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#it's very hard to talk someone down who has always been domineering over his own reality as long as he's existed like. let this go. its fine
lunarpeonie · 8 months
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stay the night
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in which you babysit megumi some nights and toji is sick of you showing up in those tight little shorts
1.3k words, nsfw
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“Good evening, Mr. Fushiguro. I just put Megumi down.” You whispered as you held up the baby monitor. Toji hadn’t had one when you first started working for him and had purchased it at your insistence. You had been babysitting for the Fushiguro’s now for a few months, showing up whenever Toji had called. It wasn’t a regular thing, Toji had told you his job was a freelancer (whatever that meant) and his work wasn’t regular. Still, he paid decently and Megumi was a doll of a child, always so sweet and eager to have someone to babble to.
It also didn’t hurt that Toji was an absolute dilf. He had a perfectly placed scar on the corner of his lips that you wanted to paint pink with your lipstick. He towered over you and always had on shirts seemingly two sizes too small that outlined his hard abs and broad shoulders. You were waiting for him to lift his arm one day and have his shirt split down the middle. Long story short, you wanted him.
“Thanks.” He said digging in his pants pocket for his wallet to pay you for the night. He was never very talkative, especially so after he was done work. You had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t just with you. You turned around to grab your purse on the couch, not realizing how far your yoga shorts had ridden up. They had moved so far that now your peach colored panties were peeking out underneath.
You heard a faint rustling of clothing before feeling a large, calloused hand grip your waist. You stiffened in surprise and quickly turned your head to look at the man behind you. His hand traveled up in between the valley of your breasts and he tugged you so that your back was flush with his chest. His extremely muscular chest. You could already feel your face heating up.
Toji leaned his head next to your ear to whisper. “You didn’t have to wear those tiny shorts for my attention, you already have it. Do you know how hard it’s been to hold back all of this time? My self control has worn out.” It wasn’t as if you wore those shorts on purpose for this exact outcome… or that was what you told yourself to feel better about the fact that you desperately wanted the single father with an ambiguous job who always came home late.
“If you want to stop, say so now because once I get started, it’s too late.” He groaned into your ear. You shook your head vigorously no, unable to muster up the words to speak. He slots his lips against yours, swallowing your mewls of excitement. Toji nipped at your lower lip, inviting you to open for him. When you did, he slipped his tongue past your parted lips dominating your own.
“I’m gonna stuff you full,” he groaned, kissing up the side of your neck before pushing you hard onto the weathered sofa.
“I can barely wait to come home to my pretty little cockslut waiting for me.” His voice was teasing, one of his hands dipping under the waistband of your shorts, slowly working its way down and pulling both your shorts and underwear down with it.
“Taking care of my kid all day, waiting for me to come home and give you your reward.” He dipped two calloused fingers into your heat and groaned. “How are you so wet already?” He started off slow, but with your encouraging mewls, he began to aggressively scissor his digits in and out of your hole.
“Ah, Toji…” you trailed off as he lifted his fingers out of you, a trail of your essence following them. He guided his fingers to his awaiting mouth, scar stretching to open wide. Sucking hard on his two digits, he slid them slowly from his mouth and let go of them with a pop.
“I would play more but…” he trailed off, but you knew what he was thinking. You couldn’t waste time when you had a toddler down the hall that could wake up any moment. You feverishly unbuttoned the jeans clinging tight to his thighs and pulled down, gasping at the outline of his cock in his silky black boxers. You palmed the large bulge with your hand, feeling the pulsating veins even through the thin layer of fabric. It twitched as you began to run your hand up and down the clothed erection. Toji wasted no time in revealing it to you and let his boxers pool at his ankles before kicking them away. He was long and thick with a nest of black hair resting at the base of him. The curtains do match the drapes.
“Oh my god.” You whispered, but not quiet enough for it to escape Toji’s notice. He shot you a devilish grin before pushing you so your back laid on the faux leather couch.
“Next time, I’ll take my time on you. Maybe shove my face between those thighs and lick your pretty pussy. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” All you could do was vigorously nod your head in response, excessively aware of the fact that Toji had moved the head of his cock so that it was poking at your entrance.
“But what about…ah!” You started, trying to warn Toji that you hadn’t used any protection, but he was already plowing through your wet heat. You tried to quiet your mewls, but couldn’t hold them in as he thrust deep within you. Toji shushed you and buried your head in the crook of his neck.
“You’re so whiny. You’re gonna wake the kid.” You can feel his grin against your skin while he says it, not seeming at all worried about the possibility. In fact, he seemed pleased with himself.
He lifted your leg, folding it against your chest and angled his hips up. You choked back a moan as he hit your g-spot. Toji picked up the pace, thrusting fast and hard into your heat. He felt himself lose all control in the wet, gummy paradise between your thighs. Each thrust felt like he went deeper within you, carving out a space for himself within you. He slid a hand down to play with your clit, rubbing tight circles until you started to feel a familiar tension within your stomach.
“Ah, Toji I’m -“ You whimpered.
“You gonna come for me? Good.” You bit down on your lower lip to try to quiet your noises of pleasure, but he still slaps his hand across your mouth to muffle the noises you couldn’t contain. Finally, the tension snapped like a rubber band and your body flooded with release. He pushed his forehead against yours as he fucked you through your orgasm with deep thrusts that had you nearly shaking with overstimulation.
“Fuck I’m gonna cum.” He hissed, leaning so your foreheads were touching. “I’m not pulling out. You’d be such a good mother, wouldn’t you? You take such good care of my son, maybe I’ll give you one of your own.” Your eyes shot wide open in alarm, shocked that you liked the idea so much. You chanted yes, yes, yes, as you felt him groan and shoot his load deep inside of you. He stayed there for a moment, before slowly pulling his cock all of the way out and pushing his cum back in you. Toji rolls to lay his back on the sofa, grabbing your body and placing you on top of him.
“You’ll have to stay the night. I’m not done with you yet.” He grinned. Somehow, you were completely fine with that. (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧
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ceriseheaven · 1 year
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i loved the angst on your last post sm like OUCHHH, i was wondering if you could write something about when eddie realized he only wanted the reader and didn’t want to be sleeping with the other people. like he sleeps with someone and it just feels wrong so he just leaves and goes to find the reader pls
a little blurb from this fic. chronologically takes places before it.
warnings: angsty a bit but ultimately very fluffly in a super cliché way
~
eddie didn't believe in love. he never has and never thought he ever would.
to him, love always seemed like a faraway dream, a fantasy, something he'd only find in a movie, something he'd only see in the lives of the likes of steve harrington or jason carver. something that doesn't exist for people like him and even if it did, it would be out of reach. to get it, he'd have to pay a price he can't afford. it's too remote and too expensive so he gave up on searching for it a long time ago, that is if it was real.
one thing that never let him down though, is sex.
sex was always there. it knocks on his door in the middle of daytime and it lingers on during the night. he didn't have to look too hard to find it and he didn't need to question if it's real. he felt it, physically and it felt good. at least over half the time.
he learned the ropes of it and he knew he was good at it, maybe too good even. he knew what his partners liked and he knew how to please. he knew when to be rough and when to show mercy. he slowly begun to figure out his own pleasings and he had came to the realization that he likes a certain type of partners in his bed, a type he didn't seem to find plenty of until he found you.
he knew that this need of dominance he had stems from the lack of control he felt in his life. things hardly ever went the way he wanted them to and even if they did, they eventually get fucked up so when he found you, you were the perfect girl for him. exactly what he needed. someone who listens to him, someone he didn't need to ask for something twice, someone who was everything he's not. someone vulnerable.
it wasn't one sided though, it was never just about him. hell, it was mostly about you. eddie took care of you, good care. he knew exactly how to please you, he knew that you needed him like he needed you and he knew how to give you everything you've ever needed, everything except the one thing you wanted.
despite the fact that your relationship with him was strictly sexual, that didn't stop him from getting to know you and didn't stop you from falling for him. every time after you've had sex, he'd take you out for dinner or sweets. if you're too worn out to go, he'd bring it home and feed it to you. during that time, you two would talk, laugh and enjoy each others' company. he'd listen to you, paying attention to your every word, he's always interested in what you have to tell him, always looks at you with wonder when you speak, always seems excited to hear from you. everything you do with him, you did it the way lovers would, except you weren't lovers. not the two of you anyway.
the day you told him how you felt for him beyond the lust, told him that you liked him and not just his sex, he was almost offended at first because a part of him assumed you were pulling a prank but the way your eyes were peering through his told him you weren't. he knew that look. he's seen that look. he's seen it on his little broken television screen and he's seen it on the faces of people when they look at their significant others. he's never seen it in the eyes of someone looking at him.
it hit him like an iceberg. you were in love with him. you were in love with him.
he's never considered love to be real so he never thought about how terrifying it is but now when he stood in the eye of the storm, he can see it, he can feel it and he's never been more afraid. afraid of how his entire belief system is glitching and afraid of breaking your heart like the way his walls are breaking.
from the time he spent with you, he learned that you were fragile. he didn't mind it though, your delicacy was what lured him to you in the first place and the idea of being the one who broke you was horrifying to him so he decided to let you down slowly, he told you that he's not ready for commitment yet. not ready to give up on the life he's made for himself and become a one woman man. he told you maybe he would one day then he asked you not to wait for him because there's a high chance that day wouldn't come. he told you that waiting for him is like staring at broken glass hoping that would put it together but none of his words stopped or slowed you because deep down, you knew he was wrong.
he knew it too because as soon as he left you, he started to feel an insurmountable loss which left him feeling an inexplainable confusion. he never had you, not in that sense so why did losing you ache him like that?
he decided not to dwell on it for too long. decided to do what he does best, fuck his emotions into someone new and move on and he did. for nights on end, he went to the hideout to perform and took any girl who was willing to go with him home. he didn't care enough to learn their names, they had mouths and they kept his dick wet, that's all what ever mattered to him before.
today wasn't any different, he avoided you at all costs as if not seeing you is going to erase you from his mind, as if you haven't been the only thing he can think about, as if he doesn't dream of your eyes when he's awake and doesn't reply the words that fell from your lips over and over again.
he would've pictured you in every other girl he fucked but he couldn't. you weren't like them, you were too good to be them and you were too good for him.
his dilemma was weighing heavy on him. as much as he wanted to let his walls down, let his guard fall and let you in, he feared that he'd ruin you, feared that he was right all along and he truly is both unlovable and incapable of love.
once his stress got too much he left his trailer and went to the hideout, determined to find someone and fuck their brains out until his own is at rest. he didn't have to search too hard, there was a girl standing outside the club and just to his luck, she initiated the first move so he didn't even have to do that.
he soon took her home to his trailer, sat on the couch with her on her knees on the ground, sucking his cock with her experienced tongue. this should feel good, he thinks but the only thing he can think about is you, your smile, your voice, your body on his bed. his bed that he hasn't shared with anyone since you've been in it.
eddie got too engulfed in his own thoughts that he completely forgot about the nameless girl between his legs. he was only brought back to earth when she called out his name, distorting the image of you he's been painting in his head for the last twenty minutes.
he looked down at her, confused as to why she'd speak to him when he made it clear the second they walked in that he didn't want to hear her voice, "i know you said not to talk but how long is this going to take? do you have a problem getting hard or something?" she asked, rubbing her aching jaw from being open for too long.
he blinked at her a couple of times before looking at his dick, he was barely hard at all despite how long she's had her mouth on him. he knew exactly why he couldn't get it up, "leave" he said to the girl and once she frowned her brows at him, he repeated himself, "i said leave." he gets up and pulls his boxers up followed by his jeans, "i'd drive you back but i've got somewhere to be.." he walked to the door where his boots are and put them on one by one, "there's.. there's a guy called stan he's a taxi driver, sits by the sign of trailer park. tell him eddie sent you and he'll take you wherever you want, free of charge" he says, still feeling a responsibility for this stranger woman. "now please.. leave."
wasting no time, the moment she left his trailer, he was quick to leave too. skipping his van thinking it's raining and it's late at night so he'd have to drive slow and carefully so he chose to run instead, taking every short cut in his way until he made it to your place where he stood for a few seconds catching his breath but that seemed near impossible with how fast his heart was beating and it wasn't because of the running.
he climbed up to your window and knocked to the beat of what he learned was your favorite song, that was your secret code.
you thought your ears were deceiving you, there's noway eddie, who's been walking past you like a ghost for the past week came to you and in the middle of the night in the pouring rain too.
still, you got up and opened your curtains to be met with his face on the other side of the window, he mouthed something you couldn't hear before you opened up the window to let him in, "jesus eddie what are you doing here?" you ask him, still in disbelief that he's actually here.
"listen sweetheart i've got to tell you something.." he says breathlessly, wiping the rain off his face only to have more soak him down.
"then come inside and tell me, you're gonna get sick!" you grab his arm and try to get him to enter your room but he doesn't budge.
"no you've got to listen to me first please baby just.." he gives up on trying to explain that he can't come into your room yet and heads straight to the point, "i've been thinking about what you said. what you told me about your feelings, that's been all i could think about and i know i've been a dick i know i've been horrible ignoring you and sleeping around, hell i just had my cock down someone's throat before i got here but that's not my point" he says and wipes the rain off his face again, taking a deep breath, he continues, "my point is, what you said to me.. was terrifying. i know it shouldn't have been but to me it was because i wholeheartedly believed nobody could like me enough to want me as anything beyond a good fuck and you.. you're just too good for me and hearing you say that you liked me, i don't know what it did i can't explain it because all of this is new to me but i do know one thing.. i like you too, i like you so much i like you the way people like each other in movies, i like you more than i thought was possible." his eyes never left yours when he spoke, sincerity seeping from them and he debates whether he should say the next words or not but his tongue makes that decision before his mind could. "i.. i.. i love you sweetheart. i love you and i want to be your boyfriend. i want to belong to you, i wanna be yours."
his words take you off guard for a second, sending you down a cotton candy spiral before you cup his jaw in your hands, bringing his face close and crash your lips into wet ones. kissing him with the love and urgency you've been caging for one too many night, whispering against his lips, "i love you too teddy. can you please come inside now? i really don't want you getting sick on your first night as my boyfriend" you joke and he chuckles against your lips before smiling so big.
"say it again"
"i don't want you to get sick?"
"no no, what you said at first before you asked me to come inside." he pleas and places a soft kiss at the corner of your lips.
you pull away enough to stare into his eyes when you say it, "i love you."
"i love you sweetheart."
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withahappyrefrain · 2 years
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Thristy thursaday you say? How about possesive Peter who sometimes just get’s worked up by his own imagination and has to fuck you to remind both himself and you that you are his?
Why does this scream Mob!Peter, let's write some Mob!Peter bc he gives me brainrot 18+, also we got some Daddy and breeding kink here. Don't like that? Don't read it.
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You hated these dinner parties.
Peter knew that.
He always tried to make them tolerable for you by buying what dress or jewelry you wanted, as well as never staying longer than needed.
You knew it was important that the two of you were here. It was part of maintaining control, an image, a reputation.
You just couldn't listen to Betty Brandt rant about her neighbor's lawn anymore.
"I'll be right back, just need to refresh my drink," you said with no intention of returning. She'd find someone to ramble to soon enough.
After refilling your wine glass, you leaned against the wall, taking in the party. In the corner, you could see your husband talking to several 'colleagues'. You could tell the conservation had to do with business, given Peter's harden expression.
"Nice party, right?" A voice interrupted your gazing of Peter.
You turned to see a young man standing next to you, wine glass in hand. He looked vaguely familar- most likely a new hire.
"Yeah, it's pretty nice," You said dryly, turning your attention back to Peter, who was still talking to his men.
"You know, I'm amazed at how they're always having to talk business. Even when it's after hours." Did this kid not know who you were?
"Some things can't wait. Tends to happen a lot with this line of work," You continued to sip your wine, your eyes zoned in on Peter.
"I just think it's impolite. It's best to live in the now, take it all in. " The man reminded you of those guys who took one philosophy class and declared themselves to be the next Aristole.
You turned to face him, keeping your wine glass close to your face (which conveniently was being held by your left hand).
"I just also think it's much more enjoyable to talk to new people....beautiful people." You began to clink your ring finger against the glass.
Either the kid was just brazen or absolutely daft, considering your engagement and wedding rings were hard to miss.
"That Watson girl over there models," You motioned over to the redhead who was talking to a group.
"I don't really go for models," He scoffed, "Between you and me, they tend to be pretty shallow."
"Oh, she's actually quite lovely," you paused, "I know because we used to model together."
The panic in the man's eyes made your sip of wine extra delicious.
"Oh, so uh...what do you do now?" He asked, now quite nervous.
Before you could answer, you felt a large hand place itself on your hip. Another hand grabbed the wine glass out of your hand.
"Jason, my wife's wine glass needs to be refilled. You can do that, right?" Though it had been phrased as a question, Peter made it quite clear 'no' was not an option.
The now nervous Jason quickly grabbed your glass, avoiding eye contact. As he walked away, you looked at your husband.
"You interrupted a very stimulating conversation," you remarked, your voice dripping with sarcasm.
Peter ignored your remark, his eyes taking all of you in, "Follow me."
"For what?"
"I said, follow me," He hissed in your ear, the grip he had on your hip tightening. The dominance sent heat straight to your core.
You simply nodded your head, following your husband out of the living room, down the hallway. You were disappointed to be lead to a room, rather than the front door.
Peter opened the door, motioning for you to step inside. You obeyed, walking in first. He quickly followed you.
It was some study. A couple of bookshelves, a nice mahagony desk, a chair that looked quite comfortable. The sudden click of a lock turning broke you out of your thoughts.
Oh.
So that's what he wanted.
"Get on your knees." You thought about making some bratty remark. Considered telling him to make you.
But the hunger in his eyes told you that wasn't the best idea.
You sunk down to the carpet, thankful there was some cushioning for your knees. The sight of your husband undoing his tie as he walked over to you made you clench your thighs.
Peter stood in front of you, armed crossed, his clothed erection now at eye level. You looked up at him, waiting.
"Go ahead."
Your hands reached up to his crotch, unbuttoning his pants. You made quick work of freeing his cock. You wrapped a hand around the base, leaning forward to-
"Did I say you could do that?" Peter asked sternly. You shook your head, removing your hand.
"Who do you listen to?" Peter's hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look up.
He was in a mood.
Good thing you knew how to fix that.
"Y-you, Peter. Only you," You shifted from one leg to another, trying to soothe the ache between your legs.
He smirked, "That's right. Now suck."
You wasted no time taking Peter into your mouth, going as far as you could without gagging. It was so sudden, he nearly stumbled backwards. You used your free hand to grip his hip.
"Fuck, baby...." He was breathless, "Such a good mouth. And all mine."
You did your best to nod as you continued to bob your head up and down on his cock. The groans and grunts coming out of Peter's mouth went straight to your core.
"Stop," He ordered. You pulled his cock out of your mouth, dropping your hands. You looked up at him, waiting for the next set of directions.
His hand cupped half of your face, his thumb rubbing your bottom lip. Your lipstick was most likely smeared but who cared at this point?
"Who's good girl are you?"
"Y-your's, Daddy." Judging by the grin on Peter's face, it was safe to assume he was pleased to hear you refer to him by his favorite bedroom nickname.
"Why don't you bend over that desk so Daddy can remind you that no one else can fuck you so well?"
You nodded your head, standing up. You slowly walked over to the desk, gripping the edge as you bent over.
In a matter of seconds, you felt two hands all over your body. Your chest, your throat, your ass, your thighs. Peter's hands finally landed on the hem of your dress, pulling it up towards your hips.
"You've been walking around this whole party with no underwear?" He pulled you so your back was against his chest.
"F-for you. Wanted to surprise ya," you somehow managed to get out with Peter's hand gripping your throat. The cool metal of his rings provided additional pressure.
"Ya liked it when that kid tried to flirt with ya?" You shook your head.
"N-no! Only want you, D-Daddy." You gasped at two of his fingers entering you.
"You're so fucking wet, I don't even have to prep ya. How'd I get so lucky?"
You saw me on a billboard and somehow got my Manager's number, is what you wanted to say. But that wouldn't get you his cock.
"P-please fuck me. Want ya s'bad, Daddy," you didn't care that you were whining. The ache between your legs was burning you alive.
Peter bent you over the desk, entering you in one smooth motion.
You yelled at the sensation of him filling you up instantly. Half of Peter's men had already heard you two fucking from the countless "breaks" he took during meetings at your house. Their wives would give you a dirty look at the next dinner party and then stay silent about it.
Peter pulled out of you, slamming back in to create an unrelenting pace. You gripped the edge of the desk, desperate to steady yourself.
"Ya like it when Daddy fucks you nice and hard?"
You nodded your head, a gasp escaping when you felt his cock brush up against that sweet spot.
"Love it s'much. Feels s'good." It was difficult to tell if you were drunk from the alcohol or your husband's cock, or both.
"You're mine. All mine."
"All your's D-Daddy."
"Maybe I should fuck a baby into ya. Make everyone know that only I get to fuck this amazing cunt." His words sent you closer and closer to the edge.
"Ya want that?" Peter tugged on your ponytail, forcing you to tilt your head back to look at him.
"Yes! P-please. Want it s'bad. Want your cum s'bad." Your moans continued as you felt two of Peter's fingers begin to circle your clit.
"Then come on Daddy's cock. Show me how bad ya want it."
The sound that escaped your lips was animalistic. Your orgasm knocked you over like a wave in the ocean. If it wasn't for Peter's arm wrapped around your waist, you probably wouldn't be able to stand.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby," You heard Peter mumbled as he continued fucking you through your orgasm.
With a gutteral groan, Peter's hips stilled as he came inside of you. The two of you stood there, holding onto each other as you tried to catch your breath.
"Ya really meant that? About wanting a baby?" He whispered. There was a hint of nervousness in his voice- something only you got to see.
You titled your head back, bringing one of your hands up to caress the back of his neck.
"You're the only person I want to have kids with. No one else."
He pressed a chaste kiss against your lips. You could feel the smile spreading across his face.
"We should...we should call your doctor. Get that IUD taken out," He said when he broke away.
You chuckled, "We should clean up first."
"Yeah, I think I have a handkerchief in my pocket," Peter looked around, locating the jacket that was halfway across the room.
"Well, if anything drips onto the carpet, we'll just blame Jason," He said, chuckling as he prepared to pull out of you.
"Peter!"
"What?"
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pochipop · 2 years
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#BNHA !! ♡ — CONFESSING TO YOU.
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#. synopsis! — they confess to you after realizing how hard they've fallen following your killer performance at the ua sports festival .
#. characters! —bakugo, kaminari, todoroki .
#. warnings! — none .
#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .
#. others! — navigation & masterlist .
#. part I! — you can find the prerequisite fic: here .
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𖦹. ━ BAKUGO !!
Classwork has really gotten interesting lately. Not because you and your peers are reading anything special, —but because the physical aspects have been amplified in order to prepare for the future. At the start of it all, you weren't sure UA was a good fit for you, nonetheless that Class 1A was a suitable starting point. But you quickly fell into the swing of things, and you fought hard to make a name for yourself in spite of any obstacles. As you built your confidence, a certain hot-tempered someone took notice, although he's hard pressed to admit it.
Even now with this haphazard plan jumbling around in his brain, he's not so sure this is the right way to go about things. But Bakugo knows that if he doesn't do it now, he might never do it at all. And if he's being honest, that part might frazzle him more than the thought of rejection. At the very least, he thinks you should know that. . . That he feels something for you, whatever the hell you wanna call it. He's tired of keeping it inside. Katsuki, of all people, is anything but used to shying away from his opinions, —and this one has been plaguing him for way too long.
"Hey, y/n!" He calls over to you.
You follow through with the punch you're landing on the training bag before turning to him.
"Yeah?" You ask, arms dropping to your side with a distant ache.
It's so commonplace by now that your brain hardly registers anything at all.
"We need to talk," Bakugo states, leaving little room for questions.
You can't say you're devoid of nerves, but he's been quite nice to you recently, so they've tempered off quite a lot. When you think back on it, you don't really know if he was ever mean to you personally. For the most part, he's always been. . . Nice? It's a word you struggle to connect with him due to his aggressive personality, but it seems to be the one that suits this scenario the best. His kindness has never been overt, but asking to spar with you might just be the biggest compliment someone like Bakugo can give. It means he sees you as someone capable of challenging him, and considering he thinks quite highly of himself, that's saying quite a bit.
"Oh?" You tilt your head to the side in confusion, "Is everything okay?"
His cheeks puff out for a moment or two before he responds. 
Ah. . . That was cute.
"I don't really know how to say it," he acknowledges, "so just. . . Just listen until I'm done."
The please he tacks on softly at the end is almost too soft for you to hear. You'd even call it desperate.
"Your performance at the Sports Festival was. . ." He pauses, searching for the right words.
"It was really good," Katsuki settles.
Now that he's thinking about it critically, it was there that he solidified his feelings, whether passively or otherwise. It was there that he felt his heart swell with pride for you, —much to his own bewilderment. He felt prouder of you than he did of himself, despite having won the entire thing. When he thinks back on that day, he feels slivers of anger, but the memories of watching you dominate in the first round from the bleachers really set him on fire. It soothes that ball of complete and utter rage inside of him, if only for a moment. It tempers him out for the first time in a long while, eases that ache inside that he tries his best to stuff down and ignore.
An ache that derives from his secret worry that he might never be enough.
"Oh, you think so?" You smile softly, and he feels himself melt a little, lips pulling upward before he can think twice about it.
"That means a lot, especially coming from the one who won the whole thing," you add.
"Winning isn't everything," he replies quickly.
Too quickly to filter his sentiments. Winning has always been important to him, —it's established him as a top contender for all areas of his life. It's been the thing he's fallen back on time and time again. No matter what anyone has ever said, Katsuki is a winner. He's the best.
But even when he wins, something inside always yearns for more. And sometimes it's more than he fears he could ever achieve. More than he could ever be.
"I didn't think you'd say something like that," you acknowledge, "—but I agree. And not just because I lost."
"It's still important to win, of course," he attempts to fix the mask that's slipped, —even now,— "but you did well, even if you lost. And that's good too."
"But not good enough?" You muse, half jokingly.
It goes over his head, to say the least.
"It's good enough," Bakugo says, tone low and firm.
It carries his characteristic bluntness, but lacks the aggression. There's something there that you can't quite place. . . Something you're not sure you're at liberty to ask about, not that you'd really know how in the first place.
"You're good enough."
His words take you aback. It's unlike him to say something so seemingly sentimental. Even so, you're left to wonder if he was saying that to you because he wanted you to say it back. Maybe he was talking to himself here as well.
Before you have the chance to say anything, he speaks again.
"I like you. I don't really know why, so don't go asking for details, —I just do. There's probably a lot of reasons, but I don't know how to say them, so just take it for what it is."
Take me for what I am. For what I'm yet to be as well.
You pause for a few seconds to process everything that's been thrown at you. You know you can't leave him hanging here, especially not after that. On the surface, you like Bakugo. He's a bit rough around the edges sometimes, but he's got his own ways of expressing gratitude and caring for those around him. He's got his own way of giving people compliments, —and he's way outside of his comfort zone right now. That much is obvious.
"Are you hungry?" You ask him, smiling gently.
He looks confused, but simply answers in spite of it.
"Kind of."
"Let's go get some dinner together, then," you suggest. "My treat."
He doesn't really get it, but if you're asking to spend time with him he figures that's not a rejection. Dinner together will give the both of you time to talk, —time to learn more about each other. After that, maybe those disjointed feelings of his will piece themselves together a little more.
Until then, you'll just enjoy his company. He's not a bad conversationalist once you get to know him.
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𖦹. ━ KAMINARI !!
Kaminari is a wreck. The closer he gets to you, the more his heart pounds, and he's convinced himself that you can hear it no matter the physical distance between the two of you. These feelings are scary and they make him want to run away from it all, so far that he loses sight of them somewhere.
He asks Mina for advice, but that doesn't quite go as planned. She tries to take over, —tells him he should throw some kind of party and convince you to come so he can ask you to dance with him when a slow song plays.
"Then you'll confess, and by the time you do, y/n will have totally already fallen for you!"
Denki's not so sure about that. He's also nowhere near confident enough in his own dancing abilities to hinge his entire plan on them. Not to mention the fact that, while he can be oblivious to things, he caught on quickly enough that Mina just really wanted a reason to throw a party.
Count Kaminari out for that idea.
He turns to the internet next: a place of vast ideas. He considers buying you chocolate in one of those big, fancy, heart-shaped boxes; but Valentine's Day has already passed for the year, making those much harder to come by. Not to mention that he was far too nervous to ask about your preferences, —because what if you immediately realized what he was planning on doing? What if you rejected him right there before he really had the chance to properly confess?
Kaminari doubts you'd do anything of the sort, and even if you did, he knows it would be put gently, but his fear of humiliation wins out on that one.
No big, elaborate party to slow dance at. And no chocolate.
Flowers then? Everyone likes flowers, right? Everyone except for Bakugo, maybe, Denki notes. That might not even be true, but he has a certain hunch, —not that he plans on asking his easily agitated friend about that anytime soon.
Still, Kaminari ventures to the nearest flower shop one afternoon and asks one of the workers there for some help. They give him a variety of options: —red roses are classic, but in recent years, people have been giving their loved ones roses in their favorite colors instead. The yellow ones are bright and pretty, but the blue ones seem so elegant and refined. And that's simply one type of flower alone! There's tulips, which seem a little more playful but are still beautiful and smell so sweet, peonies, daisies that range in sunset colors, even sunflowers. . .
In the end, he leaves with nothing, feeling lost and confused. He considers other options over the following days as well.
Maybe he could have Sato bake you something? But what if he picks the wrong flavor, just like with the chocolate?
Scratch that, —maybe a teddy bear will do the trick! But what if you'd prefer something different, like a rabbit, or even a unicorn.
No teddy bear. Jewelry? Something handmade? Fancy skincare products?
By the end of the week, Denki has a trashcan full of crumpled papers, all discarded ideas that he found something wrong with. If only he put this much effort into his school assignments. . .
A comment from some random person on an anonymous message board is the one to seal the deal. When he asks what he should do, they respond by telling him "not to be a chicken, just do it lol."
Just do it?
Somehow he'd never really considered that as an option. . .
You're shocked to find a note slipped inside your desk on Monday morning. It doesn't have a name, but it asks you to meet the author of it at a park nearby after school, —in the little garden city officials planted a few springs ago, and now pay people to upkeep in the warmer months. You do as asked, but are cautious. It's daytime, there are many people around, and you have your cellphone on you just in case of an emergency. Better to be safe than sorry!
"Kaminari?" You question upon your arrival.
The poor boy nearly trips over himself spinning around toward you. He'd expected you to come from the other direction. . .
"Y/n, —hi," he manages to say without fumbling for words. "Nice day, huh?"
"Um, yeah! I heard it was supposed to rain, but I'm glad it didn't. I'd have gotten soaked on the way here, —I completely forgot my umbrella back at the dorms," you admit.
I didn't even consider the weather, he thinks. Ugh.
"Anyway, were you the one that wrote this?" You ask, holding up the note between two of your fingers.
"Yeah," he nods, nervousness practically seeping from every pore on his body. "I. . . I have something to tell you, and I didn't know where else we could go, so I thought this might be the best bet."
And I wrote the note because I was still worried about rejection, and wanted to hold onto the idea that it could work for just a while longer.
"Well, I'm all ears," you say softly.
His heart is pumping so loud he's afraid it might burst, but he forces his lips apart to speak.
"I have feelings for you," Denki says, catching you by surprise.
 "Would you like to go on a date with me?"
His edges soften when you crack a bashful smile.
"Yeah," you nod, "I'd like that."
He's too elated by your response to grieve all the hours he spent contemplating it. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until it all came spilling out in a relieved sigh.
Thank you, anonymous message board user!
"Oh! And before I forget, —what do you think about all these flowers?"
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𖦹. ━ TODOROKI !!
Overall, Todoroki considers himself to be someone who has pretty good control over his emotions. Sure, that might stem from his rough childhood where he was forced to swallow down his feelings to please others, —but in the end, he's learned to regulate himself quite well, for better or worse.
Even so, you've spun him out. He's floundering, despite hiding it like a master magician. He can keep all of it locked away inside, push it down until it's almost out of sight and out of mind, but it creeps back up to the forefront every chance it gets. It's keeping him awake. And he's almost ashamed to admit it, as someone who's been fairly soured on the idea of "true love," —whatever that's supposed to feel like. He acknowledges that he's both young and inexperienced, but can't shake the thought of you.
Shoto doesn't want to let anyone down. Not even those he's come to resent. After all his hard work, he thinks it would likely be a waste to give it all up now. . . But is that really what would happen if he acknowledged his own feelings? Is the forming of bonds really something that makes you weaker?
Or is that just another residual piece of his father talking from inside him?
"Todoroki," Midoriya nudges the split-haired boy, bringing him out of his thoughts.
He blinks himself back to reality.
"Sorry, did you say something?"
"Y/n's looking for you," Izuku repeats, "not sure why though."
"Oh. . . Okay, thanks," Shoto stands, "—where should I go?"
"School gates, probably!"
Todoroki thanks his friend again before rushing off. He's not sure why he's going so fast, it's not like he won't have the opportunity to speak with you at another point if he happens to miss you this time, but. . .
The truth is that he wants to see you. He wants to test things. He wants to pull away from whatever strings his father still holds over him. Shoto would rather hand them over to you.
"Todoroki!" You call out as soon as you see him, "there you are!"
"Yeah, sorry, I'm a little out of it today," he admits. "Do you need something?"
"Nothing in particular," you shake your head, "I just wanna talk, is all. You seem a little. . . Dejected lately."
You noticed? Nobody else had, as far as he was aware. If they had, they hadn't brought it to his attention, nonetheless taken the time to speak with him about it. He's almost ashamed to have let you see him in that state, —but more than that, he's glad someone has cared enough to ask.
The Sports Festival was hard for him; not because he lost, but because he was forced to reconcile with many different aspects of himself that he wasn't sure he was ready to face so adamantly. Still, he gets the feeling that whatever he says, you won't judge him for it, and definitely won't repeat it to anyone.
"I've had a lot on my mind since the Sports Festival," he sighs. "I don't know that I'm ready to get into it, even with myself."
"You don't have to," you assure him quickly. "Even if you never tell me anything, that's okay. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright. I also. . . Just wanted to make sure you knew that I'd be here if you ever need someone to talk to."
To act on these feelings. . . Would that be wrong?
Todoroki smiles softly.
Bonds. . . Can also make you stronger, I believe.
"I appreciate that," he tells you. "Really. The way you care for people is admirable. I think it's one of the reasons I like you so much."
I am allowed to be honest with my feelings.
That takes you by surprise.
"Speaking of that, since school is over. . . Would you like to go get ice cream, or something? Just the two of us?"
This is not a sign of weakness.
"Y-Yeah!" You nod quickly, heart skipping a beat. "I know a place just a few minutes away!"
"Great," Shoto nods, relishing in the warm feeling that bubbles up from inside. "Lead the way."
This is a sign of strength.
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sl-newsie · 19 days
Text
Behind Masks (Dr. Jonathon Crane x OC) Ch. 1: Introductions
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“You can’t keep me here! I demand a lawyer! I am an associate of the Hell’s Gate Psychiatric Institution and will not tolerate this denial of justice!”
The security guard bangs his baton against the bars again. “Quiet, Prentiss! You’re lucky you get your own cell. Or would you rather have to share?”
My gaze throws daggers. “I’ll have you know that I am perfectly sane and do not belong in this asylum. I will not cooperate until I speak to a lawyer.”
“That’s too bad,” the guard taunts. “‘Cause I got strict orders not to allow you any visitors.”
I gawk at his idiotic face. “On whose authority?”
“You’ll meet him once his current session is over,” he says as he walks down the hall away from my cell. "I think it’s with Croc if I’m not mistaken.”
Croc? As in Killer Croc? God, why didn’t I just play the game? Why did I have to go beyond my jurisdiction? I already knew Gotham was a rigged and twisted system the second I got here. I’ve gone from a respected psychiatrist to the very type of person I’m supposed to be above. Now all I have to my name is an orange jumpsuit, a pair of cheap sneakers, a toothbrush, and a small copy of the Bible. 
How long have I been waiting? There’s no clock, no windows. No clue to anything happening outside. All I see are beige hallways spanned into a webbed labyrinth that’s meant to keep patients from escaping. Keep me from escaping.
Thud-thud. Thud-thud.
Muffled footsteps echo down through the hall, potentially signaling my approaching contact. At first my heart soars at the hope of finally talking to someone in authority who can get me out; yet as the footsteps grow louder there’s something about them that sends a chill down my spine. It can’t be him. God, I hope it’s not him-
It’s him.
I’ve heard rumors of the dark secrets that go on at Arkham. Crackheads slicing open arteries, schizophrenics keeping doctors up for days on end. One that always highlights itself above the rest is the Scarecrow. And he just opened my cell door.
What I notice first is the eyes. Cold, icy-blue eyes so full of curiosity yet still impassive. Those cold and calculating eyes stare straight through and scan me. It’s a silent battle of how hard his stare can press until I break. I also see how he’s managed to keep his job. One might say he’s handsome but I know better. Just because you were a clean suit does not mean your soul is spotless. He may be able to charm his way into Arkham but I’ll never give in.
“Good afternoon, Ms…?”
The voice doesn’t help either. He does it well. Calm, soft, and smooth. Typical therapist nonsense I see in my line of work every day. Let’s see if I can win this game.
“You should have access to my file, sir. Introductions should not be necessary.”
The man’s eyebrows raise in response to my equally calm tone. Keep the voice calm, keep the eyes alert. I need to discreetly establish dominance in this conversation in order to gain leverage.
“I do have your file. But I prefer personal introductions with my patients.” The man sets a briefcase on the nearby table and takes a seat, then gestures for me to join him. “No need to hide. I’m here to help.”
Straight to the point I see. No use trying to beat around the bush. I step away from the corner I’m leaning against but refuse to sit down.
“There was a mistake.”
The man frowns and pulls out a pad to start taking notes. “What do you mean?”
He wants me to talk, so I will. “I mean I’m not supposed to be here. Someone paid off the judge to have me locked up, and the judge has had it out for me ever since I dug up his affair with the mayor’s wife.”
This intrigues the therapist as he jots down more notes, still looking up to keep his eyes piercing into me. “Are you a reporter?”
“Far from it. I am- was a psychiatrist in Metropolis. I was called to Gotham to help the mayor’s son. No one else was willing to work here.”
“And you are?” He asks with slight surprise though he tries to hide it.
“Metropolis can only take my curiosity so far,” I mutter. “Gotham is unique.”
More scribbling. I must say he’s much more organized than other professionals I’ve worked with. All the more reason to be concerned with the outcome of this conversation.
“I’m going to ask you some questions to start forming your profile.” Crane turns over an hourglass and clicks his pen open.
Basic protocol. There’s no way I’m giving him everything. Thankfully I’ve learned to avoid the telltale signs of lying.
“Full name?”
“Calico Marie Prentiss.”
“Pretty. Family name, I presume?”
Trying to soften me up and dig into my family history. “My father likes unique names, my mother prefers traditional ones. So they compromised.” Use present tense.
“How is your relationship with your family?” the man asks softly.
He has my family history. My job required me to keep an updated profile on personal matters to validate my own mental health. In other words just an excuse for the bored guys at the top to snoop.
“Currently undecided.” They’re dead. What else am I supposed to say?
“Ms. Prentiss, your parents-”
“With all due respect, sir, can we move things along and save that topic for later?” Just get to the part when I can get out of here!
My stern request doesn’t seem to faze the man. “Do you have supportive people in your life?”
Trying to bring me down by addressing empathy links. “People, no. I have other methods of support. And before you ask, I have never done drugs.”
He nods. “Current relationship status?”
This trips my mind a bit. Must be a new questionnaire protocol? 
“Single,” I enunciate in a cold voice.
“Interesting…” More scribbling. Jesus, is he writing a book about me? “Normally people like you are either engaged, married, or divorced. Very rarely do I see any single psychiatrists. Attractive, smart, rich. Very appealing characteristics for a relationship, don’t you think?”
Hm. He asked a question that isn’t based on my profile. Is this for genuine curiosity or a topic of interest for him? After a few seconds of silence go by he continues.
“Your toxicology screening came back clean, as you mentioned before. How many partners have you encountered?”
The question rings in my ear and for an instant my mask slips, but I’m quick to recover.
“None.”
Once again the therapist is surprised. “Catholic, are we?”
“I have my morals. I’m too busy to be worrying about sex, sir. My job comes first.”
More scribbling. God, how much longer?
“Are you having suicidal thoughts right now, or have you had suicidal thoughts within the past month?”
If this questioning goes any longer I may consider it.
“No.”
“Are you having homicidal thoughts, or have you had homicidal thoughts in the past month?”
“Never.”
“How do you cope with stress?”
“Exercise and hard rock. You should try it sometime.” I’m starting to lose my patience and I have to take a slow breath. This is just what he wants. Calm down.
The man hums. “What are some of your strengths?”
“I’m punctual and have a traditional mindset. This tends to drive away disagreeing parties, which is why I’m here.” I step closer and place my hands on the table to face him directly. “You are a head staff member here whether it’s morally correct or not. All I ask is to please allow me to speak to a lawyer, or at least a transfer to Gotham Penitentiary. I am not insane.”
“Morally correct…” he lingers on the thought and tilts his head. “Why would you say that, Ms. Prentiss?”
Just as I thought before, no use beating around the bush.
“I know who you are. Jonathan Crane, a former professor of psychology who’s obsessed with fear. Now you work here experimenting on patients behind the warden’s back.”
Crane’s eyes spark at the mention of fear. Must be a trigger word, perhaps for old memories. “Are you sure you’re not a reporter?” he asks, still in the same soft tone.
I shake my head. “Just a woman who’s not afraid to step on any toes.”
“Ah.” Crane stands up slowly and rummages through his briefcase. After tucking away his notes he looks up with a look that makes my blood run cold. 
“Would you like to see my mask?”
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regina-cordium · 5 months
Note
trick....or treat...
First of all, the most important thing:
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some candy to enjoy while reading.
This got a lot longer than it has any right to be. Whoops.
Spot wants it on the record that he was forced to be here.
Ever since returning to New York for his grad degree, Jack has been hell bent on him “getting the Boston out of his system,” or something dumb like that. Spot doesn’t get how a Halloween party in Jack and Charlie’s shoebox apartment counts towards that goal, but whatever. He’s mostly here because Charlie and Ma asked, and also Katherine pointed out it’d be hilarious to watch Jack trip over himself all night trying to impress Davey.
And the free booze. The free booze is vital.
So now he’s leaning up against the wall nursing a lukewarm beer and trying not to get crushed by what feels like the entirety of Manhattan crammed into such a small apartment. How the hell Jack even knows so many people, Spot will never know. What he does know is that he’s starting to get uncomfortable and hungry, and is probably five minutes away from snapping at someone for, like, existing.
“Three o’clock – Jack is about to eat shit,” a voice suddenly says from beside him. Spot does not jump, thank you very much, but he does lift his head in time to watch Jack trip over his own stupid cowboy hat; Davey is rushing forward to help Jack up, but is definitely also laughing at him.
“You always know what to get me,” Spot says, turning to Mack with a grin. She’s dressed as a baseball player, arms hooked around a bat she’s got across her shoulders. She’s also giving him an unimpressed lookover, rude.
“What are you even supposed to be?” she asks, brows raised.
“I’m a lumberjack.” Jack said he wouldn’t let Spot through the door if he wasn’t wearing a costume, so Spot just threw on the closest he could get to the Bounty paper towel dude.
“You wore that exact outfit to Stray’s birthday two weeks ago,” Mack points out, still deeply unimpressed.
Spot opens his mouth to make a sarcastic comment, but he’s drowned out by the sound of cheers and Jack going, “There he fucking is!”
He and Mack both look over to where Jack’s got his arms around someone Spot thinks he recognizes. The guy is wearing a red leather jacket covered in patches, black leather pants, sunglasses that look like they’re shaped like flames, and has red and yellow hair. There’s something written on his face, but he’s swallowed by a group hug before Spot can make it out.
“Who the fuck is that?” he asks.
“Hard to tell, but I think that was Dominic.”
Spot frowns. “Why do I know that name?”
“He’s been attached to Lucky’s hip since undergrad,” Mack explains, swinging her bat down to lean on. “They’re in the same math program or whatever. I think he was Jack’s roommate too? I dunno.”
“I thought he was blond?”
Mack raises an eyebrow, which Spot ignores. “It’s Halloween, dude. He probably dyed his hair. If you’re so curious, why don’t you go talk to him instead of haunting the corner.”
“I’m not haunting –” He breaks off as Mack plants a hand between his shoulder blades and shoves him, hurling him into someone. Spot turns to flip her off; Mack just blows him a kiss, because she’s an asshole.
“You good?” a voice asks.
Spot turns back to the person he knocked into, intending to apologize, but he stops when he realizes the person is Dominic. Spot sends another dirty look over his shoulder at Mack, but she’s gone.
“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry ‘bout that, my friend is a dick.”
Up close, Spot can see that Dominic has the number 9 on one cheek and 5 on the other, his glasses are, in fact, shaped like flames, and his blond roots are obvious under the red.
Dominic, for his part, looks extremely amused. “Hey, you’re Jack’s brother, right?”
“Spot,” he introduces, holding out a hand.
“Nice to meet’cha. I’m Dominic, but everyone calls me Racetrack.”
Spot is not distracted by his brother’s old roommate’s hands, because that would be weird and also fucking cliche.
Pulling himself together, because only one Larkin kid gets to be a disaster about hot boys and Jack has that shit on lockdown, Spot says, “Weird fucking nickname.”
Instead of being offended, like most people are when Spot speaks, Racetrack just throws his head back and laughs (Spot is not distracted by the long column of his throat.) “What, weirder than Spot?” he asks.
Spot can’t exactly argue with that, so he quickly changes track. “What’re you supposed to be, anyway? Ain’t you hot in all that leather?”
“I’m hot out of the leather, too,” Racetrack says with a smirk, causing Spot to choke on the sip of beer he’d just taken. Racetrack laughs again as he unhelpfully pats Spot on the back. “I think you’re supposed to drink that, not inhale it.”
“Fuck you,” Spot wheezes.
Racetrack seems to finally take pity, because he finally answers Spot’s question. “I’m Lightning McQueen!”
Spot stares at him for a moment. Racetrack grins back.
“Like. From that Disney movie?” Spot finally asks.
“First of all, it’s a Pixar movie, and don’t let Jack hear you get the two confused,” Racetrack corrects. “Second, yes.”
“What the fuck?”
“Dude, my name’s Racetrack. I had to.”
“You absolutely didn’t.”
Racetrack sighs dramatically (Spot gets the feeling he does everything dramatically).
“You sound like Albert,” he pouts and goddamn it, Spot can’t even pretend he doesn’t find it absolutely adorable. Fucker.
“I’d be offended by the comparison,” Spot says, thinking about all the dumb shit Albert got up to in high school, “but for once in my life, I agree with him.”
“Well, you’re not even wearing a costume, so I win by default.”
Spot can’t help but snort. “That’s not how that works, first of all. Second, I am. I’m a lumberjack.”
“You look like you belong at some hipster bar that’s got overpriced drinks and too much wood paneling.”
“Okay, now I’m offended,” Spot says, but there’s a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. Racetrack seems to notice it, because his own grows.
“You wanna get something to eat?” Racetrack asks suddenly. Spot’s glad he’s finished his beer, because we would’ve definitely choked again.
Instead, he raises an eyebrow and says, “You mean ditch my brother’s party to hang out with someone I don’t even know?”
Racetrack rolls his eyes. “You’re not even enjoying yourself.”
“Fuck off, maybe I’m having the goddamn time of my life,” Spot argues, just to argue.
“You’re not.” It’s so matter of fact that Spot is taken aback. “‘Sides, Jack never gets enough food for these things and you were here before me, so if I’m hungry then you are too.”
Spot had actually forgotten he was even hungry, but now that it’s been brought up he’s suddenly fucking starving.
“Fine,” he finally relents, unable to stop his smile when Racetrack pumps his fists. “But only because I’m fucking starving. You just happened to be the first person to say anything.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Spotty!” Racetrack laughs as he leads them through the crowd. “You up for Chinese?”
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mermaidsirennikita · 3 months
Text
ARC Review: Glitterland by Alexis Hall
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4.5/5. Rereleases 1/26/2023 in audio.
Vibes: grumpy/sunshine to the nth degree, hookups to lovers, modern interclass romance, actual bipolar rep.
Ash was once a literati prodigy--but after extreme ups and downs related to his bipolar disorder diagnosis, he's stuck with pulp fiction novels. His depression and anxiety-ridden routine is rocked, however, when he hooks up with the glittery, upbeat, and very different Darian. Although he claims to want nothing, time with Darian and his sunny outlook makes Ash want everything. The question is--with all going on in his mind, can he keep it?
Oh, man, this one got me. It's hilarious, as Alexis books always are, but there's a depth here, an examination of class politics, the cynical versus the optimistic, and the issues that come with being bipolar. I say this as someone who has the same diagnosis as Ash--this hit home for me hard. I've never seen my disorder so well portrayed. And to have it wrapped up in a romance I actually loved? It just got me on a really deep level.
Quick Takes:
--Okay, so first off, I do want to talk about the bipolar rep here. Ash's disorder is not the only thing about him, and it's not the most important part of this book. This is a true romance, and Ash and Darian's relationship is the focal point. That said, this is a single POV book (which is hard to sell me on, but Alexis always does) and you see exactly what's going on in Ash's head the whole time. The ups and downs, the struggles. I wouldn't say Ash cycles particularly hard over the course of the story. He has meds that work for him. This is not a "this diagnosis is new" story.
What he does struggle with a lot accepting that he has this disorder and that it will always be a part of his life, but it does not necessarily have to dominate his life. There's a passage in this book wherein Ash is basically like "this is always going to happen, no matter what meds I'm on I will always have these episodes, this is always going to keep me from having stable relationships, this is my existence". And I've never really had my own thoughts about being bipolar spelled out so clearly for me. That was truly... validating. It's a very specific fear, committing to the idea that you will always have this and it is going to keep you from being who you would've otherwise been. There's something about having to let go of that alternate reality, while also fighting the idea that this reality basically condemns you to solitude or horrible relationships--not just romantic, but platonic and familial. It's hard.
And this shit isn't resolved completely by the end, because it can't be? Like, I fully believed in an HEA for Ash and Darian. But it'll take work!
--Alright, so onward. The characters are so lovable here. Well, with a couple of notable supporting exceptions, but they weren't supposed to be lovable (though one of them, despite doing something I personally considered unforgivable, was very HUMAN). I fucking fell in love with Ash and Darian equally, though they are absolute total opposites. I love a hero who sees the object of his affections, is ridiculously turned on, and is like "how the FUCK am I hard right now" and that is Ash. For all that Darian is obviously beautiful and obviously charming, he's not the type of beautiful and charming Ash thinks he should want... or, to be honest, thinks he deserves?
I actually related to both Ash and Darian in different ways (see: having bipolar). And I don't know if that was intentional, this contrast of dark and light, of energy and apathy, of optimism and pessimism. But it worked.
Although we're in Ash's head alone and we do get to know him better, I will say that the insights we got into Darian's life were significant enough for me to totally feel like I got him. He's bright and bubbly, but he's not flat, and he's not a manic pixie dream boy. He has responsibilities. He wants to model, but he's also in it for the money and is quite realistic about where his future lies on that front. He doesn't expect to be famous; but he does want to help support his family.
And the thing is, you need Darian to be as cheerful and lovely as he is, because Ash's head is not always easy to be in. It's dark in there. He struggles. He's funny, he's relatable, but he's not at all stress-free to read about. And the balance Alexis strikes between the two isn't just about romance; it's also about making a technically strong book. These two work together so well--but their relationship isn't easy, largely because Ash cannot accept the idea that he's capable of having a good relationship.
--There's a lot of interesting class stuff here? I'm American--but I do know that the English class system is quite different from ours. Ash has an accent Darian considers "posh" (I cannot say whether or not it is); Darian is from Essex and has what I now know is an Essex accent. I really can't speak to how this is written in the print book, because I haven't read it (yet), but I believe Alexis wrote out the accent phonetically. Either way? The narrator does an amazing job of differentiating the two. I mean, I can't speak to the accuracy of Darian's accent, but I can say these two men read as totally different and it is great.
But yeah--Ash does look down on Darian for having this really orange tan and being loud in every sense of the word and having friends with tons of Botox. At first. He has to get over a lot of shit through the course of the story, and realize that he's being an ass. It's GREAT. I love reading about a hero who's legitimately snobby and elitist and see him get over it.
--Okay, for all the deep shit, this is an amazing romcom (I mean... romdramedy? It's a romance and it's funny but also angsty, okay). There are so many moments where I just imagined the most glittery, bouncy person alive bopping in circles around a very gloomy individual in all black, dark circles under his eyes, staring into space. Except, maybe, for when his glittery guy kisses him. Ash doesn't want to admit he's falling in love with Darian, yet he can't help trying to impress him, to get close to him, to really bond with him. Sometimes this made my heart grow three sizes. Sometimes it made me laugh.
Anyway, if you love a "black cat falls for golden retriever" book. This is it. I mean, if we're being real, Darian may be more like a goldendoodle (if my mom's dog could speak, he would be like Darian--I know this) but the point stands.
--You like a grovel? You like the "baby don't leave me I miss you baby I'm sorry baby" sobbing mess shit? Oh, you will like this. I was practically high off how good this grovel was.
--There's a really interesting subplot with a supporting character that... I would not have reacted to in the same way as Ash. But I think Ash's perspective was informed by some very specific relationship things that made his decisions extremely realistic. I will say, one thing that happens to Ash due to this dynamic is one of my worst fears, and it made me feel like I'd been slapped. (In a good way. I mean, it sucked, but it was so well done. I wasn't triggered by any means.) It was also incredibly realistic, based on tastes I've had of that kind of behavior.
The Sex:
Probably my favorite sex scenes I've read in an Alexis Hall book thus far. This is a "fuck first feelings later" book (which I love). Ash and Darian have sex well before they fall in love, and Ash is soooo horny for Darian. Which bemuses him, because wanting someone this badly isn't normal for Ash. That sense of REALLY inexplicably wanting someone was so well depicted, though.
And the sex scenes themselves really worked. They were hot, they were sweet, they were... real good. A particular favorite was one that followed Ash blurting out that he has an antique desk and asking Darian if he'd like to fuck him over it. YES. PLEASE. I love someone being so attracted to the other person that they literally can't contain themselves.
There was also some exploration of different types of sex (nothing crazy, but Ash asks Darian to do something Darian isn't really familiar with) and I found that kind of like... Asking for something and discussions of comfort levels and curiosity really nice to see in a contemporary. It's less "oh ho I know it all and I'll lead you through it" and more "I would like you to do this for me if you want to do it because I think we would both enjoy it".
TW: past suicide attempt, past self harm, suicidal ideation, shaming of mental health issues.
Anyway, I thought this was great. I think it was Alexis's debut--which is crazy. The talent! I've been wanting a go at Glitterland for a while, and it did not disappoint at all.
Thanks to Netgalley and Dreamscape Media for providing me with a copy of this audiobook. All thoughts and opinions are my own.
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reflections-of-mobius · 8 months
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Anonymous asked:
Resilience for Murk?
[Positive Psychology OC Ask Meme! | Accepting!]
RESILIENCE– How do they handle loss or failure? What helps them stay resilient and bounce back from loss or failure?
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That mostly depends on the source of its failure. If Murk fails in a task that has no opposing force (i.e., a timed task or project for which he is not skilled), then he just accepts the loss and moves forward- with plans forming for how to better handle it in the future. However, if he's presented with a failure caused by another party (i.e., losing a competition, or the entirety of Sonic 06) then it hits him very hard. Think- willing to get revenge hard- but he's working on toning that down, especially now that he no longer has the goal of world-wide destruction/combining with Iblis to drive him forward.
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For Murk, the thing that helps it stand back up after a loss is simply 'I will try again- and next time, I will succeed'. It's driven by a need to do its best. The loss brought about from Sonic 06 brought him low, sure- but it was also a freedom for him, and an awakening. It freed him from the chains of craving being Solaris- and it showed him what it was like to be the loser- something he had refused to accept, initially, when it was captured years prior for research purposes.
There were several of these, the others will all be under a cut!
Wisdom for Bless! Or is it Bliss?
WISDOM– Are they open to other people’s perspectives? Do they look to history and past mistakes? What kinds of internal dialogue do they have about difficult situations?
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It's Bless, you were right on the mark! And Bless is usually open to other's perspectives. While he won't deviate from his own unless he finds the new perspective to be better, Bless would never cut someone down for having a differing outlook compared to him. After all, that's part of what makes life interesting- and you aren't always going to meet people you agree with! It's more fun to learn where the differences lie, and continue forward regardless.
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Short of killing others, Bless doesn't look to others' past mistakes to judge them on. He knows that not everyone has a good life, and sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do- but he holds a line at taking a life. Unless it's for a damn good reason, i.e., because that person was intent on torture, murder, global domination, experimenting on sentient subjects, etc.,- he's against it. Of course, like anyone- Bless can also step over that line (try to kill his friends or his enbyfriend and you're fucked)... So he'd still be willing to hear someone out if they had a history of murder.
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As for his internal dialogue- it's pretty upbeat! Even in rough situations, he's usually looking for a way to cool everyone down and diffuse whatever's got everyone up-at-arms. However, if it's a fight... There's usually a few dozen quips just on the tip of his tongue, alongside a general battle plan (factoring in everyone who's on his side and their abilities vs. the enemies' abilities, of course).
Leadership for Node
LEADERSHIP– Do they have clear, set goals? Do they take the consideration of others, or do what they will? Would they go out of their way to meet the individual needs of people around them, or create a more standardized all-in-one solution?
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Node... Has no big, set goals with their life. Much like their boyfriend, Bless, they tend to just go with the flow.- With how many times Mobius has been threatened, and the amount of destruction that's unfolded, they worry about trying to set long-term plans, only for them to result in failure. However, in terms of little things, Node does hope someday to start selling their own homemade candles.
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Node always lends a helping hand to those around them- often to their own detriment, actually. Even if they're burnt out or on the edge of collapse, they'll still try to help others... Something that has had Bless quietly trying to gesture for whoever's been talking to Node to say no.
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As you can guess from the above, Node prefers to offer personalized solutions over generalized solutions. If they can, they'd rather make everyone happy by individualizing the solution as opposed to making something for the masses, that not all hands may enjoy.
Forgiveness for Tenebrosity?
FORGIVENESS– Do they obsess or linger on the bad things that someone did to them? Do they allow change to take place after they have been hurt, or do they fight against it? What negativities dictate or direct their decisions or life?
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Me still with only the one icon for Ten, someone please get me off my ass-
Ten isn't one to linger on negativity, outside of being awoken from her naps early. She's the embodiment of everything dark- fear, death, destruction, violence, anger, you name it and she's got it.- Having to be the living embodiment of such things for Mobius means there isn't a lot of room for resentment, because (contrary to what one may think) Ten can understand the opposing party, usually quite easily. Just because she draws her power from the darker half of the coin doesn't mean she must enjoy it.
She allows change, but she's pretty slow at it- as much as Ten is decent with letting bygones be bygones (after having a massive blow-up, situation depending...). Change... Is not something Ten is highly accustomed to, having been locked in the same eternal cycle with her twin brother since the dawn of Mobius' first civilzation.
Ten acts as she does mostly out of guilt and regret for what she did when Dr. Eggman prematurely awoke her. Her rage spread all over the planet, literally ripped it apart- all because she got furious that she woke up early. The very idea that she nearly caused a planet-wide catastrophe many years too early... It makes her feel sick. She never meant to scare every citizen of Mobius so heavily, nor to give Dr. Eggman so much of her power- and she spends each day and night of her mobian life, at present, trying to make up for that enormous blunder.
However...
Tenebrosity knows, being what she is, that she is beyond forgiveness- no matter what she tries to do to make up for this one event, she will (inevitably) be awoken one day to cause far more damage...
Meaning for Tempest?
MEANING– Where do they believe they fit in the world around them? What provides them comfort? Do they think about their daily life and routine? Are they satisfied?
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Tempest honestly isn't sure where she fits in the current world. Before she ever met Sonic, she was basically a shut-in- and she only grew to have friends because Sonic was the first person to reach out to her. She knows she is the living prison of both the Iblis Flame and Mephiles' Darkness- a living construct that has been reformed, in both body and soul, to keep the two entities forever separated, despite how close they may be.
In a way, Tempest views herself as merely an item- a place, and a monster. For all she has done for her Mobius, she failed in saving humanity. She failed in keeping Iblis in check- she nearly destroyed the world when she was Solaris, all because she was hungry. She is the prison. She is the jailor. She is Iblis and Mephiles' final resting place, and in a way, that is all she can bring herself to view herself as.
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Tempest finds comfort in exploring ancient ruins. In a way, it's a reminder that while she did fail humanity... They still lived. They were transported to Earth, lived out their lives... Eventually, they were forgotten to time- but their legacy gave birth to a new planet- a whole new world. It's also where Tempest feels most at home, in general. Ruins have had a cornerstone in her life for some time now, from being where she finally felt emotions for the first time, to being where she realized humanity had not been erased by her Mephiles- merely misplaced to another world, a single universe away.
She finds comfort in her friends, as well.- Because unlike most of the mobians, Sonic and his friends don't see Tempest as a weapon or a bomb waiting to explode- they see Tempest as Tempest. Someone who's been through as much as the rest of them- and has a hard time expressing herself because she's afraid of what Iblis will do if she does.
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Tempest thinks about her daily life and routine from time to time. It doesn't come across her thoughts all that often, since it's so normal to her... But it does show up, especially when she's wanting out of a situation.
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Tempest is not satisfied with how her life has gone.- But she wouldn't trade it for another chance. She's grateful for the friendships and memories she's made, though she feels... As if what she tried to do wasn't enough. As though she has failed. Sure- Mobius is still here... But it's in tattered ruins. Humanity lived.- But on another planet. She still has the scars on her upper arms/shoulders and shoulder blades to remind her that, for all the good she has done- she is the vessel of evil. She failed when it mattered most, and had to rely on others for her saving grace. She wasn't enough.
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alltheselights · 1 year
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Am I remembering correctly that Louis expressed discomfort at being referred to as daddy during bty promo? I thought I remembered that but I can’t find the video or anything so maybe I am remembering wrong. Or was it instead about being referred to as a father? God, I wish I could find the video…do you remember at all?
This would probably make me prudish to a lot of people but I am not a fan of calling celebrities daddy or getting really sexual about a person. Especially not to their face. This includes Harry by the way. It can be harmless, sure, and that I don’t mind but then so many take it way too far and they add it to everything that person does, in a way which to me seems creepy. If you want to tweet it or message it to your friends, I would not care. It’s all more annoying with larries because they will criticise the ones who treat Harry like that but then double down and do it to Louis. And I hate to say it, but Harry’s recent actions have encouraged it. He read the signs before he said them out loud. He knew what he was interacting with. Do I think that person should have called it out at the movie promo event? Not at all. Larries were mad about it and I understand but it does make me sad because I just don’t trust they would have the same energy for Louis if something similar happened at a promo event. They very well could but the way some larries talk about Louis…they treat him exactly like the treatment they complain about from non-Larries towards Harry
Yeah, he was weirded out by it in an interview (it might’ve been a Buzzfeed thing), but I can’t remember if that was 2017 or 2019. Regardless, I totally agree with everything you mentioned. Harry’s chosen to acknowledge “daddy” signs on multiple occasions now and has liked a happy father’s day tweet, though that of course doesn’t give people the right to call it out to him at other events. It’s just basic human decency and respect. In contrast, Louis has never shown any desire to be a sex symbol so the fact that fans treat him that way is uncomfortable to watch. Even more so because it often is certain Larries who do it even though they’re furious when anybody treats Harry that way. They were even angry with HARRY for choosing to acknowledge daddy signs because they felt it was encouraging those fans who sexualize him - even though that was Harry’s own choice, but then they turn around and call Louis “daddy” every time he breathes. And they’ll defend their behavior endlessly.
There’s also just a general obsession with sexualizing Louis in this corner of the fandom that I find very disturbing, and even more so when you compare it to peoples’ treatment of Harry. Harry writes songs about sex and dominating someone and has acknowledged multiple albums as having songs about sex, and people ignore it or come up with excuses for what the lyrics mean. Louis hasn’t written a sex song (that we’ve heard, at least) since he was in One Direction over seven years ago, but you constantly see people talking about how they want sex songs from him. Most recently, there was even a viral tweet about how the true lyrics in WAOYF must have been “can we please get back to fucking” even though that doesn’t make sense in the context of the song. Harry enjoys showing off his body (as he should, considering how hard he works to be in incredible shape) and often wears shirtless outfits that show off his abs and pecs, but if you point that out, people act like you’re a het Harrie and get angry about it. Louis covers himself up as much as possible most of the time, yet you see people wanting him to go shirtless on stage and sexualizing the hell out of him when he’s just trying to go swimming, like we saw when he was in a bathing suit in Spain and Iceland earlier this year.
It’s a double standard that really bothers me and always has. Despite how much some Larries pretend to have a moral high ground, there is a group, and it’s often the most popular Larries (I could name names, but I’m sure you know who I’m referring to) who treat Louis the way that het Harries treat Harry. They treat Louis more as some kind of sex object and one half of their fantasies for Louis and Harry’s sexual relationship than a person who, in my opinion, has shown that he is not interested in being a sex object to his fans. He’s interested in making music and he seems to want a friend or sibling relationship with us, and he deserves for that to be respected by people  who are his fans.
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a-prekliatyvlk · 1 year
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I don’t think I have ever really sat down and like talk talked about the twin’s jobs. Which is hard to do because technically (mostly) anything you are thinking could be considered their ‘jobs’. When talking about wolf character’s in general the pack mentality is a big deal. Im not talking about people fighting for dominance or shit I mean the FAMILY aspect of it all. I think with that being said you could probably think that if wolf packs in the real world existed. It would be Mafia’s and gangs. 
The other thing to consider is the fact that the twins come from a VERY VERY VERY old and long line of leaders. Vav was the first to make a VERY VERY large wolf pack. He in his own way loved his people and wanted to protect them. Since then most wolves if turned and survived mostly kept to themselves as drifters. Which made since, back in the time of Norse Men, the Churches over growing reach and times changing. Hiding out in the middle of some island or the wooded lands sounded mostly like heaven. Vav changed that with bringing people together and trying to keep them some what safe. I say some what because of his issues. However vav tried and in some ways succeeded in keeping a pack safe for a long while. 
Which leads me to my first point. Both Katia and Artem are Monarchs. They were bred for the purpose of leading a pack. That was the only reason that Vav wanted kids. So that when the time came, VERY VERY Far into the future, he could have strong kids to lead on his legacy. Despite everything the kids were brought into the pack with open arms and treated like kings and queens. Up until Vav realized that Artem wouldn’t do well as a leader and that Katia needed the sweetness beaten out of her. But for all intense and purposes. Katia and Artem are royalty. They are always whispered about in pack meetings and in awe when other packs see them because they are OLD. WISE. and honestly gentle rulers that have done everything they can to protect their pack. They are nothing like the Vukaxin last name. Which is saying something because it has been dragged through the mud for CENTURIES because of the two different packs. 
NOTE: this does not mean that if you have a wolf character they have to bow to the twins or know who they are. Honestly they don’t. The pack is old and elusive. Not many are going to know unless they grew up in a pack. So it’s fine if your wolf or pack won’t recognize Katia or Artem. 
So lets break this out right the twin’s job essentially and this will be done by Centuries to give you an idea of how it changed. 
Katia being taken throughout the Middle ages: 
This time frame is sort of the DARK AGES I like to call it. Katia gone, the pack barley starting to form. But Artems job was to get his sister back. That’s all. HIs wolf though understood the need to like protect his pack though so that is what he did. Though a round about way. Artem took on jobs as an Assassin or theif to get money for those first in the pack. Think like Dacian and Eva. 
Artem got his first taste of freedom by being a thief. His wolf loved the rush of stealing and honestly some of the others did too. It became a game to them, acting rich and taking what they could in the night. Back then most people let you sleep in their house if you were rich or someone they knew or could think they knew. Which happened with Artem a lot since he was known COUNTRIES away. No matter where he went. He was known if it was a wolf he was staying with. If it was a human. Dude the Twins had most of their lives (think 8-18) basically being trained how to be royalty, how to act and drink and think. Granted it was in wolf society but realistically it transfers. 
It as also during this time that they met Radovan, they tried to steal from him, so I mean. kinda hard to rob someone like that so they just brought him in and Radovan basically he helped them steal so much more than what they ever thought possible. They where doing fine before now it’s like mind blowingly good money. 
Also lets be real most of the income too came from selling drugs. Humans ATE that shit up and continue to do so so that’s what they did for a very long time. 
Middle Ages - Industrial Revolution / 19th Century: 
This is where it’s gray area. Katia at the end of the middle ages area basically kills her captor. And that means like not necessarily the man who kidnapped her. So many years went between when she was captured and like when she get’s free. It’s not going to be the same dude. Katia ends up basically destroying off a WHOLE GOD DAMN BLOODLINE. Not even a couple the whole bloodline of the man who captured her. From there she and Artem connect. It’s not easy, he’s already in the middle of his empire. It having grown. More people being added too it, they are now starting to realize they have to spend time together. The pack house starts to become a thing. 
Times are changing. It’s harder to use the whole royalty thing. Honestly speaking the pack has to start doing something else. They did try the gold rush for year’s. They basically rules towns that built railways, that helped people on the edge of the world. It was easiest to not get caught out there. The law was basically the strongest survive. It worked for a while. A good long while. Until business started to grow and things like Brothels, drugs and gangs ruled the cities or were starting too. 
This is were the pack thrived. Most has to pay tithes to the pack, if you wanted to set up shop, you paid the tithe. The pack soon became the go too person, you wanted something done. You visited the place with the wolf head. At this point all of this was run by Artem. He had gotten Katia back, his wolf decided to deposit him back in real life. It was time to be human again. Katia was spiraling and no one knew how to help. 
Katia spent several decades basically being the muscle. Fucking up people who dared threaten the life of the pack. It was worse as they grew because they spread out, the pack being in places like Chicago, LA, New York. At one point, Upper East side New York was the packs territory, nothing happened that they did not know about. Katia slowly started to realize that she had to get her shit together, enough so that people wouldn’t think of her as muscle but also brains of it. 
This is when the pack’s business started to flourish. Who didn’t like talking to a pretty women. 
20th Century and Present. 
This is where thing’s started to become what it is today. Through the 20th century the pack learned a lot of thing’s. How money fraud and check fraud was the way to steal LARGE amounts of money. That became art deals and antiquities, remaking things and selling. It was a hit and easy to do. 
Then came the 1980′s. Cartels and drugs. That became a crazy life style. Katia headed up that operation much to Artem’s dismay. Alot of the pack’s business’s started in the 80′s. They grew slowly, changing from place to place. Gangsters turned into Mob men that turned into drug dealer’s of the early 2000′s. Artem never wanted to do drugs but honestly it brought in so much money that the pack just kept with it. What were humans to gods that lived through CENTURIES. Nothing. 
Then came the internet. Alexander’s favorite toy. That PUSHED the pack into something that they couldn’t spend in LIFETIMES and CENTURIES. Alexander ruled the internet. Napster wasn’t the only thing he worked on. He BUILT an empire blackmailing. Someone had to keep track of it all. Katia did. 
Artem dealt with the Mobsters and Gang members the kind of men that respected a hardened front. This is what they do. They learned how to launder money, they learned how to destroy evidence. Honestly speaking they built their empire on the deaths of humans. 
To this day including Lobos de Boricua which the pack nurtured relations with their Leader Loni. to which Artem is soon to be mated too. Honestly the pack his WIDE spread feelers over everything. They know exactly whats going on and when it’s happening. Not much get pasts them. 
New gang in town. 
The pack already knows everything down to what you eat on tuesday’s when you are sad. 
THEY HAVE TOO. They built their business upon knowing things that no one knows. On making sure that they are the number one pick or you have no choice. 
Artem spends so much nurturing the leads they get. Building the business side of the business. If he isn’t dealing with pack thing’s he’s in building the business. He’s in business meeting’s and constantly on his phone or in his office. 
Katia is dealing with the mafia / mob / gang / CRIME world of things. She is the one meeting’s in shady bars and watching drugs funnel through the places. Watching THOUSANDS OF MILLIONS OF DOLLARS go through each business. Katia has to watch it, track it and make sure she keeps everything under wraps. 
Issue with shipments? She’s gotta take care of it. 
Payment issues? She’s gotta take care of it. 
Honestly speaking Katia is the one you don’t want to see. There is a reason why sometimes their business partners call her the Angel of Death. She will kill to protect. 
So basically the pack runs like a mob, feels like a family and at the end of the day. Artem is a business man, Artem deals with the LAW ABIDING side of things. Katia is a Queen. Katia deals with the underbelly and they know that if anyone looked too close they might start connecting the dots. Their job though is to make sure no one does. 
And they do it very very well. 
You will never hear anyone of their clients talk about them. If anything they will Howl. Like a wolf at the moon. Because they know if they talk they are going to get someone worse then the feds or police on their tail. 
They get Katia and that’s a fate worse than death. 
So the easiest answer is Artem does business. Katia does crime. This is the duality. Sometimes Katia has to be a business women. Sometimes Artem has to be a crime lord. Either way the twins job at the end of the day is to protect their pack and money is the only way to protect. In the human world money is everything. 
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katherine-mcnamara · 2 years
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yeah i think, im uncomfy with dominic sherwood being used in the rp because sometimes muns in defense of him swing to the other side of the pendulum too hard and act like it was no big deal at all, and i would rather not touch those issues with a ten foot pole, but i have nothing against him as an actor and i wouldnt boycott him or whatever. there is nuance to these situations, and ultimately its to the discretion of the people writing (as a group or as an individual), and we can leave it at that...
unless a fc is a whole ass criminal, in which case, maybe reconsider. and i can see where people get combative, since defense of an actor's actions can sometimes turn into accepting an actor's actions as anything less than what it was.
unless a fc is a whole ass criminal, in which case, maybe reconsider.
I'm just gonna answer this first because GET 👏 BETTER 👏IDOLS👏
I'm ngl and say I don't see where those types of fans are coming from. Like it 100% was not nothing, and he himself has refused to let people diminish it to nothing. But when 99% of the people coming at you for liking dom, for using dom, and being like he should be banned, are out there using m*tt who was apart of the same thing dom did, has never apologised, and was only upset because it was done ON LIVE, making it clear that it was something they did to each other, how they greeted each other. This whole ass STRAIGHT man who was a part of it then had the motherfucking AUDACITY to think he had to be in the video where dom apologised and look upset and disappointed. Not any of the lgbt cast not to apologise himself for it CLEARLY being a greeting they both used, no. Because this CIS STRAIGHT WHITE MAN, decided he could be there because he played a gay man on tv. HE'S STRAIGHT.
When you get people being absolutely gross about dom and demonising him but being totally fine with all lives matter tweeting, r/ joke making, arguing with people over "having the right/it was just a joke" about the s/a "joke", refusing to apologise, marrying and moving in with a very trump supporting family and the tweets of this are gone now but given his marriage/inlaws/his own father being forced to resign from office for his program racial profiling, i believe it, but being seen at trump rallies, the silence over palenstine when AGAIN during blm he tweeted all lives matter and none of y'all even CARED. He broke quarantine when it was at it's height and everywhere was severly locked down to leave his newborn baby in another state to go fly and party and get drunk.
but he's not banned.
So I don't really blame people being overdefensive of dom. when that is the rpc/fandom/people's in general reaction. Like you will not see m/tt on banned lists when dom is. even though he was part of the thing that got dom blacklisted.
Like I'm overdefensive of dom like people attacking him but giving that thing over there a free pass I got no time for. But I will never say what he's done doesn't matter. Because that erases all the apologies, all the good he's done, how he's grown. You can't have one without the other. So agreed there. I aint touching THAT with a barge pole either.
Like I always say. Ban whoever makes you uncomfy/you don't like. But don't harass me or others over dom when m/tt gets a free pass. you will get your feelings hurt. Especially because multiple PSA'S have been made and get a ton of hits daily. op's have shared their statcounter stats with me so I know people KNOW about m/tts shitty behaviour. they just free pass because they find him attractive when you can find 80 of him at walmart. he's not hard to replace. in fact use a black, indigenous, or turkish replacement just to say f you to his dads specific racial profiling program. or a latine to say f you to him being cast as a certain someone because he LOOKED similar to the others cast in the family.
Sorry this went all sorts of off topic but if i missed any of your points please lmk!!!
Also if people want to talk to me about this please censor full names so it doesn't go in their tag!!
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mccn-grant · 2 years
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Julio and Diablo are my new faves 💕 - any hcs? 👀
AAAAAAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK I LOVE TALKING ABOUT THESE LIL BITCHES <3
Diablo be like " I know a place" and boom, drives straight into your heart
HEADCANONS YESs
So! The eldest bitches gotta start first, everyone say respect your elders-
DIABLO:
Real name is Dominic, but he's named after his father whom he diswoned, so its more like a slur than anything. I love love love to think Pebbles called him ' diablolito' when he was little bc of his mischievous nature and that's why he goes by this moniker to this day
So he's the eldest son but Pebbles isn't his biological mother! He lived most of his life around ghettos and violence and crime until he was about 14. His birth mother and Pebbles happened to be friends and he worked for the guy she was seeing back then. Once Pebbles made up her mind to run away when a gang war reared its horns, Alma (Diablo's birth mother) asked her to take him with her
Out of all the kids their relationship is probably the rockiest, simply because of Diablo's survivor guilt, but not even for a second did he stop loving Pebbles or ever stopped considering her his mother. He's a complete momma's boy and he's a wholesome bitch and we love him
Designs all of his tattoos by himself and is an amazing artist. Bam Bam literally begs him to design ink masterpieces and Diablo ONLY does it if Bam Bam sends him jewlery
Very direct, very blunt, really can't hide it when he dislikes someone but is overall a tough teddy bear
Actually really romantic????
Lives outside of Riverdale and has his own tattoo parlor, but once he understands his mama and siblings are down in this nothing town, he moves places and all of a sudden he can't leave???
Like, even when he does it's like something just keeps dragging him back and he finds it spooky as fuck. " So we just not gonna talk about this witchery? "
Has gun related trauma due to his past, therefore proffering hand to hand combat as self-defense (Pebbles absolutely thought him to box)
Couldn't graduate but is trying to pass his SATs under Jughead's class and they debate on every subject possible. " Mr. Darcy was a bitch, actually." " THAT'S WHAT MADE HIM A GOOD LOVE INTEREST!"
Very protective over his brothers, naturally, but especially over the youngest. Raffy may say he doesn't NEED defending but aha, his older brother would DISAGREE.
" I love all my hermanitos equally. " *turns to Barney* " It's you. And by far."
In conclusion, he's a good egg, just hard boiled.
JULIO
Ah, the ~☆♡ Pretty boy ♡☆~
" How can I be messy? I'm an Aquarius!"
He's a little thief because he's- been raised by a group of scammers stolen my HEART
Love to imagine Julio as this little pocket thief orphan who met Pebbles when he tried to steal from her. Oliver Twist could NEVER
Very Jason Todd of him, truly
She basically chased him until he was dragged back to her place and she fed him soup. " You're a smart kid. I can tell. Let's do something with that."
Basically he's been team '' I WOULD die for Pebbles Fratelli, actually" and never changed since.
I wanna say second second oldest and always gives life lessons despite being, like, one year older than Bam Bam and Barney lol
" Listen. Life sucks. It sucks harder when you're poor. Hustle till you can't anymore."
verytime someone asks abt his job, he's like " oh I work in computers" aka he hacks for money (but only if they're really really bad)
Ceritfied genius but still a Dumbass
YOU DO NOT WANT A VERBAL BATTLE WITH THIS FUCKER. HE'S PETTY PERSONIFIED AND HATES LOSING
" That's why your shoes raggedy" " That's why your daughter got ran over by that car"
Convinced he was the baby who sneaked in Pebbles' room and tried on her heels and make up. Still, he says he's " flexible" with his sexuality (he's gay)
Would probably get along with Veronica the most ngl, - I can see them sipping on skinny Margueritas and gossiping abt people in Spanish
Half puppy half cat full bitch
Loves Pebbles SOOOOO much like, - I'm convinced this brat of a man does a background check on anyone she's dating.
Calls her like everyday like " HIII MOMMY 🥺🥺🥺🥺" hates that he lives alone tbh shshs
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medicinemane · 1 year
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The problem with my characters is that I'm sure they'd seem extremely over powered, but the problem is that they actually grew and worked to be where they are... it's just none of that was put down on paper anywhere, it's mostly relegated to my head and a lot of it happened so long ago I kind of forgot it
Like this is just the iteration I've known them in for so long
And it's like one of them literally just moments ago stumbled across a new thing he could do, which is insanely powerful, but it's honestly just using something he can already do in a way that's second nature but in new ways
But he's also kind of just some guy at this point, by his own choice. Like the character arch that happened for him a long long long time ago was going from power hungry top dog, to seeing the bigger picture and deciding to work under someone just because he didn't want to be on top anymore
I mean he really is one of the most powerful characters I have, especially for being out of shadow. It's hard to say if him or the person he's working for are stronger... but neither of them care because it doesn't really matter
And while he pretty much by definition would lose in a swordfight to Benedict or Corwin (despite being a very good swordfighter), that's only talking about a normal by the rules swordfight (for fun). If you start letting him use his various powers it becomes a lot closer
Mostly though he just wanders around playing universal fixer because he can and because he feels like it, and taking all the time in the world to relax as he sees fit because there's plenty of time for that too
So you have this massively powerful guy who's basically retired because he's not only living in after the credits for his own story but also after the credits for the bigger picture story where his side managed to get more or less everything they wanted
He's basically been wandering around for years and every now and again goes "oh... I never thought of doing that before" and the adds and refines the list of things he can do and has it to the point where he doesn't even need to exert himself to do it
But all that leads to a character who seems insanely overpowered from an outside perspective except... he's not a part of a narrative, he's not engaging in power level competitions, he's just a guy who wanders around finding situations, then having seen what happens he shows up a little bit before it happened and gives the option to back down or to fuck around and find out (which is never satisfying because he often holds himself back from even laying a proper beatdown on anyone)
I don't know... basically I waited to long to write anything down about him, and by this point I'm pretty sure I'd fail to covey all the nuance he has that makes him interesting
One of the most powerful people around and instead of his old ego he sees himself as on par with everyone else, and instead of his old cruel streak (like straight up sadistic) he's strong enough to be merciful and basically is always running the calculation in his head of "Did I let someone worse than you go with less of a thrashing than I want to give you?" and if yes (which is usually) he feels obliged hold back
What if one of the most powerful psyches who is quietly one of the best shadow walkers around and without even thinking about it learned how to be just shy of a living trump decided to spend his time doing conflict resolution?
What if someone power hungry who took all the power he could by force got into the big leagues and decided he preferred cooperation to domination and that the most useless nobody mattered just as much as he did?
...I don't really think I could convey it, I don't think I'd do him justice honestly
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diadem-of-shadows · 3 years
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Something obnoxious about trauma is how easily you can have episodes where it resurfaces long after you thought you got over it and you’ll just have...days on days of being back in it again.
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erodasfishtacos · 3 years
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~ MLB Curious Gazes ~
prompt: four different situations where people have run into or hung out with MLB!H - told from their perspective.
word: 6k +
warnings: language, mentions of sexual content
If you enjoyed this please - reblog, like, recommend, comment, and inbox me to chat about it!
please consider donating to my kofi - my work is FREE and it is a great way to show support!
enjoy!
-=-=-=-=-=-
The Doctor’s Office
Aubrey couldn’t believe her eyes as she sat in her uncomfortable, too small chair in the empty waiting room at the OBGYN office in the early hours of the morning. 
She was sitting alone with her baby boy sitting in his carrier on the floor - it was his nine month checkup and it was taking forever to be seen.
The woman was sitting, scrolling on her phone when out of her peripheral she saw an extremely - like extremely handsome man step into the area with a carrier.
Aubrey was a married woman but holy shit this guy was hot- without even trying is the thing. 
He had on a New York Yankees Nike hoodie and a pair of Nike athletic shorts with some calf length Blake Nike socks and trainers.
In the carrier was a fresh little baby, couldn’t be older than three months who was bundled up with a sunflower headband on.
The man was multitasking with a curly haired toddler on his other hip as he finds a seat a little bit down from Aubrey on the opposite side.
His wife was standing up at the check-in and of course it made sense that she was absolutely beautiful as well even though Aubrey could relate to how tired she looked.
The woman still had a small bit of her pregnancy bump left signifying that the baby was indeed very very new to the world.
She keeps glancing over at the man, he looks so familiar but she would remember if she had even met someone that handsome.
Then the context clues hit her, his hoodie, his toddler son was also in a little Yankees hoodie that matched his fathers and Aubrey googled quickly.
Her eyes flitted throughout the recent articles.
Styles’ Alleged $65 Million Dollar Bonus
Hot Head Harry Styles - how he managed to start three bench clearing brawls in one game!
Breaking Records and Bats - Styles manages to break his own record in the same season followed by breaking a bat in celebration
Holy shit.
She could help but watch them - this was much more interesting than reading a magazine.
Aubrey didn’t follow baseball but Harry had turned celebrity status and was this well known cocky dickhead to the media - women and men loved and drooled over him for his looks and his skills.
Right now, he sat down with his two babies - the boy looked exactly like Harry, it was quite unbelievable from the curly locks to mossy green eyes that was copy and paste.
Harry was currently tucking an applesauce pouch between his lips and guiding the boy's small hands to hold it for himself.
“Good job,  ,” He murmurs in the dead quiet waiting room as he tucks him further into the crook of his arm.
Harry looks up to his wife who joins them, she is a bit in awe when Aubrey sees him palm a bit at her bloated belly and whisper, “Y’look gorgeous today, mama.”
Aubrey couldn’t help but frown, she wished her husband did that.
YN sits down, leaning her head on his shoulder - Aubrey didn’t know her but she seems tired - of course she was a new mother.
The silence is broken when a nurse comes out and with an apologetic face says, “I’m sorry, we are running really behind today. It might be another thirty minutes,” before shutting the door again.
Harry kisses his wife’s forehead before wrapping his unoccupied arm around her shoulder, a flashing gold band on his ring finger.
Aubrey zones off for a little when her son wakes up, rocking the carrier a few times before he settles again.
She’s brought back to the couple when she hears a sniffle comes from Harry’s wife and his face turned towards hers, hand rubbing her shoulder reassuringly.
“Mama, she’s so healthy. There’s nothin’ to worry about, did a perfect job growing her in y’belly. I know these check-ups make you anxious but nothin’ is gonna be wrong,” He soothes, a near whisper because of how quiet the room is and he didn’t want to disrupt.
“I just don’t know if she’s been getting enough milk, it’s so hard to tell,” YN replies sadly, like she’s disappointed in herself.
“Y’kidding me? She’s our chunkiest baby - look at those little rolls. She’s on y’tits more than any of the boys including me,” He jokes softly, obviously trying to make her feel better.
It seems to work a little bit because she lets out a light giggle with a roll of her eyes, “No one is on them more than you.”
Harry shrugs unashamed before replying seriously, “Everything will be okay. She’s perfect and healthy.”
The curly haired little boy gets a bit squirmy with the wait after he finished his pouch, asking to be set down which his father does.
Harry is watching him carefully, his nervous but still adventurous little two and a half year old, as he toddles around the waiting room.
When he spots Aubrey and her carrier, he wanders over looking up her with wide curious eyes, he points at her son and squeaks, “Baby?”
Ever the diligent father, Harry is up and next to his son, Aubrey is a bit starstruck if she’s honest when he talks to her.
“M’sorry, he’s a curious little one,” Harry smiles at her, going to pick Ezra back up to guide him away from bothering her.
Aubrey waves her hand though, lifting the visor to show the sleeping baby, “Yeah, he’s a baby. That’s Dominic.”
The boy gazes at the baby before lisping, “Bry!”
Aubrey isn’t sure what he means but his father clarifies, “You’re right, Dominic is a baby just like your little sister Briar.”
“Okay,” Ezra shrugs and goes back to his mom to inform him of what he just discovered before crawling up and cuddling into her chest.
Harry nods, “Thanks for indulging him.”
“No pro-problem,” She stutters like an idiot and Harry smiles a bit like he knows but doesn’t say anything else before going back to his family.
A few minutes later when a high-pitched cry resounds through the room, Harry is carefully cradling his daughter who Aubrey notes looks nothing like him but like her mother even though her features were still so little.
“Shush, darlin’,” Harry coos with a soft drawl, leaning in to kiss at the newborn’s button nose.
Briar roots at her father’s chest, smacking her plump lips, and squeaking in frustration when she doesn’t find a nipple. It makes Harry chuckle before he glances at his wife and his smile falters a bit, “Sweetheart, did y’bring a bottle?”
Aubrey watches his wife shake her head, she is facing away from her so she can’t see her expression but gauging Harry’s it seems that she may be upset, “No, I completely forgot. I didn’t bring my nursing blanket either - I’m going to have to go the bathroom. M’being such a bad mom.”
The observer feels a pang in her chest, she can definitely relate to not always feeling like she is a good mother because of little mistakes she makes like forgetting diapers, buying the wrong formula, forgetting to bring a pacifier.
“Hey,” Harry’s voice is firm, “Y’not going to talk like that when s’the farthest thing from the truth. S’okay, we have four babies, we’re both goin’ t’forget things sometimes, okay? Here, let me help you.”
Aubrey wishes she had a husband who was as empowering, supportive of his wife.
He hands the whimpering baby over to his wife, he’s then tugging off his hoodie. Aubrey tries but fails to divert her eyes when his shirt rides up revealing  a glimpse of his taut abdomen and a light dusting of hair leading into his shorts, obscene tattoos covering his hipbones .
Harry maneuvers the hoodie over his wife’s shoulder, helping her tug down her loose shirt and nursing bra, and guiding his newborn to his wife’s breast until she latches and starts suckling hungrily.
“There y’go mama,” He whispers encouragingly before tugging Ezra back onto his lap to rock him a bit as he’s getting whiny - ready for a nap soon and not liking being in an unfamiliar place for too long.
-
Aubrey is buckling Dominic into his carseat when she spots the other family exiting the office. 
Harry’s wife looks much more relaxed, a smile on her face, and her arm tucked around her husband’s narrow hip, they’re parked close to each other, and Aubrey climbs into her small sedan - blasting the aircon.
She watches the parents strapp their kids into a massive, tinted and brand new cadillac escalade that was no doubt over a hundred thousand dollar car but who could expect them to be driving around a mid-level minivan?
After the kids are secured and they close the doors, Harry presses his wife up against it with his arm resting over her shoulder against the window. He is whispering to her, their mouths close before he ducks down to connect their lips.
His hand comes back to her deflating baby bump like he did in the doctor’s office, hand massaging the skin with adoration that was visible even to Aubrey as she sat in her car watching them.
Later on in the week, as she sits on her couch, a video pops up on her timeline. It’s a sports report she was about to skip until the name caught her attention. 
The sports reporter stated, “Harry Styles was fined an alleged sixty thousand dollars at last night’s game after getting into a verbal altercation when the second base man purposely tripped him.”
It flashes to the man she just saw in the doctor’s office in a form-fitting Yankee’s blue and white striped uniform with a helmet on as he ran at an impressive speed from first to second, stumbling when the baseman put out his foot.
Harry recovers quickly enough to touch the base to be considered safe. 
After that though, he’s pushing himself up and brushing off the dirt, then he’s charging towards the man who fucked up the play. 
He has no fear as he gets in the man’s face, veins on his neck standing out as he shouts. They don’t play the audio but you could tell Harry was cussing this man up and down.
It flashed back to the reporter speaking to another, “Nearly every team in the league reports that Styles is an absolute nightmare to play against from his skill to his downright arrogant and cocky attitude. He’s not someone I’d find myself wanting to hang around.”
“I agree with you there, Tucker. He has a right to be proud with all of his broken records and achievements but being a bit humble would do this man so good. I feel sorry for his wife and kids. He probably just spends all day bragging about himself.”
Aubrey clicks off the video, if only everyone in the world just saw the Harry Styles she saw just a few days ago - well they’d all change their minds on what kind of person he is. Especially what kind of husband and father.
--
The Charity Event
It was a charity event at Madison Square Garden in Time Square. 
It was for all Major League Baseball teams who had qualified for the playoffs and of course, The New York Yankees were there.
There were tables filling the whole stadium, extravagant in white linen tablecloths, multiple bars, and it was black tie dress code. 
It was a private event and it was not open to the public but after the dinner there would be awards given out and that would be broadcasted.
Nicole was there with her husband, Trent, the left outfielder with an average batting score. He wasn’t the most popular on the team by far - well everyone got outshined by Styles. 
She couldn’t help but be a little bitter that Harry had gotten a $60 million dollar bonus (the biggest bonus ever gifted but also the Yankees were not taking any chances at losing their star and their ultimate money-maker). Trent got a measly bonus of $100,000 which was nothing in baseball terms. 
The wives and girlfriends of the Yankees players did not like YN one bit. It really wasn’t fair because she was always lovely, kind, and friendly. It didn’t matter because they were all spurred on by jealousy of what she had.
Nicole couldn’t help by gaze at Harry as they sat at the same circle table towards the podium where the awards would be presented after dinner. He was in a sharp all black suit with a small team logo pin of the lapel.
She couldn’t deny how stunning YN looked in an absolutely stunning dress. It was a one-shoulder with sparkling black stripes against a tan background, it fit like a glove and accentuated her stunning legs with a high slit. ***
It blew Nicole’s basic black Gucci dress out of the water which made her even more infuriated at the woman. She knew she was being irrational and if she hated her so much, why couldn’t see stop staring at the couple?
Nicole could get away with it by looking past them at other tables but to be quite honest, the two were much too wrapped up in each other to be aware of any of their surroundings or people watching them.
Trent was off bullshitting with all the other players while the Styles’ sat at the table and Harry waited for people to approach him - like the cocky asshole that he was. He would give them a minute of his time before becoming visibly bored and returning his attention back to his wife.
As the appetizers arrived, Trent finally sat down with a grunt, giving his wife literally no attention as he dug into the salad like a slob. 
Across the table, Harry looked down at his plate, picked out all the tomatoes and stabbed them with his fork. He then brought his hand over to his wife who giggled and let him feed her the three little tomatoes for his salad.
“Don’t like tomatoes, Styles?” Henry, third-baseman, jokes as he watches him feed his wife without any shame.
“I love ‘em, m’missus just really like the little grape ones,” Harry shrugs casually - like that didn’t just sound like the most whipped thing that he could say.
Trent probably couldn’t even guess Nicole’s favorite color - let alone know something so minuscule like YN like the little tomatoes that come on house salads. 
Throughout the whole dinner, it was quite disgusting how infatuated these two were with each other - Harry had at least one hand on her body at one time - her thigh, shoulder, even cupping her neck in a way that was almost too intimate for the setting.
At one point, Harry notices that YN is a bit quiet - sipping on her glass of water and he pulls back from the conversation, murmuring, “Y’alright, mama?”
Nicole bites her lip hard at the cute pet name, feeling even more dislike towards YN - why couldn’t she have had someone like Harry?
“D’you think the babies are okay? Ezra’s been so anxious lately,” YN replies quietly, there were no phones allowed at the event and had to be left at home or at the door.
Harry kisses her temple, “Y’know Ezzie is good with m’mum, doesn’t get as anxious as he used to at sleepovers. Y’know East and Cash are probably on a sugar high.”
YN nods, agreeing and Harry jumps right back into the conversation but she notices that he keeps looking over at his wife to check on her.
Trent accidentally knocks her elbow hard and just grunts out a bland, “Sorry.”
The topic changed to traveling for games. Ellie, another wife of a player who was nice to YN were chatting about how stressful it is.
“I know, loading all three boys up is rough when we do decide to travel to games with H,” YN says to Ellie, a small smile on her face.
“Ugh, I know. Lily and Parker are the worst flyers! They usually end up throwing up or not being able to nap at all,” Ellie groans about her two little ones she has back at home.
YN let’s out a laugh that just irked Nicole to not end.
“It's going to be even harder when we have more kids,” YN laments like she’s bothered.
“Oh? More kids?” Ellie squeaks with excitement, clapping her hands together.
Nicole reaches a breaking point, jumping into the chat,“Really? More kids? Don’t you think you should focus on the ones you have? Or do you think because your husband makes an unfair amount of money, you can just have as many as you want? Hire nannies and act like you take care of them?”
Before YN frowns, about to respond when Harry interjects with a booming, displeased voice, “First off, why don’t y’mind your own fuckin’ business. My wife and I can ‘ave any many kids as we want, last time I checked.”
He continues with tense posture, all of his previous calmness disappears, “Second off, don’t take it out on my wife tha’ your husband got a shit bonus, we all know tha’ why y’pissy. And don’t act like y’dont have a nanny for your one kid while we don’t nor ever will have one.”
Nicole sneers, “You’re a cocky bastard.”
Harry smiles in faux charm, “Of course I am, dear. I’ve got a fucking beautiful wife, three healthy babies, the most records broken in history, and the fattest bank account in this room.”
“Alright, alright,” Trent interrupts and it doesn’t go unnoticed that he doesn’t defend his wife. Instead he shoots Harry an apologetic look for his wife’s behaviors.
Harry just scoffs at the couple, rudely rolling his eyes, and tugging his wife in for a kiss that’s a bit too intense but he can’t help himself, smiles against her lips when his wife pinches his thigh playfully.
He says (not quietly at all), “All these women are jealous of you, hm? S’cause you’re so beautiful and such a fuckin’ catch.”
Nicole feel a sharp pang in her chest at the indirect comment - fucking asshole.
Deep down, Nicole is unfavorably realizing that somehow YN has it all - a loving husband, who is seemingly head over heels four her, three well-behaved children, and everything she could ever want - sitting on Harry’s $600 million dollar net worth, on top of being gorgeous.
She didn’t have that. Trent and her were on the rocks constantly, has definitely cheated on her, their kid is a literal nightmare, and they’re both so reckless with money they have no savings.
It made her jealous to see Harry whispering in YN ear to make her giggle- lips brushing her ear, his hand splayed across her bumcheek while they waited for drinks at the bar, she even hears them murmur ‘I love yous’ at least twice.
Then the lights dim, spotlight on a podium in the front of the room, an older man in a crisp navy suit taking the stage.
“It is an honor for me to announce ‘Player of the Year.’ The decision by the board of Major League Baseball wasn’t a hard one. The statistics and records broke continuously by the man has led us to only one option.”
Everyone watches all the other players in room deflate a bit because they realize the award is going to Harry yet again.
 “He is again breaking a record tonight, he is the first player to earn this achievement four years in a row. The duality of this man when it comes to pitching a curveball or hitting a homer is truly remarkable.”
It makes all the players even more irritated than they already are when they look over at Harry who’s sitting back, manspreading, hand on the back of his wife’s neck gently, and a cocky, unbothered grin.
Like this award wasn’t the biggest accomplishment he could earn.
One of the players from an opposing team at a different table mutters to one of his teammates, “Fucking arrogant asshole. The only thing this award does is feed his gigantic ego.” 
“Such a douchebag,” The other agrees, jealousy tinges his voice.
“I’ve most likely made it obvious who the the recipient is this year. The New York Yankees pitcher with the most strikeouts to date and top-scoring hitter - Mr. Harry Styles!”
The crowd erupts in applause, whistles, and a standing ovation because despite his unsavory demeanor - no one could deny he was a legend.
Before he gets up, Nicole watches as he cups his wife’s cheek - locking her lips in a kiss before she has to give him a playful shove when he tries to slip some tongue.
When Harry gets up to the stage, he shakes the hand of the announcer and takes the award from him, setting it on the podium.
“Fourth year in a row has a nice ring to it,” Harry gives the crowd a dazzling white smile that have his dimples digging into his cheek.
The crowd whistles and coos.
Nicole notices YN getting teary-eyed as she watches her husband accept the award.
“I want t’thank a few people tonight. I want t’thank m’wife and the mama of my babies - YN. She’s supported me from when I was in college with no other career path but baseball, unsure of if I’d fail or not, she stuck through it.”
She can sense everyone’s eyes dart over to YN who is still staring up at her husband - who is giving her a gleaming smile right back.
“We’ve been through some really hard obstacles in our first years as a couple but she’s the reason for all this - the fact that she always believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”
The audience is respectful, quiet as he publicly tells a story of his deep love for his wife.
“I want t’thank m’three babies. Easton, Cash, and Ezra. They inspire me to be a better better man and a good role model - even though I think y’all agree they won’t be if they watch too much how I play when I’m out in the field.”
The crowd erupts in laughter at Harry poking fun at his own antics that he’s most famous for. He goes on to thank the team, coaches, Nike, everyone on the professional side of career.
When he’s done, everyone stands back up to congratulate him, patting him on the back as he returns to his seat.
Nicole watches as Harry sits back down, chuckling as he swipes a tear off his wife’s cheek, “Why y’crying, mama?”  
“I’m just so proud of you. Everything you do for me and our babies. The best husband, best daddy. My heart is just full,” She murmurs, clearly not meant for others to hear but Nicole was eavesdropping.
Harry’s eyes darken with something Nicole can’t identify but does notice his hand creeping a bit further up her thigh.
He leans into whisper something into her ear before she sees his lightly nip at her lobe before pulling back to join into the conversation.
-
After the lights come back up, Trent abandons her to go shoot the shit with other guys.
When she trails off to the bathroom, down a long hallway from the main area - she hears a rustling from behind a door labeled with a plaque that says ‘executive meeting room’.
Nicole pauses confused, all these offices and other rooms were strictly off limits during events obviously. She was confused to hear someone in a room that was not supposed to be in use.
Then she realizes it’s not just someone - it’s two people.
“S’good, sweetheart. Give it t’me so good.”
And she knows right then and there all she needs to know about who’s in that conference room and what they were doing.
“Be quiet, you’re being too loud,” YN scolds back, the walls were clearly thin because she could hear the exchange.
“Make y’cunt not feel like heaven then,” He remarks back, his voice slower and more soft than it would be in front of people.
God, Trent and her haven’t slept together in ages - let alone has spontaneous hookups or dirty talk like that ever.
When they all end up back at the table before the closing speech for the night, Nicole spots a nicely sized mark under Harry’s jaw that he’s wearing with pride.
YN had her lipstick wiped off and was much more clingy as the night rolled on which Harry seemed to thrive on.
As she and Trent are on their way home, Nicole speaks into their silence, “I don’t think our relationship is working.”
Not after she saw love and happiness at that event table tonight - she wanted that kind of love not settling for some cheating asshole.
-
The Little League Game
It was a cool autumn evening, it was an important game - if you could call it that for the little league team that Kayla had her son on.
The goal was to determine which team would move onto the playoffs, even though most of this was all in good fun because it was for eight-year-olds and it wasn’t serious.
Kayla couldn’t lie and say that she didn’t spend some of the time curiously gazing at the New York Yankees player who would come to watch his son play.
He wasn’t at every game due to his schedule but it seemed like he came to whatever ones he could with his wife and other three kids.
They had taken the bench on the bleachers right below her so she had an up close and personal view of the family when they’ve never sat this close before.
As the kids warmed up, Harry had his youngest son who looked to be about four sit next to him, squished between his dad and mom happily.
Their middle son was next to his mom on the other side, looking to be about six, and he was wriggling impatiently in his seat - eager to join the other kids in the jungle gym.
The baby girl who looked about a year and a half old didn’t look anything like her brothers - it was obvious that she was a spitting image of her mother (who was stunning).
She was curled up in her mom’s lap, asleep with her face squished against her mother’s chest - a pacifier suckling fiercely between her puffy lips.
“Mama, please,” The curly haired boy begs with greedy puppy dog eyes as he keeps glancing back to look at the other kids.
“You stay right where daddy and I can see you, yes?” YN murmurs, brushing back his unruly curls that where getting long, “And what are our rules?”
“Stay where you can see, don’t talk to strangers, and be nice to others,” He recites perfectly, Kayla was a bit blown away by his manners.
She watches baseball. It was hard to believe their children were so mild mannered when their father was the exact opposite - at least on the field.
Harry was rustling in the diaper bag for something as his son looked at him with wide, concerned eyes, “My baby, daddy.”
“I know, Ezzie. M’lookin’ f’your baby,” His father replies softly, the polar extreme of his normal brash, crude language that had a nasty tone like he couldn’t bother giving people the time of day.
“Daddy, please,” The youngest whines, his little hand grasping at his father’s tattooed wrist as he gets to his knees to help his dad look.
“Left inner pocket,” YN murmurs offhandedly as she makes sure Cash gets to the playground safely with his friends.
“Say ‘thanks mama’,” Harry coos to his son as he manages to tug out the baby doll and hand it to the awaiting little boy.
“Thanks mama,” He replies instantly with a gapped smile as he nuzzles right back into his father’s side as if he can’t get close enough.
“How are you feeling, Ezra?” His mother leans over to ask, keeping the baby close to her chest.
“M’happy, mama,” Ezra replies simply before starting to babble to himself as he plays with the babydoll.
Kayla watches Harry and YN swap a fond look at their son but she couldn’t help but wonder why they asked him that? He seemed fine so why did they feel the need to do that?
The game is going okay, Harry stands up to cheer and whistle when Easton hits a two-base hit but YN smacks his thigh and motions to their sleeping baby.
He looks at her sheepishly before sitting back down, kissing her cheek in apology, and peeking down into the fleece blanket to watch his daughter sleep for a moment.
Then it seems like Easton starts to lose momentum after he pitches two home-runs, his face pinched in disappointment as the other team scores but Harry is attempting to keep him motivated with encouraging shouts.
Easton struggles from then on, he strikes out for his final three turns, doesn’t catch two pop-ups, and his pitches start to get a little shaky. It’s obvious in his facial expression he’s getting upset because he’s breathing heavier like he’s trying not to cry.
Kayla feels a sense of dread for the little boy, his father who’s the best baseball player in modern day history is watching his son not do well during an important game.
 Because of what she knows of him from his temper and attitude on the field - she worries that he’s one of those father’s who will hound their kid for doing poorly.
“Oh, c’mon East,” Harry murmurs softly when his son stumbles over a ground ball before another kid picks it up and throws it in - their son smacking his glove down against the ground in frustration.
“He’s getting himself worked up,” YN notes as she watches her oldest kick his cleats in the dirt with a quivering bottom lip.
“I know,” Harry replies to his wife, “Wish he wouldn’t, he’s gettin’ upset out there, I can tell.”
“Sad?” Ezra squeaks, clambering onto his father’s lap and stating, “Hold me, daddy.”
Harry obliges easily, gathering up his small son before his attention is directed back onto the game - it was down to the last few minutes and unfortunately Easton pitched a ball that resulted in a home run for the other team.
“Fuck,” Harry mutters, running a hand through his messy locks before he’s setting Ezra back down on the bleachers, “I’m going to go talk to him. Do you want to meet back home?”
YN nods, leaning down to tuck the baby into the double stroller before buckling Ezra in as well, “I’m going to go get Cash and head out. Why don’t you take him out for some ice cream? I love you.”
“I love you too, mama,” He replies, kissing her softly before kissing both of his kids foreheads and stepping down the bleachers - ignoring all the adults who are staring at him with a starstruck expression as he heads to the dugout.
It cleared out fast, nobody sticking around after the loss that ended with them not continuing on to the championship, and Easton was sat on the bench - he was stoic and there was a hard, angry expression on his face that reminded Kayla of what she saw Harry look like when he played.
As she gathers up her son and makes sure he’s got all of his equipment, Kayla stands and chats to a few of the moms before she’s heading to her car - which happened to be parked next to a sleek Masserati crossover, who would let their muddy kid go in there? Rich people, she guesses.***
Kayla pops the trunk to her van with her key as they get closer, she notices that Harry also has his up and Easton is sitting on the tailgate with his eyes looking down at the pavement. She tries not to appear as nosey or eavesdropping as she tucks her items into the back.
“Sweetheart, s’okay. Y’did so so good tonight,” Harry assures his pouty son, he squats down to start to untie his son’s nike cleats but continues to make eye contact with him. 
“No, I didn’t, Daddy!” Easton whines, tears finally starting to bubble over the surface as he begins to sob with a shuddering chest, “I gave up home runs and then I missed ground balls!”
“Whoa, bubby,” Harry simpers after he tugs off the shoes and throws them carelessly into the back before standing up, “Y’did amazing, are you kiddin’? You did three innings of strikeouts, hit two of y’own homeruns. Y’played like a professional, way better than daddy.”
Kayla’s heart aches a bit when she sees Harry sit down next to him before hugging him harshly into his side, thumbing at the tears that are running down his son’s sweaty cheeks with soft reassurances.
“Daddy, are you mad I didn’t win?” Easton asks shakily, keeping his head buried into his father’s side and his small hand clutching into the fabric of his hoodie.
Harry chuckles lowly, “Daddy would never be mad at you f’anythin’, definitely not a baseball game. Remember what mama and I said? If at any point y’want to stop playin’, just let us know and we can find something else, yeah? Just like how Ezzie does art classes.”
Easton seems to calm down after a few moments of Harry rocking him and reassuring him of what an amazing son he is.
As Kayla drove away that night, her perspective on the all-star baseball player definitely changed. It was refreshing to see someone to not hold their child to an unreasonable expectation just like she thought Harry would.
--
The Campfire
Austin was the shortstop on the baseball team, he’d brought along his girlfriend, Chelsea, to the frat party to celebrate another win.
Everyone was in whispers that Harry was bringing his new girlfriend but nobody knew who she actually was because it was just a rumor.
It was surprising because Harry wasn’t a relationship kind-of man. He wasn’t into hookups much - always said he needed to focus on baseball.
Many of his teammates were envious of how many girls were constantly coming up to Harry at parties to flirt and try to get a dance in but he had always rejected them.
Harry had never showed interest in any of these girls at the parties, never seen him disappear upstairs with one or really entertain a conversation over a beer like they’d expect.
Chelsea pokes his shoulder and nods towards the entrance when Harry walks in with his arm around YN’s shoulder.
Most were in a little shock because they seemed like such an unlikely couple - YN had written some scathing articles about him and it was no secret he hadn’t been a fan of her.
“Holy shit, Harry’s dating YN?” Chelsea whispers to Austin as the group of party-goers cheer and whistle at the allstars appearance.
“Guess so,” Austin replies with a shrug, tugging Chelsea into the kitchen for a drink.
Later on that night, there’s a bonfire on one side of the backyard and a volleyball net on the other where a group was gathering to play.
Austin and Chelsea are on the opposing team of Harry and YN - she can’t help but watch them with curiosity because of what a surprise it is that they’re dating.
Even Austin has been watching because Harry’s acting in a way that he’s never seen throughout his time on the team with him.
Harry is just all over YN which was confusing how he went from not being remotely interested in the college girls to being a lovestruck puppy.
When she throws the ball up to serve, Harry reaches over and pinches her bum which makes her squeak and accidentally drop the ball which has him cackling as she glares at him.
As they change positions, he crowds up behind her, and massages her hips, leaning down to murmuring something in her ear.
She blushes wildly before smacking him off which has him laughing hard and kissing the back of her head before taking his position.
After Harry jumps and spikes the ball hard, earning them the winning point, YN turns around and wraps her arms around him to hug him tightly.
Harry wraps his arms around her shoulders, returning the hug before pulling back to kiss her lips in a soft peck.
Chelsea elbows Austin, “Who’s that and what did they do with Harry?”
Austin shakes his head, “I really don’t fucking know.”
The group migrates over to the fire as they might become cooler and the stars are high up in the sky, the fire flickering orange and yellow crackles of sparks.
Harry plops into a chair, pulling YN right onto his lap, and she wriggles until she’s comfortable. Chelsea notices him tap her thigh as if telling her to cut it out, too much motion right on his crotch.
Jake, one of his teammates, says in a teasing tone, “YN, I’m surprised to see you around these parts . I clearly remember a strongly worded article about how stupid frat parties are.”
YN takes it in stride, smiling as she replies, “And this party just proves my point.”
The group laughs easily, they enjoy YN’s sharp wit and comebacks as they get to know her. Austin can’t help but to notice how quiet Harry is.
Normally, he’s the life of the party, loud and making his presence known to everyone but not tonight. He has his chin propped on her shoulder and she’s cuddled back into his chest.
Austin can’t make out what Harry is saying but he’s constantly whispering in her ear and accentuating each time with a squeeze to her thighs.
“Are you guys official?” One of the teammates asked bluntly, a few beers deep by this point in the night.
Harry replies instantly, a possessive squeeze, “She’s mine and off the market, s’don’t even think about it.”
“Well I don’t think it matters because she’s turned down the whole baseball team by this point. I think everyone tried to ask her out at least once,” Steve jokes as the others agree.
“Tha’s m’girl,” Harry murmurs to her before teasing his friends,“Who’d want to go out with any you? You’re all dickheads.”
Everyone continues to joke around, it’s nearing midnight and that’s right about when Harry gets in his prime - like the party just started.
But not tonight.
YN’s eyes start to flutter shut as everyone banters and drinks around the fire, obviously not used to these late night parties.
“I better get this one t’bed,” Harry states after a few minutes, thumbing at YN’s cheekbone as she tries to stay awake.
“I’m okay,” She mumbles weakly, head still heavy against his shoulder.
“You’re coming back though, right?” Kyle asks expectantly, brows furrowed.
Harry shakes his head, “Nah, m’in for the night when she is.”
All the players look at him with a bit of a dumbfounded look, Steve shooting out, “Who knew you’d be so pussy whipped, Styles?”
Chelsea’s eyebrows raise at the crude comment, waiting with bated breath as Harry’s jaw clenches as it seems like he’s biting his tongue.
“Goodnight,” Harry says in a tone Austin has never heard before - agitated and almost…offended.
When Austin and Chelsea are sneaking up to his room for a late night hook-up, she overhears Harry and YN in his bedroom.
At first, she thinks they’re in an actual argument but as she listens to them - it’s not the kind of arguement she thought it was.
“You’re always the little spoon,” YN groans from behind the closed door.
Harry squawks, affronted before huffing back at her, “S’my favorite, please spoon me, darling?”
“You’re so fucking spoiled,” YN giggles as Chelsea assumes they move into a position where Harry’s the little spoon.
“Mm, I like feelin’ y’tits against my back, s’nice,” Harry hums with a boyish tone.
Chelsea doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Austin drags her from her stupor. 
All she knew was that Harry Styles really really fancied that school reporter.
-=-=-=-=-=-
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mypoisonedvine · 3 years
Text
𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭-𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 || helmut zemo, bucky barnes and sam wilson x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : your sugar daddy boyfriend is finally out of prison and he brought a few friends to show you off to.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : just over 4k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : smut (foursome/group sex, oral m receiving, spitroast; sliiiight dubcon???), established zemo x reader, sugar daddy relationship, ‘sir’ kink, ‘daddy’ kink, pussy spanking, one regular spank, orgasm control, overstimulation, creampie, a bit of cockwarming, exhibitionism, possessiveness (kinda? but also not at all lmao it’s hard to explain), a bit of degradation but plenty of praise as well, subtle cuckolding but without the usual power dynamics there, shitty reconstructed “sokovian” (I wrote it in the latin alphabet but the cyrillic and translations are at the end), unexpected and unnecessary fluff, very subtle angst (basically all in a flashback anyways)
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                  You were needlessly anxious as you waited for him to arrive.  It had been your own idea to wait in the jet, and yet you spent every other second glancing out the tiny window, desperate for a glance of the man you missed so dearly.
If someone had told you all those years ago, when this arrangement first began, how easily he would have you wrapped around his finger… you couldn’t have believed them.  It’s just about the money, you would’ve told them, but you would’ve been impossibly wrong.
For a lot of women in this sort of situation, it really was just about the money; likewise, for a lot of men in his situation, it was just about the sex.  But the two of you had something entirely unique, nearly indescribable in fact, that very few could ever understand.  In the beginning it became clear to you that he was more in need of a companion than a lover or girlfriend, specifically.  He was still grieving his wife, still devoted to her completely, but lonely right to his core… angry, even, at the prospect of a life without his family.  You were a shoulder to cry on, first and foremost.
You thought maybe he enjoyed spending money on you because it was his way to protect you, in a way he felt he had failed to protect his family before.
And it was you that fell for him first, for his passion and his kindness before his riches or looks.  Just when you feared that he’d only ever see you as a status symbol or dress-up doll, he returned your affections in spite of his guilt at first and the two of you were inseparable ever since.
Except, of course, when you were separated, and he was imprisoned, and you were left on your own again.  Not that spending his money wasn’t fun or anything, but his loneliness was more sympathetic with each night you spent in that massive bed by yourself, wanting just to feel the warmth of him beside you again.
So, it should be understandable why you were so on edge in anticipation of his arrival.  Your painted fingernails toyed with the hem of the dress you remembered he liked on you most— the silk one that barely covered your legs and was only held up by absurdly thin straps crossing at your back.
The night he bought it for you was clear in your mind like it was only yesterday; his voice in your ear telling you how he couldn’t resist taking such a thoughtful, intelligent woman like yourself and dressing you up like a mindless drolja… or ‘slut’ as it might be said in English.  Just remembering the way he said things like that sent a shiver down your spine as strong as really hearing it, your thighs clenching together on top of the plush leather seat.
Just as you thought you might go crazy waiting for him, you saw the car pull up— your Helmut at the wheel and his two associates in tow— and your heart soared.
Longer than all the years apart combined was the minute you spent waiting to descend the jet’s staircase, hoping to meet him on the taxiway at the exact right moment.  You made sure the jewelry around your wrists and neck was laying just right before finally making your appearance.
The way he looked up at you as you started to walk down towards him… it wasn’t so different from the way he’d looked at you through the glass for the past few years, really, but it felt different.  He certainly looked different to you, without the prisoner’s uniform and looking rather imposing with that massive coat instead.
You were careful to still walk slowly, since you were wearing stilettos and all, even when you wanted more than anything to run to him and jump into his arms.  Instead, you came face to face with him, loving that confident smirk which never seemed to leave his expression, and slipped your arms around his fur-adorned neck.
“Dobrodošla nazad, ljubavi,” you hummed, pressing your lips to his and almost letting out a squeal of surprise when he immediately slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you aggressively as his gloved hands gripped you at the waist.
He was rarely so bold, but then again he had been alone in prison for so long with only your words to try to satisfy him.  As much as you cherished being in his arms again, you also got the impression that this wasn’t just about making up for lost time— if that were true, he would’ve skipped the kiss entirely and taken you in the back of his car the moment he saw you.  No, this was a show of dominance, and not only for your benefit; that was clear when one of the men with him cleared his throat loudly and Helmut still didn’t stop.  
But that was very much like him: he was never finished with you until he was satisfied, and not a moment sooner.  His power over you was so effortless because you didn’t mind at all being his plaything… so much so that it was you leaning in for more when he pulled back, making him laugh softly.
“Did you miss me, lutka?” he purred, and you nodded as you bit your lip slightly.
“Always, Helmut,” you nodded, finally taking a moment to look away from him and at the visibly uncomfortable men at his side.  “I heard you freed him,” you said to the man you knew to be James Barnes, “thank you.”
“I’m still not over that,” the other— Sam, as you’d heard— added with a scoff.
“Come on, darling, let’s board the jet and we can talk there,” Helmut suggested, and you nodded as you turned to let them follow.
Of course, you couldn’t be totally sure, but you were pretty confident you could feel three pairs of eyes on your ass as you climbed the stairs.  Honestly, with how short the dress was, there was a risk of your thong being exposed as well, exactly the sort of almost-subtle teasing your Baron loved the most.
Once inside, Helmut showed James and Sam to their seats, and took his own as he instantly pulled you into his lap.  You caught the other two men glancing to the empty fourth seat, knowing there was plenty of room for you two to stay apart, but could they really blame you after how long you’d been alone?
Throughout the takeoff, one of his strong hands rested comfortably on your crossed legs as the other held his glass of champagne, and Sam’s gaze was attached to the way his thumb gently stroked your thigh while James seemed to be doing his best to look literally anywhere else.
“I noticed you haven’t introduced us to your… friend…” Sam trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Oh, yes,” Helmut chuckled as if he actually forgot, “this is the woman who has been managing my estate in my unfortunate absence.”
“You’re trying to tell us this is your accountant?” James grumbled.
“She’s also my lover,” Helmut relented.
“Obviously,” Sam replied, unamused.
“She’s beautiful, no?” Helmut prompted as he ran his fingertips higher up your thigh, only glancing at the other men as he focused mainly on nuzzling against your neck. 
“Yeah, the finest money can buy,” Sam quipped, earning a cold glare from you and your man.  
“Are you with me for my money, draga?” Helmut asked you quietly as he planted a gentle kiss to the spot right where your neck met your shoulder.  You smiled and shook your head, staring right at Sam’s nervous expression.
“No, sir,” you answered aloud, and the title clearly made both of the other men uncomfortable… if, perhaps, in different ways.
“Uncross your legs,” he demanded, though his tone was still soft, and you obeyed right away as he started to lightly move his touch between your thighs.
James began adjusting in his seat and never really stopped, tugging at his jeans in an obvious attempt to conceal the growing bulge between his legs, but you only laughed at his clear embarrassment.
“See how respectful she is?” he cooed his praise, addressing the other men but keeping his eyes on you.  “I know exactly the words to make her obey to my every whim… James, you and her share that quality.”
The man sneered as you suppressed a giggle, squirming in Helmut’s lap impatiently.
“She’s loyal, too, unendingly dedicated,” he continued.  “You know she visited me weekly in Munich, at the very least?  Always by my side… like any good pet.”
A whimper escaped your throat at that term, your gut burning with need as he balanced praise and degradation effortlessly.  You didn’t find it truly demeaning only because you loved being his plaything so much, and because you knew mutual respect was at the core of your relationship with him.  But, still, it was nice to feel small when he was there to keep you safe.
James watched with a small snarl and Helmut slipped his hand into your panties, and Sam licked his lips but shifted his stare to your face instead, just as your eyes started to roll back and your head fell weakly on Helmut’s shoulder.
“And such a precious little pussy as well,” he added darkly, giving you a spank between your legs to make you choke on a squeal.  “Sweet, delicate… much like a Turkish delight, but even more addictive.”
“Please, sir,” you whispered under your breath.
“You want more, don’t you?  Tako očajno…” he chuckled.  You nodded, already starting to soak through the lace and rock your hips.  “You want to be fucked, yes?”
“Yes,” you moaned.
“Be polite and take care of our guests first, draga,” he encouraged, kissing your neck one more time before releasing you from his embrace.
Although you were most interested in being with the man you loved, you were happy to obey whatever he wished— and, frankly, sinking to your knees on the jet’s carpeted floor to crawl towards James wasn’t exactly lacking in its own appeal.
James’ eyes narrowed as Sam’s widened, and you sat up between the spread, denim-clad thighs as you blinked up at him and licked your lips.
He tensed up slightly as your hands delicately slid up his legs, his Adam's apple bobbing with a dry swallow when you grabbed his belt buckle and began to open it.
“You… you don’t have to…” he mumbled, apparently too distracted to finish his sentence.
“Yes I do,” you denied.  “Because he told me to.”
Sam winced and looked away as you unzipped James’ fly and pulled his jeans and boxers down to expose his cock, already hard and leaking a bit from the tip.  You smiled proudly, but chose not to tease him for his eagerness and instead just get right to work; you gripped him at the base and gave a few kitten licks over his shaft, savoring the taste of his precum and looking up at his expression that was equal parts shocked and sultry.
You only spent a moment suckling on the head before skipping right ahead and deepthroating him all the way to base.
“Oh, fuck,” James choked, reaching up grab the seat behind his head as his back arched, making you want to smile though you thankfully kept it down.
“Well-trained, isn’t she?” Helmut interjected proudly.
“Y-yeah,” he answered, his other hand grabbing your shoulder tightly as you began to bob your head.
Occasionally, in your peripheral, you caught Sam looking, and it made you wiggle your hips with the desire to rub your throbbing clit against the floor.  
You got a chance to breathe whenever you pulled back to suck the head and stroke the rest with your hand, and in a few minutes you had already found all the little spots that made him moan the loudest, or made his legs quiver a bit by your sides.
“Stop,” Helmut instructed, and you were already starting to pull off when James hissed and grabbed your head to hold you down.
“N-no, please,” he blurted out.
“She’ll come back to you but Sam is looking rather lonely in the corner over there,” Helmut explained, and James hesitated but let you go.  You wiped your lips and started to move towards Sam, but he shook his head.
“I don’t roll like that, man,” Sam explained, “I don’t want her doing it just because you said so.”
“Darling, won’t you tell us how badly you want to service your new friends?” Helmut challenged, and you swallowed nervously because you were a bit embarrassed to say too much and potentially anger him.  But the sparkle in his eyes didn’t seem like he was leading you into a trap… even if the other two men were confident that was what it meant.  “You find them attractive, don’t you?”
“Um, yes, sir,” you answered hesitantly, “I… saw them, and I wanted to know what their cocks looked like.  And tasted like.”
Helmut smiled and leaned forward, giving you a spank of approval through your dress (which was riding up to show most of your butt anyways).
You looked at Sam expectantly.  “May I please suck your cock, Mr. Wilson?”
His eyes darkened and you knew you were on the right track.  “What happened to ‘sir’?” he asked coyly.
“I only call Helmut ‘sir,’” you explained, “but I could call you something else.”
His finger curled to encourage you to come closer and you crawled up to sit between his legs.
“Call me ‘daddy,’” he finally instructed, opening his belt and pants for you.
“Yes, daddy,” you nodded, keeping your mouth slack for him to push his cock into.  You hummed as the head slid over your tongue, looking up at him as he bit his lip and thrust back into your throat.
“Shit, that’s good,” he whispered, guiding your head at the speed he wanted.  “Who taught you how to suck cock so good, baby?”
Helmut raised his hand and James snorted.
Sam was a bit longer but he was still no challenge to swallow all the way down, and you heard him breathing through his teeth but let your eyes fall shut to focus on your work.
“Is this… how you treat all your guests?” Sam asked tensely between heavy breaths.
“Only those who are at the right place at the right time,” Helmut answered cryptically, but you happened to know this sort of occasion was incredibly rare.  Although it might seem counterintuitive to some, this was his way to re-stake his claim over you, and after so much time apart apparently he felt he had a lot to prove.  “Keep going, but don’t let him come,” another instruction echoed from behind you.  
You pulled back to stroke Sam’s length while you croaked: “yes, sir.”
Helmut had you go back and forth for a while, keeping both men on edge and occasionally allowing you to stroke one while you sucked the other, your own need growing so quickly as you dreamed to have something inside you, anything really.
Obviously, he knew exactly how much having a cock down your throat made you wet and desperate.  And he knew that such a taboo act of, in a certain sense, breaking fidelity with a man as he not only watched but commanded you to do it would get you right on the edge in no time.
He had gotten in your head so quickly after meeting you, memorized everything that made you tick, and not once had he forgotten.  
“I-I’m close,” James warned as you sucked his head, making you slide the tip of your tongue over his slit before you took a break to suck his swollen balls into your mouth.  “Fuck, can I come?”
“Not yet,” Helmut instructed sternly.
You felt him tug you back and into his lap suddenly, and he quickly yanked your dress down to expose your breasts to the men in front of you.
“Her tits are hard, no?” Helmut prompted them, and you watched them both nod as a warm hand reached around from behind you to tweak your hardened nipples.  “Yes, she really loves to get on her knees and choke on cock.  I’d let her do the same to me but I have greater plans for her…”
As if it weren’t obvious what those plans were, he pulled your skirt up to your waist as well, spreading your legs and pulling your flimsy panties aside.  
“Is she wet?” he asked the men and they nodded again.
“Drenched,” Sam chimed in.
Helmut gave another spank to your clit as you shuddered, then rubbing slowly as if to soothe the sting.  “I’ll teach you what happens when you get wet for another man, little girl,” Helmut growled against your ear, “not to mention two.  And they’re Americans, do you have no shame?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” you whispered.
“No, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he corrected.  “I love seeing you act like a whore all for me.”
You hadn’t even realized he’d taken his cock out of his trousers until you felt the thick tip of him prodding at your entrance.  It was already a lot just by itself, but then you had these strangers staring at you and for some reason it only turned you on more.
That ‘some’ reason of course being that you loved your Baron taking ownership over you for anyone to see.  Clearly, prison had given him much more creative ideas than just fucking on a balcony or against the glass of a window.  
“Are you ready for me?” he asked in a hushed voice against your skin which seemed to be burning hot all of a sudden.  
“Yes, sir,” you whispered.
It took a lot not to cry out as he pulled you down and filled you in one deep stroke, your nails digging into the leather of the chair’s armrests at either side.  But more than the sting of pain it felt so perfect, so fundamentally right, and just after your gasp of shock was a sigh of relief.
He sighed along with you and let his forehead fall between your shoulder blades, clearly a bit overwhelmed at being inside you again for the first time in so long.  “Draga...” he breathed, “not that I ever doubted… but you must have been faithful to me; you’re so tight, I know no one has touched you since I left.”
“Only you, sir, nobody but you,” you agreed breathlessly, eyes falling shut.  
He kissed your back as he started to move your body on top of his, the hands at your waist tightening and tugging on the remaining fabric of your dress.  “Tako dobro,” he hissed, “you feel so good, darling, you can’t imagine how long I spent dreaming of being inside you again.”
A tear rolled down your cheek, and it would be impossible to say for sure what caused it— a little bit of everything, really.  
Opening your eyes and noticing the way they were staring at you, you leaned forward and took each of the other men’s hard cocks in your hands, stroking in time with the way you bounced your hips on top of Helmut’s.
The both of them had been on the edge for a bit too long, Sam already biting his lip as James thrust himself up into your palm.
“Fuck, please,” James moaned, “I need to come in your mouth.”
“Come closer then,” you breathed, watching him stand up and bring his cock right to your lips which you eagerly gagged on, any pretense long gone as you sloppily sucked and stroked while Helmut thrust up to slam into you.
“Ohh, fuck, that’s it— gonna come,” he grunted as he reached up to press his hand against the ceiling of the jet, and it all must have hit him rather unexpectedly since the moment his musky taste began to coat your tongue, you heard a clanging sound and realized he had pushed up so hard that he bent the steel interior, his other hand tightening into a fist in your hair.
You moaned happily as you swallowed every drop, still sucking even as James’ moans became loud and higher in pitch.
“Fuck, don’t stop, oh god,” he whined, cock throbbing even after he stopped filling your throat with come.  You reached between his legs and squeezed his balls a bit and you could tell his knees nearly buckled, causing him to finally pull back and tilt your chin up to stare down at you.  “You’re somethin’ else,” he panted, taking a moment to catch his breath before falling back and slumping into his chair.
You looked over at Sam and saw his hand was still lazily guiding yours to stroke over his cock although come already painted his abs and dripped down from his swollen head over your fingers.  “Can I clean up your mess, please, daddy?” you asked, voice a bit hoarse though you couldn’t be sure if that was from the deepthroating or just how hard Helmut was fucking you now.
Pulling your hand back, Sam’s eyes followed as you lapped the thick, hot come from your hand, moaning openly at the taste.  You sucked your fingers down into your throat, not leaving a drop behind.
He leaned back in his chair and began to catch his breath, both of them now staring at you with that exhausted, glazed-over expression.  They looked satisfied, and you considered it your reward for a job well done.
"A belly full of come and a pussy full of my cock, you must be feeling ecstatic," Helmut presumed.
"Yes, sir," you agreed quickly.
All at once he began to fuck you faster, harder, deeper which you hadn't even realized was an option.  He growled a string of the filthiest curses in your ear, in Sokovian so the other men wouldn’t understand, with one hand wrapped around your neck as the other pinched your clit almost too roughly.  Even in your native language you could barely understand it: how could you when he was so deep inside you?
“Will you come, draga?” he finally asked, voice rough with his own desperation.
“Not until you let me, sir,” you moaned, and he chuckled a bit.
“Good girl.”
But wow, the way he rubbed your clit was impossible to ignore, like he was trying to make your promise impossible to keep.  You tightened your jaw, moaning through your teeth now as you fought to keep your orgasm at bay.  
“Please sir, I need to come, please— so close, I’m so close,” you mewled.
“I won’t be much longer, either,” he warned.  "Too long without you has taken its toll, I need to finish."
“Inside me, sir, please,” you begged, “come inside me.”
You felt him nod against the back of your neck.  “Come for me,” he instructed simply, and as obedient as ever, you felt your walls pulsing as pleasure overtook you.  Not even meaning to, you threw your head back, and he had to hold you tightly to keep you from shaking too violently as the waves of sensation washed over you.
The heat of him spilling inside you warmed you from the inside out, making you smile happily through the fog of your high and intentionally tighten your walls around him.  He hissed and throbbed within you, his fingers digging into your hips now as he held you down against him.
He gave a few more lazy thrusts until finally slowing to a stop, both of you catching your breath eventually.
"My... accountant will be keeping my cock warm for the remainder of the flight," Helmut informed the other men, "I hope you don't mind?
"No, no, go ahead," James approved as his head fell back against his chair.
It was still quite a ways to your final destination so it wasn't much of a surprise that you ended up falling asleep in the Baron's arms, something you used to do every night that had been only a dream for years.  Perhaps this afternoon wasn't the reunion you expected, but it was somehow even more perfect than you could've ever wished for.
///
dobrodošla nazad, ljubavi = добродошла назад, љубави = “welcome home, love”
lutka = лутка = “doll”
draga = драга = “dear/beloved”
tako očajno = тако очајно = "so desperate"
tako dobro = тако добро = "so good"
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