No Mourners

the boy they called dirtyhands didn't need a reason anymore than he needed permission.

[hershey]

[demjiin-blog]

inej: how much did you pay for the suit you'll be wearing?

kaz: i don't pay for suits. my suits are on the house or the house burns down

[demjiin-blog]

Ｇｒｅｅｄ  ｂｏｗｓ  ｔｏ  ｍｅ．  

Ｉｔ  ｉｓ  ｍｙ  ｓｅｒｖａｎｔ  

    ａｎｄ  ｍｙ  ｌｅｖｅｒ．

[drusjx-deactivated20160615]

Nina Zenik stood behind him, swathed in the red silk kefta hat advertised her status as a Grisha Heartrender, one palm pressed to his forehead, the other to the back of his neck. She was tall and built like the figurehead of a ship carved by a generous hand.

[demjiin-blog]

They slipped in with the ebb and flow of the crowd, walking among the densest crowd of the invited,   the guards of both the estate and the stadwatch no longer bothering to check the invites with the sheer volume of those that had shown up. Brekker had left the cane back at the Slat, opting for a more  ornate and essentially useless cane in terms of how well it broke bones-- when in Kerch, pretend you're                                    better than you are and steal everybody's wallet. To his left was Nina who's strut had drawn more attention to them, well her, than he would've liked. This                    was his only chance to try to extract information about Inej's whereabouts.

"Remember who you need to bring and when."

The words sounded like roadrash whispered into her ear before he departed, it wasn't that he didn't trust Nina to do her job (he actually doesn't trust anybody at all) but these parties were often laden with sweet  tea and cakes at every turn. He hoped he didn't have to also mention that champagne was off limits until                                              they were back at the Crow's Club. Of course, he didn't have champagne like he had implied in their conversation earlier, but a bitter bottle                                   of kvas did just the trick and with more efficiency.      He hovered around the perimiter of the larger crowds keeping an eye on the grisha and seeking out additional suspicious characters. It was always interesting to see the merchant class act like they weren't  thieves themselves. The only difference between him and them was that they lay their heads on a softer                         pillow. Oh, and that he was much, much more clever than they were.

[empressisms-archive]

No party like a.... || Closed

[empressisms-archive]

The prospect of racing made her stomach flip, her hands holding tightly to the seat as the car began to move forward. Her brows furrowed at his question, Gen glancing at him nervously. “Yeah.. I can drive, but I sure as hell am not driving here.” 

She glanced out of the window, groaning softly. “Fuck, please don’t crash or anything, for the love of God.”

[demjiin-blog]

He smirked, not many people even wanted to drive here. And he probably wouldn't let let unless they had their own car. Keep more of the stakes if their own vehicle was being used-- but then again, what was the fun of that?

 "Fuck, if you didn't come here with a death wish, then what the fuck are you doing here?"

He didn't give her a chance to reply as he sped up, showing off the speed of his car as if he was flexing his muscles. Kavinsky smirked, as he joined the two cars at the end of the strip. The engines revving as they toed up to the line, painted in yellow spray paint all haphazardly. Couldn’t really call it a decent line but it did the job.

“I’d say now’s the time to bail, but it’s too late for that.”

He had a nasty grin and veins pumping with adrenaline, heart beating in tune with the heavy music that shook his bones. 

“Sweetheart, just relax.”

[demjiin-blog]

Crash Landing || Closed

[ravenmother-dreamerbrother]

Keep reading

Read More Now!

Read More Now!

[demjiin-blog]

"Fuck. Fuck you, Lynch." He spat through gritted teeth, shortly followed by a loud moan. There wasn’t much  else he could do other than to try and take his mind away from the car they were in where the windows fogged up and moved with every thrust, on the edge of a highway a few some miles away from the nearest  city. Their sweat slicked bodies did very little to help him pace himself, he could hardly take his eyes away. He latched his lips onto Ronan’s neck and he grinned, sucking at the skin and leaving marks. Nibbling  lightly before and after. Focusing on something else, while relentlessly working on unraveling Ronan and getting him undone. He could tell by the way his breathing and every push had become uneven that he-- the both of them-- were very close. “Looks like the ride’s almost over. Any last wishes?”

[ravenmother-dreamerbrother]

A Shame, Really || Closed

[ravenmother-dreamerbrother]

Ronan Lynch did neither, and did both. He held a mouth full of the other, and  pulled his head up, then leaned in to kiss him hard. He fed Kavinsky’s cum back to him, proud of himself some because he made the asshole cum.

[demjiin-blog]

His eyebrows raised at the warm salty taste that accompanied Ronan's kiss for a moment  before he pieced it together. His hands on the  back of the other boy's neck as he obliged and drank whatever Ronan had given him.  At this point there was no reason for him to  feign disinterest, not when his keen interest was being swapped from him and then back to him. A cruel reminder and if that's the form  all future reminders were going to take, he'd await them eagerly.  "What now?" He looked over the read vinyl seat of their booth and saw the pizza waiting for them on the counter. "A snack and then back to my place?" There wasn't any scenario where Kavinsky had wanted to go back to Ronan's, not with all the company there. It was their date after all.