#the trick is to play like there's no competition and not like as if you master that shit in the shhshh within minutes

[devotedfem]

«American Psycho»

Synopsis: In the 80's, there's a group of wealthy succesful wall streeter men that are disgustingly greedy. They maintain an appearance of perfection, but they're narcissistic, egomaniacal, competitive and murderers. Unlucky for you, they got infatuated on you, competing with each other to have you.

Hyung line (poly) x f. Reader

4.6K words.

Genre: inspired by American psycho (2000) | yander-ish.

Tags: American psycho au, power imbalance, 80's New York, Period Typical Sexism, murder, rich and powerful hyung line, classic wealthy corporate men, greed for money, college student reader, reader has grey morals, a little bit of gore but just at the beginning, savage capitalism, overworking, yandere hyung line, they're not good people, psychopaths and evil hyung line (but they have a soft spot for reader), end game poly relationship, possessive behavior, dubious consent (because of power imbalance), double penetration (you've been warned lol).

From the series masterlist; Final girl.

Navigation Masterlist.

a/n: this contain very sensitive and triggering topics, like classism and sexism, the movie was inspired by a book that wanted to critize the image of the priviledge american man. I don't agree with any of the triggering topics here, this is fiction, so please read with caution.

Seokjin put off his face mask to apply his expensive cream on his skin. His face was straight and indifferent, bored even. He styled his hair with gel and he put on his luxurious dress suit, ignoring the gagged sounds of the annoying man tied to a chair in his penthouse.

Seokjin stared down at him without lowering his chin, lifting a brow with displeasure. That man looked too dirty for his polished place.

He grabbed his brand-new axe, covering his body with a plastic protective suit.

The tied and gagged man widened his eyes with horror, shaking his head and wailing with fear, getting nothing in return but a bored expression from Seokjin.

“This will teach you to not bother me. You’re not on the same level as me, you thought you could outdo me? Playing your tricks in my company? Don’t you know what I’m capable of?” Something evil and dark gleamed in his eyes, it was the only emotion he showed since the tied man met him. And it was frightening.

The polished porcelain floor got stained by blood, sparking Seokjin’s evil face. The man’s head rolled out of his body to Seokjin’s brand-new dress shoes.

The taller wrinkled his nose with disgust, annoyed because he has to change his favorite shoes.

“What a burden,” he whispered to himself with a deep sigh.

Meanwhile, in the building next door was Yoongi nursing a drink of his expensive whisky. His mahogany office was barely illuminated because of the curtains hiding the view of New York. Some of his employees say between whispers that the CEO acted like a vampire.

“I-I did what you asked me to, sir,” the employee in front of him trembled with anxiety, intimidated by Yoongi’s heavy gaze.

Yoongi lifted a corner of his lips in a disdain way, his eyes darkening with anger.

“And you think that following my orders like a moron means that you did a good job?” He spat furious, throwing his whiskey glass, shattering it next to the employee’s head.

The man shrinks violently, and he did something pitiful even for Yoongi’s taste. The man dropped to his knees, looking at his boss with pleading eyes.

“Please don’t fire me, I need this job to pay my bills or I’ll be on the streets,” he said with desperation and teared eyes.

Flames of satisfaction and power raises to Yoongi’s lungs. He enjoyed watching the kind of power he holds over other people, it was a shame that his employees were so dumb and inefficient, because he did pay very well to them. So, to him it was reasonable to be demanding, after all it was his money at stake.

Yoongi walked slowly towards the knelt man, with a smirk growing on his lips. Then he took out his gun silencer shooting the man to the head, making his body fall to the side silently.

“One less idiot,” he murmured to himself, nursing another glass of whiskey.

And there it was Namjoon and Hoseok, the feared duo of executives. They were ruthless on their work, the definition of competitive successful man. The greedy representation of privileged man who are at the top of the food chain in the patriarchal New York society of the 80’s.

They were at an executive meeting, looking at each other with knowing smirks, making everyone in the room nervous and tense. Because they haven’t said a single word since the proposal of their work partners.

And they still kept quiet at the end of the meeting, glancing at everyone with boredom, getting out of the room without saying goodbye. After all they have better things to do.

“What a bunch of idiots,” Hoseok huffs rolling his eyes with annoyance. Namjoon chuckled nodding his head.

“I already send the order to kill them,” Namjoon said with a grin.

Anyone that dares to do as much as wasting their time, will get erased.

And there it was you.

A New York student that has to deal with college and rent.

This city was expensive, and you were just a middle-class girl with dreams. You worked many parts time jobs to support yourself and prove to your family that you don’t need to marry a man to be happy, you can be an independent woman.

Well, that was easier to say than to do, it was hard to pay your bills and tuition without anyone’s help. You were exhausted and full of debts. You sighed deep, maybe if you marry rich then you wouldn’t have to worry about these things, but you were too proud to admit that out loud. You have to be the change you want to see in the world, don’t you? You say that to yourself to feel better, and to not to be on the verge of mental breakdown.

You feel like crying, until some miracle happened to you.

You founded 3 job offers as an assistant for 4 men. And the best part of it? Is that the four of them gave you the job. And the pay was quite generous.

They don’t have to know that you’ll be the assistant of other people at the same time, you’ll manage. You’d do anything for money at this point, even if that means overworking yourself.

You got ready for your first day, wearing your nicest pencil skirt and doing your hair in a slick bun. You looked pretty decent, ready to be eaten by corporate men.

You divide your schedule in three, you spent all night making the perfect schedule. You were lucky that those men worked in nearby buildings, otherwise your plan would’ve been impossible.

7:00 am to 11:00 am; Kim Seokjin.

You sighed deep, trying to control your nerves. You knew that the rich men of wall street are insufferable and labor exploiters, so you did prepare mentally for any kind of abuse, you need the money.

You knocked once, twice, but you didn’t receive an answer.

You waited 15 minutes in front of Seokjin’s door, you wanted to cry and break down the door. Your time was gold, literally.

And then a tall handsome man greets you, his face was impassive and serious, like if he has a stick up his ass. But you couldn’t help but feel a little bit intimidated by his heavy and cold gaze fixated on you. He stared down at your body without lowering his chin, with square shoulders and a straight posture. He looked composed in a frightening way. You gulped nervous, trying to give him a smile and swallow your insults.

“Good morning Mr. Kim, it’s a pleasure to meet you, i-“

You were interrupted by him rudely turning around and leaving you alone in the hallway, standing with your lips parted like a fish.

What an ass.

He was way worse than you think.

You sighed deep entering his penthouse, you have no choice but to bear with his attitude, the pay was too good unfortunately.

You cleared your throat taking your notebook out of your bag.

“So, Mr. Kim, I need to know more details about your daily routine and schedule, anything will help,” you said clicking your pen and looking at him expectably.

He arched a brow, looking genuinely pissed. You frowned confused, you didn’t know why that man was so annoyed by your existence.

“I didn’t hire you to be this irritating, stop asking questions and figure it out,” he almost snarled the last words, turning around to fix his tie in front of his living room mirror.

You again, parted your lips. You bit your tongue hard, tasting your iron blood. You wanted to punch that rude ass man, but you just couldn’t. You were powerless right now.

So you sighed again, with a fake and tense smile on your face.

“I’m sorry if I bothered you Mr. Kim, I just want to make my job right. If you please could provide me with your valuable information so I can do the best job you definitely deserve.”

Seokjin went rigid at your words, turning around to look at you with fury and disbelief in his eyes, it was the first emotion he showed to you.

“Are you… are you being sarcastic to me? Don’t fucking get smart with me!”

You widened your eyes at his shout, it was such a rare sight to see him this affected. You won’t lie, it was a bit funny to watch how you can get under his skin so easily. But offending him wasn’t your intention, you don’t want to get fire on your first day of work.

“I would never, sir,” you said trying to not sound bitter, but Seokjin’s narrowed eyes told you that he didn’t believe you.

“Watch your mouth.” He barked, and you almost roll your eyes.

“Please, I just need to know some details of your schedule, then you will never hear my annoying voice again, i swear. I just want to do a good job for a man like you,” your eye almost twitch by your own disgusting words, you felt like a bootlicker, but you have no choice.

Your dignity will not pay your bills.

That eased Seokjin’s tensed shoulder, his eyes softening just a little bit.

“Fine,” he said rolling his eyes.

And he did help you with information about his schedule, you made a list of his priorities and things you should do and not do. Your smile was too big to hide, you definitely can handle this! Not even a jerk like Seokjin will stop you from earning that good money.

“Thanks! I’ll be out of your hair Mr. Kim, you won’t even notice I’m here,” you said grinning ear to ear, maybe you looked insane smiling so happily at a man that treated you so poorly, but you didn’t care.

Seokjin blinked a little taken aback, but you watched how a small smile curled up on his lips.

“It’ll be difficult not to,” he teased you before turning around and fixing his tie again. You stand there speechless.

Surprisingly, it was way creepier to watch him tease you and smile instead of insulting you.

The moment that your watch struck 11 in the morning, you literally ran to the next building where your next boss works.

His building was cold and almost empty, the people there were pretty quiet and distant, you felt shivers when you knocked Mr. Yoongi’s door.

“Come in,” a deep voice said at the other side of the door. At least he doesn’t ignore you like Seokjin.

You entered his office, forcing yourself not to drool by the beauty and luxury of this place. Everything looked so expensive.

“Hello Mr. Yoongi. I’m your new assistant, it’s nice to meet you.” You felt a little bit intimidated by the heavy and dark gaze of Yoongi, his pale face and black suit made him look like a vampire.

Until now, he didn’t act rude towards you, but he sure as hell didn’t seem nice.

He was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, not breaking his piercing stare from you. One of his hands was holding a liquor glass, that must have been the first red flag.

“Before we start, you have to know that if you do as much as bother me, or screw up your work, I’m going to finish you. Literally and figurately.” He threatened with a gulp of his drink. His dark gaze piercing you while the liquor went down his throat.

Your chest deflated with disappointment, your hope of working with a decent man crashed immediately.

You weren’t scared at all by his threat. You know these types of man are powerful and dangerous, you couldn’t risk pissing off one of them without consequences, you live in a patriarchal society so you won’t be fooled by the thought that they’ll play fair. You weren’t dumb, and you know how to play your cards right.

“Good to know Mr. Yoongi. I appreciate when my bosses are direct with me, makes my job easier. Could you please tell me more details about your schedule? So I can get to work and not waste more of your time.” Your clicked pen was the only sound in the quiet office.

Yoongi’s eyes widened just for a split second. But he composed himself by clearing his throat and giving you information that would make your work easier.

You get to work in silence in Yoongi’s office, you felt his heavy stare on your body, but you ignored him, focused on your papers.

It was a bit creepy the way his eyes would follow you across the office, but you can bear a creep man if he pays as half as good as Yoongi do.

Unbeknownst to you, the paled man smirked devilish to himself, he liked you. And that was more dangerous than his dislike.

You almost jumped when the clock struck 3 in the afternoon.

Your stomach twisted a little, you gulped your anxiety down. It was time to meet your next bosses, they were two executives. If dealing with one rich man in 4 hours was difficult, imagine dealing with two at the same time. You won’t lie, you feel nervous.

Namjoon and Hoseok building were different from your other bosses, this place was full of people running everywhere, it looked so chaotic. But at least you won’t get bored.

Nobody paid attention to you, and you had to ask to like 10 people for where your bosses at.

They were in a meeting. Great, just great.

You waited patiently for them to finish. And when they got out of the meeting room, you rush to them crossing their paths. They stopped immediately, the taller one has an irritated expression and the shorter looked offended by your presence.

“Hi good evening. Sorry for startle you both, I’m the new assistant y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said a little bit out of breath but that didn’t stop you from smiling at them.

“Excuse me?” The taller arched a brow.

You frowned not understanding the offense.

“Uhmm, sorry?”

The shorter one rolled his eyes with irritation.

“Are you fucking dumb? Who told you that you have any right to bother us? Know your place and go with the others employees and figured it out.” He dismissed you with narrowed eyes.

You stood there frozen, and they ignored you walking past you.

But you composed yourself quickly, their attitude wasn’t nothing new.

And again, you joined them on their walk to God knows where, you were praying to not pushing it too hard and get fired.

“It wasn’t my intention to bother such busy and important men like you, I just wanted to introduce myself and get information to do a good job and to be out of your hairs for an unlimited time.” This time your voice sounded breathless, you were exhausted.

The shorter one snorted in disbelief, his eyes flamed with something wicked.

“Is this thing being sarcastic to us?” He asked looking at you but not speaking directly to you.

Your chest sting with offense at him calling you a thing, but you swallowed your bitter emotions.

“I’m y/n,” you replied with a tense smile, not biting the bait.

“Y/n, get the fuck out of our sights unless you want to disappear, and not only from this company,” the taller one threatened with a dark glint in his eyes. You shivered slightly, he was wider and bigger than the other, looking way more dangerous.

Men and their big egos.

“I… I’m sorry for being this bold and rude. I don’t want to waste your time really, I just want to make a good job, that’s my only purpose. I promise to be out of your sight if you could spare me some minutes of your time, I will make it worth it.”

Silence. An uncomfortable hush.

“Very well then,” said the shorter one, tilting his head to the side and watching you head to toes. A wicked smile curled his lips, and you chose to ignore the alarm bells ringing at the back of your head.

“Follow us,” the taller ordered with a deep voice.

At the end of the day you were exhausted, you made it, you survived corporate exploiters men.

The following weeks went rather smoothly. Yes, they were rude and annoying, but you got used to them. You can’t say that you like them, but you tolerate them (for the sake of your rent and bills of course).

Seokjin underneath his cold and indifferent behavior was like a spoiled brat, sassy and rude, but a little bit endearing at some times.

“Y/n, fix it,” he almost whine looking down at you with frowned lips.

You chuckled rolling your eyes.

“I’m gonna start to think that you just want me near you,” you teased, a little bit bold yes, but over time you learned that Seokjin liked to tease way worse.

His eyes glinted with mischievousness, the corner of his lips curling like the cheshire cat.

“You sure wish that was true, don’t you?”

“Of course,” you replied laughing.

It was all jokes between you two, you got used to this type of interaction with your boss. Sometimes he did get a little too friendly for your like, but you really didn’t care. This job was temporary anyway.

And there it was Yoongi, the intimidating vampire-like boss that in the inside was like a bratty cat.

His feline eyes liked to be fixated on you, watching your every move like an actual cat for your amusement. You didn’t mind his heavy attention on you, he was wary with his employees like any other rich man from wall street. You got used to him too.

“Here are the papers you asked me for, sir,” you said airily, you had everything perfectly arranged, leaving no room for mistakes.

Yoongi hummed, looking at the papers and then looking at you again with eyes full of mischief.

“Are you sure it’s that all I asked for?” He didn’t break his piercing eyes from you, many people get intimidated by his stare but not you.

“Yes, of course,” you said smiling and he nodded to himself.

“There’s one thing you haven’t done.”

You didn’t say anything back, you were sure you did everything.

“And that would be…?”

“Having a drink with me, you never do that when I ask you to.” He asked nonchalant with his eyes on his drink, but you knew he was being serious.

“That’s not professional,” you said and he chuckled at your response.

You sighed biting your bottom lip, indecisive. Your goal was to be on their good side after all.

You said nothing when you sit in front of him crossing your leg over the other, the same way he does when he’s drinking. You smirked when he startled a little, but he tried to hide his surprise by a cough.

He poured you whiskey and you took a sip of your drink, trying not to wrinkle your face by the bitter taste. But Yoongi noticed and laughed, you widened your eyes at the sound. It was the first time you listened to his laugh and it was contagious because you chuckle with him.

Namjoon and Hoseok despite seeming intimidating the first time you met them, they were pretty chill and funny when the three of you become a little more closer.

They were in a meeting, and you were by their sides writing down the relevant things they say.

“See that guy over there? Look how he’s falling asleep,” Namjoon whispered near your ear, too close for your liking. However, you follow his gaze watching the older man’s head tilting to the side with sleepiness. You bit a laugh, the poor man had his eyes half lidded with boredom.

At your other side was Hoseok, he had his gaze fixated on the guy speaking, but he looked at you when he heard your little chuckle, a mischievous smirk curled on his lips. You said “sorry” quietly, but he only winked at you before turning his attention again to the man, returning to his cold expression.

When the three of you get out of the meeting room, Namjoon and Hoseok started to make fun of the guy’s speech and the older man’s attempt of being awake. You laughed genuinely for the first time around them.

“Those two don’t know what awaits them.” Namjoon’s words made your smile fall slowly, erasing any hint of amusement. You almost forgot the kind of men you work for.

“Are you going to… fire them?” You asked quietly, gripping tightly your notebook.

Namjoon only shrugged his shoulders, but you noticed the evil glint in his eyes.

“Firing them is too soft coming from us,” Hoseok replied instead, not without smiling at you. But this time his smile turned your stomach sick.

You chose not to ask more questions. Sometimes being ignorant it’s a blessing.

You settle into a routine with your bosses for a couple of months.

But as they say… lies has no legs. They started to notice that your attention wasn’t completely on them.

Seokjin was the first to notice.

That morning he was staring down at you with narrow eyes, even when you tried to joke with him while fixing his tie he ignored you without breaking his piercing eyes from you.

“You said the other day that you work only for me, is that correct?” His voice sounded harsh, and he stared down at you with dark eyes. You gulped nervously, your smile trembling a little.

“Yes, it’s the truth.”

He didn’t say anything back and you didn’t meet his eyes.

“Fine.”

You tried not to snap your eyes up at him with surprise. Does he really believe you?

But then, you felt Seokjin coming near your body, gripping your chin up to met his heavy gaze.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

He was standing too close to your body, his chest almost touching yours. The grip on your chin tightens when you didn’t reply right away.

“I… don’t,” you couldn’t help but be confused. It wasn’t his business if you have a boyfriend or not.

He nodded slowly, not breaking his eyes from you.

“Good. As long as you work for me, you can’t have a fiancé, neither another boss. I’m paying for your absolute time and attention. Do I make myself clear?”

Your lips parted and your eyes widened. You were shocked and confused, who does the thinks he is?

“Answer!” he barked furious.

“Yes,” you gritted between teeth.

What a jerk.

And Yoongi was the same.

He was sitting with his heavy gaze fixated on you as usual, but this time he wasn’t holding a glass of whiskey.

“Who else do you see after work?” he asked lifting a brow and tapping his foot.

None of your fucking business, you wanted to bark at him, but instead you bit your tongue.

“No one else, sir,” you couldn’t help but sound bitter.

He snorted with the corner of his lip curling up in a disdain way.

“I hope it’s true, because if not you’ll pay the consequences.”

This time you couldn’t bit your tongue back.

“What consequences? Firing me?”

You regretted opening your big mouth immediately.

Yoongi didn’t react, he simply stood up to walk towards you like a predator ready to pounce its prey.

“I usually don’t say this, but you’re a very valuable employee. If you want to keep a roof over your head, you have to be mine,” he growled the last word near your ear, although he was short, he towered over you, making you feel small with his closeness and strong fragrance.

You gulped, nodding without meeting his eyes. And he grinned wide. You swear you saw sharp teeth.

And Namjoon and Hoseok were even worse.

The both of them corned you against the desk of their office, the back of your knees hitting the corner of the desk. You gulped looking up at them.

“We wanted to ask you something, little bird,” said affectionally Hoseok, but you knew better than to fall for his smile.

“Are you fucking working for other people? Are you dating someone?” Namjoon raised his voice at the last words, staring down at you with narrowed eyes.

You widened your eyes and laughed humorless. They were psychos.

“What the-“

“Watch your mouth,” warned Hoseok, his lips turning a thin line.

“No, I’m not dating neither working for someone else. Happy?” you couldn’t help but sound angry.

The both of them went silent, looking at each other as if they’re having a mental conversation.

And they let you go.

You were on your way to your apartment. Their attitude today was the last straw, you got tired of them. You always noticed the red flags, ignoring the alarm bells and turning an eye blind.

You ignored Seokjin’s stains of blood, Yoongi’s silencer gun, and Namjoon and Hoseok erasing people. You told to yourself, out of sight out of mind. But that was your biggest mistake, you let your greed for money to blind you. For the first time you paid all of your bills without struggling, you ate well and wear the best clothes, and you didn’t worry for the tuition fee. But that doesn’t make you innocent or better than them, you were an accomplice, you were as greedy as them for money. You sold your morals in exchange of money, little money. You weren’t even rich.

Your chest stings painfully, and your eyes teared up. Your trembling lips let out ugly sobs, you were so ashamed of yourself.

You promised to yourself to be an independent woman but not be an accomplice of oppressors and criminals, but what choice did you have? Like people said, it’s eating or being eaten in this world.

It’s a man’s world, and you were simply a woman trying to survive.

You entered your dark apartment and grabbed your home phone, your bottom lip quivered when your mom answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Mom,” you sobbed, sitting on the floor and gripping tightly the phone.

“Y/n? Dear, what’s happening? Why are you crying, is everything okay?” Her worry only made you cry harder, you didn’t deserve it. She raised a better woman and you were a disappointment.

“I-i’m the worst, I want to go home mom… I’m sorry,” you whispered.

You tasted your salty tears, sniffling and hiccupping.

But then the phone was snatched from you.

You were so into your self-pity that you didn’t notice the four figures lurking in the dark.

The lights turn on, and you blinked confused screaming with terror when you saw all of your bosses staring at you.

Seokjin was the one who snatched and hang up the phone.

“Our little princess misses her mommy,” Seokjin coed with a fake pout, he lifted your body making you scream harder.

He took you to the couch where the others were sitting, the tall man sat you on his lap, gripping tightly your waist in a warning when you tried to squirm out of his grip.

“It’s okay princess, I can be your mommy or daddy if you want me to,” Seokjin mouthed your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. He sniffed your hair, hugging you tightly from your back.

You wanted to throw out.

“Let me go you sickos! I quit!” you screamed at the top of your lungs.

The apartment went painfully quiet. The tension can be cut with a knife.

But then Namjoon and Hoseok lips mouthed the skin of your neck, lapping each side of it.

You cried trying to move away, but they didn’t let you.

Yoongi squatted before you, with his lips brushing yours.

Their bodies were attached to every part of your body, not letting you breathe. Your senses full of them.

“Your ours,” whispered Yoongi against your lips.

And with dread you realized he was right.

You can read the +18 continuation here.

taglist:

@demonshauntingthedoves @pynkgothicka @cutequeen00 @nothingsreal420 @ririkookiemonster-archives @cannotalwaysbenight @loumin908 @devilzliaison @uniquecutie-puffs @polarnightmyg

[bokettochild]

So the thing about a lot of Prince! Legend reveal fics is that they miss out on all the juicy bits of the aftermath. Warriors thinking of Legend as like this secretly honorable, noble person who should be protected as he carries the precious blood of Hylia

And then Legend tells Warriors to piss off and wins a battle competition for best trick shot kill and Warriors has to reconcile both images of Legend in his head

Legend meanwhile sees Wars treating him differently and is paranoid about waking up with a knife in his back bc he's a stain on the Royal legacy due to being a boy/raised as a commoner/rude

And then Sky wants to connect to Legend as family and Legend wants to stay away from any reminders that he's royalty

And his Hyrule! Have the guards gotten over the mind control and respect him but he doesn't trust them still? The royal knights he grew up knowing and trusting until his first adventure? Do the villagers of each town acknowledge him? Do they know there's a prince but not that it's Link? Do they think of him as a rags to riches story or as a class traitor?

There's so much good shit I don't see explored a lot in the prince!legend headcanon that I would love to see and so I'm excited about you seemingly want to focus on this rather than just the shock value

I'm so glad you're excited! I actually haven't seen the poll results yet, but the reception in the comments/tags has been overall very positive and encouraging, so i think i'll probably be writing this thing LOL

There is a lot of change I want to explore with the fic, but while fluff is a must, I probably will touch on the heavier aspects of what Legend's being a prince would mean for him, Hyrule, and the systems in his world in general.

I sort of like the idea of his lineage being an open secret to those who knew him growing up because he's a dead-ringer for the late queen, and since he never knew that, he's never made an effort to hide it. While there might be some who think of him as a class-traitor, I don't think it would be that many of them, since he does work for a living, doesn't live like a prince by any stretch of the word, and never puts on airs or treats the people of Hyrule like they're below him. He's hard working, helps anyone who asks, and generally is a decent guy, so the people who are most affronted at his existence would probably be other nobles/religious folks.

Wariors and Wild will probably both be having a lot of conflict with trying to reconcile the ornery vet to a prince, especially when he is still very much a teenager, but I think, since Sky and Legend are pretty close already in cannon, they'd come out okay.

My take on Sky probably doesn't care much about the royal part of things, just that Legend is family, and considering most of Legend's family was killed by Ganon, I think he'd enjoy having that.

Anyways, the shock factor will probably play a role, at least at the start as everyone finds out, but yes, I want to go beyond just the initial realization we all like playing with and actually dig into the world-building and dynamics and how Legend's being a prince effects all of that!

[tyrantisterror]

What's the worst legacy sequel you've ever seen? What, in your opinion, separates a good legacy sequel from a bad legacy sequel and what's the worst thing you think a legacy sequel can do?

The worst that I've seen is probably Rise of Skywalker. It's close competition, though - both Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom and Jurassic World: Dominion have moments that are significantly more stupid than anything in Rise of Sky Walker, but I also think both have a bit more creative effort put into them - Fallen Kingdom has that third act where it basically becomes a Resident Evil adaptation except with a murder-saurus in place of the Tyrant, and Dominion has the whole locust plotline which, while terrible, is at least an unexpected direction for a Jurassic Park sequel to go into that tries to figure out something ELSE you could do with the genetic engineering premise of the franchise beyond just making dinosaurs. Like, all three Jurassic World movies have big problems and they get progressively dumber with each installment, but they're also all ambitious to some degree that I still feel respect for, even if they never really actually reach those lofty aspirations.

Rise of Skywalker, on the other hand, has no ambitions at all. It has nothing it wants to say, no unique twists to pull, no real identity of its own. It's a potroast made of leftovers from better movies, a resuscitated corpse of something much more interesting, patched together like a Frankenstein's monster and abandoned to a cruel world just as callously.

It has no desire to do anything new, merely a checklist of Things You've Seen Before That the Focus Groups Say You'd Probably Like to See Again. Any character that can be slipped into an arc that was done in a previous Star Wars film is slipped into one no matter how little sense it makes for them, and any character who can't is either forced to tread water with nothing to do (hi Finn!) or just quietly shoved off to the side early on and forgotten about (hi Rose!).

Any story beats that weren't in the original films are simply grabbed from a box that reads "time tested cliches to keep your script moving with minimal effort." Make the plot a treasure hunt so we can just race from scene to scene with the flimsiest justification possible and try and trick the audience into thinking something is actually happening! What's that, audience interest is flagging? Quick, throw in a cameo of someone from an older movie! What's that, they're bored again? Pretend to kill one of the old characters, but make sure to reveal they actually lived in no more than two scenes down the line, or else we might piss off the fanboys! Hey, let's look at the Cinema Sins videos for the original movies and see if there's some gripes we can "fix" with this one for added fan cred! Can't disappoint our audience!

It's the story-telling equivalent of smothering something in salt to cover up the funky taste of the close-to-the-expiration-date ingredients.

As for what makes a good vs. a bad legacy sequel... ok, so, let's define legacy sequel first. A legacy sequel is a film or TV show that is a sequel to a popular film or TV series that ended a good many years ago, which brings back some of the old cast of characters (generally played by the same, and thus much older, actors that played them in the past) along with adding a new cast of characters played by younger actors. It tries to replicate the tone of the original series despite being made in a different era and probably by different writers and directors, and generally aims to give you that Ratatouille style moment of nostalgia.

I think most Legacy sequels are kind of doomed to be mediocre at best on the outset because the goal of them from the moment of conception is so mercenary - they're not created to Tell A Good Story, they're created to Keep Consumers Invested in a Lucrative Content Franchise. They have the artistic aspirations of a McDonald's Hamburger - "This tastes exactly like what you had as a kid, and doesn't that make you crave more of it?"

I don't think that art made for mercenary reasons is doomed to be bad, mind you - I mean, almost ALL movies and television were made to make money first and foremost. Even the classic High Art movies I love like Seven Samurai and The Third Man were made for mercenary reasons at the end of the line - it didn't stop the people who were working on them from having artistic goals, but it's a fact nonetheless.

But Legacy Sequels just have an uphill battle in the "artistic aspirations" department, because most people with artistic aspirations don't want to recreate the feeling someone else inspired with their art - they want to put their own stamp on it, their own spin, their own voice. And that will often mean something VERY different will be made, something that might piss of the fans - something that doesn't taste like the McDonald's hamburger you had as a kid, even though it came in the same wrapper.

The worst parts of Legacy Sequels are the only parts that Rise of Skywalker is made of - the parts where the story is clearly only trying to show you things you know, only trying to reheat the leftovers so they taste like your memories, only trying to trick the nostalgia center of your brain that you're four years old again eating at McDonald's. "Here's the thing you know! Here's the running gag you liked, repeated five more times by actors with far less enthusiasm! Here's the same basic premise as the first film, but the stakes have been inflated to make it feel like a progression! Cameos! Catch phrases! Eat your hamburger, you consumer pig!"

The rare good legacy sequels don't really TRY to be legacy sequels. They're just... sequels. Another story in the same world as the first, bringing back the characters who actually have interesting arcs left in them, creating new characters with their own shit going on who have good chemistry with the pre-established characters and setting, expanding on themes from the original and exploring parts of the setting that hadn't been explored yet, and all in all telling their own story that's related to the first one's but still manages to be its own distinct thing.

There are not many good legacy sequels, because a good legacy sequel is different than the McDonald's hamburger you ate when you were four, and might make less money than desired because of it.

[designernishiki]

next task on my trophy crusade is winning all the climax battles and so far I’ve won all of them except the ultimate section and hoo boy. let me tell you. my hands fucking Hurt

[italiantea]

what's funny about parkour is it's about facing challenges. but at the same time also about running away

[angabby-zzz]

Realized i can also make sherbet a prsk player / vocaloid fan . Just another thing shes like weirdly good at

[jade-curtiss]

No one solves ethics here, he's just exposing shit and bouncing people out the only way I can.

[cybertron-after-dark]

what the FUCK happens in cyberverse

Here's a list just off the top of my head, in no particular order. MASSIVE spoilers ahead.

-Wheeljack keeps making party drugs. This is not only accepted but wholly encouraged by the Autobots. He's made the bot equivalent to cocaine so strong it made grimlock physically unable to stop himself from running around the ship at mach 5. This was the basis for an entire episode. He's also made patches that give you a direct link to the Allspark that he passed out at a party specifically to get everyone as fucked up as physically possible. I cannot overemphasize that Optimus make no effort to stop this until things turn destructive on both occasions.

-Soundwave and Shockwave completely fucking hate each other and have a whole rivalry trying to be a better and more useful follower for Megatron than each other.

-Soundwave is a fucking memelord who will play clown music or dramatic riffs to dunk on people from the soundboard he has built into his hardware.

-theres a sort of liminal dimension referred to as Unspace that you can get stuck in and if you are there for too long you will straight up disintegrate. We see this happen to the entire crew aboard the arc from different timelines several times while the main timeline crew we follow tries to escape this fate, thus dooming dozens of other timelines.

-Cheetor is basically Allspark Jesus, and he's tired of all the fighting, so he tries to have Optimus and Megatron settle their differences once and for all. The chosen method for this was making them both play the Newlywed Game. They were both terrible at it, the MegOp Divorce agenda is alive and well.

-the Quintessons invade Cybertron and stick the entire population into a simulation a la The Matrix, which slowly drains their life force until they die. This kills countless unnamed Cybertronians, both Autobot and Decepticon, as well as Hound, who does not get to appear on screen.

-the Quintessons also catch Starscream, rip his face off, and modify him into an Eldritch tentacle beast with his brain attached to two other aliens, and then appoint that amalgamation as the judge that decides the fate of the universe in regards to whether they exterminate all life within it.

-Shockwave commits suicide for Megatron's approval. He launches his spark straight into the Allspark to taint it specifically as a last desperate fuck you to the autobots.

-Soundwave acquired laserbeak by just kind of grabbing a random bird out of the sky.

-Soundblaster is an ex-decepticon that left out of shame. That shame being Soundwave beating his ass in a beatboxing competition so fuckin hard he couldn't show his face around his faction anymore.

-The autobots keep starscream captive and try to get him to take a therapy session with the Arc's AI, and he starts out willing to actually give it a shot but said AI is kind of Stupid and screamer ends up tricking him into letting him escape through an air vent to go wreak havoc instead.

-Starscream also starts a suicide cult with the other Seekers, gains control of Vector Sigma and the Allspark, has the seekers forfeit their sparks to him, thus resulting in a cosmically powered Starscream. He uses that power to "remake" his followers into scraplets that he refers to as, with nothing but love in his tone, his "children."

-Shockwave and Wheeljack are shown to be ex lab partners. Shockwave has an army of drones that look exactly like his altmode that Wheeljack helped program. They are programmed to be able to break out into a coordinated dance number at any given time. Originally this was just to make Wheeljack laugh. Shockwave kept that function in throughout the entire war and initiates it the second there's a truce and Wheeljack asks to see it again.

-Shockwave kidnaps Wheeljack at one point for Science Under Duress purposes and Wheeljack is too invested in all the sweet fuckin tech Shockwave's been making while they were apart to really care that he's being held against his will, and then proceeds to escape without too much issue because he knows Shockwave well enough to know exactly how to disable everything.

-Bumblebee distracts the Decepticons by running in front of their surveillance cameras and shaking his ass in the most underwhelming way imaginable.

-Grimlock is only stupid when he's in his altmode because it takes a lot of power to sustain and he has to sacrifice some of his higher brain functions to keep it manageable. In robot mode he talks like he went to an Ivy League college and knows what champagne tastes like. He throws upscale parties every chance he gets.

-Grimlock also helped start an anticapitalist revolution with Bumblebee when he found an underground society of insect transformers that had a rigid caste system. This was within moments of finding out that the ultra wealthy were hoarding the limited energon reserves for themselves. Grimlock is a comrade and he does not fuck around.

-Skybyte is here and he sounds like Skeletor.

-Windblade and Slipstream are nemeses and somehow it's even more toxic yuri coded than Arcee and airachnid in tfp.

-speaking of Arcee, she's besties with Grimlock. They at one point have a physical fight over who gets to die to protect the other.

-hot rod and soundwave are forced to share leadership over the team of bots and cons that escaped the quintessons' simulation and it's packed with so much homoerotic tension its unreal.

-Maccadam is some kind of lovecraftian war machine that can unfold himself into a whole armory whenever he feels like it. We have no idea what his whole altmode looks like, all we see are the ominous shadows of the weapons on the walls. He uses this specifically as a threat to keep anyone from fighting in his bar bc he's insistent it remain neutral ground. He also can kinda just. See into the future. And casually drops prophecies that get written off as spoonerisms until they turn out to be relevant.

-Optimus Prime has horrific social anxiety that he can kind of power through when he's in a crisis, but the second things are chill and he has to give a speech at a party or something he simply does not know how to function.

-the entire planet of Velocitron gets taken over by cosmic rust and everyone inhabiting it that couldn't escape in time was killed horrifically.

-cosmos is a girl and she hangs out with a dude named Meteorfire who is, for all intents and purposes, just robot Steve Irwin.

-Astrotrain keeps closing doors in people's faces for the funny

-Megatron is killed by a version of himself from an alternate universe that went nuts and starting creating a master race of perfect Decepticons to inhabit Cybertron. Said perfect Decepticons were carbon copies of idw Tarn in all but personality.

-Acidstorm is canonically genderfluid and keeps switching between male and female seeker frames whenever they feel like it

-Kup, who had not been in the show at all until this point, decides to show up and narrate an entire episode like hes giving a political speech.

And, the infamous one we all know and love

-Megatron is a twitch streamer and he livestreams Starscream's fucking funeral. The chat has custom Decepticon emotes.

[fic-over-cannon]

Sunnie!! I am insane over this concept of Jason marveling over how sensitive his partner is... and now I'm thinking about Jason being feral when he returns from patrol and NEEDING to bury his face between their legs. All he wants is to make them feel good. Oh also, breastplay. I know in my heart he likes his mouth occupied <3

Yes! Yes! Like Jason loves fucking his partner, that’s a given. But as soon as he finds out just how sensitive they are? Well his new favourite place is with his head buried between their thighs seeing how many times he can make them come on his tongue, then his fingers, and only then his cock. (He’ll mix up the order sometimes but he’s pretty set in his routine). Also? When your thighs are wrapped around his ears and he can only taste you, when his fingers are occupied with curling just the way you like and pinning you down so you stop squirming too much, Jason can block out the whole world. It’s a particularly handy trick when patrol doesn’t go so well and all he wants is to block out the world by drowning himself in you. On those nights he likes to make it a competition to see just how many more times than last time he can make you come.

Jason has eating you out down to an exact science. He knows when to give you flat broad strokes of his tongue and exactly how much suction on your clit sends you over the edge. How many fingers to give you before the stretch gets overwhelming and he can feel you spasming. Knows exactly how to walk you right up to the edge of orgasm before pulling away and making you swear in frustration. He’ll push you over the cliff’s edge so many times your thighs will be soaked with it and he’ll still know exactly how to keep you begging for more. When your thighs are trembling and you’re riding that knife’s edge of overstimulation and pleasure, that’s when he knows you’re almost ready for his cock. He won’t give it to you yet though, wants to wait until he’s got you pliant and begging to be fucked even though you were squealing about it being all too much moments ago.

No, what he does next is become gentle. Moves up your body to mouth at your breasts. His chin is obscenely wet, smears of your slick making your breasts shine from where he devours them. Takes his time with biting and sucking at each breast, catching a nipple between his teeth before soothing the sting with a drag of his tongue. Kneading the other breast with a large scarred hand so it doesn’t feel lonely. All the while he’s sliding his cock through the mess you’ve made between your thighs, the tip just catching but not going in any further. Slow maddening strokes a background to the attention he’s paying your chest but driving you mad all the same.

Finally, finally when you’re coming apart at the seams pleading with him to finally make you full, does he relent. Sucking hickies into the soft flesh of your breast he’ll slide in. And because he knows you so well, he’ll have you right where he wants you. Uncertain of if you want to pull him closer or push him away. The scrape of teeth and the pleasure pain of being stretched full almost too much to process. Punched out breaths turning to high pitched whines as you cling to him, cradle his head to your chest and let him take control of you pleasure until there’s stars behind your eyelids and you can’t feel anything beyond Jason.

Jason takes a lot of pleasure in just how sensitive you are after you’ve come for him too. He enjoys how even the gentlest featherlight stroke of your thigh sets you twitching. How the aloe gel he rubs into your sore breasts makes you murmur and squirm at the sensation. Even when the main event is over, there’s a thousand ways for Jason to play with your sensitivity and he’s not in the habit of denying himself your pleasure.

[tinytennisskirt]

The Gymnast

College! Art x Patrick x Gymnast! Reader

Summary: (as requested) "college!arttrick with gymnast!reader in which they’re basically pervs with all the stupid questions but she matches their freak and they’re totally stunned would be hot i fear."

the boys sit in on a gymastics practice and the girl they take interest in happens to take the same interest in them.

warnings: mentions of weed. threesome, reader gets fucked by art and pat, fingering, handjob. smut! smut smut smut!

“Dating outside of tennis is a better idea, I’m telling you,” Patrick said as the boys walked down the Stanford sports building halls. The plan was to go play a few indoor games on the court, but the boys being boys, stopped at the cafeteria first, and both of them, eyes bigger than their stomachs, had too many hot dogs and no longer felt much like practicing. Patrick snatched a sheet off of one of the corkboards on the wall. “Girl’s sports.” 

“What am I doing with this?” Art chuckled, taking the list from Patrick.

“What are we doing with this? Finding a sport, going to watch. Something to do. Pick something that isn’t tennis, you know. See some girls doing their thing.” 

Art chuckled, “You don’t think that’s a little weird?” 

“Nah, games are meant to be watched, I’m sure there’s something good going on.” Patrick shrugged, trying to snatch the list back, but Art extended his arm so Patrick couldn’t reach it, grinning. “You pick then.” 

“Pickleball.” Art debated. 

“Too close to tennis, come on. Pick something hotter.” 

“Hotter? Thought you’d like the pickleball skirts.” 

“I do, but they’re just tennis skirts. Give me the list-” he took it from Art’s hand. “Rugby…Could be good, contact, girls on girls…” Art did a half-nod, thinking about it, but then he shook his head no. “Volleyball.” 

“I still have flashbacks from intramurals,” Art said. “Go down to the less popular stuff.” 

“Good idea…” Patrick’s finger trailed down the list. “Fuck yeah. Gymnastics?” 

“Done,” Art agreed. The boys shared the same stupid look on their faces as they looked at which gym the girls gymnastics in and they jogged over like eager little boys whose parents tell them they can get whatever they want from the candy shop. “What are we expecting from this? They don’t have games.” 

“Competition?” Patrick shrugged, pushing the door open. 

The boys spoke in unison, to their dismay, “Practice.” And they could have turned around, and walked out pretending like they just went to the wrong place, but Patrick took a few more steps in and there was no turning back after that, unfortunately.  Art groaned a little, following through, up a few stairs and past where a few other people were hanging out watching the practice. Not too far, but far enough that they could observe all the Stanford gymnasts. The boys took their seats and set their bags down. Patrick kicked his feet up. Art just leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. 

“This was the best decision,” Patrick said a little absentmindedly as he focused in on each girl. “Holy fuck.” 

“Uh huh,” Art agreed again, his gaze falling on all the girls on the mats and the beams, stretching, limbering up, doing their little cartwheels and flips

“It’s impressive,” Patrick added.

“So impressive. They’re very talented young women.” Art returned. Both of them did not let their eyes wander anywhere else. Girls doing all sorts of acrobatic bends and twists and tricks, it was mesmerizing. With the three brain cells shared between them when hot women were present, it was only a few minutes before their interests collided in specifics. On one particular girl. You. 

You had your leg up above your head on the wall, stretching. You were in dark pink shorts and a black tank top, talking to your friends. Your leg was so high up over your head, that both boys were thinking the same thing. “Holyyy fuck,” Patrick said under his breath. “She’s…” 

“Flexible.” 

“Hot.” 

Neither of them took their eyes off of you. You were laughing, engaging in conversation, your leg up on the wall like it was nothing. You shook your hair out of your bun to fix it up a little and the boys were practically drooling. Their eyes lingered on the way your body moved when you took your leg down, bending in odd ways that they both never thought they’d find hot. You spun like a dancer and you were light on your feet and you were probably the most gorgeous woman they’d ever seen. Deja vu, both boys were hard watching you bend and stretch and flip and twirl. You were flawless in every way… 

You saw them in your peripheral, lowering your voice and looking to your friend Tess. “Do we know them?” You asked her, a small smile on your face. “The two boys in the stands, I feel like they’re watching me, are they?” 

Tess pretended to yawn, glancing their way. “Staring. They’re staring.” 

“Are they cute?” 

Tess grinned a little, pretending to twist her back, looking back at them and then you, “They are. Oh my god.” 

“Really?” You giggled just a little. “Oh my god. And it’s me?” 

She giggled back, grabbing your hands for a second. “Here, wait, move over there,” she instructed. You did a cartwheel and back handspring and Tess watched their eyes follow you. She nodded and you both started laughing. “I have no idea who they are. The way they’re watching you, I don’t think they belong to any of these girls.” 

“I love that.” 

“As you should, as you should. If they end up talking to you, send one my way, mhm?” 

“Of course,” you replied, scrunching your nose. It could have been weird. Two strangers watching the girls practice, but their focus was on you. And you weren’t too concerned by it. You thought of it as some form of flattery. It was a good thing you couldn’t see their faces, watching you, entirely hypnotized, their dicks fighting the fabric of their jeans over the way you bent and twisted and twirled. You asked around a little to see if any of the girls knew them and the answers were all no. They truly didn’t belong to anyone. You did sneak a glimpse or two. They were both really cute. You returned to Tess as practice was closing, “They aren’t anyone’s boyfriend. Think I should say hi?” 

“The way they were looking at you? The way they still are? Please say more than ‘hi’.”

“I just might,” you said, pulling a mischievous little face. You said goodbye to the girls and as they all funneled out, you continued to do your exercises. Leg up, leg down, backbend, and flipping over from the backbend onto your feet. You stayed just an extra minute so that when you did start to get your things together, they were well aware of the lack of extra persons in the room. You grabbed your water bottle, looking up at the boys for the first time, dead on. “Hi.” 

Both boys had to snap themselves out of a trance when you called up to them. It was real, you were real, you said hi. You. Both of them didn’t have a word to say for a moment. Art stood up, “Hey.” He said, a little enthusiastically. Had you caught them off-guard? You smiled, walking up the steps. 

Patrick stayed seated, taking his legs off the back of the seat in front of him. “Hi.” He nodded your way. 

“Aspiring gymnasts?” You teased, sitting opposite them on the chair in front of them. Patrick pressed his tongue to his cheek, looking down at his knees. Art sank back into his seat. They’d been caught. “I mean, it’s not every day we get two random guys in here and they aren’t anyone’s boyfriend.” You smiled a gorgeous smile that almost made them both hard again. You were so much prettier up close. It happened you were thinking the same thing. “Y/N.” You introduced yourself. 

“Patrick,” he said. 

“Art,” Art introduced himself in return. You grinned wider. “You’re amazing. I’ve never seen anyone do so many flips in a row.” He gushed. You noted him fidgeting with his hands. It was cute. 

“It was impressive,” Patrick added on. 

“So you hung around because I do flips and it’s impressive. I am flattered, extremely. So when do I get to sit and watch you two do impressive flips?” Art and Patrick both chuckled. You looked down at the bags by their seats, recognizing their racket bags. You laughed a little, “Or play tennis. You’re tennis guys.” 

“Might be,” Patrick replied. 

“We are.” Art admit. 

Your eyes widened, “Oh my god, I’ve seen you guys play! You’re the fire and water guys, I didn’t even realize.” You pointed at them and they smiled to each other. Patrick mouthed ‘water’ at his best friend, grinning. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea I was in the presence of such a talented duo.” 

Art leaned forward just a bit, flattered you knew who they were. Sort of. “You like tennis?” 

“When we’re bored, me and my best friend Tess go watch the men’s tennis to hear the noises they make when they hit the ball.” You nodded, “The only time men can grunt and moan out loud and women can enjoy it publicly.” 

Patrick chuckled a little breathily. You were perfect. Art shifted the way he was sitting, laughing to himself as well. It was hard to talk to you, they both found. You were almost too gorgeous to look at. “Haven’t heard that one.” Art said a little sheepishly. He turned to Patrick, “Do we-” 

“You do,” Patrick nodded. “Loud.” 

“Mhm, I think I can remember.” You grinned. 

“No.” Art grinned, bashful. Patrick laughed. 

“You too, though.” You cut into his laugh and Patrick leaned forward to defend himself, but he just ended up laughing with you and Art. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, with all the impact, tennis can be very sensual.

“Gymnastics isn’t?” Patrick said, looking you in the eyes. 

You narrowed your eyes with a smirk that sent shockwaves through both of their nervous systems. “I never said it wasn’t. It’s why you were watching, after all?” 

Both boys were moving to adjust themselves at this point. You just kept that smile on your face. Art pressed his cheek to his closed fist, trying not to smile too wide. “Are you free right now?” 

Patrick looked over at Art, then at you again. You tilted your head, “I think so.”

“You smoke weed?” Patrick asked. 

“Are you a cop?”

“So yes,” Patrick smiled. 

You chuckled, looking over at Art whose nose was a little pink. “Yes. Do we need that though or are you asking me to hang out?” 

“Asking you to hang out,” Art said. He twisted his ring around his finger. “If you’re up for it.” 

You twisted your mouth to the side, “How is later? So I can shower ‘n get pretty?” 

“Later is good,” Art nodded. Both boys straightened out at your immediate yes. Almost like they weren’t hearing you right. You were gorgeous and perfect and you said yes. To them. Without weed involved. “Where?” 

You stood up, moving back over to the stairs. “Where’s your dorm?” You were inviting yourself over and both of them were in awe, much too excited. Art didn’t mind, just meant he had to run back to his dorm and get rid of all of Patrick’s chip bags. “If you don’t mind. If not, we can just meet out-”

“His dorm is fine,” Patrick chimed in, small chuckle. “310, red building. See you when?” 

“Nine.” You nodded. “That’s okay with you, Art?” 

His name in your voice sounded angelic. “Yeah- yes, it’s okay with me. We’ll see you at nine.” 

You smirked once more, laying a finger aside your nose. “Bye.” 

Both boys said goodbye to you in return, watching you turn and go down the steps, grab your things, and leave. They both had their hands tight around the arm rests of their seats in just a little bit of shock and disbelief. You were hot. You were really hot and you were perfect and funny and dirty… And they would be seeing you later. In Art’s dorm room. 

“That was real,” Art breathed out. “Holy fuck.”  

“Gymnastics was the way to go.” 

Around eight-thirty the boys had just finished shoving all the laundry into the little cabinet in the corner. There were no more chip bags or empty cans laying around. The place looked decent. They even made the bed and cleared off the desk in the corner. Art sprayed his cologne on the doorframe and into the air of the room. Patrick finished tidying up the bathroom. Done with their cleanup, Art sat on the floor next to his bed and Patrick sat in the desk chair. 

“I can’t stop thinking about her leg over her head. Fuck, imagine how good it must feel to fuck her like that.” Patrick said, staring at the wall, dazed. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Just her…”

The boys stayed almost wordless, having their own individual fantasies. Until you knocked on the door. Art and Patrick were comfortable, so it made sense you would be too. Art and Patrick rushed to open the door to face you, your hair down, a different, thicker-strapped black tank top that was cut to just above the edge of your loose shorts. You had a sweater on, but it was slipped off of both of your shoulders, the fabric bunched up at your elbows. Both boys had their breath sucked away from them, like someone pressed all the air from their chest. A smile creeped up your lips. “Am I late? Early?” 

“Hi.” Art said, just a little late. “No, you’re fine, come in.” 

“Hey,” Patrick greeted you. You smiled his way, scrunching your nose just a bit, sitting at the head of Art’s bed. Both boys climbed onto the other end of the bed, Art with his legs crossed and Patrick with one leg up, one leg off the bed. “How are you?” 

“I’m good, I’m good, you?” You returned. Art leaned into his palm, looking at Patrick. 

“I’m great.” He nodded. “So, this is you showered and pretty?” 

“I wouldn’t self-title,” You smirked at his callback. “So what’d you guys do all afternoon? Tennis, video games, endless cleaning and shoving laundry in places laundry doesn’t go?” 

The boys looked at each other, wondering how you knew about that. Art grinned, “The last one, yeah. Mostly. Um… What about you?” He was nervous, you liked that about him. 

You leaned back against his wall, looking around his room. He had various tennis rackets against his wall, a nice computer, a little fridge. It smelled good, too. “Showered, had dinner, got ready and came over here. Not very entertaining.” 

Art looked at you, eyes travelling down your form. You were in his bed, it was hard to believe. “Interesting enough. So… how long have you been in gymnastics?” 

“Since I was five? Or six. But competitive mostly, then acrobatics, then contortion, then dance, and then back to the basics.” 

“Contortion?” Patrick questioned. His tongue pressed the inside of his cheek again. Art nudged Patrick back at the mention. “That’s where you can twist in weird ways, right?” 

“Mhm, most people find it freaky, but it’s fun.” 

“So you’re really good at what you do, then.” Art said. “That’s incredible, most people can’t even do one of those. I can’t even do a handstand.” 

“He can do a cartwheel, though, I think that’s really important,” Patrick said, grabbing Art’s shoulder firmly. “I can’t do either one.” 

You giggled at the thought, “I’d love to see that sometime, you have to show me this cartwheel. You should pull that out in a tennis game, during a rally or something. Oh! Speaking of,  I did find a really interesting video. Doubles, Junior US Open. You guys are really fucking good.” 

Art put his face in his hands, “Forgot that was recorded.” 

Patrick just smirked. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you replied. “Guess we all have our thing.” Art was staring at your thighs, his lip between his teeth, Patrick watching your lips as you spoke. “Have to say, was a quiet game though.” You joked. Both boys were stunned for a moment. You were so… honest. Too honest. It was hot, really fucking hot. 

Patrick grinned, nudging Art gently. Art smiled, “We weren’t loud enough for you?” 

“Hardly.” Patrick and Art laughed quietly at that. You grinned, back at them, giggling to yourself. “Tennis isn’t much fun for me to watch otherwise.” 

“Could say the same about gymnastics,” Patrick rebutted. 

You tilted your head, “Don’t need to be loud in gymnastics. There’s no impact, no big swings. It would be a little strange if I bent over and made a noise. I prefer having a reason to make noise when I’m bent over. A whole other story.” Both boys just blinked, a little taken aback by how blunt you were. But a gorgeous grin spread up Art’s face along with a tint of pink in his cheeks. “Like you mentioned earlier. It's not like gymnastics doesn’t have its suggestive moments. Frankly, all of it is suggestive.” 

Art ran his tongue over his top teeth, listening to you. “Find it helps at all?” 

“With?” 

“Everything,” Patrick answered, a smirk growing on his face. Both boys had to adjust to hide just how hard they were from this conversation, remembering back to your leg over your head just earlier. Their personal fantasies flashing in the front of their minds. “You know.” 

“No, I don’t think I do,” you said, leaning forward just a bit, moving to sit on your knees in front of them. Art and Patrick just laughed to themselves, nervous, caught in your web all too well. Your perfect lower lip between your teeth had the both of them almost drooling. You were so blunt but you played dumb so perfectly… “What do you mean everything?” 

Patrick and Art both couldn’t form the words. Not for a moment. Even less when you chimed in again, “By myself or with someone else?” You asked. They had even fewer words. Their minds were wiped clean by your easy seduction. God, they were so cute and so fun to play with. 

Art’s cheeks were a shade of pink. He was so pretty, you noted, also taking in Patrick’s bashful grin. “Everything,” Patrick restated, his mouth a little open, tongue still pressed to the inside of his cheek. Cocky, almost. 

“It’s handy,” you replied. Art had to shift around again. He was so hard that it hurt. “I’m sure tennis has its pros.” You looked at their hands. “Wouldn’t be the same, but they’re your own.” 

“For sure,” Art agreed. “But gymnastics… I mean you have to be…” 

You scrunched your nose at him, “Flexible.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, fidgeting now with his lower lip. “Flexible. Especially with the contortion thing, that’s crazy, that must be-” 

“I want to know about that one thing that can happen when you stretch a certain way,” Patrick interjected. “Is that true?” 

You giggled, eyes widening. “I forgot about that!” Patrick referred to the stretch-induced orgasm that was fabled, but entirely possible. “It’s real, I’ve heard about it, but personally, no. From gymnastics or even stretching, I’ve never been able to…” 

“Come,” Patrick grinned. You grinned back. 

Art looked at you, “But you’ve done things related to your gymnastics? I mean, the moves you can pull are amazing, they must be… convenient.” 

“I’d say so,” you said, leaning in just a little closer. You pretended like you couldn’t see the boner he was hiding under his wrist. “But Sigmund Freud once wrote about tennis saying that hitting tennis balls without competition was akin to masturbation. And that live competitive games are comparable to sex. I’m not a big fan of Freud, but where do you stand on that?” 

Art’s eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips and the fact he could see the edges of your bra. “Might be comparable, but nothing close to the real thing.”

You nodded just slightly, looking to Patrick for his answer, your gaze something perfect and breathtaking. Art pressed slightly on his boner when you weren’t looking at him, something, anything for a little relief for how hard he was. Patrick locked eyes with you, “I’d ask you if you’ve ever actually played.” 

“I haven’t.” You replied. “Would I find it comparable to sex? If I played against you?” 

Patrick grinned, “Depends on how into the game you are.” 

“I might be really into it, would it feel the same?” 

“In some ways, maybe.” He nodded, looking at Art. Art looked at him, then you. The tension in the room was thick and these boys were growing more aroused by the second. “Doesn’t feel the same physically but it might if you let your mind wander.” 

Art chuckled a little, “It can feel good. Winning. Even losing, sometimes. It’s all emotion, I mean, everything is. And without the tension with your opponent, it’s not really tennis, is it?” 

“No, I guess not,” you paused for a beat, looking at them both. Your sultry gaze, perfect features, perfect body, and perfect lips made them more and more dazed, lost in you. Their only thoughts were how badly they wanted to fuck you. It felt a little perverted to be so attracted to someone for the way they can bend, twist, and move, but there wasn’t any harm in it. “You’re both making me reconsider my sport,” you laughed. “Sounds worth it.” 

“Might be,” Art replied. “It’s nothing compared to the flexibility thing, though.” He chuckled, so fucking nervous, so fucking attracted to you, “I mean, I wish…” He rambled. Patrick wanted to laugh, but he was more focused on how you continued to lean, placing your hands on the bed in front of you. 

“You wish?” You giggled, slowly moving closer. Art felt his face grow even more hot, his dick pulsing. “You wish you were flexible?” You giggled a little more, your lip settling between your teeth. Patrick let a breath slip through his parted lips as you advanced on Art. Both boys had their hearts pounding in their chests and in their dicks. Art swallowed hard. 

He couldn’t say or do anything when you slowly crawled into his lap, sitting on your knees, your hands gently pushing his hair behind his ears. Art swore his heart was going to jump out of his chest and that this wasn’t real, you weren’t on his lap. Patrick repositioned himself, eager, so eager. Art looked at you with eyes wide, clouded with obsession and lust, and god, he wanted you so bad, but he let you look at him for a moment. You could feel him hard underneath you, his hands sliding up your hips and to your waist just bracingly. “I can show you, if you want?” You smiled. Art let out a sigh, he was so whipped. 

There wasn’t much more room for air when you kissed him, pressing your lips to his. His mouth open, kissing you back, a little dazed, but so fucking into it. You felt his grip on your waist increase, pulling you closer. He was so cute and a great kisser. Modest, matching your pace. Shy, almost. So you picked up the pace, grabbed his face harder, kissed him harder, pressed your body against him harder and he groaned through the kiss at all the impact, feeling you flush against his body. 

“Oh fuck…” Patrick mumbled, watching like it like it wasn’t happening in front of him. It was and it was hot. Watching the way Art’s jaw moved, kissing you. His eyes trailing down your thighs, braced on either side of Art’s. The way your body moved so fluidly as you pressed against his best friend. It was a sight easy to get lost in. He watched Art’s hands slide up under your sweater and your hands momentarily left the place on your jaw to remove it. You tossed it on the floor and in doing so, you pulled away just slightly from the kiss. 

Patrick, instinctively, leaned in, kissing you. You met him in the middle, your hands crawling up the back of his neck and into his hair, still straddling Art. Your waist was twisted- if it was anyone else, Art might have worried a little. Patrick’s large hands slid around your back and Art’s hands gripped your thighs gently. You were so perfect, his hands slid up and down the skin of them as you kissed Patrick. He was completely lost in you now. He’d just kissed you and it was perfect and it was real. 

Patrick kissed with passion. It was hot, demanding, needed. You began to pull yourself backward, away from him, but grabbed the front of both of the boy’s shirts, pulling them with you as you kissed Patrick on your back. Art’s body on one side, Patrick’s slightly over yours, but on the other side. He kissed you like he was hungry- like he needed you. Art’s hand traveled the curve of your waist, your hip, back down to your thigh again, fingers dipping into your flesh perfectly. It was with his touch that you pulled away from Patrick and kissed Art again. 

He took it, he wanted it more than anything. Like you were a drug, he kissed you like he was desperate for a high. Kissing him, Patrick moved your hair to the side, beginning to kiss down your neck and collarbone, Art’s shoulder bumping him just a bit, but not too much for it not to feel good. You hummed into Art’s mouth, feeling those warm kisses spread goosebumps down to the thigh Art’s hand was grabbing so perfectly. Your own hand slipped down between your body and Patrick’s, finding the bulge in his shorts and pressing, just slightly with an open palm. Patrick groaned, just slightly. “Fuck,” he mumbled against your neck. 

You grinned into your kiss with Art. His hands carefully found the bottom of your tank top, pulling it up over your head with the arch of your back to help. It helped neither one of their painful boners to find out you didn’t have on a bra underneath. It must have been built in… Patrick’s gentle kisses slowly strayed down your chest, kissing your breast. Art’s hand grabbed the opposite one, gently squeezing as he kissed you, his hard-on pressed against your hip for friction. The sensation of both was fucking amazing, your fingers curled in Art’s hair and your other hand pressed harder against Patrick’s crotch. Both boys made a satisfying noise of the same genre, lighting a fire between your legs. You could feel yourself getting more and more wet by the second. Poor Tess didn’t stand a chance with one of them when you had both fawning, touching, kissing, and sucking over your body. Patrick took your nipple in his mouth, gently rolling your nipple between his tongue and the tip of his teeth. Your back arched due to the subject of your pleasure and as much as you liked it, you needed something real to feel… now. You broke from the kiss with Art and his lips were immediately down the opposite side of your neck. Both boys kissed over your chest, you were going to grab Patrick when their lips met in the middle. 

Art and Patrick kissed hard. You watched, propping yourself up on one elbow. Patrick’s hand cupped Art’s jaw, tongue diving into his best friend’s mouth. You just grinned watching them get into it, taking matters truly into your own hands, slipping your hand down the waistband of Patrick’s shorts. With his free hand, he pulled his shorts down and you had the freedom to slowly start moving your hand up and down his cock. He groaned into Art’s mouth and you watched contented as they kissed like they were going to devour each other. They moved, sat up just the slightest bit, which gave you perfect access to Art’s leaking dick. You found your way to that too, having both hands working at the same time, eliciting noises from both as they kissed over you. You didn’t mind, how could you mind? 

But it didn’t last forever, you were good with your hands, and both boys didn’t want to finish early. Patrick broke off first, diving back into kissing you, both boys pulling their dicks away to let your hands rest. They went back to their worship of your body, Patrick’s hand on your chest as you kissed messily. Art’s lips trailing down the side of your stomach, carefully out of Patrick’s way, then kissing back up. You were bold, pulling Art’s hand down to where you needed it, over the cloth of your shorts and underwear. He was happy to do whatever he could for you, gently pressing over you. He could feel how wet you were through two layers of fabric… He was immediately on taking them off. He pulled your shorts down to your knees and you kicked them the rest of the way off, busy kissing Patrick passionately. 

Not too busy to feel when Art’s fingers moved your underwear aside, his thumb on your clit. The pressure of his gentle hands in this sort of mix was amplified by how much you were feeling. “Mmm- fuck,” you mumbled into Patrick’s mouth. He grinned. Art kissed your ribs gently, goosebumps once again spreading throughout your entire body once again. His fingers slowly slid over your folds, feeling how wet you were. He wanted Patrick to feel this, he couldn’t not. Art grabbed Patrick’s hand and guided it down. Both boys had their hands on your pussy now. And it was a wordless joint effort to remove your underwear. 

Your chest rose and fell heavily, sharing your air with Patrick, who was still so focused on kissing you, mumbling, “You’re so wet…”  Another wordless agreement between the boys took place and Patrick’s fingers began to rub circles on your clit while Art’s pointer and middle finger slipped into you with ease. Your free hand gripped Art’s curls again, his lips staying on your warm skin. You grabbed whatever you could as pleasure began to overtake your body. Both boys focused so much on making you feel good, Art’s fingers pumping in and out of you and Patrick’s focused on teasing that perfect bundle of nerves. 

You felt euphoric. Their hands doing their work like it was all they knew, like it was what they did best. Their collaboration was getting you there so fast, you could hardly keep up with how fast the waves of pleasure washed in and built up. You were a bit of a moaning mess, never having been so thoroughly fingered with dual attention to detail. Patrick had the perfect pressure and Art had the perfect angle, hitting the places you needed to be touched in so well, so perfectly. “Oh my god,” you managed, “Fuck me…” 

“Yeah?” Patrick grinned. Art smiled against the tit he was currently kissing. His dick was out and hard against the bed he pressed himself into, leaking pre-cum like he never had before. You moaned out and both boys knew they just had to up the pace a little. Patrick, flat-handed, rubbed your clit faster and Art fucked his fingers into you a little harder, and in seconds, he felt you tighten around him. He almost moaned himself feeling it all, hearing you. He knew he had to be inside of you. 

Patrick and Art kissed over you again, letting you rest for a moment, both so fucking aroused and taken by your sounds, by your being. So completely fucked that they needed to share how they were feeling by kissing hard, mouths a little open, tongues meeting in the spaces between. Harsh breaths from their rapid movement not caught because your hands were back on their dicks again. Both of them moaned into each other and it was the hottest fucking sight. You watched as they removed each other’s shirt, Patrick’s hand sliding down to his own cock, letting that hand fall between your legs. You’d be unable to finish for another minute but it didn’t stop you from touching yourself at this perfect show. Art’s hands in Patrick’s curls and Patrick’s hand jerking himself off fast and hard at all of this. 

Art is trying his best not to finish at your hand. He wants to be inside of you more than fucking anything so when you use your leg to pull him in, away from Patrick, he doesn’t stop it. He crawls over you, kissing up your neck, up to your ear, over your jaw and cheek and he kisses you on the mouth, lips warmed from Patrick’s kiss. You can hear Patrick still jerking himself off, groaning quietly. You heard the pace pick up as Art slowly lifted your leg, farther and farther back until it was above your head. “Oh fuck,” he whispered. You just grinned and it was honestly a little evil. You were in a position equal to the splits and it made you tight as he slowly pushed into you. You moaned into the room as Art filled you. He filled you so well and in this position, you could feel everything. 

Patrick was groaning quietly still as he continued to jerk himself off to the sight. You were flexible and it did come in handy, “Oh my god, you feel so good, so… perfect.” Art mumbled, thrusting into you. “So perfect.” 

“So flexible, fuck, I told you it’d feel good,” Patrick managed through his own pleasure. You smiled at that. They talked about fucking you, that was good to know. You watched Art’s pretty face as he focused on fucking you, the perfect pace, the perfect amount, the perfect angle. You breathlessly watched his pretty eyelashes as he looked down at where you connected, his perfect hand gripping your thigh above your head so hard. His lips just a little parted, breathing hard, so pretty. So fucking pretty, 

“Harder,” you told him, using a free hand to tilt his chin up so he had to look at you. His eyes were gorgeous, all clouded up with lust and need and desperation and he fucked you harder. It was easy, it was cut and dry thrusting and it felt like you might die and go to heaven, the sensations rippling through your body. “Oh my god, it’s so good, it’s so good.” You moaned. You reached over for Patrick, excusing his hand and taking his dick back in your own hand. He didn’t stop you, letting you take over the best you could. It was more than enough, watching Art fuck you so hard, the room filled with moans and the sound of skin on skin. You could hardly breathe with the work done on you and the work you were doing, but it was perfect. You felt Art slow just a little. “You’re close?” 

“Ye-mmmphhh, uh-huh,” he answered. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“You can come in me, baby,” you assured him, free hand cupping his cheek. It was hard to talk over how much you were feeling and doing. Your words, the theory of it all seemed to give him the momentum to fuck you harder, slamming into you until it got sloppy and he came undone, spilling into you. God, you were fucking perfect, Patrick thought. They’d just met you and you were thoroughly fucked already. Not fucked enough, though. Art pulled out and was met by Patrick’s hand on his oversensitive dick. He made a noise close to a whimper and there was a beat before his lips crashed back onto Patrick’s. His dick was still hard and completely coated in his own cum. You watched them kiss, your hand unable to follow Patrick’s body when it was so close to Art’s. Semen across Patrick’s lower stomach from how close they were when they kissed, up on their knees. You lowered your leg, feeling Art’s load in you seep out and onto the bed as you did. 

Art leaned Patrick back onto the bed, Patrick’s hand working Art’s cock gently as they went. Your lips met Patrick’s shoulder, kissing over his bicep as the boys continued kissing. They couldn’t fuck, you knew that, they didn’t see this coming. You didn’t think they’d be so into each other, but you did not give that much of a fuck. They were best friends, it was bound to happen. 

Art moved off of Patrick for you, letting you climb over him, still dripping from Art, but it was a half-second before you were sitting on Patrick’s cock. He had slipped in so easily with you all soaked. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass. Art leaned against the wall, still breathing hard from everything, just watching as you rolled your hips, starting to fuck him. Your core strength was up to bat with how fast you rolled your hips, your waist following. Fuck, you were so gorgeous… Was a good thing he’d stayed at your practice or he wouldn’t be about to finish a second time somehow untouched, just watching you and Patrick fuck. He never thought he’d be so into any of this, but you were taking over every thought in his brain…

Patrick groaned, “Fuck, you’re so tight… so wet, so perfect, fuck.” His moans came like breaths, heavy sighs. “Can’t compare this shit to tennis, hm-”

“I’ve yet to play,” you grinned, beginning to bounce on his cock. Patrick grabbed whatever he could, your ass, your waist, everything. Art’s mouth stayed just a little open. “Oh god-” Patrick’s dick curved perfectly into you. You’d ride him into tomorrow if he let you- and he would. You wouldn’t expect it from the one who came off more dominant, the way he seemed to melt as you fucked him into the mattress. Art was more than contented watching. Even more contented when you slipped your own hand down your front, middle finger working your clit. Both boys watched as your head tilted back. You were the most gorgeous person on the fucking planet at this very moment. A little sweaty, but so fucking gorgeous. “Oh my god, I’m gonna-” you moaned out. Art’s dick still, painfully, stood at attention. It couldn’t get enough of all of this. Patrick dug his finger into your ass so hard you were sure you’d have fingerprints as he, without warning, finished inside of you as well. You followed suit just a few seconds later, slowing your bouncing to a dull rock. Both of you with chests heaving came to a stop and you let him pull out, the semen gushing from you, leaking a little down your leg. 

You lay between the boys, naked, breathing hard, lips pink from all the kissing and both boys gladly took their break next to you, trying to sort out how all of what just happened was real. And it was possibly the best sex they’d ever had. You were just as into it as they were. You laid there for a while before inevitably getting up to use the bathroom and Art’s shower. 

Art and Patrick washed themselves off as well and put their shorts back on. “Fuck,” Patrick breathed, still in a state of disbelief. Completely stunned, their fantasies lived out. “Unreal.” 

“She’s real, she’s in my bathroom,” Art replied, dazed. “And she’s really flexible.” 

“Uh-huh,” Patrick nodded. They were interrupted, sitting up when you came out of the bathroom in your clothes again. You crawled into Art’s bed again, laying between them once more. You kissed both of them gently, nicely, and you rested your head down on the new bedsheets Art had changed them to when you were in the bathroom. Both boys, a little confused, both didn’t mind putting an arm around you. 

"Loud enough?"

"More than."

[aouiaa]

INTRODUCING

barista!abby x trainee!reader

warnings and disclaimers included the following

## content of sexual wlw content [mdni 18+], a slight cameo of ellie williams and joel miller, a classic frenemies with ellie pie and abby bear, a mention of parental death, a mention of male genitalia, smut with somewhat plot, softdom!abby, sorta loser!abby (cutie pie), sub!reader, public sex (break room of coffee shop), usage of petnames (pretty girl), praising, orgasm denial (once), fingering, nipple play, cunnilingus, face sitting, cum eating, aftercare (fucking finally i write some), strong language.

barista!abby who’s also a student in business dreams of opening her own coffee shop in aspiration of honoring her father and love for books.

barista!abby who argues that she’s killing two birds with one stone since she’s building skill and working for her degree.

barista!abby whose such a SHOW OFF in front of girls she finds attractive, it so feeds into her ego when it works, and the girls are all ogling over her mastery at coffee art. yeah, it’s totally not the arms that are doing it for them.

barista!abby who hates that little red or whatever color haired fuck, ellie. the two have curated non-verbally a competition on basically whose dick is bigger. who makes the best batch, who makes this, who makes that. it’s never ending with these two.

barista!abby who’s convinced ellie in another lifetime was a king’s jester with her profound tricks that amused no one, but herself. the tricks themselves could threatened the woman’s head off alone, finding herself in a fetal position, in a pit of her own laughter. when abby eagerly sits on a unsuspecting “prize” during lunch, only to hear what can be described as a gust of wind. her flushed countenance instantly transformed into anger when the palm of her hand held a whoopee cushion.

barista!abby who went so warm when she saw you talking to the manager after ellie confirmed you were a new employee that if you stuck a thermometer under her tongue in that moment, it’d earn a hospital visit. and with ellie on sidelines teasing her for the state she’s in wasnt helping, unnecessarily quoting if she’s under weather, then rain on your home.

barista!abby who at the end of your shift on your first day surprised you with a free pastry as a warm, warm welcome. a small gesture, unfortunately, came with the price of a dispute with her boss, and money taken out of her week’s pay. amidst said scolding, a surprising opportunity came up. a good one at that, to train you at the expense of ellie’s days off of work to visit in her father, joel in their hometown, wyoming. despite the fact that she hardly listened after the inviting words of you, buzzed her mind with endless possibilities. it had her practically salivating at the numerous scenarios swirling around in her head.

barista!abby who’s a few weeks into training you, was losing her MIND over the taunting questions of you flirting or not. the causal strokes of your fingertips against her biceps alone were making the job harder. she had to get to the bottom of this, and like a detective corner you and have you plead for mercy.

barista!abby who, with an ironic twist, was usually consumed with thoughts, now found her mind solely preoccupied with you. her gaze fixed on the firm grip you maintained on the wooden handle, watching how your movements harmonized with its every swing as you rigorously mopped the floor. the purpose once held by the rag now seemed inconsequential as she leaned against the counter, arms folded, absentmindedly chewing on her lip. she imagined those hands of yours grasping onto her with the same unwavering hold they wielded when she stretched you out.

"take a picture, it'll last longer." you quipped, confidence resonating in your tone, and looking over your shoulder to show off the smirk that truly sells it. you knew she had been watching the entire time, and now had the satisfaction of catching in her act. she scoffed lightly, attempting to cover up her evident embarrassment, clearly trying to play it off.

“my phone’s in the locker, care to help?” she taunts.

barista!abby who watches you, utterly mesmerized by your frenzied movements against her fingers, pinned against the locker, using your hands as support to hold yourself up. the sounds you emitted resembled a blender running at full speed, loud enough to reach the nation if anyone had been nearby. thank god, it was just the two of you for the closing shift, dissipating the risk of scaring any customers away.

her ring and middle finger slid diligently in and out of you, while her right hand teased your hardened nipple between her pointer and thumb. her chin rests on your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses on the bruises that dotted your neck. the gorgeous blues remained fixed on your mouth, agape to let her hear the sweet sounds of your pleasure. the corners of her lips curl into a satisfied smirk as she watched you tremble at the touch of her curling fingers on your g-spot.

abby's precise movements brought you closer and closer to the brink, the sensation was almost too much to bear. but just as you were about to succumb to the pleasure, her fingers slipped from your grasp. confused and frustrated, you’re flipped onto your back against the metal, meeting the gaze of the master puppeteer.

"you think i’m was gonna let you come and not see this gorgeous face?" she teased, admiring your disheveled state.

you frowned in protest, "i was just about to cum, asshole."

"careful, or you won't at all." she warned, taking your hand and leading you to a bench nearby. "sit on my face, pretty girl. no holding back." she commanded, her eyes filled with anticipation.

this time, with no complaints, you willingly complied with this new plan. abby's capable hands gripped the plush of your thighs, guiding you down onto her waiting mouth. the moment her tongue made contact, a moan tore itself from your larynx as a newfound sensation washes over you. your hand streams through her mane, tugging at the strands as she laps through your petal soft lips.

your hip, limited to their range of motion, rut back and forth against her prominent features, your body orchestrating itself towards it’s imminent. it wasn't long before the tension building in your abdomen snapped, sending you through the throes of your orgasm. your release painting the lower half of her face.

talk about a clean up in aisle seven!

barista!abby who makes sure you’re beyond comfortable, delicate caresses and praises when taking care of you. she, even going the extra mile, makes you hot coco, watching the liquid slosh within the mug, as she approaches you with a soft “there you go.” in response, you flash a smile and gratitude. she stood there, hands on her hips, observing you savor the drink. a grin tugging at her lips as she took in the sight of her oversized jacket draped over your shoulders.

intrigued by her smile, you raise an eyebrow and playfully inquire, "hey, what’s got you smiling over there?"

she chuckles softly, a light hue of pink painting her cheeks as her gaze momentarily wavers. looking everywhere but you, she brushes it off with a scoff, scratching her cheek. “nothing, just…” there's a brief sight of contemplation before she inevitably hesitates, shaking her head with a sigh. "nothing, forget it.” she dismisses.

you let out a hearty laugh, setting your mug aside. leaning forward playfully, you tease gently. "are you really going shy on me? like werent you just eating me out a second ago.“ a smirk adorning your features as you tilt your head.

her smile grows nervous, scratching the back of her neck as her blush deepens. mumbling a curse under her breath, she gathers the courage to ask, "i was just wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me?"

i’ll let you be the judge of that. part two?

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED !

PERMANENT TAGLIST, @dyk3ang3l, @elliesprettygirl, @les4elliewilliams, @r3starttt, @slut4mascss, @marsworlddd, @bready101, @abbysleftbicepp, @airenaa, @caraphernellie, @astralnymphh, @whore87, @kaiilectric, @sapphicontherun, @mikellie, @nihilisticangelbby, @be3flow3r, @ppuussyyy, @clairoscharm, @lvlymicha, @brackishkittie, @loveyru, @drunkonnatasha, @leosw0rld, @visupremacysstuff

[rpgchoices]

The WINNER of the Tournament of fav tumblr rpg male romances is...

The Master of the Vollante

The Babe of Frontiers

The Heart of the Gate

WYLL RAVENGARD

Enjoy this two minute FANVIDEO DEDICATED TO HIM (don't miss the final quote, it is my favorite), I used the most appropriate song ever. Congrats, Wyll with a y!

(he is the hero, but he also needs a hero to sweep him off his feet, get it?)

With about 1235 votes, Wyll beat Garrus in the finals of the tournament. This gives him the title of best tumblr rpg blorbo and babygirl.

(more under cut about the Wyll's sweep and his character)

Wyll jumped into the tournament qualifying among 69 total characters, and being the most voted of his section in round zero! Wyll was also the most voted OVERALL in round one where he got about 6420 votes against Cullen (88% of votes). Round two saw him winning a very close competition against Zevran, and in round three he won with almost double the votes against Astarion! Again with double the votes he won against Dorian Pavus in the semifinals!

Very appropriate for him to win as his character is truly a romantic at heart and his actor even revealed in an interview that the romantic scenes were his favorite to film.

Wyll is a companion and romancable option for any gender in Baldur's Gate 3. You will meet him while he is in pursuit of a devil, just to find out that the honor and code he is trying to live by might be clashing with the path he could be choosing.

Wyll's romance has a kiss that has been nominated (and won) for "favorite kiss ever in a rpg game by me and for my opinion only and I just love it".

Man who will crack a joke when you least expect it

EVEN WHEN IT REALLY IS NOT THE TIME

Just to turn around and offer you the most heart shattering and unwavering support

Monster smasher (in all senses) hero, who truly needs someone at his side who makes sure he fights his own battles too, not just the trials of the coast!

Very happy to see he is currently (with all the biases and limitations of such polls, of course) the favorite romance in the rpg fandoms here on tumblr (for male characters)!!

Please, make sure to also jump in the female characters tournament!!

Also, CONGRATULATIONS TO GARRUS who came second in the tournament, and FENRIS who came third! (as he had more votes than Dorian, in the semifinals)

*In the fanvideo there are the seven clips that are not from Wyll games. I wanted to write them down as this is supposed to be a rec for his romance, so I don't want to trick people!

00:16 I modded Wyll into Karlach and used Astarion as player character (Karlach romance scene act 3)

00:38 Astarion romance scene, I played as Wyll but I flipped the character with the ring of metamorph mod so Wyll could pick up Astarion

00:50 Like the first clip, this is Karlach scene from act 3

00:51 I modded Karlach into Wyll, this is her scene from act 1

00:53 I modded Shadowheart into Astarion and I was playing as Wyll, this is Shadowheart romance scene in act 1

00:59 This is Astarion romance scene in act 2, I was playing as Wyll

01:07 The hug is from Astarion romance, epilogue, where I was playing as Wyll

[maevesheart]

only angel

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!READER

note: takes place during the third quarter quell!

summary: through your alliance with katniss, you and finnick rekindle some buried feelings.

wc: 3.5k

tw: cursing, the different death traps within the arena

only angel (2)

Haymitch’s voice was sharp as he led Katniss and Peeta through the list of their new competition.

Your face lit up the screen, a smile as you took your place next to Brutus, your district-mate. Who you’d soon need to kill.

“Y/N L/N. District Two.”

“In the Capitol, they call her the angel,” Haymitch laughed, taking a swig from his flask after pointing to you.

“She looks harmless,” Peeta commented, noting your smaller-build as compared to other victors, especially Brutus.

“Trust me, she isn’t,” Haymitch shook his head, walking to the other side of the screen.

“The angel of death. One of the youngest Victors ever, winning the 68th games at 15. A Capitol favorite, but very different than the rest of the careers.”

Katniss and Peeta looked at each other in confusion. Considering you were from Two, you would’ve been a key member of a career pack.

Haymitch noted their expressions and continued, “she killed her career pack the first night. It was three versus one, very gruesome. But the Capitol loves her, and she’ll likely get lots of sponsors. The other careers will be hesitant to ally with her, including Brutus, who she publicly hates. Try not to make an enemy of her, she’s extremely well-trained in combat, especially with swords. Highest kill count the games had seen in years, around ten tributes.”

It was common that Career packs turned on each other as the games progressed, but to kill off the whole pack in one night was almost unheard of.

Katniss and Peeta remembered your games, they remembered watching as you slit your district-mate’s throat, and when you broke another’s neck while sitting on their shoulders. They remembered watching you in the final moments, taking out both tributes from Eleven with one sword, going through both their abdomens. You always put on a show for the Capitol citizen’s, killing the other contestants in the most gruesome ways possible.

And they knew that they definitely did not want to be on the receiving end of one of your death tricks.

“Why would we ally with her if she’s just going to kill us the first night, like she did her other games?” Katniss’ voice was hard and her lips were pressed in a straight line.

“Don’t we have that threat anyways? From all the other tributes as well?” Peeta asked Katniss, trying to get her more accustomed to the idea of an ally.

“The other Careers will steer clear of her, I recommend finding a way to get her on your side. The last thing you want is the Careers and the Angel hunting you.”

Katniss and Peeta both made a note to introduce themselves tomorrow during the parade, wanting to asses the angel of death themselves.

You scoffed looking down at your outfit, a thin, short bodycon dress that was golden, and a long flowing black and gold cape that reached the floor.

You had on knee-high boots, adding to the obvious sexual-appeal of your outfit. You would’ve killed your stylist on sight if it weren’t for the many other tributes and people around.

And of course, she had strapped you into a set of golden wings, always playing into the sardonic nickname you had been given all those years ago.

The sponsors loved it however, and you knew exactly how to play into the palms of their hands.

Brutus was in a matching get-up — without the wings, of course—, flexing his arms, waiting for a response from you. You hated him, and made it very well known.

You turned away, refusing to give a reaction. God, you detested your district. The only thing good that ever came out of the games for you was the money, which helped you and your family greatly, but you found your fellow Victor incompetent and selfish.

Your somewhat blissful bubble of isolation was broken when Finnick approached you, the two tributes from Twelve trailing him.

You rolled your eyes, rather dramatically, and stepped down from the Chariot, not missing the obvious ways the two men’s eyes raked up and down your very exposed body.

“I’ll make note of those stares when I decide to kill you,” you smile, earring a chuckle from Katniss. At least someone found it funny; you didn’t.

“And this is Y/N, my lovely friend,” Finnick announced, snaking an arm around you.

You and Finnick had a short-lived relationship a few years back, after you had won your games. He had won his very young, just like you had, and the two of you bonded over the shared trauma.

Snow had destined you to the same unwilling fate as Finnick, selling your body and pride to anyone interested in the Capitol.

Your brief love story ended after a rather bitter fight, you and Finnick throwing around baseless accusations.

You hadn’t talked to Finnick in over three years, other than the surface-level and small-talk conversations you shared at various parties and Victor events.

“Hardly a friend, but you know,” you smiled, pushing Finnick’s arm off your body.

If he was hurt by your action, he didn’t respond, and ushered for Peeta and Katniss to introduce themselves.

Finally, Peeta broke the tension.

“I’m Peeta, and this is Katniss,”

You recognized them, but honestly didn’t care. You knew Katniss could be a strategic killer but Peeta really didn’t have any skills other than his strength, and you figured he’d be an easy target.

“If we were under different circumstances, I’d say it’s nice to meet you. But I don’t think I should say that to someone I’ll be killing in a few days,” you laughed, the sickly-sweet one that you faked for the Capitol citizens. They loved you, more than they loved the star-crossed lovers. And you were not about to let two teenagers forget their place. 

Katniss’s face was hard, but Peeta broke an awkward laugh, eyes averting your gaze. Finnick was still smiling, trying hard to keep himself from laughing at your depreciating jokes.

You suddenly pointed to Katniss, a fire burning beneath your eyes.

“You’re the one who killed my Cato,” your voice was hard, almost… emotional?

Peeta’s eyes widening, remembering the boy from Two who almost killed them both. The boy you likely poured hours of training and dedication into.

“It was him or Peeta,” Katniss speaks, refusing to break your intense eye-contact.

You cock your head to the side, silently challenging her.

Cato was a strong warrior, fierce and powerful. You had high hopes he would win, unrelenting confidence in him. You mentored him the way Enobaria had mentored you… made him into a friend.

Looking back, you knew you had become too attached to the boy, but he was your shot of proving to everyone that you still had it in you. To not discount you.

Only other mentors would know the pain of becoming close with a tribute and then watching them die.

You didn’t respond to her, instead pursed your lips and held back a scoff, knowing he would’ve won if it weren’t for the Capitol’s adoration of the lovers from Twelve.

“I apologize for her crudeness. The games bring out her nasty side,” Finnick smiles, hiding a wince when you lodge your elbow into his ribs.

“Tiny but mighty!” He squeaks out, hand rubbing over where you just jammed him.

With one final rake over your unsuspecting body, Katniss grabbed Peeta and ushered him away. Much to your dismay, Finnick stayed next to you.

“I’m making us allies, Y/N. At least act a little civilized!” Finnick’s voice was low but stern, earning a scoff from you as a response.

“You think I’m going to fight alongside you?” You wonder aloud, narrowed eyes barring into his.

He looks slightly taken aback, eyes widening before he composes himself once again.

“Fine. I’ll see you later,” he brushes you off, walking away to his own Chariot.

You had your own friends in this game. Johanna, and… well that was really all. And you knew Johanna would want to work alongside Finnick as well.

You determined it wouldn’t be the end of the world, it would give you the ability to ensure that he wouldn’t be killed.

But that meant that you’d have to kill him in the end, right? There was only one winner, and you didn’t want to have to turn on your friends like you did the other Careers in your games.

The next day, during training, Katniss approached you alone.

She watched from behind as you practiced with Johanna, a sword in each hand blocking her repeated swings with her axe.

“No lover boy?” You asked, turning around and the swords lowering to your sides.

Johanna smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. She was one of the few who you didn’t dish out attitude to.

“Wanted to get to know you myself, Angel of death,” Katniss spoke, voice steady and unwavering.

You lightly tilted your head to the side, smirking at her use of your infamous nickname.

“Well here I am! An Angel in the flesh. What can I do for you, girl on fire?”

“If you teach me some of your combat tricks, I can teach you how to use a bow?”

You quirked a brow at her offer, Johanna stifling a laugh behind you.

“I know how to shoot a bow and arrow,” you replied. Katniss’s face didn’t falter, but she stayed silent for a moment before responding.

“Not like I do.”

You finally gave in, letting her instruct you how to properly pull the string back and which eye was most ideal for accuracy.

You worked with Katniss and found her company rather enjoyable. According to Enobaria, Katniss reminded her of you. Stubborn and combatant.

She was funny, usually without meaning to be, and as much as you hated to admit, your craftsmanship with the bow did increase. Even after just a few practices with her.

In the second day of training, you were teaching her how to effectively wield a knife, and where the best places to aim for were.

A few other tributes had gathered around to watch before you scared them off, mock-lunging at them from your spot on the mat.

“Making friends, are we?” Finnick’s voice cut through the sounds of Katniss’s grunts as you pinned her to the ground, snatching the blade from her hand.

You rolled your eyes and stood up, sticking out your hand for Katniss to take.

“Better than you, yes,” you smiled, hauling Katniss’s body up off the ground.

Katniss thanked you for the help and then excused herself, slinking back over to where Peeta stood with Mags.

“Finally taking my advice, it seems,” Finnick triumphantly smiled, watching you scowl.

“She wouldn’t make a bad accomplice,” you answer back, though slightly abashed.

“Mhm. Looks like we’re gonna be on the same team,” he picks his trident off the wall of weapons and you gesture for the mat you had just stepped off.

“Wanna go a round?”

You watched with annoyance as Cashmere and Gloss stood with Ceaser, fake crocodile tears down both their faces.

You agreed with all they were saying, but you couldn’t stand the faux-ness of everyone around you. You knew in a few moments it would be your turn, and you’d have to get up on that stage and act like the sweet little girl they all remembered you as. But you had changed, and all because of their stupid games.

“Everyone, please welcome our favorite angel, Y/N L/N of District Two!”

You plastered a grin on your face as you waltzed out, a large sun-inspired headpiece catching the attention of the audience.

Your halo, as they all would say.

You waved, laughing at every joke Ceasar cracked.

“We are so glad to have our Capitol’s Angel back, aren’t we everyone?!” Ceasar’s stark-white smile was bright and you mimicked it, blushing as the crowd cheered your name.

“Now, Y/N, it’s been seven years since you won your games. How do you think this time it will be different?”

You knew it was coming, the questions about your game. You hated speaking about it, but it was all a part of winning.

“Different? Oh, Ceasar, we both know this won’t be the last time you’re gonna see me!” You giggled, the crowd roaring with excitement over your confidence.

His laugh boomed through the auditorium and you smiled, having him eat right out of your palm.

He complimented your hair piece, noting that it was the perfect halo for the perfect Angel. You smiled, feigned innocence. Anything to get you sponsors.

“Our sweet Y/N, I don’t know how we’re going to let you go!”

“Well, you don’t have to!” You smiled again, the audience awe-ing.

“You all have been so gracious to me, so wonderful. I couldn’t have possibly been given a better life if it weren’t for you all,” you gestured out to the audience.

“You flatter us,”

“No, no. Just know that I’m not going by choice. And I would chose to stay with you all if I had the option.”

You shed a stray forced tear from your face, slightly smudging the makeup your prep-team had spent hours doing.

The audience loved it, continuing to play into your sweet facade.

How ironic. A sweet innocent angel who turns into a brutal murderer.

They roared as you stood up and gave them a small bow, before joining Brutus and the siblings up in the stands. The three of them offered you glares, knowing you had out-done them in sponsorships.

You watched impatiently as the other districts rolled in, holding in a gag when Finnick professed his love to a girl back in the districts.

The idea of him having a girl waiting back in Four caused your stomach to begin to hurt. How did he find someone else when your nights were spent alone in a cold bed?

You were jealous, though you wouldn’t admit it out loud. You were too stubborn for your own good.

You knew it wasn’t true though, just a ruse for possible sponsors and sympathy. You had done the same.

Finally, after Peeta had stepped down from the stage, you were all allowed to retreat back to your floors.

You laid in bed that night, every possible scenario wracking your mind. These weren’t gonna be like your games. There was no way.

These competitors, they were ruthless and driven, just like you. They had won once, just like you.

How the hell were you going to win this?

The first thing you noticed as you were brought to the surface was how hot it was. Blazing sun beating down onto your covered skin.

You didn’t let yourself focus on for long, and you looked to each side, Johanna on your left and the male tribute from Six on your right.

Johanna nodded to you, and you returned the gesture. She had snuck to your room last night and told you the plan. Haymitch had pitched it to her before the interviews, and your only job was to keep Katniss safe until Plutarch and Coin could retrieve all of you.

You took in your surroundings, lots of water — you were an excellent swimmer, you’d be fine —, a large cornucopia in the middle (easy enough if you’re fast), and dense forests with sand. The sand left a bad taste in your mouth, reminding you of your games, which had been in a desert.

You never wanted to see sand again in your life.

But you’d push through it, the idea of being rescued by Thirteen and finally getting to live in peace resonated in your mind, you knew who the real enemy was.

The sound of the familiar gong sounded out, and you dove into the water, moving your limbs as fast as you could.

You were small, but damn, you were fast.

You reached the Cornucopia in record time, lunging for your two swords, and then throwing a belt of knives around your body.

You turned, knife quickly entering the abdomen of the girl of Eight.

Gloss grinned at you from behind the girl, and you scowled back, running back down the middle to get to the sand.

You found Wiress in the middle of the rocks, and tugged her with you, finding Johanna and Beetee a little ways away.

“Let’s get as far as we can,” Johanna announced, axe glistening in her hand.

The four of you walked for what felt like hours, Beetee and Wiress whispering about something relating to technology that you didn’t care about.

Finally, once nightfall neared, you set up camp. Wiress and Beetee offered to stay up, and you and Johanna had no problem allowing that, drifting off to sleep against a tree.

The next day came quickly, the four of you trying to gain more ground and hopefully find Finnick, Katniss, and Peeta.

You had watched Mags’s name flash across the sky last night and felt your heart-strings tug, wishing you could console Finnick.

The landscape was vast and there was lots of vegetation, your sword becoming very useful to get through the thick plants.

You and Johanna walked behind the two tech-savvy’s, silence as the two of you tried your hardest not to trip.

“Fuck, it’s hot,” you groaned, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

Johanna hummed, but before she could respond, the sound of rain echoed around your bodies.

You cried in happiness, opening your mouth to take in the water.

As soon as the first drop hit your tongue you knew, eyes widening in realization.

“It’s blood! Run!” You screamed, tugging Beetee as you barreled to the ground, running through a thick fog of blood.

Who’s — you didn’t want to know.

You stumbled around in the dark, blood coating your entire body. You were choking on it, coughing and sputtering, not caring anymore if Beetee and Wiress were following.

Your foot caught on a root, and you went tumbling down, one sword being thrown to a side, out of your view.

The belt of knives sat snug around your waist, your other sword still in your palm.

You shrieked as you fell, Johanna’s voice distant as she called your name.

You hit a tree, back bracing most of the impact. You groaned, slightly pushing yourself up off the ground.

A hand gripped your bicep, tugging you off the ground. You weren’t entirely sure who it was, but they shoved your other sword back into your hand, and gave you a push forwards, encouraging you to keep moving forwards.

You obliged, using one sword as a brim to keep the blood rain from your eyes.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

You now could hear Johanna more clearly, her hands grabbing you and pulling you into the sand, Beetee trailing out after you.

Johanna repeatedly slapped your back, helping you cough out all the blood. You were gagging on the air, a hand on Johanna’s shoulder to steady yourself.

She pulled you towards the beach, helping you sit down in the water.

“Tick tock, tick tock,” Wiress mumbled behind you two, wandering around on the sand.

“Nuts,” Johanna shook her head, cleaning off her face as you did the same.

You winced as you moved down to clean your legs, a large gash across your thigh.

“Ouch,” Johanna commented, noting the blood pouring out the wound.

“Guess I sliced it when I fell,” you bit your lip as you tried to clean the wound, using the sleeve of your top.

“Y/N! Johanna!”

Your head snapped up at the sound of Finnick’s voice, a relieved smile spreading across your face.

You ignored the pain searing through your leg as you rushed to him, hands wrapping around his torso.

He stumbled back in shock, but quickly wrapped his arms around you, asking what was wrong.

“Oh, Finn, I’m sorry about Mags,”

You pulled back to look at his face, eyes softening over the clear sleep-deprivation.

As you went to take a step backwards, you winced, Finnick’s hands on your biceps to keep you from toppling backwards.

“What happened?” He asked, eyes scouring your whole body.

You would’ve answered if you had the strength, but you fell forwards, straight into his chest, losing conscious.

Johanna helped Finnick prop you against the tree, and Katniss went to retrieve water while Peeta tried to fish for something to eat.

Finnick tried his hardest to clean the wound while you slept, prying all the information out of Johanna that she could.

You awoke to Katniss pouring water over your leg, grunting as you sat up, eyes screwing shut in pain.

“Thank you,” you breathed out, Katniss nodding before walking away to Peeta.

“You had me so worried,” Finnick shook his head, eyes not leaving your face.

“Just a cut, Finn. I’m alright,” you assure him, eyes soft as they meet his own.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” you add on, turning slightly so you’re facing him.

He shakes his head but you continue, “for all those awful things I said to you…. It wasn’t right.”

You knew this was being broadcasted for all the Districts to see, but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that he knew how much you regretted your harsh words.

His hand comes up to cup your face, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’m sorry too, I said things I shouldn’t have.”

“We both did,” you lightly laugh, pulling a small smile from Finnick.

“I missed you,” he whispers, “you really scared me earlier. Thought I had lost you,”

You shook your head, leaning into his hand that still cupped your face.

“Could never lose me. Not now,”

You flutter your eyes closed as his lips meet yours. Your hands tangle around his neck and into his hair, both his hands on your cheeks, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

All the unhatched feelings and emotions, the words the two of you wished to declare to each other, were poured into this kiss.

It was slow, passionate. Picking right up where you left off those years ago.

“Alright, love birds! Time to hunt!” Johanna exclaims, the two of you pulling a part. A light blush dots your cheeks and Finnick is wearing one of his stupid shit-eating grins.

Finnick stands quickly, helping you up. The pain is mostly gone, just a light sting as you all make your way back to the Cornucopia.

And you know then, that you’d die for him. Over and over. You’d lose these games, lose the war. Just to ensure that he’d live.

**

[yanderenightmare]

L "Lawliet"

rewatched Death Note and just couldn't resist...

TW: strict schooling ig, orphan reader, creepy behavior

gn reader

You were placed in Wammy’s House at an age you don’t remember. To you and most of the orphans here, it’s been your entire lives. Birthdays aren’t celebrated. The days are cold, the residents even colder. There was a time when you’d consider them brothers and sisters, but that’s also long ago now. No one is close to each other in this house.

It’s a rather stale existence with boring conditions unfit for normal children – the solitude, the competition, the games, always a ploy to make each other feel worthless. And for what… more riddles to solve?

You’d long lost interest in proving yourself among the prodigies. When you were given puzzles, you always played with them differently than the rest. They’d tell you to fill out the sheets, and you ended up making origami swans instead.

Looking around at the others, you knew you would never understand them – all blank faces staring into space. They all make you uneasy. You don’t know if it’s you or them that’s missing something, but you recognize it’s a rather pointless question to be begged. 

So you leave your paper flock on the floor and walk away.

You’d started putting the chisel of a black marker to the library books in your spare time – trying to make something else out of the boring pages. Something more palatable than the droning of law and policy you’d already read ten times over.

You had blacked out the word doppelganger when there came a disturbance.

“You had 84% of them right.”

You peeked up from the book, lowering your knees from where you had them tucked close for privacy – sitting on the floor between two bookshelves – a little nook you’d discovered to hide yourself from the rest of the busy readers in the usually crowded library.

It was empty now. Everyone was otherwise busy with the test still.

And yet, a mess of black hair was crouched down in front of you, shadowing his equally dark eyes. He held your swans unfolded in his hands. It was a disturbing sight for some reason – as though he’d dissected their guts. 

“You left 16% unanswered. Most people would test their luck and guess.”

L must have been the least creative alias born in the dull walls of Wammy’s House, and yet, he’s supposed to be the brightest of all those living there. He always finishes your tests early and leaves in favor of his own devices. Much like you, you suppose. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak before.

Suppose it’s only courtesy you pay him the same effort even when what you really want is to tell him to leave you alone…

You narrowed your eyes a bit, looking at him.

You sensed foul play in a game you had no wish to partake in but moved across the board like a sacrificial pawn anyway. That’s how you play these things, after all – never show your cards.

“There’s nothing to guess.” You sigh – despite knowing he already knows all this. “The blanks are trick questions.”

“So you noticed, too?” His eyes are like inkblots – much like those spills you’ve made in your book when you let the marker rest too long. He dropped your papers between you in favor of gripping his knees, leaning forward. “We’re the only ones.”

You purse your lips at his eagerness. You should have played dumb from the start – should have said you swiped the answer sheet from the headmaster’s office. He’d only spoken all but four sentences, and you were already exhausted. Any conversation with any one of your peers was like an interrogation.

“You started folding paper cranes when I was 94% done. Easy logistics would put you 6% ahead of me. But, unlike me, it didn’t seem you were filling out the answer sheets in any hurry. In fact… you seemed bored. And in that case, I’d put you around 16%, no... 18% ahead of me.”

You allowed the following silence to inform him that his ramblings were boring you. But it didn't seem he took the hint – showing no signs he planned on leaving.

Your eyes grew more jaded.

“Paper swans.” You corrected blandly. “You know my alias is Swan.”

You clapped your book together and sighed again.

“And we both know you were finished long before I started folding them.” 

He had a small smile on his face. It looked as if you’d drawn it on with your marker.

“You can state all the percentages in the world to try and confuse me, but your mind games won’t get under my skin for one single simple reason, L…” You got up and brushed off the dust, then walked away while saying, “I’m not interested in playing – not with you or anyone else in this miserable place. So do me a favor and leave me alone.”

L watches you leave and taps his lips with his pointer.

Puzzles and answer sheets have bored him for a while. Maybe he ought to play with you instead…

[totaly-obsessed]

A Lesson in Accepting

Barcelona Femení x reader

-> Despite reader's best efforts to hide her illness and join in training, a she learns the importance of listening to her body and her teammates

-> Wordcount: ≈ 1.770

-> The happiest birthday to @sleekswosobession - love you!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

"Oye! No chiqui - off!”

Hmmpf.

Out of all the older players, Lucy was usually the fun one. But today she didn’t want you climbing on her and she had gotten annoyed when you tried to steal her shoes. Maybe a new victim was needed for your shenanigans. But who?

Just as you started to look around for Vicky, the arm of Marta found its way onto your shoulder, Caroline now at the other side as they dragged you into the changing rooms. “Don’t even think about it.”

Music blasted through the room, with Salma by the speakers as her phone was connected to it, getting ready while swaying to her music. A quick look around made it obvious that your cubby for the day was between Frido and Ingrid.

Great.

You missed the days were you were at your rightful place between Patri and Cata, Claudia joining you after quickly changing into her kit. Those were the fun days when you had just joined the team. Fresh from Australia and full of energy and nerves Patri and Claudia had taken you under their wing.

Just two weeks later Alexia fell over her tied-together laces, just to see you laughing in a corner, hiding behind your new friends. The room had fallen quiet, everyone scared of what their captain would do.

Laugh.

Alexia Putellas, their strong and serious captain, started laughing at being tricked by a sixteen-year-old Australian rookie. Hesitantly the other players started to laugh, watching the blonde from the corner of their eyes, just to make sure that she wouldn’t get pissy at them laughing.

But now you were stuck between different adults every week, your number never hanging in the same spot, and for today's game, it was the space between two tall scandis. While they were incredibly nice, neither of them had a fable for letting you run wild - but they let you yap as much as you want. A win is a win. And at this point, you’d take anything.

Rainy games were your favorite games. You loved sliding around on the drenched pitch, tackling an opponent whenever you could, and getting your kit as dirty as possible. And that game was no different.

Sliding here - sliding there.

Mapi thought it was hilarious how you sprinted across the waterlogged pitch, stealing the ball of one opponent after the other.

“Chiqui come here and let me dry your hair, you’ll get sick.”

Irene was in mother mode, fussing over you and Vicky, who looked like the two happiest girls on the planet. Both of you had been in the starting eleven, something that didn’t happen as often. But with the weather conditions and the not-as-competitive opponent, Jona caved to your synchronized begging.

“I won’t. Promise!”

And with that, you were off again. Running outside, leaving the changing room early. Jona had been quick with his talk and the girls were just warming up and getting something to eat or massaged. But you run out to play on the field with the girls sitting on the bench.

Bruna and Jana made it a fun game, sending the ball just slightly wide every time, so that you had to be quick, falling over more than once during it.

Alexia just shook her head in amusement when she came back to the pitch, the other girls following in their captain's stride.

“Chiquitita wear a jacket for me please?” The Catalan’s English was great, even if she was too shy to speak it most of the time. Her hands held out a jacket to you, an eyebrow raised in question.

“I’ll be okay, thank you, Ale!”

And you would be okay, at least for the rest of the night - giving it your all on the pitch and giving it your all when you were the entertainment of the following movie night. Mapi had given you one of those cheap Karaoke microphones and with that, you kept narrating the movies much to everyone else's annoyance.

Mapi thought you were hilarious though. And with everyone smiling at you even if they acted annoyed, you kept going all the way until Lucy and Ona dropped you off at the apartment Barcelona gave you.

In the beginning, the Team members had been worried about you living there, all alone at only sixteen. But Vicky had been fine - she was an angel as opposed to the whirlwind of an Australian that had been added to the team with you. You would be at training most days anyway and doing stuff with the girls even on days off, so you’d be fine. Right?

Well usually you would be fine, but waking up with an itchy throat, annoying cough, and a runny nose topped by a fever, was not a funny thing.

Just like that, all your plans with Vicky for the day had been canceled. The two of you wanted to explore the city and then visit the library closest to the Sagrada Familia, but all of that went to waste now as you were trying to get rid of this cold as fast as possible.

But it turns out it wasn’t that easy. A day later you were still sick, your voice so hoarse that it was hard to understand. You had debated calling Jona and letting him know, but then Alexia and Irene would have been right when it came to you getting sick. You just needed to power through. Tomorrow you will be all good again.

After oversleeping you practically raced to the training center for gym day. Well raced as fast as you can with public transport - a mask secure on your face. You looked sick enough that strangers raised a brow at your sweaty forehead.

To your luck the changing rooms were empty, all of the girls were already in the gym, so you could change in peace, trying to take deep breaths as well as you could. Man, you hated having a stuffy nose.

The bright lights and the loud music made you wince when you entered the big space, with everyone on different equipment. You quickly explained to Jona that your bus had been late, and just by his facial expression you could see that he didn’t believe a word out of your mouth.

He knew. Fuck. But he didn’t do or say anything, just going over the plan for today with you.

The other girls tried to get a good look at you, whispering to themselves. This wasn’t the first time you had been late. Sometimes the bus really didn’t come, and sometimes you overslept. But the training staff was never too mad at you - you were a growing girl after all, and needed your sleep.

But usually, when you came in, you would go around greeting the girls one by one, telling them the crazy stories of your bus driver. Today, however, you picked out an empty corner, starting to stretch all by yourself.

When one of the trainers called for partner exercises you were quick to kidnap Vicky, who didn’t even react as she was used to your antics by now. But then she looked at you.

“You’re sick!”

“Shhh!”

With, what you thought, quick reflexes you pushed her head down so that she would lower her voice. “Don’t tell on me! Or I’ll tell Sandra.”

The young Spaniard was caught in an odd situation - realistically she knew she should tell Alexia, or at least someone - but she was terrified of the goalkeeper finding out. With a solemn nod, she gave in.

You didn’t believe her, holding onto her right hand as tightly as you could “No! "Promise me!”

“Fine. I promise. Now get your clammy hands off me please.”

Now it wasn’t just you who ran around like a headless chicken, stumbling over nothing and barely strong enough to lift any weight at all, but also Vicky, who desperately tried to avoid eye contact with someone else, whispering hushed annoyances in your ear.

“They’re weird, no?” Aitana had made her way to Alexia, who was watching the whole thing unfold in front of her. “Very weird..", she nodded.

When a break was called, you hurried off to the bathrooms, while Vicky tried to avoid anything and everyone.

But that didn’t hold on for too long, as she was cornered by Alexia, Irene, Aitana, and Ingrid. The other girls watched from a distance, knowing what was happening.

“I don’t know anything!”

“We didn’t say anything.” Irene was trying really hard not to let an amused smile crack through and instead keep up the intimidating frown.

One eyebrow went up. Then the other.

“Okay, fine!”

Alexia relaxed her face again, knowing that had been enough for Vicky to spill everything she knew.

“She’s sick.”

“Chiquitita!”

Ingrid didn’t get an answer and started looking around the facilities as quickly as she could while Aitana tried to console a guilt-ridden Vicky, telling her that she had done the right thing, emphasizing how dangerous it was that you were exercising.

They could hear you coughing before they even saw you, as Ingrid dragged you to the gym as gently as she could, nearly just carrying you.

“Ai Chiqui. What are you doing here, you’re sick amor, you need to rest.”

Alexia's soft mothering tone gave you the rest, tears forming in your eyes. “I’m sorry… Just didn’t want to miss out.” Sobs wrecked your tired body as some of your letters got swallowed.

“Shhh, let’s get you home.” Your captain dried tears after tears as she helped you out of the room and into the showers.

Jona looked happy with how everything turned out, he knew that Alexia would take care of it - her heart was soft for the youngsters on the team, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

On your way out your eyes met Vicky's. “You promised not to tell Vic!”.

“Oye, keep walking, or we’ll call Catley. I’m sure she would love to hear about your situation.” It was Mapi that nudged you, a teasing smile on her face.

Hmmpf.

"Sandra Vicky put shaving cream in your gloves!"

And with that you let your captain drag you out of the room, smiling at the chaos that exploded behind you.

After getting washed up and changed, Ale helped you to her car and started driving to her home, not listening to the whines that you wanted to go to your apartment.

“You can say it now, Ale.”

She could see you were close to falling asleep, head resting on your seatbelt.

“I told you so. Now let’s get you healthy again.”

[rae-writes]

colored lenses

om brothers x reader

wc : 2.k

warnings : nsfw under the cut

synopsis : they say the eyes are the doorway to ones soul, and if that’s the case, yours must be intertwined with his, no?

a/n : nooo, asmo’s part was not rushed, I don’t know what you’re talking about-

Lucifer 

He’d seen a flash of it before- a quick glimmer of midnight blue in your eyes before it was gone

He never thought anything of it though, not until he saw it fully 

Diavolo had been going over everyone’s midterm grades and was congratulating you on your scores 

Lucifer noticed your typical polite smile as you waved off his praise, but his eyes were trained on how your hues lit up bright, prideful blue 

It made his mouth go dry; he was in awe

Subtlety, he’ll begin complimenting you more on the things you do so he can see that riveting shock of color

Mammon

On rare occasions do your eyes flash his pretty yellow, but the first time he saw it sent him reeling 

The two of you were having a gaming competition with Levi and you’d finished first. “W-what?! Alright, best 3 out of 4! Winner gets a prize!” 

Mammon was about to refuse, knowing he didn’t stand a chance at Devilkart if Levi was playing, but-

“Hell yeah, you’re on!” Grinning determinedly, your eyes flickered with golden yellow 

The second born almost passed away on the spot

He might’ve gotten a bit more greedy seeing the sin on you, and fuck, did you look like a gem with it 

Levi

Levi saw your eyes flash the colors of his brothers’ power from time to time, but given his sin, he didn’t mind the lack of seeing his own

He didn’t know how thrilling it could be though

You two had been out in town when he got stopped by a very flirty demon. He was too busy trying to get out of the conversation— he didn’t even realize…

When he glanced over at you for help, his body heated considerably at the sight of your eyes flashing a toxic orange 

If he wasn’t so familiar with the sin he’d be sweating, but you make it look heavenly 

Envy might not be a good feeling, but it’s a good look on you

Satan

The fourth born had felt your rage rise and simmer many times before

Being able to physically see it was a whole other experience he didn’t know he needed in life

Another rowdy night at the dinner table- typical - but you had a migraine and had asked the boys to stop five times now

It’s safe to say you were a bit pissed, and Satan knew it. When he glanced up, though, all thoughts of scolding his brothers went away 

You sat there with your jaw clenched, eyes twinkling with wrath green. It was gorgeous. 

Satan finds himself craving the look of his wrath on you, however he wouldn’t want his sin to trouble you too often

Asmo ; suggestive

Ohh when he discovered this little addition to having a pact with them, Asmo dreamed about seeing it every night (and got a little jealous when he saw his brothers’ colors instead)

He just needed to practice a little patience though

Upon Diavolo’s insistence, the student council was treated to drinks at the fall, and Asmo was already a little buzzed when he dragged you to dance 

Body grinding against yours, he turned towards you in hopes of stealing a kiss- only to see a shock of pink in your irises

Heat shot through Asmo immediately; he couldn’t keep his hands to himself after that

More, more, more! Asmo adores seeing his sin on you and he doesn’t mind begging for it either

Beel

There were many times when he thought he saw a peak of red in your eyes as the two of you got food, but he always brushed it off as a trick of the lighting 

It was only until you had to skip breakfast and lunch one day did Beel realize ‘oh’

You were leaning against him as you walked to Hell’s Kitchen, grumbling and complaining loudly

At Beel’s offer to carry you, you glanced up pitifully, showing the red hue bleeding into the color of your eyes

His own eyes widened, cheeks beginning to flush a deep pink

While he never wants you to go hungry, he doesn’t mind admitting that seeing his red on you is pleasing

Belphie 

Soft waves of purple inside sleep riddled eyes were something Belphie saw often and loved every time he did 

The first time was special, though. Right after you’d come back to the Devildom the first time, saddled in his arms after so long of him not having you 

Sleepy you and even sleepier Belphie, but he wasn’t too out of it to miss the gentle light of purple 

He was confused at first, but the familiar color shocked him awake and his heart nearly beat out of his chest 

Sloth. His sloth. Showing up in you like it was the most natural thing in the 3 realms. He liked it better on you. 

Even more than before, Belphie begs to sleep or nap with you— he needs to see it happen again and again

nsfw ver.

Lucifer 

Tensions high and adrenaline running through your and his veins like lightning 

Diavolo was due to come for a meeting in no more than 10 minutes

You knew that. Lucifer knew that. Yet you were still on your knees, tongue swirling around the head of his cock while you peered up at him through your lashes 

His head was thrown back, eyes clenched, trying to compose himself— you didn’t like that. You wanted his attention. 

Humming, you dug your nails into the exposed skin of his thigh, fighting back a grin when his head snapped up

Ruby hues narrowed down at you, ready to scold when the words died in his throat 

The color of your irises had been completely taken over by his blue, shining with pride at the situation you had him in 

Gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to moan, he chose to growl instead and thrust into your mouth sharply, smirking when the blue shone brighter at the taste of his cum

“Proud to be mine, Mc?” 

Mammon

“Harder!” 

Mammon gasped, hips following your order smoothly, “H-hah..what has gotten into you today?”

You whined as you pulled him closer, choosing not to answer in favor of burying your face in his neck 

The moment he had walked through the door, you were all over him, begging and pleading to have him (which he’d never say no to) 

“Mc-“ he tugged your head back by your hair, a sharp moan instantly following when he saw your eyes; shimmering greed in the form of yellow 

Picking up the pace, Mammon held your head up by your jaw, demanding you keep your pretty eyes on him 

Murmurs of ‘mine’ and ‘’s pretty f’me’ left him as he filled you up, watching the yellow flash gold

“Again. Wan’ more, Mammon- more of you.”

His own greed flared, making your pact burn pleasantly, “That’s right, Mc, show me your greed.”

Levi

You wanted Levi’s attention and you wanted it now but he was too caught up in the new official Ruri-Chan illustrations (with special outfits too)

Glaring at his back, you could feel magic pooling in your irises 

“Levi.” Without waiting for a response, you yank his chair back and fiddle with his pants, “Give me attention.” 

“Mc-!” He gaped as you took his cock in your hands, tail whipping out to wrap around your waist when you sheathed him fully inside 

His eyes shot up to meet yours, wanting to ask what all this was about, when the air practically left him 

There you were, eyebrows furrowed, lips parted, and eyes still glaring down at him- only this time they were orange 

Levi whined loudly, hips involuntarily raising you up before he settled back down again, keen on letting you fuck him however you pleased 

And fuck him you did, one hand tangling in his hair while the other rested against the base of his neck, hips not stopping their movements even after he’d already spilled inside you

“Quell my envy, Levi.”

Satan

You and Satan had gotten into a small dispute, but the feel of his anger coursing through your pact made you angry

Arms wrapped around your waist, lithe fingers gripping your hips hesitantly, but firmly, “I apologize. Shall we take some time to cool off?” 

“I think we can cool each other off.” You glanced up with newly green hues, eyes narrowing involuntarily

Satan’s lips parted and he immediately grabbed you up and pressed you against one of the bookshelves, fiddling with your clothes until he was lined up and pressing into you 

He set a hard, furious pace instantly, “How is it that you manage to be the one that calms me down and makes me so mad I can’t think, hm?” 

You did nothing but tug at his blonde locks, bright green becoming darker as the seconds pass

And despite loving the neon color on you, Satan can’t help but coo at the sight of it fading— all because of him fucking it out of you

“Kiss.” 

His own wrath faded down to nothing, lips covering yours softly as he held you close while you both finished together. “Calm the savage beast, yeah?”

Asmo

“C’mon, sweetheart, lemme see it- please? Pretty, pretty, pretty please? Show it to me.” 

Asmo curled his fingers up just right, sending your body lurching in its chair and your eyes shooting open wide 

“There it is…” alluring pink encased your irises, sending Azzy’s eyes flashing pink in return 

Gasping, your eyes darted around until they landed on the self-satisfied expression your lover wore— you grinned

The phantom feeling of fingers pushing inside him made Asmo squeal, jumping up from his spot in surprise 

With eyes now glowing a neon shade, you stared down at him while bucking your hips, “What’s the matter? Why’d you stop- was feeling so good.” 

He gaped- you were using magic to mimic touching him. “Naughty~” 

The two of you refused to let up until he’d came all over your lower half and your cum covered his fingers— and both your eyes were literally glowing

“Not done yet, darling~ let’s see if the pink can drown out the whites of your eyes too~” 

Beel

“Mmph— hey…” Beel frowned, visibly deflating when you pushed his head out from between your legs, “‘m hungry…”

You kept pushing until he was flat on his back, “Me too.” 

Heat shot straight to his cock- which you were pawing at- from the look you gave him; your irises were red

And he didn’t fully understand right away, not even when you settled on top of his face while also wrapping your lips around him 

“w’nna taste y’too.” 

Beel complied eagerly though, burying his face back in his spot while he tried not to thrust his hips 

Only when you began quickening your ministrations with a muffled “give it t’me, beelie, ‘m hungry— wan’ it, wan’ y’r cum” did he click the pieces together 

And though he tried not to, his hips stutter and thrust up, following your lead until he’s filling your mouth

Practically in awe at the way you don’t waste a drop, his sin cracks through his body- sending it flaring up in your own. “Again. ‘M still hungry, Mc..don’t you want more too?” 

Belphie

Choked whines echoed in the attic, turning into embarrassed stuttering when you suddenly shifted and slid into his lap sluggishly 

“Why didn’t you just ask for-“ you paused to yawn, “-help?” peering down at him with a purple glow, your hand replaced his on his cock

Belphie was basically speechless, watching you tiredly jerk him off before shuffling, working on getting your clothes out of the way

“W-wait! You don’t have to- ah!” 

You sunk down comfortably, rocking back and forth at a leisure pace while stifling another yawn. “Help, please.” 

His hips began moving before you could even say ‘please’, hands trailing under your shirt

“‘S good to me, my favorite human, makes me feel s’good—“ Belphie broke off with a moan, clamping his eyes shut at the embarrassing ‘ah, ah, ah’s that were leaving his mouth

The slow buildup was setting both your senses on fire, but you stopped him from moving faster (making him whine louder). “Slow, Bel…’m tired.”