife, and he was on his way to make Mandalorian history. He was currently sharing a bed with one of the most influential Mandalorians who ever lived. You were royalty… and he was nothing.

An independent contractor – outlaw – scoundrel… there were many words for it, and neither was nicer than the other. Din believed that you deserved better than the life he could give, and as he looked back towards the Razor Crest in the distance of the Dune Sea, he decided that once he’d helped you repossess the throne, he’d be gone. He’d take the child and leave you to lead Mandalore alone. You were strong, brave, fierce… you didn’t need him.

And if you really did like Din, he was certain that you’d get over him. He pictured you falling in love with someone else, perhaps remarrying someone regal and more important than he could ever be. It made Din want to throw up, the burning heat from the twin suns not helping with his sudden onset nausea.

Din had enjoyed every second he had spent with you, and during the times when he wasn’t with you, he had found himself wishing to get back to you. There was just something about you… energy, a force that made you so compelling. You were so easy to love. Din knew it wouldn’t be easy to leave, but it would be a sacrifice for the greater good.

He’d only hold you back.

Din swallowed his feelings for the time being and tapped on the bulkhead to Fett’s Palace that once belonged to the infamous Jabba The Hutt. A gatekeeper droid popped out of a hidden compartment above Din’s head.

“State your name and business.” The metallic voice barked.

“Din Djarin… I am a friend of Daimyo Fett. I wish to speak with him.”

The gatekeeper droid disappeared back into the bulkhead without saying a further word and left Din standing outside for a few minutes. Just as Din was about to turn his heel and head back to the ship, the bulkhead began to open with a loud screech.

Boba Fett, dressed in a dashing green Mandalorian-inspired armour, emerged from the darkness, alongside the notorious assassin Fennec Shand.

“Daimyo Fett,” greeted with respect, Din bowed in front of the new leader.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Mando?” Boba asked, before taking off his helmet as a symbol of recognition and offering his friend a beaming smile. Din couldn’t help but smile himself. It had been too long, and he was glad to reunite with his old friend.

“I come here with a request,” Din proposed.

“Always been quick to cut to the chase,” Fennec commented, but from the smile on her lips, Din knew she was already on board.

“I’ve… found myself in a situation. On board my ship I have the Princess of Mandalore… and we’re on a mission. I’m aiding her in reclaiming the Mandalorian throne from Moff Gideon and his Imperial army.”

“Moff Gideon is alive?” Fennec’s lips parted in shock as she digested the news. She, like most others in the outer-rim, had heard rumours of his arrest and even death. But none of it was true.

“I’m afraid so, and more powerful than ever. He has the darksaber… an ancient Mandalorian weapon. We need to take him down.”

“Let me get this straight, you’re asking us to leave our safe haven here to go to war…?”

Puzzled, Din hesitated. That wasn’t the response he’d anticipated. He was so sure Boba would welcome his proposition with open arms. “Well…” Din started. He was doing this for his wife, really. The love of his life. But how was he to explain that to someone like Boba Fett?

Thankfully, he didn’t have to.

Boba placed a hand on Din’s shoulder pauldron. “You have my word, Mando. All of this… this palace… I couldn’t have done this without you. Fennec and I will help you in any way that you require.”

“I appreciate it.” Din took hold of Boba’s hand and shook it firmly, signifying a culmination of their agreement.

“So, when do we leave?” Fennec asked, already bubbling with anticipation. She loved a good fight, especially if it meant taking down Imperials.

“The princess and I leave in the morning, but Bo-Katan and The Nite Owls are en-route to Mandalore now to set up reinforcements.”

“So, what’s the princess like?” Boba nudged teasingly. “She a handful?”

You could be, at times. You were certainly high-maintenance but that was okay because Din liked maintaining you.

Din exhaled. “She’s… not bad.”

You and Grogu had been playing catch with a small rubber ball that you’d purchased from a market stall back on Nevarro. It was fun, and something to keep you and the child preoccupied while you waited for Din to return. You almost anticipated scavengers boarding the ship while you waited for your husband; an effect of his scare-mongering about the bad people amongst the sands of Tatooine. But nobody showed up. In a strange sense, you almost craved a confrontation. You weren’t afraid to get blood on your hands and you wanted to prove to Din just how strong you were. You were a fighter, and while you were thankful for his protection… you didn’t need it.

Din returned to the Crest about an hour later. He’d joined his friends for a feast while explaining to them what the plan was. Of course, he’d returned with a leg of Bantha meat for you and the child to share.

“Are they willing to help us?” you asked, your eyes wide and desperate as you awaited his response.

“They are,” Din confirmed, and his heart warmed when he watched you breathe a sigh of relief, your lips twisting into a grateful smile. “Although, Boba hasn’t had the most pleasant of encounters with Bo-Katan and her Nite Owls. That is… something to be mindful of. He will be leaving in the morning; not much earlier than us. He and Shand should will get to Mandalore before we do.”

You were so pleased and overcome with emotion. You didn’t know how Din was able to pull this off, or how he had so many allies around the galaxy who seemingly owed him favours. Your first interpretation of him was that he was cold and cruel and distant. You never expected someone like him to have friends, and yet you had been so wrong. Din was the kindest person you’d ever met. He may have disguised himself to have a heart of beskar steel, but truly, it was nothing less than pristine gold.

“Oh Din,” you ran into his arms and wrapped yourself around him. “I love you so much.”

Din didn’t move. He didn’t speak, and he stood so still that for a second, you weren’t even sure if he was breathing. You waited for him to reply, to acknowledge you and say those words back.

But he didn’t.

“You best get some sleep before we leave tomorrow.”

You blinked, and after a prolonged moment of silence, you drew yourself away from him. You couldn’t help but look up at him with wide, bewildered eyes, but decided to shake off the feeling rather than confront it. Now wasn’t the time to fight over something as menial as not saying a couple of words. It didn’t matter. Din loved you. You knew that.

He’d sworn an oath when he married you.

“O—okay.” You let your arms fall down to your sides and walked on over to Din’s quarters.

Grogu cooed in confusion as he watched you silently saunter off.

Din sighed and picked up his son before carrying him to the cockpit and sinking down into the pilot seat. He really did love you, but he knew that sharing any more sentiments would just make the ‘giving you up’ part more painful. And he’d already made his mind up.

You waited for Din to come to bed with you, but he never did. You tossed and turned and spent hours trying to fight sleep, just wanting to feel his warm body next to yours… his arms around you.

But he never came.

_________________________________________

Borrowed Time taglist in the replies!

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell@xoxo-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic@nerdypinupcrystal @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal l @castiel-barnes@honeymandos @rocketqueen @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth@moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet@pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog@artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon@cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33@sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor @pedro-pastel @steeevienicks@rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia @beskarprincessjenny @readsalot73@softmedics @jade10077 @dodgerandevans @planetariumx @pascals-cat @ajeff855 @spideysimpossiblegirl @smoldjarin @januarycolor @anapnovo-blog @pardebellesnuits@mi0o@supervengerslock@alitaarr@bigpepperpickerr@pedrostoriess@pedroprinces

#din djarin #din grogu #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x reader #series

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zoeyslament · 2 months

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Stubbornly Sick - Nischa

I KNOW I SAID I WASN’T GONNA DO NISCHA ANYMORE BUT I CANT GET THEM OUT OF MY HEAD SORRY

A oneshot in which Mischa is sick and refuses to admit it. Noel takes matters into his own hands.

Mischa rolled over on his thin-as-paper mattress, feeling his sweat seep into his pillowcase. He groaned, staring at the cement wall beside his lousy excuse for a bed. His whole body felt hot, and not in the way that meant people swoon over you. Beads of sweat rolled down from his hairline, his skin blotchy and red. His stomach growled, but he didn’t even want to get up and eat.

He fished his phone out from the comforter beside him, flipping it over to check the time: 9:30. He’d slept in later than ever, as if his body knew it needed rest. However, it was Sunday, meaning the choir was getting together for their weekly outing.

Ever since the 6 of them had miraculously survived a roller coaster accident together, Ocean had been taking initiative to get the group together. Some weeks it was shopping and walking around downtown at whatever little shops remained, some weeks it was the mall, but today they’d planned a little hiking expedition.

Mischa was almost never the biggest fan of these get togethers. First of all, it meant being stuck in the same vicinity as Ocean O’Connell Rosenberg for at least three hours. Secondly, it meant listening to Ocean for at least three hours. And lastly and probably worst, it meant not complaining about the little ginger scumbag for the entire time, or all hell would break loose.

The real reason Mischa went at all was to spend time with his boyfriend, Noel. The two of them had grown close as they recovered from their accident, and Noel had been there for every step of Mischa’s growing musical career. Most of the time, Noel’s work schedule made it difficult for the boys to spend time together. Taco Bell execs didn’t really take “need time to make out with my boyfriend” as a valid excuse for missing shifts. However, “mandated outdoor socialization” was acceptable, apparently, so choir outings were fair game.

Mischa ran his hands through his greasy, matted hair, yawning. His eyelids felt like they were made of steel, weighing him down and just wanting to close, keel over, and sleep. Even the way he carried himself, usually with his chest puffed out like a lion on the hunt, was different; slouched over and painful to even move.

His phone vibrated in the back pocket of his sweatpants, evidence of a text message coming through.

Noel: babe where r u! u said u would pick me up @ 9:15

He winced. Shit…

Noel set his phone down on his desk, turning back to the mirror to look at his makeup: on point as usual. Slumping back in his chair, he wondered where Mischa was.

It’s not super unlike him to sleep through his alarm…he can sleep through my snoring after all. Maybe he stayed up late? Which is weird, because usually when he stays up late it’s because he and I are texting or something…Is he ignoring me? Shit, am I gonna have to ask Ocean for a ride? Damn it…

He picked up the phone again and dialed Mischa’s number, and to Noel’s delight and relief, Mischa picked up.

“Hey babe…You alright?”

Mischa, at that moment, let out just about the loudest cough Noel had ever heard, hacking into the phone.

“Sorry, I slept through my-” he paused to yawn, “-alarm. I will be there in ten minutes, Poet.”

Noel’s heart absolutely melted at the sound of his partner’s voice. He sounded hoarse and just all around awful.

“Sweetheart, no offense, but you sound like shit. Are you feeling okay?”

“Fine. Just fine, honey. You wait and I’ll- ACHOO”

The sneeze just about made Noel have a heart attack with the sheer volume of it. He wasn’t so sure he loved the idea of Mischa even leaving the house in this condition, but he also knew how much of a stubborn asshole his boyfriend could be. Talking Mischa into staying home was not going to be easy in the slightest.

“Mischa…are you sure it’s the best idea for you to come get me? I can ask Ocean for a ride if you’re sick, you need rest…” Initially, he was going to scold Mischa, but his ‘loving boyfriend’ mode took over in a heartbeat. “I don’t even have to go today! Just get back to bed, drink lots of-”

“No, no.” Mischa waved him off. “I am going to go get dressed, and then I will come get my special boy, okay? I love you, Noel.”

“I love you too, which is why I want you to-”

He hung up. He fucking hung up.

This was gonna be a long day.

Mischa had taken driver’s education. He knew that driving while sick could lead to accidents, because being sick made you drowsy, right? But Mischa wasn’t sick, he couldn’t be. Mischa didn’t get sick, at least that’s what he’d gaslit himself into believing. He got into the driver’s seat, rearing on the gas and speeding out of the driveway, almost slamming into his foster parents’ mailbox on his way out.

Noel’s house wasn’t too far away from his, nowhere in Uranium City was very far away from any other place, to be honest. That was just how small towns worked. He turned onto Noel’s street and pulled up in front of the house. He parked, slightly crooked in the driveway, and trudged to the front step.

“Noel!” He croaked out, his voice cracking. He rang the doorbell.

The shorter male opened the door and looked Mischa up and down with a satisfied smirk on his face. “As expected, you look like someone pushed you out of a car window and then ran you over with a pickup truck. Bed, now.”

“What? No! We have the hike-”

“I already texted Ocean and let her know that you’re sick and thus will not be attending. Now please go lay down, you know where my room is.”

“But…that just means I am going to get you sick! “So what? You’re the love of my life, I think I can handle your cooties.”

For once, it was Noel being the stubborn one. It was clear he wasn’t going to hear another word about it. Mischa allowed himself to be escorted (read: dragged by the collar of his shirt) upstairs to Noel’s bedroom.

“Get your ass under the covers.” Noel demanded playfully. “Mom’s working another late shift, but I don’t have to work again until Monday afternoon. We could spend all day and night right here if it would make you feel better.”

Mischa yawned and plopped down on Noel’s bed, having made the decision to be cooperative for once. “And do what? Talk about how shitty I feel? Because I feel like…big…bleh.”

“I know you do, darling.” Noel kissed his boyfriend’s forehead, giggling. “If you would lay down like I told you to and rest up, you might feel a little bit less bleh. Have you eaten today?”

“No.” He admitted. “I was not hungry.”

Noel sighed. “I’ll go get you some toast or something. You really gotta start taking care of yourself when you’re sick.”

“I am not sick.” Mischa protested. “Just a little tired.”

“Either way, you need rest.” Noel pressed his boyfriend down, hand splayed out over his chest. “Lay down, Mischa. Spare me my sanity.”

Mischa rolled his eyes. “I do not need to lay down, poet. Sleep is for the weak.”

“No, dumbfuck, sleep is for the idiot boyfriend who won’t admit that he feels like he was hit point blank with a sack of bricks!”

Mischa pondered Noel’s innate ability to know exactly how he felt, because the sack of bricks thing was fairly accurate. He felt like he was going to topple over onto the floor, but would his cocky ass admit that? When pigs fly.

“Sleep is for the weak.” He repeated instead, sitting back up. If he was going to get in bed he was not going to lay down and he was also going to make it everyone’s problem.

“Whatever you say, dickwad,” Noel sighed. He was ever so creative with the pet names. “Sit still and don’t, I don’t know, set the house on fire. What do you want to eat?”

“I told you I am not hun—” he started, but he knew there was no winning this argument. “I guess…toast?”

Noel went downstairs and fished a loaf of bread and the toaster out, tossed a slice in, and promised himself he would not scream when the toast popped up.

He broke the promise.

Anyway, he took out the golden brown bread and slathered it in butter, taking it back upstairs to Mischa.

In the time it took Noel to make a piece of toast, Mischa had flopped over and fallen asleep. Noel made a soft tsk tsk sound, setting the plate of toast on the nightstand. He gently climbed into the bed, pulling the covers over both Mischa and himself. Rolling onto his side, he came face to face with a peacefully dozing Mischa and a pool of drool already staining the pillow (not that Noel really minded). He brushed Mischa’s chestnut curls out of his eyes, giggling softly.

“Yeah, rest easy, tough guy.” He whispered. “My fucking idiot.” He snuck a quick kiss onto Mischa’s forehead. “I love you.

#rtc #ride the cyclone #newsies #nischa #mischa bachinski #noel gruber #noel x mischa #my writing #oneshots #my oneshots #sickfic #rtc fanfic #rtc fanfiction

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thegorydamnreaper · 7 months

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Symbolism in Red Rising: Hair (Darrow)

So this started as a conversation about why Darrow should be drawn with long hair, but then I started having Thoughts anddddd here we are. Spoilers for the whole series up until the end of Light Bringer, so you’ve been warned!

(Also putting it under the cut, because this accidentally turned into an essay.)

In the mines:

He has long-ish hair, enough that it’s held back by the sweatband but not enough to tie up. He could keep it short and avoid the hassle, so why let it grow out? Because hair is deeply important to Reds culturally! Reds use hair for their wedding bands, because they place value in it. That value can be taken from a few things - it’s theirs, and not something that can be taken away, it shows their Color, it’s a part of themselves that they can share with another, growing hair/having healthy hair is a sign of being fit. All of this means an early cultural emphasis on hair for Darrow.

It’s also interesting to note that Darrow is pulled away from Eo by his hair right before she sings.

From Red to Gold:

One of the final steps in his Carving is Mickey transplanting his hair, and interestingly enough that seems to be the final mail in the coffin for Darrow on his transformation into a Gold:

“Mickey takes my hair next. Everything is changed.” (Red Rising, Ch 12)

So not only is hair deeply rooted in cultural importance, but it’s also a visual symbol that ties people to their family as seen here:

“You have made me give up the hair Father gave me, the eyes Mother left me, the Color I was born to, so I will keep the name they granted me, and you can make it work.” (Red Rising, Ch 13)

The caste system in RR means that these visual markers are critical to self identity, something that Darrow really struggles with for a long time.

As a Gold:

His first haircut comes after his final transformation into a Gold, and is done by Evey. This is the “fresh start” moment, the point where his Gold status is at its lowest and he has the most to prove - but he also has a clean slate. He’s physically and mentally more capable than ever, but hasn’t been put to the test. Where other Golds have entire histories to live up to, at face value Darrow has nothing to lose.

In the Institute:

Hair styles are taken very seriously at this point, and in a way they end up being signatures of who these characters are, even as the plot takes them on far-flung journeys. It’s interesting that at this point Darrow let’s his hair grow out, and keeps it long whenever possible. But unlike the others he doesn’t adorn it in any way, but just by having it long he’s making a statement about his strength. His hair is long because no one has cut it (taken it as a trophy), and he’s a good enough leader/fighter that he can afford to wear his hair in such a way that an enemy could grant it. The Howlers also begin taking scalps at this point - beyond just a painful and humiliating tactic, it’s also akin to taking the “crowns” of their defeated foes. Golden hair/golden crown - and Darrow has his through the institute. It’s also interesting to note that his duel with Cassius is one of the few times hair isn’t involved in his defeat, and I think that’s because on some level Darrow believes that it was an earned punishment, so I wouldn’t categorize it as a true defeat.

The Academy:

His hair is still long, pulled back simply once again. To some degree this is to emulate Nero and the Peerless trends, but it also shows that he’s still winning. Until of course we get to the garden and the Bellonas shame him and Cagney chops his hair off - symbolic of cutting him down from his seat of power.

“She smiles in my face and looks at my hairline, lips parted with excitement of dominating another person.” (Darrow about Cagney, right before she cuts his hair, Golden Son Ch 3)

This all has a lot of parallels to the Samson & Delilah story (hair cut/power lost in a moment of weakness, is able to regain power when he’s back on his true path), which we see play out as we get to…

The Gala:

We’re back at long-ish hair (~2 months after the Cagney incident), like in the mines. Back at square one with Darrow once again at almost-rock bottom. But it’s at this point where he reveals his razor training, has a rematch with Cassius, takes the Morning Star, and overall just has a great time becoming a living legend. Until, well, he’s stabbed in the back by one of his closest friends.

Rescue (Morning Star):

Once again Darrow is being forced into a haircut, though in his choice of words it’s a “scalping.” Once again, hair being taken as a trophy to humiliate someone.

“Dirty blond hair puddles onto the concrete as the Gray finishes scalping me with an electric razor. ” (Morning Star, Ch.3)

Also interesting to note, this is the first time we get the very controversial ~beard~. My take on the beard is that it’s symbolically not good, and signals a lack of control/autonomy over Darrow’s world down to even his own appearance. He’s at a loss with how to proceed, and is very nearly broken by his time with the Jackal. So I’m sorry, but if Darrow is sporting a beard, he’s not in a great place.

Stick with me, because after the time skip more Things are happening.

Iron Gold:

Chapter one hits us with this:

“These Gold eyes and hair feel more my own than those of that boy who lived in the mines of Lykos. That boy grew, loved, and dug the earth, but he lost so much it often feels like it happened to another soul.”

Even ten years later there’s a part of him questioning his own identity, and his outward appearance is a huge part of that. Is he a Gold, destined for cold brutality, or is he still a Red at heart? Personally I believe that defining himself by either is limiting, but it’s sweet to see his inner struggle to avoid becoming like the monsters he’s fighting.

Then there’s this scene with Virginia:

“She reaches up, dragging her slender fingers through my hair.” (Iron Gold, Ch. 3)

It’s the only time on-page his hair is touched with a loving gesture, not with any force or blunt practicality.

Later on in IG we get this near miss:

“He grabs my hair with an armored hand and saws on the front of my forehead to claim my scalp.” (An Obsidian attacking Darrow, Ch 54)

Literally immediately after this he’s saved by Apollonius. Near miss in battle, near miss in losing his hair again.

Dark Age:

The main theme of this book is a slow defeat, and once again Darrow’s hair parallels this. With the constant radiation his army has all lost their hair by chapter 32, and continues to feel the effects as the book progresses. This book is one of the few times in the series where Darrow actually suffers a huge loss - Alex, his legion, his ship, his best friend, his wife, his son - are all taken from him by the end.

Light Bringer:

The first physical descriptions of the characters we get is this:

“Nearly all of us are bald and those who can wear beards in remembrance of Ragnar.” (LB Ch 2)

This sets the tone of the book in a lot of ways. There’s a remembrance and acknowledgement of the past. There’s also a sense that they’ve just been through hell, but hey at least they’re alive. And it’s a sign that they’re healing and recovering from the horrors of Mercury, which is a slow and at times ugly process.

We get this take from the scene with Apollonius:

“Hardly meriting a glance for Cassius, his eyes search me, relish me, devour every last centimeter of me, noting my diminished size, my grizzled beard, my pale skin, and shortened breath.” (LB Ch 8)

And these quotes from Virginia:

“He’s encountered radiation, and his hair has only started growing back. He has a beard, a terrible, hairy beard. But the change I sense runs deeper than the physical. His restless anxiety is not gone, but it is muffled by a solemn maturity. Nothing grants wisdom like loss.” (LB Ch 34)

“But I look at Darrow and I don’t see a savior. I see an exhausted, bearded survivor stumbling home without the ships or the men to turn the tide. ” (LB, Ch 34)

I think that she says enough about what the beard outwardly signifies. Not one to mince words here our Sovereign.

Further into the book while Darrow is putting himself back together there’s this:

“My mass is returning like the hair on my head. I’ve kept the beard. For some reason it helps me to feel like I’m on a mission.” (LB Ch 37)

He’s on a mission for an army/ships etc, but he’s also on a mission to heal himself. The beard is a part of that.

Matteo’s comments on it:

“Darrow of Lykos. You have a beard!” (LB Ch 37

“Matteo surveys my injured limbs, my sun-seared-turned-sun-starved skin, my fresh scars. Instead of looking away, as most do, to preserve his image of the invulnerable Reaper, he admires my imperfections, catalogues the wounds to understand my narrative, and then loves me all the more for them. Though I can tell he doesn’t like the beard.” (LB Ch 38)

It’s worth noting that Matteo is accepting of everything else, but specifically disapproves of the beard - which means it’s not just vanity. This is a man who’s known Darrow since he was Carved, and has spent his whole life dedicated to interpreting mannerisms and outward appearances, and had spent a lot of time with Darrow specifically. He knows that the beard is not a good sign.

Lyria (who is very observant throughout the books) chimes in here:

“Unlike Sevro, he still has his beard. He seems a different creature than the commander I saw in the war room. Tired, smaller somehow. His left hand has a tremor. His neck’s stooped, body contracted.” (LB Ch 63)

Sevro has processed what he needs to, Darrow still has work to do.

Which brings me here, to what I think is the best way to conclude this analysis:

“I catch myself in one of the room’s mirrors. I look like his ghost. But I’m not. In his bathroom I search for a razor. Then I laugh, because I remember one of the old stories about him. When he was a lancer, his Praetor told him to go shave because Peerless are beardless, boy. Lorn pulled out his razor and did it right there. I shave my beard with Bad Lass in his bathroom mirror. In this way I say goodbye to him and Ragnar both. I do a sloppy job and cut myself a few times.

“Wait. Who are you and what did you do with the ancient mariner?” Cassius says when I exit without a beard.”

Darrow has beaten Fá and exposed Atlas’s plot. He’s basically secured the Obsidians back to his cause. He’s made peace with himself and Athena about the Sons of Ares he turned in. He’s got the beginning of an alliance with the Rim. He’s made peace with Lorn’s ghost about Alex, and peace with himself about it too. Pax is safe, Cassius and Sevro are back at his side. He’s finally himself again.

There’s maybe a few quotes that I missed or chose not to include, but I think this timeline is a pretty extensive timeline of Darrow’s symbolic hair journey. If anyone has further analysis or thoughts, please add!!

#red rising #light bringer #darrow of lykos #howlers #pierce brown #iron gold #darrow au andromedus #sons of ares #mypost

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sillyrabbit81 · 2 years

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The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part One Summary: After her parents death, Lori is back at the club she grew up in and finds herself being sent away with an attractive but completely unknown biker.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 3.3k

Warnings:

Series Warnings:

Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part One Warnings:

Mention of death, drug use, violence, body fluids, slight angst, blink and you'll miss it implication of smut.

Authors Note: I've been working on this story for about nine months, maybe more? I keep thinking I'm going to forget about it, but it keeps worming its way back into my brain and the only way to purge it is to write it and post it, so I woke up this morning and decided fuck it, post it.

I have a heap of people to thank for discussing the story with me and for beta reading. Because it's been such a long process, if I have forgotten you, I sincerely apologise. So thanks a million to @amberangel112 @henryobsessed @littlefreya @nashibirne

I hope you enjoy it!

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Two

Lori

When I noticed the gathering started winding down and some of the out of state clubs began to leave, I was able to breathe a little easier for the first time in two weeks.

Although I thought it unlikely that the uneasy truce of a wake would be disturbed by anything more than a punch up, I still worried about it and the subsequent attention of the media and the cops. I had hopes that my face wouldn't be plastered all over the news, but it seemed a little unlikely given the scrutiny that the funeral had been under. I was under no illusions that my brother would escape unscathed.

Thinking of my brother made me glance at Nate.

I sighed; It was a good thing the media weren’t here now, and the cops were too chicken shit to try and breach the walls of the compound.

With a rolled-up $50 note up his nose and two women hanging off him, Nate was the epitome of the biker stereotype. His dirty blonde hair hung to his shoulders, his face was hardened and scarred, making him seem older than his thirty years, as did the tattooed cursive on his forehead just beneath his hairline.

Nate took his hit, throwing his head back and wiping at his nose. He grinned as he sniffed and handed the note to one of the girls. I could hear his snort across the room and above the thrumming beat of the dance music; his nostrils must be fucked.

From what I knew, he’d been like this for days, and although normally he tried to hide the extent of his drug habit from me, the fact he was openly high and allowing one of the girls to rub his crotch showed how far gone he was.

I’d like to think his behaviour was a one off, that it was his way of dealing with Mum and Dad's death. But I doubted it.

So much had changed since I last spent any time at the clubhouse to the point where it was almost unrecognisable. The common room used to be homey despite being in an industrial building; carpeted with soft sofas, plush rugs and sturdy wooden coffee tables. Now it was like a nightclub, complete with stripper poles, black and red leather sofas, smoky glass topped tables, and neon lights.

I hated it.

Crossing my legs, I started to get angry. I used to love coming here when Dad was President, seeing all my uncles and their families. Even memories of the sweets and sodas the guys used to sneak me behind my mother’s back wasn’t enough to calm my mood. Thoughts of the last few times I was here were too vivid. Seeing what my father and brother had become and the way my uncles had stopped seeing me as a little girl made me stop coming here about five years ago. It was also about the time Mum had finally decided to divorce Dad.

I’d had enough, seen enough. Nate didn’t even appear to be on planet earth anymore; he won’t notice if I slip out. I’ll just go home, have a long bath, maybe call Jake and invite him over.

As stealthily as I could, I got my bag and nearly made it to the small cut out of the closed roller door when a Prospect laid a hand roughly on my wrist. His fingers dug into my skin painfully and he pulled my arm with a short jerk, bringing me closer, until my body bumped into his.

“Hooks wants a word,” he said, all smug and grinning as if this idiot knew what Nate would want with me.

I didn’t know him, but I knew a million like him, and he thinks he knows me. He thinks I’m just another girl, one of the desperate groupies who hang around hoping to tame a wild biker or use them for drugs or clout. He obviously didn’t know Nate was my brother, or he’d never lay a hand on me.

Looking down at my wrist, I smirked before raising my eyes, letting as much of my anger seep through as I dared. I may have been out of the life for years, but I still knew how to play the game.

“I suggest you remove your hand, Prospect before…”

I didn’t get to finish my warning as a fist smashed into the boy’s face. His nose made a sickening crunch followed by a crimson spray of blood which splattered on the floor barely missing my heels.

The fist belonged to Hustle who was grinning like a Cheshire cat at the chance to expel some pent up aggression. He was Nate’s Sergeant at Arms, his enforcer, and my father’s before that. He loved a bit of a fight, but he wasn’t crazy, his violence was usually held on a tight leash.

“Fuck off, pup,” he growled. His eyes danced, obviously not 100% sober, but it was alcohol rather than drugs that Hustle preferred.

The Prospect held his nose and his tongue, but the fiery hatred that burned in his eyes couldn’t be hidden.

“Hooks wants her,” he managed to say, spitting blood onto the concrete floor.

“I’ll take her to her brother,” Hustle said, amused at the way the Prospect's face went white and his eyes widened. Hustle chuckled as the Prospect mumbled apologies to me and scampered away.

“Think he’ll make it?” I asked Hustle when he turned back to me.

Hustle shrugged, it wasn’t really his decision to make but being a senior member of the club, his opinion had weight.

“Takes a punch like a champ, that’s a good sign.” Then he smiled at me, “You alright, Babycakes?”

I mirrored his smile, I couldn’t help it; until two weeks ago no one had called me Babycakes in years. I had almost forgotten the nickname until I was suddenly and violently thrust back into this world.

The name had been bestowed on me when I was a kid. I had complained bitterly that everyone else I knew had a cool nickname and I wanted one too. I can’t remember who first called me that, it was probably Hustle himself. He was one of the few guys in the club I still trusted, he never made a pass at me as I grew into a woman, and that had meant a lot to me at the time. It still did.

“Yeah, I’m good. What does Nate want?”

“Dunno,” Hustle lied smoothly.

I rolled my eyes at him, and he shrugged again. He’d defend me against anyone, but his loyalty was to the club before anything and anyone else, including me.

“C’mon,” he said, putting a soft hand on my upper back and guiding me gently but firmly to my father’s old office.

The room was one thing that Nate hadn’t changed in the years since he’d slowly taken over Dad’s empire. The office was still clad in rich wood panelling, painted blood red, with black accents. Various memorabilia filled the room including a large fresco of the club’s Colours which drew the eye to the wall behind my father’s dark timbre desk. I remember when Dad commissioned it, he had been so proud to show it off.

Nate was standing near the desk, talking to another biker I’d never met before. I didn’t remember seeing him at the funeral, but there were a lot of out of towners there.

He was good looking enough, with close cropped hair, a scruffy dark brown beard and bright blue eyes that seemed intelligent but still had that familiar aura of danger that I used to think all men possessed. Physically broad and well built, he didn’t strike me as a guy who indulged in vices the way Nate and most of his club did. He seemed fit, if a little soft around the edges; he had the body of a strong man rather than a bodybuilder. His thick arms were visible below the sleeves of his black t-shirt, revealing black and grey tattoos of engines, flames, smoke and skulls. Memento Mori was written in cursive across his throat, though it was partially hidden by his beard. My Brother’s Keeper was etched along one forearm and Never Alone across the other, both in the same elaborate script and gaudy silver and gold rings encircled nearly all his fingers. He would make an imposing figure to anyone who hadn’t grown up with men like him.

His jacket was hanging on the back of one of the chairs in front of my father’s desk. I couldn’t place the colours, except of course for the 1% patch. He had to be from out of state, I knew all the clubs in Nevada, but I had never heard of The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood and the large wolf’s head howling at the moon was too recognisable for me to have forgotten a patch like that.

Out of Town nodded towards me as I entered the room. I thought I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes; maybe he had been at the funeral after all. He seemed polite and business-like on the surface, but his eyes studied me intently, lingering briefly on my breasts.

To be fair though, his gaze was practically that of a gentleman’s in this world so I let it slide and nodded back to him before lazily flopping on one of the leather sofas, hoping my casualness would hide my apprehension.

“What do you want, Nate?” I asked, hoping I sounded terse rather than worried.

“I need to talk to you about some things,” he said, sounding surprisingly level-headed considering the copious amounts of drugs he’s been taking. The words ‘functional addict’ crossed my mind.

“I’ve been here all day, hell, I’ve been around for nearly two weeks. You’ve had all that time to talk to me, now I’m tired and I want to go home. Can’t we talk about it tomorrow?”

“The contact only just got finalised,” he explained.

“A contract?” I shook my head. “No. You know I don’t want to know anything about—”

“This contract is about you,” Nate interrupted.

I blinked and looked from Nate to Out of Town to Hustle and back to Nate. “Excuse me?”

“For your protection,” Nate added.

“I’m not in the life, I don’t—”

“Neither was your mum, Babycakes,” Hustle said softly.

I felt a sudden chill at Hustle’s words. I could believe that in my brother’s drug-addled state he was being overprotective, or plain paranoid, but Hustle wasn’t prone to exaggeration.

Hustle had loved Mum and not in a way that was disrespectful. He seemed to admire her, respecting her fidelity and steadfastness. There weren’t a lot of women like Mum in the circle’s Hustle ran in. Most women wanted to play the bad boy game, they liked the danger of a biker, the excitement of an untameable man. Love was rarely long term, and Hustle knew that as well as anyone after three failed marriages.

It wasn’t just the women who didn’t stick around, most of the men couldn’t keep their cocks in their pants. Even Dad had been known to screw around on occasion while he was still married to Mum. It was the life and it was another reason I avoided it.

“You said she was collateral damage, you said she wasn’t a target,” I said to Hustle, unable to keep the accusation of dishonesty from my tone.

“New information has come to light,” Nate responded and I turned my ire towards him with a glower. He raised a finger at me and continued, “Specific threats against all our families. Most of the guys have already moved their women and kids out of state, and since I don’t have a woman or kids, the threat is on the last of my family. You.”

I knew where this was going now. The past two weeks had been intense and not just because of my parents death. Everywhere I went I needed permission from Nate and if he did let me leave, it was with Hustle or one of the other senior club members. I thought it was because of the cops or media attention.

“Fuck.” I dropped my head into my hands.

It’s not the first time I’ve had to leave the state. Hell, once a few years ago, Mum and I had to go to Canada and stay with a friendly club up there for three months. Anger boiled in me, I thought I was out, free from this shit. I should have known better, no one ever truly leaves the life.

“How long?” I asked.

“Until the threat is eliminated,” Nate said matter of factly. I could have smacked him.

“Fucking hell!”

“I’m sorry, Lori.”

I looked up at Nate. He never apologised and although it seemed genuine, it didn’t diminish my anger. He obviously felt guilty about something and I wondered how much to blame he was for what was going on; how badly he had fucked up? However, the appearance of regret in Nate’s eyes was fleeting, and he became cold and business-like again.

“This is Syverson,” Nate pointed to Out of Towner, “His club specialises in protection. You’ll be going with him to their clubhouse just outside of Dallas and waiting it out with them.”

“Texas? Across half the fucking country? Come on, Nate, really? I thought you meant New Mexico or California.”

“It’s where I live,” Syverson finally spoke up.

His voice surprised me. He was a southerner and his drawl was subtle but it was there, and his tone was soothingly deep.

“We take long term protection cases back to the clubhouse. It’s secure and well fortified and more guys to share the load,” Syverson smiled at me. I suppose he meant for it to be reassuring, but it came across as patronising.

“You’ll leave tonight,” Nate said. “All the clubs leaving is good cover; no one will notice another biker and his old lady heading out.”

“Wait, we’re going on his bike? To Dallas? That’ll take a week!” My thighs and hips groaned at the prospect. That’s a long time on a bike and I haven’t ridden that far in years.

“Three days, if we make some headway tonight,” Syverson said and like a mind reader he added, “We’ll stop plenty to stretch your legs, sugar.”

I raised my eyebrows at ‘sugar’, but Nate didn’t blink. Hustle gave him some side-eye that Syverson caught but ignored. That was interesting. Despite never hearing of him before, for Hustle to let it go meant this guy, or his club, or both, had some serious clout.

Looking at the three men I could see no way out of this; my shoulders slumped and I gave up. My parents were dead, my brother was a criminal and a drug addict, and I was being pulled back into a world I thought I had left behind. I wanted to cry, but I knew I couldn’t show any sign of weakness, so I stayed angry instead. I figured it would be better to give in and go with Syverson and try to worm my way home later. I knew Nate well enough that if I tried to fight him he wouldn’t be above handcuffing me to Syverson and basically allowing him to kidnap me.

I looked again at Syverson. He stared back at me, not trying to stare me down like a lot of bikers do, but as if he were trying to show me he had nothing to hide. His eyes didn’t waver as they held mine, no sign of shifty glances, no sign that he wasn’t who he appeared to be. He was either trustworthy or an extremely good actor. Not even my brother could look at me like that.

“I’ll have to go home, pack and change,” I said, waving a hand over my black dress. There was no way I could get on a bike in my tight pencil skirt and maintain any dignity. “You’ll let me do that, right?”

Nate grinned and nodded. “Hustle will drive you home in the van, Syverson will follow, get you packed and then you’ll leave tonight.”

Gritting my teeth I dipped my head to Nate. He returned the gesture and I saw again the brief look of guilt in his eyes. I glanced at Hustle, but he was already walking out the door.

I followed Hustle and Syverson through the clubhouse and got into the van, barely registering what was going on. I had too many thoughts in my mind and I was already mentally making a list of what to pack. I knew I’d have to pack light, bikes weren’t exactly ideal for hauling luggage.

I clenched my fists in frustration as Hustle drove out of the compound. Three days on a bike, plus God only knows how long I was supposed to be at the clubhouse. There was no way I’d have enough space for all the clothes and other things I would normally take like books, my laptop and my hair straightener.

I sighed heavily and looked out the window. It was already dark and I was a little hungry, but my anger and nervousness masked most of the pangs I felt in my belly.

“It's going to be okay, Babycakes,” Hustle said, confidently “The Club’s been through shit like this before and we’ve come good.”

“Back when you had Dad,” I pointed out, “He always had a cool head for situations like this.”

“Hook’s is up to it.”

“Yeah? Think he’ll lay off the coke long enough to think rationally? It was probably something dumb he did to get the Club in the shit in the first place.”

“Babycakes,” Hustle said with a warning tone in his voice.

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me he didn’t fuck with the wrong guy or get too greedy. Tell me exactly why I’m being shipped off?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Of course not. I’m just a fucking mushroom y’all keep in the dark and feed me shit.”

Hustle chuckled and I stared daggers at him, crossing my arms and raising my eyebrows.

“You’re cute when you get angry, Babycakes.”

“Fuck you,” I growled, but my lips twitched and I had to suppress a grin, Hustle was just too damn likeable.

I stared out the window again and saw in the side mirror that a single headlight was following us. It must be my ride.

“What do you know about him?” I tilted my head towards Syverson riding behind us. “Do you know anything about him?”

“Supposedly ex-military, but that's just a rumour. They're all supposedly ex-something, but…” Hustle shrugged.

“No one knows?”

Hustle shook his head.

“Do you know anything about the club, The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood? I’ve never heard of them.”

“Not much, except that they’re small, selective and secretive. They’ve got a good reputation, powerful despite their size, specialising in protection and a few other things.”

I nodded slowly. It didn’t make sense to me that a small nonaffiliated club from halfway across the country would take me in. Always before when I was sent away, it had been to a branch of my fathers club, or one they were heavily associated with. It must be costing Nate a fortune for the club to work with him.

“It’s bad isn’t it, Hustle?” I asked softly, feeling a small spike of fear working its way into my gut.

“Just do what they tell you to and you'll be fine, Babycakes.” Hustle laid a gentle hand on my knee and gave me a fatherly pat before putting his hand back on the wheel. “They’ll take good care of you. They’re to be trusted.”

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bnesszai · 14 days

Note

kunichuuzai + "where have you been?" <3

Ask Game

"Where have you been?"

"Answer your phone, asshole."

Kunikida blinks at his partners, who got right up in his face the moment he stepped foot through the door. He hasn't even cleared the entryway, much less taken his shoes off.

"I was running some errands."

"And you couldn't answer your phone?" Chuuya says, and Kunikida can hear the panic easing its way out of his voice.

"And your schedule said you were coming straight home for dinner," Dazai says, a mask of nonchalance on their face. Kunikida isn't fooled by it anymore. "It's very unlike you."

Behind his back, Kunikida grips the bouquet of flowers and the bag with crab and Chuuya's horribly expensive wine in it. "Why the hell were you looking at my schedule?"

"'cause they're a piece of shit," Chuuya answers. Dazai pouts, loudly. "Shut the fuck up, Osamu. Doppo--"

"Ah, sorry," Kunikida can see it now. Two people riddled in scars, with ghosts over their shoulders, with nothing solid to stand on since the moment they could stand at all. He sees it now, the trembling fear that they both push down and away like poison.

He sees the ways in which that fear crushes their hearts.

"I just wanted to surprise you," Kunikida says, but he places the flowers and bag on the group. He wraps them both in his arms, pressing featherlight kisses to their hairlines. "I'm sorry for causing unnecessary worry."

#i am cutting myself off now #whoops way more than 5 sentences #but i love them #i love them so much okay #grace<3 #kunichuuzai #ness writes

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anika-ann · 2 years

Text

Love on the Brain - part 1

Ch1: Red Alert

Type: MCU x Criminal Minds crossover series

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 3700

Summary: Finding out Steve has a stalker is some seriously bad news... but then it gets worse.

Series masterlist

Warnings: series includes criminal behaviour such as stalking or kidnapping; graphic violence, gun violence; (mentions of) death; allusions to dub-con; possible PTSD and flashbacks; sexual innuendos and foul language. Loads of fluff and teasing. I’m covering my bases here to make sure - probably sounds worse than it is. If you’re interested in specific warnings for individual chapters, let me know.

A/N: divider by @firefly-graphics; for non-CM readers - it is customary to start an episode with a quote, I shall keep up the good habit :)

“Humble souls are fearful of their own strength.”

William Gurnall

Tony Stark was without doubt a genius.

As you found out on multiple occasions – and today was apparently set to become another – he was also a douche.

Heading straight for Stark’s office, you practically forced Steve to shoot a text to Natasha to join you as well; because you meant what you said: Ironman and Black Widow, at least.

If you were contemplating making a phone call to people who would have much better insight than the Russian spy and a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, douche, no one needed to know just yet.

Because they would think you were crazy; even more than they were thinking now.

You presented the photos to Steve’s friends – dare to say your own, even if they were more of acquaintances still, your relationship with them not nearly as tight as with Steve – and earned yourself dubious looks.

And naturally, that was exactly what Steve was looking for: a confirmation.

A confirmation that you were freaking out over nothing.

He wouldn’t say it to your face – he was too kind for that and he was too well-aware you had every reason to have a ‘screwed’ view on this – but it was obvious that it was what he was thinking all along and had only played along from your sake. For you to have a peace of mind.

Which was very thoughtful of him; and you wanted to very thoughtfully smack some sense into him before his stalker did it for you.

The haunting dead eyes of a man who had initially dismissed potential threat too followed your every move; and you were not inclined to add another pair or stormy irises to them.

Steve cleared his throat, gaze flickering between you and equally doubtful friends.

“So, we can all agree it’s a bit of a problem, but I honestly don’t think-“

“Steve, you have a stalker,” you jumped in, grinding your teeth when you heard him take it lightly, again, as the four of your stood around the table with the pictures splattered all over it. “I’m not sure I care what you think just this once.”

Steve’s eyebrows flew nearly into his hairline at your brisk tone.

Good for him.

“Don’t you think you might be exaggerating a bit, Squirt?” Tony asked, eyebrows raised as well, one corner of his mouth up too. Damn, that smirk of his irritated the hell out of you. “I mean, yes, it’s creepy, but it’s probably just some chic who wanted a pic of him. Do you know how many Cap girls are there?”

“Well, it’s not great this chic knows where he lives…” Natasha opposed gently in support, despite her stance clearly saying you were making bigger deal of this than necessary.

But at least she wasn’t dismissing it, unlike someone. At least she used her brain.

“Okay, fair. But still-“

“Tony, you can’t honestly think this is some chic who wanted a pic of Steve,” you spat his own words back at him, sarcasm dripping from every single syllable. “There’s 23 pictures! Pictures of Steve from various places. Whoever took them, they’ve been following him around, quite stealthily I might add---- and for all we know, there could be more than one of them, whoever they are.”

“I hear you, but-“

“No buts! They’ve been following him around, taking pictures of him, they know where he lives and he didn’t even notice. None of us did,” you argued, getting worked up by the second.

Surely they weren’t so stupid? How could they—how could Tony think this was just an excited fan? Christ, this was absurd.

And the little light on his Stark’s watch blinking for almost a minute now notifying him about god-knew what was really getting on your nerves too, reminding you that Tony Stark was probably too busy to care about something as insignificant as his friend being in grave danger.

“The fact alone that we missed it should ring some serious alarm bells. But then the note? Not worthy – what does that even mean? We have no idea! That’s not a crazy fan, Tony. The crazy fan you have in mind sends naughty pics, a love letter, their underwear for god’s sake-!“

“Ew.”

“They have been known to be delivered to the Tower mail, yes,” Tony confirmed with a grimace.

“This is a stalker,” you insisted, imploring gaze set on the supposed genius who still refused to get on board.

In search for help, you moved your gaze to Natasha and then to Steve who stood by your side, arms crossed. He was frowning now and you could practically hear the wheels in his head turning as he thought hard.

Perhaps he would finally realize you were right.

“Alright,” Steve spoke at last, relaxing his defensive stance a little, turning to face you more. “You’re providing enough arguments, I’m convinced.”

Thank God.

You had no idea what exactly caused the change but you were not to question it.

“But even so, I can deal with a stalker. I’m not exactly a normal target, I’m a supersoldier.”

Spoke too soon.

You breathed in and out, slowly, to calm yourself and find the right words.

“Sure you are, Steve. But we don’t know what we’re dealing with. This might as well be a warning – that person might be saying I’m watching you. I know things about you. And we don’t know what their motivation is,” you argued.

With a sigh Steve’s shoulders fell, his eyes roaming your face. And damn, was it driving you crazy as he was watching you with that damn concern, concern for you instead of him-

Your gaze flickered to the photos on the table. Bingo.

“Plus, if not for you, it’s important to find whoever took these pictures for the women in the photos. They might be in danger too,” you added quickly, knowing not only that this would work, but also that you were right.

Just because you were more focused on Steve, it didn’t mean you didn’t give a damn about other people. It was less likely, but the women could be a target too.

“She’s got a point,” Natasha chimed in and you shot her a small grateful smile, throwing your hand her direction.

“Thank you!”

Finally someone who understood. You could kiss her at the moment, really.

“…I hate when you’re right,” Steve sighed.

Your smile widened as you patted his bicep lightly. “I know, GG.”

He glared at you, unimpressed; but when you let your hand rest on his arm instead, squeezing lightly to remind him you were doing this because you cared, not because you wanted to make him miserable, his expression softened, large palm covering yours.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Natasha and Tony exchanging a meaningful look, but you ignored it, just like the fact Bruce Banner was quickly approaching the automatic glass door, a file in his hand.

“Okay then,” Steve hummed, squeezing your hand before releasing it and leaning his palms against the desk. “Let’s focus on the women first. I don’t think I’m in any real danger-“

“Uhm, whatever it is you three are talking about,” Doctor Banner interjected as he had just entered, frowning harder when he noticed the pictures, “you might want to rethink that statement. Do you ever check your messages, Tony?”

Tony rolled his eyes, tapping absentmindedly on his watch to dismiss the blinking light.

Steve sighed, probably knowing that the answer to Banner’s question was no; but he seemed intrigued by the way the scientist rushed in.

You just fought the nausea that hit you when Bruce’s words punched you straight to your gut; even if you agreed.

“What’s that now?”

“The interns have been taking stock in the past week,” Banner replied hesitantly, talking more to Tony than anybody else despite Steve being the one to ask.

“Yeah…? Yeah. I knew that.”

Sure thing, Tones.

“There’s… uhm, there’s… something missing.”

The sentence itself said little next to nothing; Bruce’s significant look to Tony however, spoke volumes.

It took the billionaire a few seconds, but then the change was instant. His face turned paler, all cockiness vanishing as his gaze flickered between Steve and Bruce, that genius brain racing thousand miles a minute.

“And by something, you mean…”

“The bullets, yes.”

“Fuck.”

The remaining trio of you, Steve and Natasha watched the exchange intently, looking between the two scientists with no avail.

Was that a code for something?

Or did someone actually steal some bullets? More importantly, why were they so bothered about it?

Tony’s usual nothing-can-touch-me-cause-I-have-no-heart face showed signs of worry. Tony Stark worrying was worrisome, to be frank.

--no, take that back; he looked guilty.

Oh god, what?

“…what am I missing here?” you asked, suspicion rising with every second of silence between Tony and Bruce.

“I’m missing it too,” Steve hummed, crossing his arms on his chest again.

Tony licked his lips, exchanging another silent conversation with Bruce.

“They need to know. Apparently,” Bruce added, eyes straying to the table.

Steve’s photos. Missing bullets. Was there a connection?

You hoped not. Even if there was, you couldn’t fathom it. Because the easiest connection seemed to absurd to even think it, no?

Tony cleared his throat, his mask of confidence slipping back on. Just because of that, you already knew that whatever he was about to say was going to skyrocket your blood pressure.

Nevertheless, you promised yourself you wouldn’t yell – because that wouldn’t help anyone, right?

Except maybe you.

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself.

“Alright, before you eat us alive, little miss firecracker, I’d like to remind everyone that aliens have invaded Earth before-“

“Tony…”

“-and one of them knew how to control minds so… you know,“ Tony smirked humourlessly, vaguely gesturing with his hands as if his words would make more sense then. “We aren’t exactly unreasonable here.”

Steve remained silent as you were beginning to understand; but Natasha was faster to put one and one together.

“Tony, tell me you didn’t,” she demanded, voice ominous.

Tony just shrugged and grimaced again.

“Look, he’s not Barton, okay. Even our resident Robin Hood made quite a mess. And Rogers would be a lot harder to contain, serum and all that.”

A lot harder to contain?

Sure, you were familiar with what happened during the Battle of New York, you joined shortly after and you heard all about it, including Clint being mind-controlled and earning himself a very hard blow to the head to snap him out of it, but…

What the heck did Tony mean by ‘contain’?

“Tony… what exactly did you do?” you asked, menacing as you straightened your posture.

Slowly, you were constructing an image from the keywords you heard – and it was a nasty one.

You didn’t think you could keep your promise; you were about to yell. Because you could feel the pressure inside you building astronomically fast.

“We developed, uhm, well, let’s call them modified bullets that would help us contain Capsicle just in case-“

“I beg your fucking pardon,” you hissed.

Your blood felt both icy cold and nearly boiling, brain short-circuiting. He did what again?

“Look, he’s the muscle okay!” Tony justified himself, raising his hands up defensively. “We just added a modified neurotransmitter-“

“Which could technically stop his heart-” Bruce chimed in silently, his words colouring the edges of your vision red.

“Not helping, Banner-“

“The fuck did you just say?” you whispered, sounding surprisingly calm.

Scarily calm, you supposed. The calm before the storm.

Anyone with a single shred of reason would have kept quiet, waited with batted breath.

And yet, Tony had the audacity to open his mouth again, even as you were still processing the incomprehensible grand reveal.

“Oh come on, don’t look at me like I’m the bad guy here! It’s not like it’s not justified! I wasn’t alone to do this. And we have an antidote ready too, they didn’t take that, so we’re fine-“

“YOU INVENTED BULLETS TO KILL STEVE SPECIFICALLY AND HAVE THE AUDACITY TO SAY IT’S FUCKING FINE?!” you shrieked, voice jumping an octave and about forty decibels up as you did so.

Every single person in the room winced, including you, but fuck it.

This was a nightmare. A nightmare you were about to wake up from any second, any second, because there was no way Tony and Bruce were that daft and then let someone steal such thing, Christ--- not this wasn’t real, silence never lasted that long in a fight either, this wasn’t-

Steve cleared his throat loudly.

“Well,” he started, levelling Tony with a disappointed and yet somehow compassionate glare. “He didn’t say kill. Clearly, they are meant to incapacitate and I hate to say it, but… he’s got a point, actually. It’s understandable-“

Your heart skipped a startled beat as your head snapped back to Steve.

He was kidding. He must have been.

“Understandable? How is that understandable? Did you not just hear him?” you questioned incredulously, gesturing to Banner to prove your point.

“Banner’s overselling it,” Tony sighed wearily. “The chance of a cardiac arrest is like 10% and only if he’s hit in-“

The change of a cardiac arrest within you in the next five seconds was around 89%, violent shudder composed of horror and rage shaking your spine.

“That’s still 10% too many, don’t you think?! Are you crazy? What if someone got their hands on--- oh wait. They already HAVE!”

The satisfaction of proving your point was rather bittered by the fact that the worst-case scenario was already happening.

Not only Steve had a stalker – he possibly had a stalker with bullets designed to shoot him dead.

You felt an icy fist squeeze your heart at the mere prospect, the image empty eyes of every single person you had sworn and failed to protect before flooding your mind; the warm browns of Kyle Meyers right at the front.

You couldn’t even imagine—you could not have Steve add to the sea of people, you wouldn’t-

“I know, goddammit! But look, if--- if these two things are connected and if it’s a stalker obsessed with taking pictures of him, they have a crush on Steve here, right?” Tony babbled, trying to save the situation. “So they’re not gonna use it. They’re probably-“

“Not all stalkers have a crush on their target!” you exploded again, fist hitting the table and making things rattle.

You didn’t give a damn. You were seething.

How could they be so stupid? How could they even invent such thing? How could they not guard it with their lives once they had?

“We don’t even know for sure these are related. And if they are related, the unsub could be holding Steve on a pedestal and the moment he doesn’t live up to the image the unsub has about him – or the moment they reveal themselves and he rejects them – it’s a game fucking over! Not to mention the bullets might be the more important thing for them! The photos might as well be a threat following the theft! Do you really not see the immense danger you put him into?!”

You were employed by idiots.

The smartest idiots the world had ever known and they just happened to join forces with a reckless punk you had the misfortune to fall for.

Goddammit, you should have never transferred, at least Hotch knew what he was doing most of the time.

The moment Steve chose interrupt your furious thoughts and speak again – a sarcastic “I’m still here, you know.” – Tony tilted his head, curious. “Unsub?”

Really?? That was what he took from your speech?

God, you were going to strangle him.

“Unknown subject,” Natasha muttered absent-mindedly, “it’s a term used-“

“You put his life at crazy risk!” you interrupted, because clearly Tony’s skull was simply that thick. Genuis your ass. And a fucking hypocrite. “You think Steve could be dangerous if someone messed with his mind? Fair enough then! Where’s your bullet, Antony? Or Banner’s for that matter?”

“We’re actually working on Bruce’s... And are we on the full first names thing now?”

“We are if you’re being an idiot!” you snapped, hitting the table again, feeling your blood boil because his cockiness and his lack of conscience was just.

So.

Fucking.

Irritating.

A rough yet tender hand covered your fist, making your hand twitch, unfairly unbothered voice reaching your ears.

“Come on now, there’s no need for insults. We can discuss the need or lack of need for those bullets later. What’s done is done. We need to focus, be rational. Let’s take a breather, calm down a bit.”

The moment the words left Steve’s lips, he looked like he wanted to take them back. Your hand slipped from under his as you stood chest to chest with him, face to face – even if you were looking up to do so.

“There’s a stalker out there with bullets that could kill you – as in bullets that are more likely to kill you than any other. I’m sure as hell not gonna calm down. How are you so calm?” you accused him, angrily stabbing your index finger into his right pec.

You were furious you were the only one taking this matter really seriously even now.

Did they not read papers? Did they not know the statistics on even normal stalking cases?

You knew Steve was brave, hell, he was the bravest and strongest person you knew, but there was someone out there for blood, his blood and he— oh.

Oh.

You were such an idiot.

Of course he wasn’t concerned as much as he should.

He was always reckless about his safety. He was a supersoldier after all. Dumb, arrogant man with serum coursing through his veins-!

“How would you feel if it was someone else on the team in such danger?” you whispered, voice levelled as you looked up, knowing you hit the nail on the head when you saw his expression falter.

How would you feel if it was me? was left unspoken, but Steve heard it.

And the truth was he’d punch Tony in his face already, more than once, hoping some blood would smear that cocky grin of his.

But you didn’t know that.

Just like he didn’t know that you killed Tony in ten different ways in your head already, because he endangered the life of someone you loved. And was being a dick about it.

“…point taken,” Steve murmured simply.

Good. Finally.

It seemed it was a good time to start calling the shots now that you were on the same page.

“Good. You’re gonna sit on your ass and not take a single step out of this building,” you said slowly, touching your fingertip to his chest as did so, gentler this time, then moved onto Nat. “You are gonna make sure he’s not wandering off.”

And lastly, you shot a stern, downright murderous glare at Bruce and Tony – because seriously, what the hell was wrong with them.

“You two are going to fix it and get the antidote right now. Understood?”

The fact no one dared to joke and say yes captain or a similarly obnoxious thing would be a victory if it wasn’t a testament to how bad the situation was.

With a huff, you spun on your heels, stalking away.

“And you?” you heard Tony called after you, inclined not to give him the answer.

But Steve deserved to know. And maybe Natasha.

You replied without bothering to even falter in your step.

“I’m gonna call in the reinforcements.”

As you left the room, you regretted that the doors were automatic and you couldn’t slam them to let out some steam; you truly truly wanted to hit something. It seemed a dial icon on your phone would have to do.

The door slowly closed behind you, leaving the four Avengers slightly dumbfounded by your dramatic exit.

“Reinforcements? What reinforcements? We got this… we’re the Avengers. There’s no such things as reinforcements for us.”

“Try saying reinforcements one more time,” Natasha peeped silently towards Tony, a poor attempt at lightening the atmosphere.

The corners of Steve’s lips twitched despite the circumstances, while Tony shot the redhead a glare.

“Har, har. But seriously. Where did miss firecracker go?”

Despite the confusion in the room, Steve sighed – because he understood what you meant.

He didn’t like the situation one bit, he was going to have words with Tony after this mess was over, but he had enough reason to see that at the moment, it was not the time – and that Tony and Banner were not completely wrong in their efforts.

He wasn’t sure reinforcements were needed, but he understood your need to at least try. Because unlike Tony, Steve was conscious of the fact he hadn’t seen half the terror you had, at least not of the same kind.

Steve was used to dealing with unspeakable crimes that human hands could do, had seen rivers of blood and he had scars, physical and mental to prove it; but your previous job had had you see the horrors of the human mind. And the images left scars just as deep as his.

Steve didn’t like this, but he understood that for you, it must have been hundred times worse. And he had enough self-awareness to see that had it been you in the same danger he potentially was, he would order every single agent working under the Avengers Initiative not to get a minute of a shuteye until you were safe again.

So frankly, your plan to call reinforcements was only natural.

“I think she’s going to call her old team,” he said simply, only earning a puzzled and offended look from Tony.

“Didn’t she used to work for FBI? I mean, seriously? She’s gonna call in the FBI to help the Avengers? That’s like brining a knife to a gunfight… and I mean, both the guns and the knife are on the same side and the other side has guns too-“

“Great analogy, really, Stark,” Natasha praised him, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“It’s a specialized unit,” Steve explained, only earning a frown.

“Specialized in what?”

“Human behaviour,” Natasha spoke this time, clearly having done her research on you.

Or perhaps Steve wasn’t the only one you confided in, at least on the basics. He wasn’t the sole owner of the right to know important things about you after all; as much as privileged he felt when he thought he was.

“Huh?”

“Profilers, Tony,” Steve sighed, glancing after your retreating figure as you turned corner, phone on your ear. “She’s gonna try to bring in profilers.”

→ Next part

Series masterlist // Steve Rogers masterlist // Misc masterlist

Your response to the prologue was the kindest, thank you for that 💕 I’ll try to keep it up!

I also LOVE you’re invested enough to think of theories 🥰 I won’t be confirming nor denying them🤐 BUT if you decide to do continue (nothing wrong with that at all 🥰), please mark them as POSSIBLE SPOILERS... I mean, one day you might get it right, so give others a heads-up👀 thank you 🙏

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #mcu x criminal minds #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #criminal minds imagine #crimnal minds crossover #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers #captain america #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #love on the brain #anika ann

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