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#i really dig this!!! had the idea on a whim after wanting to do something with an ama shot
bybdolan · 1 year
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SPEAK NOW (Taylor’s Version) inspired by TAKE THE SADNESS OUT OF SATURDAY NIGHT by Bleachers.
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mochinomnoms · 2 months
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Thinking about how scary people find the "non-traditional" looking merfolk like the tweels and Azul only to remember the mermaids in Peter Pan were straight up trying to kill Wendy and now I'm chewing on the walls thinking about Azul or the Tweels saving Yuu from some mermaids who "were only trying to drown her <3". Just the idea of the "traditionally beautiful" mermaids actually being a lot more fucked up, despite the reputation they got from The Little Mermaid/Mermaid Princess. Or something, I'm rambling.
Imagine going to the beach with the octotrio, the twins specifically wanting to swim with you in the water. But they get distracted trying to drag a still human Azul into the water, pleading for him to turn into his merform too!
Eventually, they manage to drag a screaming Azul into the water, bubbles slowly dissipating as they take him further in. Imagine your surprise when a lovely, blonde mermaid and purple haired merman pop out almost immediately after.
They look harmless, especially compared to the twins and Azul. They look like an average reef merperson, like the Mermaid Princess. Their tails match their eyes, pink and violet, as they playfully splash you. It seems pretty harmless at first, they look pretty young after all, but then the merman starts pulling at your leg, asking you to join him in the water with a smile and lead-eye stare.
The mermaid swiped your sandals, swimming further into the water where you can't reach as she beckons you to come after her. Don't you want your shoes back? They get visibly annoyed when you don't follow into their whims, trying to hop away from the stone you're at and back to shore. That's when the mermaid starts to tug you by your bottoms, asking why you won't play with her. The merman starts to do the same, giggling at your panic-stricken face.
They're tearing the hem of your bottom as you struggle to get out of their grasp. Up until you slip on the slick rock and fall into the water. The two start to swim circles around you, now full on laughing, as they drag you further into the water by your feet.
“Relax, I just wanna see if humans really do get red when they drown, huh?”
The merman giggled as he replied to his companion, “Yeah! We only want to drown you a little bit, why so scared? Is it cause you might die? How funny!”
“Ha!” The mermaid cackled as she swam up to curl her tail around you, grabbing your face to stare you in the eyes as you started to lose consciousness.
“Yeah! Don't worry, I hear that dead humans float back up, so you'll get to go back home…soon…”
Horror fell over her pretty face as she looked behind your drowning form. The surrounding turned darker, colder, as a large black and purple tentacle slowly reached from behind you to pull you from her grasp. She and her friend both shrieked at the sight of a giant octomer curling his arms around you protectively, an inhuman hiss, followed by a growl, reverberating through Azul's chest. From behind him, two glowing teal morays giggled as Jade and Floyd both chased after the two merfolk who were now begging for mercy. After all, the twins were a good 3 feet larger than them.
Azul is cooing at you as he brings you back up to the surface, though you can hear the crunch of what sounds like ribs breaking, a shriek, and Floyd's unique cackle. You leave that knowledge behind you as you gasp for air upon breaching the surface. You're clutching at Azul like he's your lifeline, murmuring for him to not leave you. Which Azul agrees to.
The twins come back up a few minutes later, Jade digging something fleshy from his teeth while Floyd offers you a lock of purple hair, which still had a bit of scalp on it. You thanked him, but refused the hair, to which Floyd shrugged and tossed it behind him. The three of you spent the rest of your time in the shallow end of the water, three mermen curled protectively over you.
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mediumtires · 11 months
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i'm rereading copper and wool and did you ever say what christians anniversary gift was for toto 🤔
okay okay SO! this is so funny, a few weeks ago the first person ever (shoutout to FallingStar on ao3) actually guessed right! it's sheep! to me it was so obvious (copper and wool etc) but looking back now, it really wasn't. so christian's anniversary gift is sheep lol.
when i wrote it i was actually planning a tiny little sequel but I abandoned it and now it's collecting dust on my desktop. that being said, i’ll put it here (unbeta-d first draft) for those who might want to read it!
“No. No chance.” “C’mon, be a good sport.” “Nein,” Toto says, trying hard to hide his smirk. “I will not let you blindfold me.”
“What if I were to take you upstairs?” “Are you?” “No.” “Then no,” Toto laughs, a little exasperated, and tries to pull away from Christian’s insisting hands.
“C’mon, darling,” Christian tries again, a wide grin lighting up his features. “You know it’s the standard protocol for surprises.”
“I don’t trust you,” Toto just says and turns away from Christian and the tie in his hands to put the water filter back in the fridge. “Fuck you.” Christian laughs in retaliation and swats the tie at him. “At least close your eyes then.”
Toto sighs heavily and turns back to Christian, propping one hand up on the kitchen counter. “Are you serious?” “Entirely.” Christian knows he’s won when Toto sighs once more in exasperation and rakes a hand through his hair.
“But don’t make me fall,” he instructs. “Or walk me into things. I’m very important.” Christian rolls his eyes. “I know you are. Now, c’mon. Close your eyes. We don’t have all day.” “We don’t?” 
But Toto does close his eyes after all and stretches his hands out to curl them around Christian’s hips. As Christian starts walking, he says, “Y’know, if you would’ve gone for the tie, I might’ve taken you to the bedroom after.”
Toto snorts. “If you want me to tie you up and blindfold you, just ask,” he offers with a devilish little smirk and Christian is glad he’s got his eyes closed. Something to consider. “Maybe later.” He’s aiming for nonchalant, but he knows Toto sees right through him anyway.
When they step out onto the patio, Toto pulls up his shoulders and frowns. “Are we outside?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Can you not just let me do this for five minutes?” Christian asks, exasperated. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Toto does shut up after that, but it’s mainly because he’s concentrating hard on not tripping and falling when trailing after Christian.
It’s been a few days since their return from Miami and this is the first lull in both their schedules, both of them home early, so frankly, Christian saw an opportunity and took it. Not that he thinks it would have made a huge difference to wait another day or two. Toto hasn’t set a foot anywhere but the chicken coop in a good week, so the probability of him finding out about this is hilariously low. It does make Christian question the whole idea somewhat, but it’s too late now anyway. Still, the Carrera on his left wrist weighs a little heavier than usual.
Toto trips once they reach the gravel path leading further into the grounds and digs his hands into the fleshy bit of Christian’s hips to catch himself. He grunts, stumbles, and Christian can’t help but crack a laugh. “Careful there,” he offers. “Gravel.” He pats Toto’s left hand and then keeps his palm there.
“You are supposed to guide me,” Toto complains, and he already sounds like he’s enjoying this much less than only a minute ago. “You are making me fall on purpose.”
“I’m not.” Christian rolls his eyes towards the sky but keeps moving. “Not everything I do is to antagonise you, darling. Now stop whining.”
Toto does not stop whining because of course he doesn’t. He’s very vocal about how stupid this whole thing is all the way past the chickens, the goats and the donkeys, the pen closest to the house, past their two old ponies, Jacky and Jim, which they had adopted on a whim from the farmer up the road.
For a moment, Christian is contemplating whether he should just push Toto into the pond to humble him. A while ago a bunch of ducks moved in and don’t seem to want to leave again. Christian has grown quite fond of them. More often than not he finds them with the chickens now or waddling around the farm.
“Are we—Is that ducks? Is that the ducks?” Toto has picked up on the distinct flapping of their wings, affronted at the unusual intrusion of their privacy. Christian chuckles at the drake side eying them and pulls Toto further down the path towards the folding. It’s the one attached to the barn at the outskirts of their main property, and Christian had chosen it mainly because it was the one Toto would be least likely to walk into unprompted.
“Almost there,” he says and takes one of Toto’s hands in his so navigating the uneven grounds becomes a little easier. “Should have put on wellies,” he ponders, as he eyes the meadow, the grass long and wet. It’s perfect for the sheep but not exactly ideal for Toto’s dress shoes. They’re Italian leather.
“What?” Toto makes a sound as the damp grass hits his ankles and Christian’s smirk widens. “Christian, you should’ve told me! My boots were right there! These are Italian leather!”
He knows. “I know.” He pulls Toto along. Surprisingly, despite his bitching and moaning, he keeps his eyes closed. “Might have to throw them out later. Shame.” He’ll make sure to keep Toto out here long enough for them to be soaked through and ruined. 
Toto makes another sound, displeased, but Christian can see how hard he’s trying to bite down on his exasperated amusement. Toto’s about to throw a comment back at him when a loud “Baaaaa” cuts him off. “What was that?” Toto pulls himself up a little taller. The sheep must’ve spotted them because there’s another string of agreeable bleating. “Christian, what is that?”
They stop at the fence and Toto, still with his eyes closed, sways a little, gripping Christian’s hand to regain his balance. “Christian.”
“Jesus, yes.” Now that he’s looking at the flock of sheep, all huddled together and warily observing Christian and Toto at the fence, he’s not sure if this wasn’t a silly idea.
He’d come up with it when Toto had one night jokingly suggested they should get sheep.
“Sheep?” “Yeah.” “Do you know how much bloody work sheep are, darling? We can barely keep up with the animals we’ve collected so far! We’re lucky we’ve got Johnny to help us out.” Toto had just laughed and kissed his shoulder and let it go, but then, on a trip to Austria last year, Toto had told him how he’d seen a herd of very specific Austrian sheep every time he’d visited his gran in the countryside and how they reminded him of the better times of his childhood. When Christian started thinking about potential anniversary gifts, it was too perfect to just let go. He couldn’t for the life of him remember the breed Toto had mentioned, but the more he’d looked into it, the more he’d realised that while Austrian sheep are very durable and sturdy, they would probably do less well in the mellow British countryside of Oxfordshire, and so he’d decided on British breeds instead. In the end, he’d just gone for one that looked adorable and was easy enough to maintain. With the accumulation of random animals they already had running around the farm, it wouldn’t make much of a difference anyway. They wouldn’t be using them for wool farming or that, so might as well have them be nice to look at.
The longer he looks at them now, Toto impatient at his side, still holding his hand, the heavier the watch on his wrist feels. Christian isn’t one for huge gestures or anniversary gifts, but somehow things this year felt different. It hasn’t even been a year since Singapore. It still follows them around, the consequences of that day, shadowy and washed out, but he can still feel it, and so can Toto. Christian is just glad they’re still here. They made it to seven years, and beyond, and for whatever bloody reason he thought a flock of seven sheep would be ideal to celebrate an anniversary centred around wool.
“Christian, there’s water in my shoes,” Toto informs him, and Christian turns his head and grins at his city husband, still blind, the corners of his mouth tweaked down.
“That’s a shame,” he says, “You can open your eyes now.”
Toto does so immediately. He blinks, frowns up at the grey sky, rubs at his eyes with the hand that isn’t still holding Christian’s. Christian lets go to lean against the wooden fence instead.
There is a brief pause. Then, “Christian?” “Yes, darling.” “What am I looking at.” Christian turns to Toto with his eyebrows twitching. As if it wasn’t obvious. “Your anniversary gift!” Toto’s eyes go a little wider as he looks back at the flock of sheep, a huddle of white fleece and black eyes. “What?”
“I told you, your gift was waiting at home.”
“You got me… sheep?”
“Well, us, I guess. But yeah.”
“Seven sheep?”
“Well, first of all, Johnny said no less than five.” Christian is getting a little flustered now and so he blusters on in full pretentious confidence of a Formula 1 team principal defending a Max overtake that no one in good conscience should defend. “And so I wanted to get six, but then I thought, well that doesn’t make any sense, does it, when it’s our seven year anniversary and the theme I’m going with is wool. So I got seven. And they’re a family! The two little ones were only born a few weeks ago. I didn’t want to take them from their mothers.” He pulls his shoulders down a little to straighten his back and keeps looking at the sheep to avoid having to look at his husband. “Plus, you were banging on about wanting sheep.”
“You remembered that? That was ages ago.”
“So?”
“Christian.” Toto’s voice is soft in a way it only ever is when he’s about to say something disarming. “Darling. I—” And then he just wraps himself around Christian from behind, chin hooked over his shoulder and nosing Christian’s cheek. “You said they are too much work.”
“Well, you said you wanted them so—” “How do you manage to outdo me every time?” Toto’s voice is awfully quiet. “I really thought I nailed it this year.” Christian breathes a laugh, half of it in relief that he, against better judgement, didn’t mess this up. “You know I love my watch,” he tells Toto, fingers brushing the warmed leather hugging his wrist. “And this isn’t a competition. You got copper, I got wool. Sorted.”
“I can’t believe you got me sheep,” Toto says again. His voice is a little higher than usual, his accent catching on the vowels, making the words come out hitched.
“Well, look,” Christian grabs one of the large hands wrapped around his torso and covers it with his own. “It’s not just—Sure, you said you wanted sheep, but—Look, I know you’re not a farm boy, okay? You’re very much a child from the city and I know you say you love our home, but I want you to feel it, too, I want you to feel at home here and not just come along for the ride and agree to everything I say. Especially after last year, I want this place to be our sanctuary, and if it takes bloody sheep because you said you wanted them, then so be it. There’s your sheep.”
Toto’s smile widens, Christian can feel it pressed to his cheek, and he can feel the pleased little hum too, reverberating down his spine. Toto’s hold around him tightens fractionally. “I feel very at home, darling. You know that, ja? I don’t need sheep for that. Mostly I need you.”
Christian closes his eyes on a deep breath, and sinking further into Toto’s chest he says, “We can put them with the rest of the lot soon. They’ll need another few days or so, until they’re settled in, and then we can move them in with the others.”
“We’ll need a sheep dog now.”
Christian barks a laugh, lets his head thump against Toto’s shoulder in defeat. “Yeah, no, Bernie and Flav won’t do, will they? Lazy little buggers.” “It’s because you feed them at the table.” “Hey, you started that! Flav, with those puppy eyes and you just—Don’t think I don’t know you cut him up steak when I’m not looking!” Toto’s silent laughter comes in short puffs of breath against the skin of Christian’s neck. “No no no no,” he feels the need to clarify even though they both know it’s the truth. “You feed them too, don’t lie.” Christian tries to stifle a smirk. “They are a tad overweight, aren’t they?” “The vet said, last time,” Toto reminds him. “We need to work them harder, or cut out the food.” Christian hums. “It might be time for a third. A puppy will work them alright.” He coughs a laugh, already regretting this, and adds, “Might as well get a cow or two while we’re at it. Not like it matters now.”
“What are we going to call them?” Toto suddenly asks, lifting his chin from Christian’s shoulder to regard the sheep more closely.
“Well, we gotta stick to the theme.” Christian’s mouth lifts into a smirk. “So you better get creative.”
“It’s my turn, isn’t it?” Toto asks. “My sheep, my turn.” “Toto, I swear, if you’re going to name them something stupid—” “You named the donkeys and now I have to call them Max and Daniel!” Christian’s protest dissipates into thin air. “Well, it works, they’re good names.” “Yes, and now it’s my turn.” “Just remember, it’s mostly ewes. One ram, the big one, the rest is ewes, and the two lambs are one of each.” “…ewes?” “Female sheep, darling. So I want no Lewis running around, or George, or whoever you’re already thinking of.” “No,” Toto hums thoughtfully. “Lewis is a goat, not a sheep.”
It's so stupid, it has Christian crack a well-earned laugh.
And bonus (cause I couldn’t work this in):
“You know, they’re like… designer sheep.” “They’re what? Designer sheep?” “Yeah, well, look, we’re not going to use them for breeding, or wool, or meat, are we, so they’re… you know. Nice to look at. Sheep we can keep as pets, more or less. They’re still a durable breed, just. Also nice to look at.”
Toto laughs at him for an hour after that.
Here are said sheep!
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“They look a little like donkeys, don’t they?” “You think?” “Ja.” “Well, they’re not, they’re sheep. Kerry Hill.” “Kerry who? Have you named them already?” “What? No, that’s the breed, darling. They’re Kerry Hill sheep. They’re from Wales.” “So basically foreigners, yes? We should give them foreign names. International.” Toto grins at him, then he adds, “We should give them German names you can’t pronounce.”
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krmy2386 · 1 year
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Kind Not Weak
Rhett Abbott x Reader
DON’T STEAL!!!
Please be kind!
Total honesty I’ve never actually watched this show… so no idea of this is correct…
WARNINGS: Mainly angst, Bar fight(reader fights Maria for Rhett).
For anyone who really wanted this I am sorry it is late. And also not very lovey😅
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If you asked anyone in Wabang about Y/N they would all tell you the same three things.
She was kind.
She was gracious.
And the Abbott boy was smitten with her.
The two met shortly after his fling with Maria blew up in his face. Y/N moved to town on a whim and quickly fell in love with the place. And every member of the town quickly fell in love with her. She often volunteered with children, the elderly, fundraisers, anything. She came off pretty quiet but was a total sweetheart.
That’s what Maria had heard when she came back to town. She had asked around about Rhett, expecting to hear that he was still drinking and riding. She never expected to hear he was engaged.
Rhett had never experienced a love like Y/N’s before. Then again had never met someone like Y/N before. Someone to help others without expecting something in return. She loved every part of him. She never forced him to change but helped in courage him to be better.
It was a typical Friday night which meant family dinner. They were about to dig in when they heard a knock at the door.
Amy shouted, “I’ll get it!”
Perry followed close behind, confused as to who would drive all the way out to the ranch at night. When Amy opened the door Perry’s face dropped.
“Hi!” Maria said, in a sickly sweet voice, “Is your Uncle Rhett here?”
Amy began backing away and looked at Perry.
“What are you doing here?” Perry spat at her. Amy ran off back to the dining room.
“Always the gentleman, Perry.” Maria rolled her eyes, “I’m here to see Rhett.”
Perry seethed. Rhett never could control himself when it came to Maria. Perry couldn’t let her ruin Rhett’s life, again.
“No.” Perry said sharply.
“Perry,” Rhett, said from behind him, “it’s okay.”
Perry looked at his brother. Rhett just nodded and Perry began to walk away.
“It’s been a while, handsome.” Maria said, batting her eyelashes.
Rhett stood tall as he looked at Maria. Those eyes meant nothing to him now.
“What are you doing here, Maria?” Rhett asked calmly, almost bored.
Maria was taken back by his tone. A year ago he’d have fallen at her feet with just one look.
“I- I just wanted to see you. Maybe get a drink?” She asked, her confidence briefly wavering.
“I’ve missed you,” she said seductively.
Rhett rolled his eyes, “No.”
“What?” She asked.
“You’ve missed having someone. Not having me.” Rhett explained. “I’m engaged. I’m happy, Maria. Please leave.”
Maria stood there shocked. She tried to stammer out some words to maybe change his mind but he stopped her, not wanting to hear anything she had to say.
“Goodbye Maria.” He said closing the door.
Maria slowly walked back to her car. She never thought it would end this way.
Perry looked at his brother a cross the table. He heard everything Rhett said to Maria and he could’ve have been prouder. Rhett no longer had a lovesick puppy look whenever he saw Maria. Now he looked at Y/N like she was the most important woman in the world.
————————————————————————
Saturday night, Rhett and Y/N were at the local bar. They tried to go out two or three times a month. Tonight Perry joined them. They sat in their normal booth, casually drinking and making small talk with the other patrons.
Maria sat in the other end of the bar. Glaring at Y/N. She thought to herself, ‘What’s so special about this girl?’ ‘Sure she’s pretty. But she’s so… weak.’ ‘What does Rhett see in-‘ before she could finish her thought she heard a voice say, “Can I help you?”
Maria shook her head slightly, feeling the tequila. Once her eyes focused she saw Y/N standing in front of her. Maria briefly looked over at Rhett, his eyes were firmly set on Y/N.
“What do you mean?” Maria said, with drunken confidence. “I’m just sitting here drinking.”
Y/N crossed her arms, making sure her left ring finger showed, “While glaring at me and my fiancé?” She asked.
Those words made Maria feel sick. She glanced at the ring in Y/N’s hand. Rhett was hers, he was always supposed to be hers.
“Oh trust me, I know your fiancé very, very well.” She said, hoping her insinuation would ruffle the other girl’s feathers.
Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, “So I’ve heard. I know exactly who you are.”
Y/N’s eyes hardened, “You’re the one who broke him.”
“And you think you can fix him?” Maria said smirking, “He will always be mine.”
Y/N shook her head, “He didn’t need me to fix him. He’s a great man. He’s going to be a great husband. To bad you won’t be there to see it.”
Maria couldn’t take it. She lunged at Y/N trying to grab her hair. It was only a matter of seconds before Y/N slammed Maria’s head into the bar and threw her on the floor. Then leaned down to her face.
The entire bar stopped and watched the ‘Town Sweetheart’ get menacingly close to Maria.
“He will never be yours again.”
Y/N stood up and turned around to see Rhett standing there. He quickly began checking ti see if she was okay. Y/N nodded and kissed his cheek.
Maria shakily stood up and shouted, “You’re asking if she’s okay?! What about me?!”
Rhett just rolled his eyes and began to lead Y/N to the door.
“Someone call the cops! She assaulted me!” Maria shouted. Rhett and Y/N stopped. The entire bar stared at her but no one moved for a phone.
“I want her arrested!” She shouted again.
“I didn’t see anything.” The bartender said.
The bar filled with ‘Me neither’ and ‘Same here’.
“Ya know you should really be more careful when you drink. You’re libel to trip and hurt yourself.” Perry said smirking.
Maria stomped out of the bar. Accepting defeat.
The entire bar broke in to cheers for Y/N. They were almost proud of their sweet Y/N for standing up for the man she loved.
Rhett pulled Y/N in for a kiss and slyly put his Stenson on her head and she blushed. He knew that this was out of character for Y/N. But he also knew to never mistake Y/N’s kindness for weakness.
@shakespear-picaso-lovechild
@3tabbiesandalab
@daughterofthereaper02
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dominantslasherking · 2 years
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Smut
Asa Emory x Possessive Male reader
The Collector/Asa Emory with Dominant Male S/o
My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+.
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[Eye color] eyes glinted over to his partner as he was observing the woman he recently kidnapped, you knew that he didn't harbor any feelings for his victims, but it always got on your nerves when he would brush his hand through their hair, or tease them a bit, with food after he finishes torturing them.
Sometimes Asa liked to keep some alive longer because he enjoyed the thrill of them begging to know that they were completely under his whim whether it was males or females or any other type of gender.
However, this did annoy you to such an extent, that you would ignore Asa for a while until he murdered the victim he was toying with. But he kept doing it! Asa honestly hasn't learned anything of your possessiveness, maybe he does it to spite you or something, to purposely make you jealous.
"Asa.." Your husky voice called out, his form retreating back slightly from his victim, and trotting over to you as if he had not done anything wrong.
Slowly your eyes made their way back over to the woman, who almost had a relieved face when Asa touched her hair, did she really think she had a chance, did she really think Asa took an interest in her? Your blood boiled at the thought of the victim trying to seduce Asa.
You suddenly looked down at Asa, your form towering over his own as he stared at you with his dark black eyes, your hands suddenly make their way over to his mask, before your thumb placed itself on his bottom lip in a rather seductive way.
When you pulled away Asa pulled closer, his eyes slightly titling towards the victims enraging you as your lips smashed against his. He didn't kiss back, because he really wasn't that good at kissing, so he just let you take control, but you could tell he enjoyed it from the way he would tug you in further.
Suddenly, both of your bodies began to move over towards the cell where the woman was kept captive, she was surprised because she didn't see you from all the way over there, maybe it was because her main focus was on her captor.
Tugging at Asa's pants you growled into his ear while slamming his body against the cell, "Fine, you like your victims so much, they can watch as I fuck you." Your harsh voice spoke into his ear, as Asa squirmed slightly, not liking the idea of being vulnerable in front of a victim, but it made him riled and even hornier just thinking about it.
His mask was pushed into the cell wall as he was now directly looking at the victim, his eyes holding no sign of the emotions welling inside him. Asa also didn't bother saying anything as he wanted to reveal not even his voice to the victim, but maybe some moans along the way.
"W-What the---" The woman quickly shut up, knowing if she said anything more she would possibly get killed in an instant, so she watched the entire order with a red gleaming face.
Asa felt something wet hit his hole, he was wondering where--or how you snuck lube into his work area, considering he didn't allow stuff to just lay around.
His back arched slightly feeling your fingers dig inside him. You were currently lubing up your hard cock, steadily lining it up with Asa's flustering pink hole. Slowly you entered feeling Asa's breath slightly stopped, not wanting a moan to escape, as he normally would at your shared house.
"Lady---mm, cmon don't look away, I know you thought of him in such...ways, now how does it feel seeing him try and not to scream in pleasure at just my cock entering him??" Your voice was full of possessiveness, not caring anymore that she continued to look away, you didn't want to share his adorable state anyway.
You found yourself, cock deep and buried into Asa's warm hole. Unexpectedly you pulled out slightly and thrust back in, causing Asa's body to jolt up at the roughness.
Asa's own cock was dripping pre-cum, as you stuffed him full, your pace of thrusting was that of a teasing rough one, "Oh, cmon---Fuck--you asked for this, pretty killer~" You teased into his ear, as he struggled to take dominance, but you thrusted into him hard, his walls squeezing hard your cock
Your hand was placed on the back of Asa's neck as you wanted to keep him in place as you used his hole to your hearts-- well dick's content.
The skin slapping filled the air, as the woman couldn't help but turn to look, as Asa's body was being pounded into. Asa accidentally let some small moans escape passed his lips, as his cock was weeping in pleasure, from you violating his hole however you wanted.
You honestly didn't care if Asa couldn't walk after you were done, you continued to prod his hole with sloppy and hard plunges, your gentle groans muffled as you brushed your head into Asa's shoulder, holding his body close.
Practically impelling Asa on your cock you whispered to him, "Mine--Asa tell me who you belong to?~" You murmured only for his ears, from not getting a response, you impelled him again, and again.
Asa's hole was twitching with pleasure, his cock pulsating, as he could no longer take it, his own raggedy and unused husky voice spoke out, "Y-Your's, [Name]---Agh---~I-I'm yours!" He practically cried out, trying to avoid the moans that escaped his lips as much as possible
Finally, after rapidly impelling him on your cock, he let all his cum free, splattering all inside the cage, and a bit onto the woman as she gasped in surprise in disgust.
Asa's gushy and warm hole, sucked you in, until you coated his walls white, giving the last few thrusts as your deep breaths were in rhythm with Asa's own ones.
"Get rid of her soon, I don't like you keeping them for so long." You commanded, fluttering kisses on his neck, Asa mindlessly bobbed his head up and down.
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chaotic-super · 1 year
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The Vampire Woman - 8
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Read the first 7 chapters on Ao3 here!
Kara has barely even stepped foot into work and yet she’s already being given that scary glare that Ms Grant only gives out when someone has done something she considers to be an abomination.
The last time she was given that look was when she accidentally trod mud into the building and it took three days before she stopped feeling those eyes burning into her head every time she walked past Ms Grant’s office.
“Keira, my office, now.” Cat Grant mutters to Kara, a fire in her eyes.
Kara swallows down the feeling of guilt that’s building up in her throat, choking her. She doesn’t even know what she’s guilty of yet, she has to wait and see what she gets yelled at for first.
Cat closes the door after Kara, stalking past her to sit at her desk, leaving Kara standing in front of her awkwardly, her hands clasped together and fidgeting because of her nerves.
“Ms Grant, whatever it is-“
“Kiera.” Cat cuts her off. “Do you have any idea how disruptive it is to have a member of my staff have their office filled with over a dozen bunches of flowers at eight o’ clock in the morning? Do you think it’s a good thing to have a reporter that has an office that nobody can walk into because there is physically no space to do so? Do you think it’s a good idea to have that much pollen in a building that is not a greenhouse?”
Kara is lost. What’s this about flowers? “Um, no Ms Grant? Whose office is filled with flowers?” 
“Yours. If it was someone else, they would be the one standing in your place right now. I don’t care if you’re dating someone new or if you’re getting birthday flowers from your grandma, this is a business and I expect the upmost professionalism.” Cat spits.
“I’m so sorry, Ms Grant, I don’t know who sent them or why, I’m not seeing anyone nor is there any special occasion coming up. I will throw them out right away.” Kara stutters out, making a mental note to yell at whoever thought it would be a good idea to fill her office with flowers like it wouldn’t affect her job.
Cat stares at her over the top of her black framed glasses that don a much fancier style than those that Kara wears. “I don’t care if you throw them out, give them away or burn them, I want them out of this building by lunch time. Do not let this happen again.”
Cat opens her laptop in front of her, snapping her eyes away from Kara and getting to work on something, typing away rapidly, letting Kara know that she has been well and truly dismissed.
“Yes, Ms Grant.” Kara scurries away, ignoring the stares from the people in the bullpen around her, speed walking to her tiny, windowless office to see if there’s a note with these flowers so she knows who to be mad at.
Rounding the corner to her own little sanctuary in the bustling building, she is greeted with a sight that she should have been prepared for, one she had convinced herself couldn’t possibly be real, but here it is.
There isn’t a single bit of space left in her office for her to actually get inside because there is that many bunches of flowers in there.
She doesn’t need to dig through them to find a note, she knows exactly who they’re from because she recognises the flower, the same one that was in the bunch she was gifted before from Lena: plumerias. It makes even more sense when she thinks about it too because Lena is pretty much the only person in her life at the minute that could possibly afford to buy this many bunches of flowers on a whim.
“Oh god.” Kara mumbles to herself, getting to work on pulling out some of the bunches of flowers so that she can get to her desk and dump her bag down.
Somewhere in the middle of the pile, there is a bunch with a note on them, one that she opens with hurried fingers, not really caring if she accidentally rips the card. Her eyes skim over the words and she takes in each one mindlessly.
Kara,
My deepest apologies for what transpired between us before, I have no excuse for my actions and regret them deeply. Please take these flowers as an olive branch, I have spent you an official email to confirm your upcoming interviews at L-Corp, please reach out via said email or through Jess.
All the best,
Lena Luthor.
Kara scoffs at the note but is grateful that it’s now being confirmed that she can at least get a few semi-decent articles out of the woman, CatCo has been reaching out to them for years to try and get the inside scoop on what goes on in that building but has always come up short so this is a big deal, one that she has to follow through with and one that is going to get her back into Ms Grant’s good graces.
Opening up her emails to confirm that Lena was telling the truth when she wrote that note, she can’t help but smile at the sight. Moving away from everything that has happened between herself and Lena, this is a really good thing for both her career and for CatCo, and even L-Corp if Lena plays her cards right and the stuff she’s working on is good enough.
Sending an email back to confirm that she’ll go into L-Corp tomorrow for the initial interview, she sets her sights on digging through the flowers, finding the biggest, best-looking bunch and propping it under her arm. Then she grabs as any other bunches as she can hold and wanders back out to the bullpen.
Everyone stares at her in confusion until she starts handing them out to her co-workers, offering a bunch to anyone that wants one and when she only has the one big bunch left, she directs everyone to her office to help themselves if they want any before heading back to Ms Grant’s office, finding the stern woman glaring at her before she’s even at the door.
Kara foregoes the polite knock and just heads inside, deeming the gesture unnecessary since Ms Grant is already aware of her presence. She goes to share her good news but doesn’t get the chance, her boss’ quick tongue outdrawing her.
“And here I thought I was being clear when I told you that I want those flowers out of this building. I want you to go and collect them all and dispose of them immediately before I start sneezing.”
Kara puts the massive bunch of plumerias on the edge of Ms Grant’s desk. “These are for you, I thought that you might like a bunch of them since they were gifted to me from the CEO of L-Corp with a note asking me to confirm that I want an interview, or rather, interviews.”
For what Kara is sure to be the first time in the four years she’s been working at CatCo, Ms Grant looks genuinely shocked, staring between the flowers and Kara.
Her mouth snaps shut with an audible click. “How in the world did you manage to pull that off?”
“I…I donated blood and ran into Lena Luthor, we got talking and I guess I made a good impression. I asked her at the time for an interview and I didn’t really think that she was going to go through with it, so to come in and have flowers waiting for me, it’s a shock. I’m going to go by L-Corp tomorrow for the initial interview and I will see if I can schedule more when I’m there.”
Cat keeps staring at her, waiting to see if Kara is going to spill anything else if she keeps quiet, her instinct telling her that there is more to the story, she’s never had someone send flowers to her as a way of accepting an interview request and definitely not an entire room’s worth, but Kara isn’t breaking, she’s not letting on to anything being amiss, not this time.
“Hmm, don’t mess it up.” She looks back down at the document she was signing, only looking back up when Kara turns to leave, a stupid grin on her face. “And find a damn vase for these flowers, they’ll wilt otherwise.”
“Right away, Ms Grant, and I won’t mess up, I promise.”
“You better not. Now get to work, you have a lot of research to do before the interview tomorrow.” Cat offers her the tiniest of smiles, barely a hint of one really, but after being her assistant for three years before being promoted to a reporter, Kara knows what to look for, and she can see it, the tiny smile paired with a hint of pride. Exactly the motivation she’s been in need of to give her the confidence to step back into the L-Corp building.
When she gets back to her office she’s happy to see that the majority of the flowers are gone, just a couple of bunches left, so she puts them in water before running to get a vase for Ms Grant to put hers in.
Lena might be the biggest pain in her ass there is going but she’s done a fine job of making Kara look good so far.
=
Kara hasn’t reached the entrance to L-Corp yet but she can already see a familiar face waiting beside the main doors, tablet in hand and not paying attention to the world around her.
“Hey.” Kara says, making Jess jump slightly because she’s just appeared at her side from seemingly nowhere.
“Hi, Kara. Are you ready?” Jess leads her inside.
Kara lets out a humourless chuckle. “As I’ll ever be, it will make my boss happy at the very least.”
“I bet she was, we have never given interviews to the press before, the most we do is show up to conventions and talk with nerds. I suppose it won’t be all that different to Lena. No offence.”
Kara frowns. “Is that you calling me a nerd?”
“Well, if the glasses fit.” Jess smiles, glad that her attempt at cracking a joke to put Kara more at ease is working.
“I only wear them half of the time, I wear contacts too!” Kara argues.
“So? It means that half of the time you’re a nerd in disguise then.”
Kara waits until they are in the elevator and there is nobody around to hear before she speaks again, not wanting anyone to overhear what she’s about to say. “So, has Lena gone all, you know, vampire-y again since the last time I was here?”
Jess shakes her head. “The opposite actually. She’s just been locking herself away in either her office or the lab. She’s been afraid she’ll hurt anyone else so she’s isolating herself for the most part and I’ve also had to refuse to send about twenty different apology letters to you and told her to give you space. She insisted on the flowers and I wasn’t informed of the amount she sent to you until after she’d already placed the order, sorry about that.”
Kara’s eyebrows flicker upwards. Yeah, I thought Ms Grant was going to murder me with the glare I got because of those. I only have a small office and so I couldn’t even step inside it. My co-workers were happy to take the majority off my hands, I don’t think the air in the bullpen has ever been so fresh.”
“So not the worst thing in the world but also not the best?”
“That about sums it up.” Kara says.
Jess turns her tablet on, taking a look at the schedule she has planned out. “So, you’ll be getting a basic walkthrough of all of the projects we have going on that are nearing completion from our department head down in the labs in a little while but first, Lena wants to talk to you. I will be with you the whole time though, don’t worry. I also have a little something for you to take home with you too.”
“If it isn’t the pie you promised me, I’m going to be mad.” Kara jokes, using humour as her way to try not to show how scared she is. She’s already hiding her shaky hands by gripping onto her notepad for dear life.
The closer they get to Lena’s office, the more nervous Kara becomes, the feeling she got last time they were together, the fear she felt when Lena grabbed her, lingering in the back of her mind, waiting to resurface properly.
“Then I guess you won’t be mad.” Jess gives her a tight smile, one that shows that she’s just as nervous about her and Lena’s reunion.
The walk from the elevator to the office doors is short but now, it feels like it could be a mile long and change with the way time seems to slow down, each second lasting minutes.
Kara watches as Jess holds a hand up to knock at the door, a light tap that won’t be too interruptive to Lena if she’s focusing on her work. Jess then pokes her head around the door and announces her arrival.
“Ms Luthor, Ms Danvers is here for her scheduled interview.”
“Thank you, Jess, Please let her in.” Kara hears her voice. She sounds calm in a way that Kara doesn’t know what to make of it.
Jess opens the door wider, nodding to Kara to tell her to go inside. Her feet feel like they are surrounded by concrete blocks, heavy and immovable.
When she doesn’t move, Jess looks at her, eyes full of worry and moves towards her, resting a comforting hand on her arm. “Hey, you got this. She’s not going to hurt you again, I won’t let her if she tries, ok?”
Kara’s listening to the words and screaming at herself to move but her feet just don’t want to move, don’t want to let her go into the room with the woman who has done a great job of making her life flash before her eyes.
As she’s still trying to move her feet, the worried face of the cause of all her problems appears behind Jess. “Would you like a few minutes to yourself before we start? I can go make us coffee or something?”
Her feet don’t work but her head does so she nods, not able to move out of the way for the vampire so when Lena scoots past her, their fronts brush ever so slightly, Lena’s freezing presence making her shiver as she passes.
With Lena gone for the moment, her feet begin to work again she’s able to slowly make her way into the room, taking a seat on the opposite side of the desk to the orthopaedic desk chair, the same kind her friend Winn bought once for gaming, it cost him almost a month’s paycheque but he raved about it for weeks so it must be good.
“Jess, if I freeze up again, I need you to like, throw water on me or something, if I go back to CatCo without a proper interview, I won’t be leaving that building alive.” Kara says after a minute, aware of Jess watching her.
“Cat Grant is that bad, huh?”
Kara’s eyes widen, accentuating her words. “Only ninety seven percent of the time. She has a soft spot in her at times but it’s rarer than a bigfoot sighting.”
Lena clears her throat as she passes through the door, giving them both a heads up that she’s back, giving Kara a chance to back out if she needs too, trying to be as respectful and non-threatening as she can. She’s already done enough damage, she needs to figure out how to make Kara comfortable, to make it up to her however she can.
“I wasn’t sure how you like it so I have black but brought sugar and creamer too.” Lena slides the tray onto the desk, handing Jess one, keeping one to herself and then just pushing the entire tray with the last mug and the extras over to Kara so she can sort her own out to fit her tastes.
“Thank you, Lena, and thank you for the flowers, although I would have been happy with a single bunch, I only have a small office so I had to spread them across the entire floor of CatCo. My co-workers appreciate it greatly.” Kara says. If she’s doing this, she’s doing it right. If she holds onto what happened too tight then her articles will end up biased and skewed, she needs these pieces to blow everyone out of the water, to get the editor-in-chief, Snapper, she calls him because of his inability to do anything other than snap at her and cover her articles in blasted red marks that tell her she messed up.
If Lena could blush, her face would be bright red by now. “My apologies for going overboard. I wasn’t sure how else to show my regret for what occurred and if you don’t mind, I would like to apologise to you in person, properly.”
“You already apologised.”
“And I made it all about me and made excuses in the process under the guise of an explanation. I shouldn’t have done what I did, none of the times. I cannot excuse any of it and I can’t expect you to forgive me, so I won’t badger you to do so. I can’t do much to make it better, but I can give you this, the opportunity to have something nobody else has had, a full tour of L-Corp’s projects, an interview with the CEO and anything else you want or need. I can’t apologise enough.”
“Well, thank you for apologising, and while we are on the subject, I should also be apologising to you.”
Both Jess and Lena freeze, fearful of what Kara could have done that she needs to apologize, especially with her profession.
Jess speaks up. “What do you mean?”
“I should have thought out what I was asking of you when I asked to out you as a vampire, that was a really awful thing of me to do to you and you didn’t deserve for me to put you in that position, and yes it doesn’t excuse what you did either, but it does help me understand.”
Lena’s mouth opens and then closes again so she can swallow down her emotions, tears building up in her eyes. “I can’t express how much that means to me.”
“I can’t expect you to right your wrongs or be a perfect person, especially if I’m not living by that myself.” Kara shrugs, shifting her glasses further up her nose.
Jess smiles at her, one warm enough that it could rival Sol’s rays in the middle of the Sahara. “Now that’s sorted then, shall we get on with the interview?”
Lena smiles her assent and Kara pauses, “can you give me a minute? I just need to load this coffee up with enough sugar and creamer to give me diabetes and then we’re good.”
“Take your time.” Lena leans back into her chair, her shoulders feeling a tad lighter after their opening conversation.
Read a whole bunch more chapters on Patreon here!
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sezja · 3 months
Text
First Kisses, Part 2
Previously
Thaffe will be heading home from the mine soon, Jeryk muses, chewing on his bottom lip. There's a book open in his hands - a technical manual on the assembly and maintenance of the current model of Talos being used in the Hills of Amber - but for once, he can't seem to make his mind focus on it. It's not just that he's already read it; when has that ever stopped him before? No, it's just that his thoughts are wandering, relentless.
If he hurries home now, maybe he'll catch Thaffe before he settles in for the night.
Stop that, he scolds himself, thumping his heels hard against the old desk he's sitting on. Give him space!
But it's been a whole week, he thinks, plaintive; he can't remember ever going so long without speaking to Thaffe in his entire life. The effort to find leonine has to take priority, he knows. They can't restore the Talos without finding proper hearts, after all, and without the Talos, there can be no trolley! Agna's taken the best miners deep into the old mines, seeking out good-sized chunks of leonine that might've been missed by previous generations. That's why Thaffe's been gone lately. That's all.
And of course all that digging tires him out, so it's only reasonable that he heads straight home... and heads right out again in the early hours, before Jeryk's so much as thought about stirring. The miners aren't supposed to be spending the entire day down there, but Thaffe's hardly the only one; he's just as determined to find leonine and get the Talos mended as Agna is.
That's all.
Jeryk's chewing his lip again, and the words on the page might as well be written in some ancient Ronkan alphabet, for all the sense he's able to make of them.
It's just a coincidence that Thaffe's been making himself scarce since...
Was it that bad?
Such a little thing, really, in the end. Maybe that's the problem; maybe they should've made a bigger thing out of it - first kisses are supposed to be world-changing, aren't they? Gods know Jeryk's been daydreaming about kissing Thaffe since he was fourteen, and maybe he ought to be disappointed that the real thing turned out to be so short, so brief: just the softest brush of Thaffe's lips on his own, and then it was over. It's just not in him, though, to feel slighted. Not when the kiss itself had been Thaffe's idea, Thaffe's suggestion! He hadn't even been bold enough to dare suggesting it himself...
Why's he avoiding me, then?
He's not. Surely not. Would Thaffe do that, just kiss him and then refuse to ever talk to him again? No.
Maybe they should've talked about it, Jeryk reasons, frowning at a diagram of a Talos's heart-chamber. Maybe they ought to have sat there in the aftermath of the kiss and had a proper talk about it, about what it was and what it wasn't; about what it meant and what it didn't mean - maybe he's gone and spooked Thaffe, that's the problem; maybe he'd put a little too much want into a tiny kiss that wasn't supposed to be anything more than a first kiss for two boys who might otherwise never get one.
He heaves an unsteady sigh, thinking about it. Small as it was, it's kept him warm at night - Thaffe's breath on his lips, the way Thaffe's cheeks turned as red as his hair, the way Jeryk's lips tingled for bells...
If he hurries home now, maybe he can catch Thaffe before he settles in for the night. Maybe it isn't too late to talk about it.
Give him space, he scolds himself, again. He'll come 'round when he's ready.
The door to the old offices opens. Strange; everyone else left a while ago-
"Thaffe!" There, see? He's not avoiding me. "I haven't seen you all week! Have you and Agna found any leonine?"
There's a look on the man's face Jeryk doesn't quite recognize, and his heart sinks. That's not the look of a man who's simply come to visit his best friend after work on a whim. Either something terrible happened in the mines... or this is about something more personal, more immediate.
This is about the kiss. Thaffe has been avoiding him.
But surely if the kiss was that bad, Thaffe would choose to keep some distance between them, the better to make it clear no such thing would ever happen again... but instead he closes the distance, coming to stand right in front of Jeryk. So close, Jeryk's sure Thaffe must hear the way his pulse speeds up; if Thaffe is about to tell him off for the kiss, the man very well might hear the moment Jeryk's heart shatters just as thoroughly as all those Talos' out there-
Thaffe tugs Jeryk's hat off, setting it aside with the book he doesn't remember putting down, and rests their foreheads together. They'd done this when they were children - giggling conspiratorially in the private space between them - but it's different now; charged. This close, Jeryk feels all but surrounded by Thaffe - by the warmth of him; by the scent of sweat and the hot earth of the mines; the whisper of his breath. Jeryk could drown in it, he thinks; he could die right here, and be content.
Until Thaffe says he'd like to kiss him again, and Jeryk realizes he needs to live.
Thaffe's hands are tough and calloused against his face, but gentle, so gentle. You'd never hurt me.
"Yes," he breathes, drawing Thaffe in close, needing to answer in the only way he can: with more kisses. And this time they'll be better. "Oh, yes!"
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foxgloveprincess · 8 months
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Hello! So my big burning question for Attic Wives Anonymous is: how on earth did these men find each other?? 😆 Did one one them place a Craigslist ad looking for like-minded individuals? Did two or more of them bump into each other at the hardware store while shopping for supplies at it spiraled out from there? Did they all have previous connections? This whole series has been such a blast so far, but this is the thing I can't stop thinking about. 😄
Hi! 😄
I love your big, burning question about A.W.A. I’ve thought about it because initially, when stringing these separate fics together, it was just on a whim. How they all met might be revealed in the Meeting series, though I don’t know if each backstory will be explained in full. So, I’ll explain it in brief here. Sorry in advance since I’m about to get ramble-y.
It all started with Lloyd and Ari.
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Lloyd, as we know, is a mercenary. He acquired his girl (in a way that will be revealed in his story) and then he met Ari. In this universe, I’ve decided that he’s a fixer. He’ll be hired at companies and other organizations (like his reader’s father’s company) to solve problems of various kinds. While hired to fix something that was Lloyd’s doing, they meet and because Lloyd’s shameless, he talks about his girl—which gives Ari his own ideas. He meets li’l dip not too long after.
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So the ‘meetings’ start with Ari and Lloyd’s acquaintance, getting together for coffee to discuss needs and how to lure someone in (Lloyd actually really helped Ari perfect his tumblr girl persona 😆 cause he’s a sarcastic little shit). Cue finding the contractor cause Lloyd may have a mansion, but Ari needs some work done on his private cabin to make it conducive for his sweet baby bear.
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And in their lines of work, they meet Mr. Freezy cause contract killer isn’t too far from mercenary and sometimes fixing means people have to disappear. So, he joins the circle—cause morally, he’s got no qualms. Freezy decides he wants a wifey for himself and takes his first girl, kitten (who, it turns out, does not have nine lives nor can she land on her feet when she falls).
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All while Ari gets hired by the Drysdales to help clean up a little mess Ransom’s made before the media gets to it and disparages their ‘good family name’. And like the self-important, entitled asshole he is, he loves the idea of a girl sequestered away to cater just to him (mostly cause he doesn’t really grasp why these men want to take their girls). And he starts making his list. Too many names that he’s working his way through eliminating while the contractor works on making his attic in Ransom’s exact specifications.
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Then they have to help clean up and cover up Mr. Freezy’s mess when kitten takes a long drop out the window. But he moves on fairly quickly to his princess and locks her away. This time, though, they all realize they’ll need to keep a better eye on their wifeys. They’re not gonna go down to Best Buy and grab some random cameras, they want the best of the best. Which leads them to Jake through a recommendation from their contractor. Now, Jake had already met his angel and started his pursuit of her, so he fit right in to the group and was happy to help bolster their security where it was needed.
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So, there they were—either happy with their girls locked away or getting ready for them. The only thing is, they don’t have everyone in their network that they need. For one, when their wifey gets sick, they need a doctor. So they find one willing to work with them and make house calls.
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They also need someone in law enforcement, who knows the ins and outs, can talk the talk, and can help sweep things under the rug. They stumble upon Andy Barber, a man who has a dark side to him lurking under his shining, righteous exterior. Freezy spots it right away and Lloyd approaches first, but it’s Ari who’s able to talk to Andy and dig deep into that darkness and drag it to the surface. Andy dives in with enthusiasm, spots his honey in a case file and has Freezy snatch her away (sight unseen)—which doesn’t turn out as happily ever after as he was hoping.
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And so these six men, with their few accomplices (there might be more helpers in their networks, I just haven’t thought of them yet), have figured out what they want and how to keep it. The six meet at a set time every week or so at a centrally located community recreation center to discuss how things are going, any problems that arise, or best practices for whatever. They always clean up after themselves and everyone knows that no one bothers them, ever.
That’s just how I thought of it and how it all came together for me. This is a rough timeline with some wiggle room in when the guys actually joined. But they all came together through shared interest or necessity (which turned into shared interest). Hope this answers your question to your satisfaction. But, if not, I’m always happy to discuss my stories and answer questions to the best of my ability.
🗝️ Attic Wives Anonymous Masterlist 🗝️
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msommers · 6 months
Note
5, 8, 24 and 32 for riya/victor and 6 for any riya ship (or potential ship?) of your choice!
thank youuuuuu. now pretend i published this in a timely manner and didn't forget to hit post the other night xoxo // development questions for couples
How do they consciously realize that they like the other character? Does it take them a while?
there was a solid year before they made things official in which they played a game of push & pull because they both were getting such a kick out of it, and i think riya's genuine feelings would have manifested somewhere during that time. riya's interest was purely surface level for a while as she found entertainment in his persistence and displays for her attention and [redacted horny shit], but the actual moment of realizing she Liked the guy beyond their game would have taken a few months. almost certainly after noticing that he wasn't getting tired of her teasing and it only encouraged him further, she loved that he couldn’t be deterred by any of her more attitude-filled responses or bad moods. 
i think victor probably had his realization talking to bastian tbh. bastian would have been tired of having to watch his brother flirting with riya as he had to constantly be nearby to do his due diligence as her guard, and victor would've been given a moment of "no wait, it's not like that. i want more" while being admonished for choosing the worst lady to pick as his next temporary fixation. of course that made bastian's life more miserable because victor doubled down on his efforts to gain riya's true affection with bigger acts but that's not his problem, maybe just go take 15 and relax for once while they have some fun, bud.
What do they think about romantic love? Do they have baggage surrounding it? Do they idealize it? Is it an object of longing and wanting, or were they really not thinking about it until they started falling for the other character? What are their expectations like?
neither of them had big thoughts about it as they'd spent a lot of years going through lovers like they were flavors of the week/month. riya likely had the strongest outlook on it because of what a romantic her father is and how she'd seen him display it over the years to her mother, but i wouldn't say she had that kind of love as her #1 priority. they both discovered what that kind of love was like together as they grew closer and found no desire to end things. riya expected romance to be digging in roots together and building a family because of what she'd seen from her father's happiness, but turns out her and victor's romance was more like discovering they wanted to share the thrill-seeking with each other. it used to be just following whims for the excitement in the moment for just oneself, but then ideas came with thoughts of "i want [him/her] here for this" and it was clear the love had reached a deeper level than it had with others. 
What would their partner do that would really turn them on, perhaps unintentionally?
one of victor’s plays during that year of chasing was getting onto his knees and hamming it up with some praising, not-so-subtle flirting, and lowkey begging for her attention because he thought she’d get a kick out of it, and hey maybe they’d have some fun in a side room before she shooed him away for the night if she got enough of a laugh out of it. turns out he flipped some switch in her because something Awakened in riya seeing him like that and he for sure secured her attention for the entire evening with that one lmao every instance after that was very intentional, homeboy spent a lot of time on his knees for this woman.
first of all, riya knows all too well when she’s doing something to get somebody hot and bothered tbh. now for the actual answer: riya’s incredibly tactile and doesn't shy away from being touchy with her lovers/partners at all times. victor loved it in general but the 👀 came whenever she was grabby with him. stuff like taking his chin in hand to shift his focus to where she wanted it, pulling him in by the neck or chin for a kiss, holding him still there before said kiss just to tease him, pushing/pulling him around in bed when she wanted him somewhere specific, etc etc. he was a sucker overall for her being the more dominant one
How do their friends react to finding out they’re a couple? Do they have lots of mutual friends? Did their friends know, perhaps before they themselves did?
they probably do have a lot of mutual friends now that i think about it, and i’m sure none of them were surprised by the time they made it official. definitely some people who weren't so happy (out of jealousy or annoyance, take your pick), some who were excited by it, and a few who didn't give a fuck because they assumed the pair would move on to a new person like they had been doing for years. they both had plenty of lovers in the past and suitors in the present, it would have been no surprise if they'd called it quits, but those odds got lower with each year that went by! insert more bastian going thru hell about it goofs here
How do they react to the realization that they like the other character? Is it an “oh my god I’m never going to think about this again” thing, or are they pretty comfortable with it?
(a second post for the riya/leroux tag bc spotify shuffle played the leroux song while i was brushing my hair and that's basically god herself telling me what to do here)
riya's entirely comfortable with it because it didn’t really have time to develop into anything really deep?? it was mostly her just projecting the idea she’d be down to make a moaning room out of any free space if they had half an hour or more to fool around, y’know. plus she's used to developing attraction and connections to people relatively quickly. she was fine to throw a few flirts his way to check the vibes and then continue on without making a fuss about it 🤷‍♀️
i can only presume any leroux reaction would be along the lines of "i literally cannot think about this right now" given the Everything that was going down during the time they had together, and he's not exactly built like riya over there. no time for moaning rooms or making eyes @ each other there's work to be done you little freak (he wouldn't call her that) ((she'd be fine if he did tho. might even like it))
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genshin-whumpact · 1 year
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Hi.
This is going to be an interesting post, so I would like to start off by saying that if you are still following me/checking on my blog/interacting with my content after my very very long period of inactivity, then thank you. I appreciate it, even thought I probably haven’t been the most interesting blog to follow, content wise anyway.
I would like to apologize for said lack of inactivity. It has been almost a year and a half since I last wrote anything for my blog, and that means many asks in my inbox have been there for a whopping 16 months or longer. There have been many things I’ve wanted to do, and for some reason I just…can’t. Whumptober was one of them. I had many ideas for it, and it never happened. Same with Whumpcember. I hyped myself up for it, only to realize that on the first day of December, there was no way I could possibly do it. I’ve had finals creep up at the last minute, and also my artistic abilities are not anywhere close to where I would like them to be.
I…honestly don’t know what to say. I’m frustrated with myself, and I’m disappointed. I created this blog to be something fun; I wanted to make my favorite type of content for my favorite game, but actually sitting down, thinking, writing is just so hard. I love writing, I really do, but I have a hard time actually doing it. And I’ve let a lot of people down. I don’t know anymore if it’s just my procrastination or perfectionism getting in the way, or if I’m just not meant to write.
It’s frustrating to want to do something and just…not be able to do it. No matter how hard you try.
But! I’m not giving up. This is not goodbye. This is final desperate attempt to get my act together and figure out just how to do this. Maybe I jumped into it too fast, making a blog on a whim and just trying to roll with it. I’ve never used tumblr before I made my blog, and it’s still taken a while to get used to everything. But I want to keep my blog, even if that means trying some new ideas. Posting my own works instead of sticking specifically to asks might be a good idea.
So in conclusion, I’m taking the month of December to figure this out. Improve my art skills, tackle a lot of those asks, maybe even dig out some of my old WIPs and introduce those to the (small) Genshin whump community. I want to enjoy my blog, and I want to make more content that I enjoy.
January 1, 2023, I will be back and posting, hopefully semi-consistently. Whether it’s asks, my own works, or art, it will be something. I promise. So thank you for your patience, and I hopefully won’t disappoint you. I look forward to seeing what the new year brings, and hopefully it is a lot of new ideas and motivation.
—Selle
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adleryoung · 1 year
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A few minutes after Adler leaves, some of you in the audience begin whispering amongst yourselves: "Is he gone?" "Yes. Did you swap his tie?" "I did. Are you sure this will work?" "Of course. That tie came from the Kringle himself. It bears an enchantment forged of pure Christmas magic, ancient and primeval. It functions as a tracking device. No matter where he hides, the Kringle will know exactly where he is. Not only that, but if he tries to pook at any point he'll be sent directly to the Kringle's workshop." "Excellent. And if this succeeds-" "The Kringle will deliver on his end of the bargain. Oscar Meyer Wiener Whistles for all of us." "But I wanted a bag of thirty silver pieces." "Quiet, someone's coming." The Guest Narrator enters and looks around.
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What up, my righteous dudes and dudettes? Whoah, man, you all seem like, pretty tense. Perhaps you are buggin' or illin'? If so, my bad. Sorry to leave you hangin' like that for … oh, however long that was, but I totally needed a minute to get ready for this gig. It's not every day a humble lowfolk dude gets asked to stand in for the king of the elves, you dig? Anyway, I'm totally psyched and pumped to be here, not to mention stoked as well. Who am I? My name's not important; you probably have no idea who I am anyway. Let's just say I'm a huge fan of Adler Young, and I've been like, following his story from the very start. It's a totally bodacious and rad, and perhaps even gnarly honor to be chosen by the big elf himself for this task, and I bet the rest of you wish he trusted you this much. I've got the book and I'll be reading from where we left off. Oh, and for like, the sake of total convenience I'll just stick with first-person narration since that's how this thing is written. Cool? Awesome. Let's get right to it then …
As the Ixies warmed up the witches, I risked a quick peek over the dolmen to see what I would be working with. They seemed to be pretty much exactly what I imagined: A group of awkward social outcasts wearing too much black and too much makeup. A few of them had really bad posture. Hopefully I could help them find the dignity and self-confidence they lacked.
"HARK!" one of the Ixies yelled. They all went silent as if listening for something. When did they have a chance to rehearse this? It was practically perfect!
"He approacheth!" another Ixie declared.
"Cheese it!" a third one exclaimed. "Fly, Sisters, fly! Woe be unto whomsoever is caught lolligagging!"
The Ixies all buzzed away into the bushes, leaving an expectant hush over the stone circle. This was too good! On a sudden whim, I asked the trees to start rustling as if in a stiff breeze.
"There's no wind," one of the witches observed.
"By the Bunny!" someone else whispered. "This is sooo spooky!"
Wait, was she genuinely getting scared? That wasn't what I intended! Time to get down there and start this meet-up properly!
I cast a bright flash-bang with a cloud of smoke in front of the dolmen, and immediately pooked in behind it, then strode forward through the cloud. I glamered my eyes to glow, and magickally amplified my voice to sound thunderous and impressive.
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"Who dares enter my domain?" I coughed through the smoke as a few butterflies flitted around me. "Who are you, that presume to be worthy to stand before me?"
"EEEEEEE!" one of the witches squealed in what might have been terror. "You spoke the truth, young Rebecca!"
"He's cute!" another one added.
"I need crusaders who are pure of heart and of noble of deed," I declared loudly, refusing to be sidetracked by their inappropriate remarks. "I see before me naught but witches and ne'er-do-wells whose hearts overflow with wicked desires!"
I was having trouble seeing, so I dispelled the glowing effect from my eyes and peered hard at my so-called coven.
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"You!" I bellowed, pointing at one and exerting Elfmind on her. "You were willing to sell your immortal soul just so you could bewitch some boy you have a crush on. The most precious thing any being has to offer, and you would squander it for a one night stand?"
The chubby vixen just grinned and gazed at me in gleeful amazement.
"And you!" I shouted, switching my attention to … was she a small bear or a large mouse? "You wanted to learn how to curse your mother's garden so nothing could ever grow there again. You would curse your own mother over nothing but a small list of petty slights?"
"Well duh," the mouse (or was she a bear?) responded.
This wasn't going quite like I had expected.
"You!" I yelled, pointing at the duck in the back. She flinched noticeably, and when I probed with Elfmind, I detected her inwardly reciting, over and over, the mantra "Please don't tell them my secret, please don't tell them my secret, please don't tell them my secret…"
"You harbor a secret so dark," I improvised hastily, "this hallowed place shall not be profaned by the utterance of it."
The duck seemed to almost go limp with relief. What was going on? They didn't seem all that impressed with my mind-reading and my moral judgements! I was at a loss here. There was no choice but to push forward with my performance and hope for the best.
"I am he who is known as LORD RANDALL!" I proclaimed. "I am an agent of Seeliness, and a devout servant of Lady Fuma! I require, nay, DEMAND that my disciples be the same, and…"
"Hey, sweet thing," the bent old opossum crone cackled. "You didn't read my mind yet."
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greatwyrmgold · 1 year
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Beat & Motion & Dreams
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So, Beat & Motion seems to be establishing a major theme, one that fits the other stuff it's been doing pretty well. Tatsuhiko gave his animation dream another shot after his band fell through, and he was rewarded with a chance to keep doing animation professionally.
And this hits a personal spot for me.
There were a lot of great anime in 2021, but Aquatope on White Sands was my personal favorite. It's about an idol whose idol dreams fell apart, was given a chance to work at a struggling aquarium, and found joy in it. It aired when I was realizing my dream of becoming a biologist had failed, and was trying to find the joy in accounting work. (Which does exist, depending on the job, but that's a topic for another post.)
My point is, B&M is taking a radically different perspective than Aquatope. Aquatope is about realizing that you don't need to follow your childhood dreams to find happiness. B&M is about rediscovering your childhood dreams, vague as they might be.
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When I was a kid, I wanted to be a biologist. That's it, "a biologist." I wanted to be a scientist who studies animals and stuff. I never really questioned this dream, I merely iterated on it. My plan was simple: Get a basic biology degree, find some entry-level biology work to figure out exactly what I wanted to do, get a graduate degree in that field, get a better job. I failed step 2, and that's why I'm in accounting school now.
Maybe if I'd picked a field, stuck through several more years of school, and gotten a PhD or something, I could have been a biologist. Maybe that would have worked. But maybe not, and I don't think I would have done it without foreknowledge. I thought I had a dream, but I kinda didn't.
That's the thing about dreams. They're not bound to reality.
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The freedom of dreams can be a good thing, but it also makes dreams hard to act on. I couldn't become "a biologist" without a more specific, more grounded idea of what that might entail...and I never got that idea. I would have basically needed an opportunity handed to me.
Luckily for Tatsuhiko, that opportunity came in the form of Nico. On one hand, she literally provides an opportunity for Tatsuhiko to follow his dream, in the sense that she hires him to animate her music video. On the other hand, she also pushes him to pursue his dream.
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Nico is dreaming unhindered, not worrying about practicality or tact or anything. Tatsuhiko wants to be an animator, so he should be an animator—and he should try to be the best d**n animator possible, the most skilled, the most successful.
From a plot utility perspective, this makes Nico a bit of a manic pixie dream girl. But she doesn't just wander into Tatsuhiko's life and start making things better just because. She only wants to work with Tatsuhiko because he posted that random butterfly animation. Tatsuhiko took the first step himself, of his own volition, moving himself towards his near-forgotten dream and away from the practical yet dull reality of...a failing rock band?
In case you'd forgotten, Tatsuhiko's job before the animation thing was as the bassist in a crappy band. It lasted a few years, but broke up right before Tatsuhiko listened to a drunk woman rant at him. That lead to him digging out his old drawings, animating on a whim, etc etc.
But before that, he was in a band. A failing band. So on one hand, Tatsuhiko didn't have much to lose by pursuing his dream, which isn't a broadly applicable truth. (Contrast, say, Recovery of an MMO Junkie; Morihito chose to give up a high-paying office job to play MMOs.)
But there's a more fundamental issue here. Bands are also a common dream, an artistic endeavor which few people can turn into an actual career. So why was Tatsuhiko's animation dream successful and his band dream a failure?
I wish I could say I expected this question to be explored in later chapters, but I don't think the band has come up once since chapter 1. Analysis of this question is limited to chapter 1, which doesn't go into much detail. And the detail provided isn't great. There's plenty of framing suggesting that the band is a bad dream, but I can only find one possible reason which makes any sense.
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Tatsuhiko's band dream wasn't a "real" dream, because it was forced on him by an outside source. He was talked into his band dream—which, to be clear, was genuinely held. He gets excited about it, just not in the first few panels after he's recruited.
Contrast this with his animation dream, which sprang fully-formed out of the forehead of Zeus...
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...or not. It's also the result of someone telling him he should be an animator, this time an old animator giving a presentation at his school. Which is probably a good thing, because it means I don't have to try and litigate the difference between a dream that comes from "inside" and one that comes from "outside". Your insides are shaped by the outside world, after all!
So if that's not it, what's the difference? A few possibilities:
Is it honesty? As far as we know, the animator was just being nice and didn't mean it, while all indications point to the band members being genuine. So...probably not.
Is it initial excitement? Probably not; that's just an absurdly superficial reason to judge a dream "real" or not. It's probably just another way to frame one dream as "good" and the other as "bad," not the reason one is good.
Is it ulterior motive? The band members convince Tatsuhiko to join the band for extrinsic rewards, while the animator doesn't have any apparent motive at all. I guess that's not nothing, but it's barely there.
Did the author, knowing that the band was just a distraction for Tatsuhiko and not his Real Dream, not actually bother to explain why?
I think that the last factor is, at least, a significant component. Beat & Motion isn't terrible—it has its strengths, a clear artistic vision, and a solid idea of how to execute that vision—but it's no masterpiece.
The underdeveloped "band dream" thing isn't a crippling flaw. Generally, an author can just show us that a thing in the protagonist's backstory is Not Good and expect the audience to accept this as true without having to explain why it's Not Good. And this is basically that.
The problem is that the Not Good Thing overlaps with something the story considers extremely good—chasing your dreams. It's not intentionally part of the series's thematic construction, but that doesn't mean it doesn't influence it. You can't write a story about following your dreams, throw in a band failing at their dreams, and not have the latter affect the former somehow.
I hope I'm wrong. I hope Beat & Motion circles back to the question of what dreams should be pursued and which should be abandoned, because that's a pretty significant question for a chase-your-dreams narrative. (And, you know, one that's raised by the protagonist abandoning one dream.)
But that's the state of things, three chapters in.
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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years
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Can you do a reader x Damon salvatore where everyone thinks the only reason they are together is because damon sired her, but she gets angry and tells them the truth that she always had feelings and didn't say anything because she knew he liked Elena...
Sire Or No Sire
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damon Salvatore x reader / masterlist
summary; it is easily perceived why you look at Damon the way that you do, though most people think that is an affect of him having turned you to save your life. And that is the last straw of you realising that they know nothing / warnings; mentions of Damon x Elena, mentions of Damon x Caroline, jealousy, angst, mentions of the sire bond, mentions of sex, swearing, angst, breakup, toxic friendships
Their voices, their aloud opinions, brought you nothing but pain, the tragedy seeping into your vervain allergic veins, as you shook your head. It was as though they thought that you were unable to hear their chatter, but you knew that they would be wrong with assuming so. You were no longer weak, with human senses flooding your every whim, you were a vampire.
An immortal. It felt strange to think that you would no longer age in physical layers, instead, your mind would be the only participant within your body to forever grow with the various memories that you would be collecting through the next decades. Though, you weren’t the only one, Caroline was in that room, reprimanding Damon for saving your life.
You could hear her words loud and clear, as the Salvatores and the rest of your friends stood by, some agreeing with her, such as Elena, whereas others remained silence, such as the vampire that had turned you in the first place. The viscous tone hissing out of the blonde’s mouth scathed you emotionally, and ended with you thudding back against Damon’s bedroom door, before entering the room, and ensuring that it was locked behind you.
“The two of you are only together because of the sire bond. You turning her, had become nothing more an excuse to fuck and put a label on it!”
Did she think that she was defending you? Because to you, it didn’t sound like it, but that was Caroline for you, always insistent of her opinion, though, you two did get along. The pair of you understood what it was like to be on the sidelines, whilst perfect Elena played the victim every time, and got any guy she wanted, even her friends were swayed with the young gentlemen first.
Elena Gilbert was the epiphany of perfect; she was the damsel in distress, giving the opportunity to whomever she sought after to come and save her. You weren’t her, dissimilar to the whiny brunette, you were prepared to fight the monsters that threatened your life, human or not. And that included Damon long ago, before you saw how sweet the over century old man was.
One thing that you had never done though, was date someone and bluntly flirt with their brother. That was crossing a line, you appreciated honesty, especially in this lifestyle, and Caroline had declared her thoughts. She spoke truthfully, believing her own words, though they were far from facts.
They needed to know that you weren’t invested in a relationship with Damon because of him turning you, it was something you had never asked for, nor dreamed about. But it had happened, and whilst it brought the pair of you closer, there was no maker bond, instead, there had already been a flirtatious brewing between the pair of you whilst you were still human.
You becoming like him gave the two of you more time together as he trained you to breathe idly in and calm your bloodlust. Or how in the middle of the night, he would come by your house, and awake you from a terror, afterwards taking you for an innocent stroll through the woods.
Without him, you’d have been on a path to nowhere, lost and unable to find a route to continue on, wading through the life after death with no direction, nor set course to keep you in line. Surely, you’d have murdered many a man or woman, if you were dependant with surviving with her bewitched curse of immortality, digging into their inviting throats with your dagger canine teeth, that pulsed to be fed.
“That’s a load of- you know what, think what you want to think, you have a history of jealousy filled, toxic and werewolf involved relationships, you are not exactly the best person here to judge me on my healthy and loving romantic partnership with y/n!”
Damon half yelled at the vampiric blonde, however, another tone was fast to respond to his defensive outburst and cause the both of you a disgruntled pair of expressions. “She was turned by you brother, that runs the risk of a sore bond appropriating her feelings.”
Oh, noble Stefan. He had caused you to snap, thrusting the door open to his brother’s bedroom open, making its hinges weaken, as you whisked through the halls in seconds, joining the compendium of mystic falls in the living space, all eyes turned to you, well aware that you had heard all their smart mouthed and toxic opinions.
The sire bond wasn’t something that was too uncommon, however it affected nothing in your life. It was just for them to pick at something that was good, they could never allow something that was actually decent to revel in existence. They had to be the ones with the perfect prissy lives, not others.
“Shut your mouth, ripper!” Yes, you pulled at that string of his life, dangling it degradingly before his eyes, watching as his eyes that were focalised into you turned sour. “I love your brother, and just because you loved the love triangles the pair of you would be involved in with bitchy Gilbert over there, or bloody Katherine, does not make any other people that he or you are with invalid!”
Elena stepped forwards, her doe eyes boring with contained anger towards you. Though instead of speaking to you, her words were directed at her ex, and she wanted to gouge your reaction. “You promised me that we were going to last forever, are you going to do the same to her?”
“No, because I don’t need a time span to appreciate her presence in. I don’t need to tell her lies nor make selfish promises, because with her I am a better man.” Damon sneered at her, coming to stand beside you, protectively wrapping his arm around your shoulders.
“It’s the sire bond.” Elena stated furiously, hating the fact that she was not getting her way. In turn, you laughed, shaking your head at her incessant denial of allowing Damon to move on.
“Shut the fuck up, if you had maybe given a shit about me in the past, you’d have realised that I would stare at you enviously when you were at his side. But maybe you knew, and you just wanted to brag, but I can prove that there is no bond other than the one we already built together.”
“Yeah, and how are you going to do that?” She pestered, and with a sorrowful glance directed at Damon, you dropped your head, anything but proud with what you were about to do. Swiftly you turned, watching as Damon’s eyes widened.
“I’m going to leave.” Whence you began to walk, a hand grasped your wrist, keeping your feet locked where they were. Caroline’s voice broke through the air, her eyes were filled with regret, from all the things that she had said, and all the opinions that she had formed.
“You’re not serious! You’re gonna break up with him because of us?” Stiffly you nodded, watching as Damon felt a taken back. He gaped his mouth open, in shock.
“I’d do anything for my friends, despite the circumstances not being reciprocated. I’m not even allowed to be in a relationship with the man that I love because you are all endorsed with the idea that it’s some stupid bond. Yes, we have a bond, but it’s not a sire one.”
“Baby, don’t.” Damon practically begged, watching as you yourself were torn and conflicted in regards to the situation. A sad smile monitored your face, as you slipped out of his grasp.
“We might have to wait another lifetime until we’re allowed to be together without resorts of undermining and people that don’t really care about us. Some people want there to be a whole ass agility course to separate us, but maybe if we wait, we can prove how wrong they are, if they’re not dead by then.”
Caroline felt terrible, once again Stefan had taken his brother’s life from him, and Elena, well she felt accomplished. She went to reach for Damon’s arm, but he threw her consoling manner and herself across the room, heading straight after you, with a bottle of bourbon.
If you could leave them to prove a point, so could be; he loved you. That was enough, especially for him, he could leave those doses of poison behind, if he would grant himself permission without asking, a peaceful life with you.
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babygirlbenji · 2 years
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I Got The Job - Mason Mount
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A/N: this gif mr mount i adore u 😩 this is jus something short and sweet that i wrote on a whim just to keep y'all interested, sry it's a bit rubbish LOL anyway. here we go (yes i used this as a manifestation for my dream to work at chelsea lmao)
Job hunting was the confirmed bane of your life. Application after application, cover letter after cover letter, rejection after rejection; it seemed like an endless cycle of dead ends and failure.
You were beginning to lose hope when Mason burst in from training one day, red-faced from exertion and breathless.
‘Did you run from the Bridge?’ you asked, amused.
‘Chels are looking for a new photographer and social media person thingy!’ he blurted out. The fact that he disregarded your question quickly dissipated from your mind, and you stood up from the kitchen island where you’d been browsing Indeed for jobs, looking for anything from waitressing work to radio broadcaster at your local radio station.
‘They’re what?!’
‘Babe, they’re looking for someone exactly like you. Undergrad in journalism with extra social media and photography experience, you know the team, you love the club, it’s a perfect fit!’ He wasn’t wrong; your undergraduate had come from one of the best journalism programmes in the country, and you’d freelanced as a social media consultant for a few companies to earn some extra income.
‘What if they think I just got it because of you?’ Mason held your hands, a slow grin forming on his face.
‘This is your dream job, babe, I know it is. You’ve been supporting the club since before we even met when we were kids, you’re one of the most talented photographers I know and you can do all the cool things with the club TikTok, you know all the trends.’ You raised an eyebrow.
‘Was that a dig at how much time I spend on TikTok?’ His face clearly said ‘really?’, so you dropped it. ‘I’ll send an application, see what happens.’ As much as you wanted (or rather, yearned for) a job at your childhood club, you knew how competitive it was in this industry, especially for a big club like Chelsea.
‘They haven’t even advertised it yet, I heard one of the photographers saying that he’s leaving and the media department are looking for a replacement.’ Mason didn’t seem to understand the confusion on your face, prompting you to spell it out for him.
‘How am I supposed to apply for a job that doesn’t even exist yet?’ He handed you a business card with the Chelsea logo on it. It had the words ’Siobhan Beechwood - Head of Marketing & PR’ emblazoned under a thick blue line just beneath the logo.
‘Managed to get 5 minutes with our head of marketing, talked you up, she’s expecting your call.’ You took the card from him and held your hands up in defeat.
‘Fine, I’ll call. What could possibly happen?’
*
What could possibly happen is you got an interview the very next day. Mason drove you in and dropped you off (not before giving you a pep talk you definitely needed), saying that no matter what happens, he is fiercely proud of you and will support you no matter what you do. He helped you find the office of Siobhan Beechwood, gave you a final kiss good luck, before you knocked on the door.
‘Y/N, hi, come in!’ Siobhan greeted you with a hug and beckoned you over to sit at one of the chairs in front of her desk. ‘Did you find us okay?’ You nodded.
‘Yes, thank you, Mason actually drove me here and made sure I got here okay.’ Your palms were clammy with nerves; you wanted this job more than anything in the world. Working at the same place as your boyfriend and all your best friends, in a job you craved since you graduated over six months ago… you spent half the night awake thinking of all the possible memories you could make.
As the interview progressed, you could barely tell if it was going well or not. Siobhan was very personable and charismatic, and she obviously had huge amounts of passion for the club and its team. However, she was very good at keeping a poker face, and you had no idea if your answers to her questions were leading you in the right direction.
It could have been 30 minutes later, it could have been two hours later, you didn’t know.
‘And finally, Y/N, I do have to ask, your relationship with Mason, how do you hope to keep it professional while working with us?’ Your heart jumped a bit at those words; it sounded like you had it in the bag.
‘Mason and I have been together for just over two years, and we did have this conversation on the way here. We said that if I get this job, it is strictly professional while I’m working at all times, no displays of affection and nothing that will get in the way of his training and my work. I know it appears as though that I got in before everyone else because my boyfriend plays for the team, but I believe I have the talent and drive to do this job well and make the club that bit more special to the fans.’ You knew the answer was kind of cringe, especially the last bit, but you wanted to make sure that your potential new boss was aware of your tenacity to perform well.
Siobhan thought about it, and then stood up, wiping her hands on her jeans.
‘Well, Y/N, you are an impressive young lady. We’d be delighted to have you on the team. Welcome to Chelsea Football Club.’ She held out her right hand for you to shake, and you did so with gusto.
‘Thank you, thank you so much, I can’t wait to join the team!’ You smiled at her, and she returned it.
‘Your first day will be next Monday at 8am. Bring your camera and whatever lenses you have, you’ll be shadowing our lead photographer Damon at the training session in Cobham.’ You made a mental note to put that in your phone calendar when you left the room, and you thanked her for her time, before approaching the door to leave. ‘Oh, Y/N,’ Siobhan called. You turned to face her. ‘Go find Mason and tell him, I’ll let you off the professional rule just this once.’ You smiled.
‘What about when we win the Premier and Champions Leagues this year?’ She winked at you.
‘That’s the attitude we like here, Y/N.’ You thanked her again and left the room, hurrying down the hall to try and find Mason. As you were going to text him asking him where he was, a voice echoed from the hall behind you.
‘Y/N! Y/N!’ Mason and Ben were walking a few hundred yards behind you. ‘How did it go, babe?’ Mason’s question was more of a demand. You grinned delightedly and started skipping down the hall towards them, arms outstretched. Mason watched you as you gallivanted towards him; your face was alight with an enormous grin and your hair was swaying from side to side as you neared him and Ben, who was watching with an equally big grin.
‘I got the job!’ Your voice was high-pitched and ecstatic as you jumped onto him, legs wrapping around his waist. His arms gripped your own waist. Your legs detached from his waist and he spun you around, both of your giggles bouncing off the walls of the brightly-lit hallway. Mason beamed down at you, your feet reconnecting with the floor. ‘I got the job, Mase, I start on Monday!’ He laughed delightedly into your hair.
‘I knew you’d do it! Congrats, babe,’ he leant in to kiss you, both of you grinning against the other’s lips. ‘My baby works at my club!’ He cheered, starting to jump in a circle around you. You shook your head teasingly at his antics. Ben put his arm around you for a side-hug, which you accepted gratefully.
‘Congratulations, lovely, you deserve it, we can’t wait to have you here all the time!’ You laughed and leant up to kiss his cheek.
‘Thanks, Benji, you lot better start behaving now I’m here, or I’ll put some discipline on you.’
‘With what muscle?’ Mason’s comment earned him a slap to the chest and a laugh from Ben.
'That includes you, Mount, I'll get all your transgressions on camera.'
'I don't know what that word means, but okay, if you say so.'
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haztory · 3 years
Note
hi mcdonald’s can i get uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nanami + “nice tits”
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“Nice tits.” from my writing event that ends today! 
 warnings: adult language and sexual themes, but that’s about it!
a/n: 3k words all for sanju that probably strays from the prompts but its fine bc i love you biiiiitch. thanks to everyone that requested a prompt! they will be out momentarily!!
nanami kento x gn!reader
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There’s a universal understanding amongst the adults in the general realm of well-formed maturity and a sense of responsibility that there is no situation to ever exist in which listening to Gojo Satoru’s advice is a viable option. 
Much less any advice about love.
“You know,” His voice sings to your left, interrupting the tranquil silence of your office by his surprise warping, “If you needed help in satisfying your urges, you only had to ask. Looking at porn during school hours is a bit of a cry for help, (Y/N).”
“Go away, Gojo.” You reply, hardly perturbed at his unannounced visit and continuing the matter at hand. Your index finger continues its motions, pushing the wheel of the mouse downwards and studying the plethora of Google Search images the float past your eyes on your computer monitor.
Gojo leans his elbow on your desk, perching himself on the left side of your body, “Hey, I don’t judge! I’ve done it once or twice myself. I just always pictured you as more of an ass-person.”
Landing on an appropriate image for your task you click it, enlarging it on your screen. Gojo whistles.
“Now that’s just obscene, isn’t it?”
A finger enters your line of sight, pointing itself obnoxiously at the screen, specifically at the rather large pectoral belonging to that of a male model. An image that is necessary for your study of a new cursed technique that you witnessed on your last excursion with Nobara, and not at all the focus of sexual release as Gojo might insist. Even if they are rather admirable in their size. 
You would rather die before ever telling him that, though.
“They should really put a warning on those honkers—”
“Is there a reason you’re bothering me?” You ask bluntly, printing the image and retrieving it from the printer tray beside you.
“I just wanted to see what my second favorite teacher was doing, but never did I think I would catch you in the act of making a shrine to tits, so—”
You roll your head to the left, meeting Gojo’s shit-eating grin with a deadpan stare. With a sigh, you shake your head, “I’m studying.”
Even beneath the blindfold, you can see the waggle in his brows as he props his head on the bent elbow. “Oh suuure.”
Huffing impatiently, you swivel your desk chair to face him, placing a singular finger on his chest to push him back from your immediate space. He only continues to grin in his usual unabashed manner, as though he’s caught you red-handed. It makes you roll your eyes once more.
 You didn’t need to explain yourself; it wasn’t like you were doing anything immoral. Sure, staring at a number of pectoral muscles might seem inappropriate to the passing eye, but it was easily explainable. 
But as it always is with Gojo, he manages to rub that small part of you that just has to fight back. Fuckin’ prick. “We came across a cursed technique two days ago that targeted the chest. It caused—”
Gojo waves his hand in your face, “Seismic tremors in the pectoral muscles that affected a cursed energy point, yeah, yeah. Nobara told me all about it.”
“If you knew what I was doing why are you making me sound like such a creep?!” You exclaim, kicking his chest with the heel of your shoe. He catches your foot with a laugh, dropping it and holding his index finger upward.
“Because it’s fun to tease you.”
Huffing, you turn back to your monitor and point at the door, “Leave.”
“Oh, come onnn,” He warps in front of your computer, leaning himself over the top of the screen, “I’ve brought you a little gift of knowledge to help your studying.”
Even as he desperately tries to insert his gangly arms into your line of vision, you continue typing into the search bar. Some variations of “pectoral”, “muscles”, and “large men”. For research purposes, of course.
“Oh yeah?” You ask noncommittally, knowing full well the manner in which Gojo dangles his plots of mischief disguised as help, “And what would that be?”
Smiling largely once more, he lets out a giggle, “The larger the muscle, the more potent the attack on the cursed energy.”
Sparing him a quick glance, you mumble, “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”
“No, but it does take a genius to figure out how to reverse the effects.”
He stops the statement there; grin audible in his words. After having spent years in the presence of the obnoxious Gojo Satoru, you already know there’s an ulterior motive to his words, something that is going to bite you in the ass rather aggressively.
And as much as you want to avoid being in the line of fire, especially the one directed by him, you’re simultaneously dying to know where this is going.
You hesitate to ask, but it comes out. Dripping in all of its cautiousness. “And?”
“And it also takes a willing participant to study.” His smile, in all impossibility, became even wider.
“I’m still not getting the picture.”
“A participant with rather large pectoral muscles.”
Oh.
Oh no.
“Someone who would willingly participate for the sake of education.”
Of all the people to have figured out about your (not so) little crush on a fellow sorcerer, it had to be the world’s largest idiot and nuisance. You had to end this, now. Before he does something so irrevocably stupid— 
“Shall we go ask Nanami?”
And that’s how you find yourself flushed with absolute mortification, gripping your clipboard with tight knuckles against your chest, wondering how you ever managed to forget the utmost important rule when it comes to Gojo Satoru.
Never listen to him, especially on the matter of love. 
Maybe that’s indicative of the state of your crush as a whole, something you should probably pay more attention to, seeing as the minute Nanami Kento was mentioned, you’ve forgotten the extent of logic and reason and followed the whims of Gojo without hesitation. 
It’s problematic, horrifying, and ultimately a monumental issue at the moment considering your mouth is as dry as a desert and your brain absolute mush, rendering you completely unable to formulate any words.
“Wow, Nanami,” Gojo shamelessly says, one hand shoved in his pocket as he stands beside your frozen figure, “Nice tits.”
Nanami hums unenthusiastically, unbuttoning the last button on his blue shirt and elegantly removing it from his large, muscular frame. Folding it neatly on the expanse of the couch beside him, he turns his stoic gaze back to you, hardly even concerned about his half-nakedness. 
Whereas you felt yourself almost drooling at the revealed expanse of firm muscles peppered with sparse hair. The fact that it was that easy to get to see this, to almost be able to touch it— 
Maybe listening to Gojo isn’t a bad idea after all.
“Shall we begin?” Nanami asks, pulling his glasses off of his face with his (large) hands and folding them on top of his shirt. A strand of blond falls onto the front of his face and his gaze trails from the impassive stare at Gojo, to you. 
And by all that is sweet and holy you swear that you’ve ascended to an ethereal plane and before you sits an angel waiting to take you to the pearly gates. No longer stares a man unamused at the teasing of the white-headed idiot beside you, but instead a celestial being with a body made of pure stone and dare you say, looking at you with a tenderness in his gaze that was absent only a moment before.
An elbow digs into your side, pulling you rather dramatically out of your stupor and towards the smug grin of the man beside you. 
“Well?” Gojo asks, “If you’re not going to touch him, I will.”
“Thank you, Gojo, but I can take it from here,” You all but hiss, pushing him once more away from your body, accompanying the action with a pointed glare. Beginning a backward trek towards the door, he holds his hands up in surrender.
“Alright, alright. I can see when I’m not wanted. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
Opening the door and stepping out of it, he halts, turning his head to look over his shoulder and says, voice coated in that familiar tone of teasing, “Remember to use condoms, lovebirds!”
He shuts the door quickly, hardly giving you a chance to spear your ire at his retreating figure, but you have half a mind to chase him down the hall when you hear his echoing laughter ring out. 
An awkward silence settles between you and the man of your horrid fascination that not even an uncomfortable laugh can ease. Clearing your throat and trying to remember your sense of professionalism, you straighten your shoulders and take a deep breath, facing the handsome man with a confidence that was growing incredibly difficult to face. 
“I’m going to touch you. For research. Your chest, specifically.”
In a move you’ve never quite seen before, Nanami sheds that formidable air of quiet stoicism and lets a small smile grace the features of his face. It gently pushes against the corners of his mouth and his bare shoulders move the slightest bit with the exhalation of his amused breath. 
“For the tremors in the pectoralis.” He says, leaning his body to rest against the backing of the couch, straightening his legs wearing their usual tan slacks to rest naturally in the position and hands folding in his lap. 
You gulp. “Y-yes.”
“I read your report.”
“You did?”
“I always do,” With his eyes still trained upon yours you can see them widen a bit at the realization of what he’s said as if that were an intimate detail he hadn’t meant to make you aware of. He quickly brings his fist up to his mouth, clearing his throat, “You are one of the few sorcerers here that fill them out correctly. I learn a great deal from your detailing. It’s… very helpful. You’re very thorough.”
Blinking repeatedly, you only nod at the compliment. Despite wanting to combust internally at the growing flames that burn inside of you, you take a step forward. Then another until, in an unforeseen reversal of circumstances, you’re towering over the man of great strength and respect. The man you’ve admired for the longest time.
The man that continues to stare at you with a softness you’ve never seen him reveal before. 
You can see the spattering of freckles that have intricately placed themselves over his broad shoulders resembling that of an artistic constellation and the delicious protruding of his biceps, great in mass yet telling of his of strength as your try to conservatively trail your eyes over his torso.
He’s beautiful, incredibly so. Baring himself to you in this way only affirms that.
 “Thank you,” you breathe out, and it’s more intimate than you intended it to be, but truthfully, it’s as fitting a phrase as it can be considering the proximity and the intensity behind his stare.
It’s all you can give him without crumbling at his feet. Placing your fingertips against his shoulder, you gently push him back, silently instructing him to lay on the couch. He follows suit like the dutiful sorcerer he is.
“I’ll just be examining the way in which your cursed energy extends from your chest. It shouldn’t hurt, but if you feel uncomfortable, just let me know.”
He hums once more from his supine position on the couch. Despite being much larger than the couch allows, he hardly looks uncomfortable. Only watches the way in which you press your fingers into his chest, pushing into his muscle and slowly massaging your finger in a circle. You circle around the left side, trailing around the outer edge of the muscle and above the rib cage, stopping and pressing rather firmly when you feel a surge in an energy presence beneath the skin. Almost on the center of his chest.
You snort a quiet laugh when you realize where it is.
“Should I be worried?” His deep timbre vibrates your indented fingers drawing your focus to his interested stare. He looks relaxed, the usual crease between his brow hardly recognizable. A stark refute to the question he posed.
You quickly shake your head, smiling growing wryer, “No, not at all. I just… think it’s funny that your energy presence is strongest where your heart is.”
Nanami quirks an eyebrow, “Isn’t that the same for everyone?”
“Would it be much of a surprise if I told you Gojo’s comes from his mouth?”
Nanami rolls his head, a breathless laugh exhaling as he stares at the ceiling. “No, I guess it wouldn’t.”
“Everyone has a different point from which their energy roots itself. Each one gives a different feeling of sorts. It doesn’t really mean much in terms of power and technique, but it is noticeable. You have an overwhelming presence as is, I just…” Your shoulders drop with a sigh, one stemming desperately from loving admiration and instead try to disguise as just an exhalation, “…never realized it came from there. Kind of fitting if you ask me.”
His brows furrow in contemplation, unsure if whether he could accept the statement. Unsure of whether it was a fitting examination or compliment for him. He must deem it something insignificant of his ponderance because he quickly moves on.
“And yours?” He asks, alight with curiosity, “Where does yours come from?”
You hum, grateful to finally shed the last remnants of awkwardness and engage in the usual friendly conversation you tend to have with him. The brief discussions that always prod a little too close for friendly discovery, but never breach the line of professional respect. That self-imposed limitation that you desperately wish he’ll cross, that this conversation is once again coming toward.
“Take a guess.” Allowing that lilting tease to infiltrate your words, you watch as Nanami adjusts himself on the couch. Bracing his arms against the cushion, he pushes himself into a sitting position and crosses his arms. Trailing his eyes over your seated body next to him, he leaves a burning trail in his wake.
He fixates on your face for a second and your breath hitches, before he travels downward over the column of your neck, then your chest, to your legs. Drinking you in as per your consent and request. Then, he extends his hand. Palm facing upwards in a silent request. You understand.
Placing your own hand in his, he turns your hand upward, allowing full access to the center of your hand and tracing his finger over the lines.
“Your hands. That’s your center.” He says with finality, monotonous but confident. With a small smirk, he looks up at you, “You are a healer after all.”
You give a small nod, “I’m not sure if it comes from my fingertips or my palm, but yeah. My hands.”
Looking back down at your hand in his, he traces the finger in a circle, “Palm. That’s where I feel it the most.”
“What does it feel like?” You ask with a laugh, expecting something asinine and noncommittal considering Yuuji once said your presence felt like a cool wind on a summer’s day and Nobara insists that it feels like a warm shower.
Two entirely opposite feelings, yet somehow categorized in the schema of comfort. You hardly expect Nanami to give something so introspective, nor anything that reveals too much considering the extent to which he tends to maintain the boundary of respect in the conversations of explorations. The kind in which two people teeter on the thin ice of interest, yet never voice it.
And yet, his eyes connect with yours again, and it's entirely too overwhelming for you to process. Too interested, too warm. His face betrays no nervousness nor any hesitation as he stares, entirely convinced that this is what was meant to happen. As though he knew from the moment Gojo asked that it was going to unfold this way.
Like he prepared for it. Like he decided today was the day that he crossed that line.
“Home. Warm and comforting.”
Slow heat the creeps its way up your spine that makes your brain halt thought altogether and sputter intelligently, “Gojo’s kind of feels like… tar. Thick tar. Super gross.”
His hand, large and warm, encompasses your hand once more, lays it flat against his chest to feel both his exuding energy and the steady beat of his formidable heart.
“And mine?” He asks, low and gravelly. Like sweet honey that has you captured entirely, unable to escape. Not like you want to. No, you’d rather drown in this overwhelming redolence than ever live without it.
You don’t even realize your breathing heavily, nor that his face has gotten closer to yours. When did he move there? Did you move there?
Either way, his face is in front of yours, noses almost touching and the compulsion to answer him on the tip of your tongue.
“Addicting,” you whisper.
And then his lips are on yours, molding sweetly into you, and it's everything you have ever imagined it to be. Slow, yet firm. Warm and craving, and you can only fight for more, more, more.
His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you in impossibly closer and you place your hands on his bare chest, the great reason as to your current predicament entirely, to steady yourself and your erratic heartbeat. Time seems to slow in the passion of his kiss, and yet when he parts for air, you feel as though you only had him for a second.
All the months of pining could barely make up for that singular moment.
“I’ve been meaning to do that for a while,” He says, leaning his forehead against yours, breath fanning over your aching lips. You scoff in laughter, meeting his smile with one of your own.
So, maybe, just maybe, listening to Gojo wasn’t a bad idea. And maybe, sometimes, he’s right about some things.
“Hey Kento?”
“Yes?”
“You really do have nice tits.”
“Likewise.”
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398 notes · View notes
90stvshowgoth · 3 years
Text
—THE BET
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summary: you thought that as a member of the phantom troupe you were supposed to be smarter than this, yet here you were betting against hisoka. everyone knew that hisoka was a master at poker, cards were his weapon after all, but you couldn’t resist wagering one more bet on a drinking game.
w/c: 4587
tags: dubcon, drunk sex, creampie, blood kink, hate sex, begging, brat taming
a/n: this originally started as a chrollo oneshot, you can kinda tell from how the opening paragraph is about him, but once i started writing the poker game i was like “okay no i gotta make this its own thing,” and because of that decision we now have loose ends getting ch.3 rn :) also no, i couldn’t help but kinda reference phantom of the opera cause it slaps and nobody can tell me otherwise. also, no, before anyone asks, this is a oneshot. it aint getting a sequel.
big thanks to the lovely miss @sealedrosewater for beta reading this clownfucking nightmare.
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The heist had gone off without a hitch, Chrollo’s plan worked like a charm and before the night was out you had all flawlessly extracted each and every one of the gilded texts being held in the museum. You still remembered the childlike gleam in your boss’ eyes as he ran his fingers over the aged leather, its binding parchment laced with gold. The faintest ghost of a smile fled from his pallid lips as he admired his new conquest. It made your chest swell with pride, happy to help the man you respected so much. Besides, your cut was nothing to sneeze at.
Your rendezvous was inside a long-abandoned opera theatre where dust clung to the red velvet of the seats and the chandelier was seemingly hanging by a thread; your boss always had a flair for the dramatics. Once all members of the spider had finished reconvening at the empty theatre to gather their spoils it wasn’t long before someone, probably Uvogin, brought out the drinks. Nobunaga had already begun nursing a rum and coke, all while Feitan kept turning down Shal’s insistence to “Just try some, Fei,” Even Shizuku cracked open one of the ice-cold bottles, knocking back an impressive swig. As soon as you saw Machi pulling out a deck of cards you knew you had to stay for the after party.
Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of your leader. He’d gone to his room with the book you recovered tucked under his arm. A few other members who couldn’t be bothered took after your leader and went off to whichever side room they’d stashed a futon in the week prior; the Phantom Troupe’s equivalent of picking out a bedroom. A shame, really. You’d seen Feitan drunk once before and it was truly a sight to behold.
You sat crosslegged on the wooden floor, watching your comrades slowly get comfortable for a night of fun. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat above you, looking up to see Pakunoda with a soft smile on her face and an opened beer in her outstretched hand.
“Paku, have I ever told you how much I love you?” You couldn’t help but shower the woman with praise. She had been the one who recommended you to Chrollo after all, and she served as your mentor for your first few months until you found your feet.
She scoffed at the compliment, “Far too much,”
Sticking your tongue out playfully at the mindreader, you took a deep sip of beer, enjoying the familiar taste. Paku sat down beside you and it wasn’t long before the two of you were drinking shoulder to shoulder.
“Machi! Deal us in,” You raised your drink to the transmuter and she flicked two cards towards you both.
Scooting away from Paku, you quickly scanned the cards you’d received before pressing them face down. A queen and an ace. Not great, but not awful either.
The others had formed a haphazard circle, each glancing at their cards with an unreadable poker face. Well, all except Hisoka, who seemed pleased as punch with whatever hand he’d been dealt. Silently, Nobunaga took out two coins and threw them into the center— the Troupe’s house rules counting it to be equivalent to 2 billion jenny.
“Call,” you answered, matching the swordsman’s bet with an unreadable expression on your face.
“Oh? Well then, I’ll raise you,” Hisoka purred, pushing five extra chips into the pot without breaking his gaze from yours.
‘What was he planning?’ That smug look of his just made you want to win that much more. The same seemed to be true of everyone else, each calling the clown’s bet in a row. After all, to a member of the Phantom Troupe, five billion jenny wasn’t that much of a loss.
When Machi turned up the first three cards your heart skipped a beat. Two queens and a seven. Winning a round of poker against some of the smartest criminals the world had ever known was an uphill battle, seeing as how you’d been a member for years without winning a single game.
‘Three of a kind already... what should I do?’ Your face was as stone-cold as before, even with the excitement bubbling in your gut. As nonchalantly as you could, you raised another two billion. At that, Uvo and Shizuku both folded, the enhancer grumbling with a disappointed frown.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I haven’t got enough coins~” Hisoka slapped down a twenty, and a chorus of annoyed groans broke out like a choir, the abandoned theatre’s acoustics amusingly echoed the loud noises of displeasure.
After that little stunt only three others remained: Pakunoda, who’s facade hadn’t cracked all game, Nobunaga, who was glaring daggers at Hisoka, and the aforementioned magician holding up his cards in front of him like a child playing for the first time.
All three of you matched his bet, but none were happy about it. As Machi flipped over the fourth card you found yourself holding your breath. Not because you particularly cared about the money at stake, but because you felt closer to a victory than you had in months. The caricature of a medieval jester being illuminated under the light made you dig your nails into the palm of your hand.
Joker. That meant you had four queens.
It never felt harder to fight a smile off your face than in that moment. Without betraying your excitement, you called, and to your surprise so did Hisoka. Was he bluffing? Or did he have something else in mind? Nobunaga took a deep breath, knocking back the rest of his drink before calling alongside Pakunoda.
All eyes were on the card beneath Machi’s fingertips, the seconds it took to turn the paper on its head filled the theatre with a suspense liable to bring its fragile walls to the ground.
An eight of hearts. Oh well, no big deal.
Nobunaga muttered a curse under his breath, revealing a simple jack and ten of the same suit. Pakunoda was unreadable when she showed the pair of kings she held in her hands. She must’ve thought that the three of a kind would’ve won her the game. The smile on your face felt sweeter after holding it in the whole round, and Nobunaga rolled his eyes when he saw your hand, pushing the pot towards you.
“Well, look at that~” Your victory was interrupted by Hisoka’s insufferable tone, the cards he held up making your jaw drop.
A nine and a jack of hearts. A straight flush.
“That’s bullshit!” You cried, enraged over the loss. It wasn’t even that you cared so much about losing, It only mattered because you lost to him. In an instant you had summoned your nen into the palms of your hands, ready to lunge at the clown when Pakunoda grasped your shoulders, holding you back. Sometimes you forgot how much brute strength was hidden under that pantsuit.
“Just flip a coin, don’t give him what he wants.” Your first reaction was to ignore her, squirming against her iron grip to try and get to Hisoka, who was dramatically scooping all your winnings into his arms.
Uvogin tossed yet another empty beer can over his head, “C’mon Paku, I say let ‘em fight,”
“I concur~” The magician chirped, dramatically stacking each and every coin he’d won while boring his yellow eyes right into yours. His tongue parted his lips, a manic excitement hiding behind the coy expression.
Although every muscle in your body screamed at you to rip into him, you knew you wouldn’t win. He knew your abilities and you couldn’t say for certain you knew all of his.
“Never-mind,” You spat the words out at him like they tasted sour, “You’d probably get off on it anyways.”
A few laughs from the peanut gallery followed your words and Hisoka shrugged, the intense bloodlust from a few seconds ago vanishing as if he’d changed his mind about fighting you on a whim. “You may be right, darling,” your face scrunched up at the nickname you knew he only used to get on your nerves, which it did. “but what if we played a different game?”
Despite how badly you just wanted to ignore him and laugh the night away with all but one of your comrades, you couldn’t turn down the idea of a rematch. Your pride wasn’t nothing to you. “What kind of game?” You asked hesitantly.
He hummed, standing up from the towers of coin he’d made, sauntering over to the cooler of drinks Franklin had provided. After digging around the cold box he pulled out a bottle of fruity tequila and two empty shot glasses.
Your eyes narrowed at the “innocent” smile on his face, looking over to Pakunoda for reassurance.
“You’ll kill him if he spikes my drink, right?” You asked your mentor, who nodded resolutely.
Paku was staring at Hisoka like she was already thinking of ten different ways how to kill him. After sizing him up she flashed you a reassuring nod, “Without question.”
Resolute in your decision, you marched forward, snatching one of the shot glasses from his hand. The stage lights shone above him, making his eyes gleam like the plastic gloss of a doll.
“Shall we begin, then?”
You raised an eyebrow, “What are the rules first?”
He waved his hand in the air, brushing it off, “Nothing too complex, I assure you. The first one who taps out will lose. The loser will do something for the winner. That’s all.”
You still weren’t convinced it could be that simple. “What’s the catch?”
That smirk from before returned to his painted face and he suddenly leaned forward, feeling far too close for comfort. Still, you didn’t step away, your face expressionless as he whispered into your ear. If you did you felt like he’d somehow win whatever stand-still the two of you had on.
“If I lose, I’ll leave the Phantom Troupe,” You reeled away, stunned at his declaration.
Being accepted into the Troupe was the best moment of your life, it always would be. When you looked into the mirror at the tattoo that curled under your ribcage you felt such a warm swell of pride. You couldn’t imagine throwing it all away over some drinking game.
“And...” You blinked rapidly, trying to collect yourself, “If I lose?”
The laugh that echoed from his chest was far from reassuring.
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The evening slowly ran into the early morning, each of the other Troupe members wandering off eventually in varying stages of drunkenness. Even Pakunoda headed off to bed after confirming that Hisoka hadn’t spiked your drinks with anything other than a strawberry vodka base. It was unnerving at first, to be completely alone with Omokage’s replacement. Luckily his tastes ran strong, and your vision was spinning before your knew it.
“Match.” Another shot went down your throats, the taste disgustingly sweet, and you watched as his Adam’s apple tensed from the burn.
You’d long since stopped counting how many drinks you’d had, losing track once you got to the double digits. You were both using nen to reinforce yourselves, obviously, but it wasn’t infallible.
‘How is he so good at this?’ You wondered, because as the bottle ran low you started to question just what had made you so confident as to enter a bet with Hisoka in the first place.
“My dear, why not rest for a minute? At least try to enjoy each others company?” His legs were crossed, resting his hand on his palm as he not-so-subtly checked you out. It wasn’t uncommon, and certainly not unexpected from someone like him, but what you hated wasn’t just the nerve of him, but how it made you feel. His scrutiny sent chills down your spine, the unnerving edge to his tone only making you shift your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure.
“You’re the worst, Hisoka,” you knocked back two consecutive shots, unable to hide the wince it caused on your face. Good, you wanted it to sting. Anything to take your mind off the magician in front of you.
He pouted as he poured another row of drinks, “Aw, now why’s that?”
You answered his question with another, pointing towards the half-empty bottle of liquor, “Whats in this, really?”
The magician rolled his eyes, “I did pick an unopened bottle for a reason, dear, I do so want you to trust me.”
Without much fanfare he threw back four shots, over your stunned reaction.
“Just give up already, Darling~ I promise to make it worth your while,” You were reaching your limit for sure, but you were far to stubborn to give up without a fight.
“Fuck you,” you took the first of your next four shots slowly, not managing his fast pace.
He grinned a cheshire smile, “Oh, say that again, will you?”
If he were to call you out on the blush slowly spreading across your nose you’d just blame the alcohol, but the truth was that his words just egged you on even more to the point where you were almost—barely even considering...
“What do you mean, make it worth my while?”
He leaned forward like a cat, agile and silent, whispering his words against your temple, “I’ll tell you how I won that hand,” He got you, hook, line, and sinker.
“You’ll tell me how you cheated?”
Hisoka nodded, a clawed hand coming to stroke a stray piece of hair behind your ear, the action far too intimate for someone like him.
There was no way you’d win against him in this match, that much was clear from the very sober way Hisoka held himself against you, inhumanly still, so what did you have to lose?
‘Your dignity,’ A part of you answered back, but it wasn’t all that convincing. You’d left your dignity behind four shots ago.
“If I lose...”
“If you lose,” He mouthed the words into your cheek, his eyes closed in thought, “You do know what I’ve decided my prize shall be, right?” Of course you knew what he wanted. You weren’t stupid, and the way he nuzzled himself into your neck was far from subtle.
Were you actually so desperate to learn how you lost that you’d sleep with him?
No, you weren’t. But the ache between your legs was getting harder to ignore, and the idea that you could write off what you were about to do behind the excuse of gathering intel sounded like a win-win.
You dug your hands into his hair, not trying to be anything but rough, basking in the moan that spilled from his lips, breath hot against your neck before you yanked him back to meet your gaze.
“Fine. You win, Hisoka,” He smirked, and although he was on his knees he still towered over you, “so how did you cheat?”
Before you could blink his hand had wrapped around your throat, the magician slamming your head into the wood of the stage. You’d had plenty of time to block the damage with your hatsu but the action left your brain rattling inside your skull.
“I’ll tell you later,” He promised, the disorienting blur was slow to fade from the alcohol, and distantly you could feel his other hand stroke your face, his nails like filed daggers trailing over your cheekbones.
“What to do with my prize, then, hm?” He mused, tilting your head from left to right as if examining a block of wood he was about to carve. You coughed on impulse when he let go of your neck, guiding it up instead and taking both your small hands into his palm with an iron grip.
With a flick of his wrist he drew a card, the eight of hearts, seemingly out of nowhere, his nen sharpening it into a thin blade, “Don’t move,”
“Wait... Hisoka, don’t—!” You were far too late to stop him, the frigid air of the ghostly theatre rushing to meet the bare skin of your chest.
Your shirt fell to ribbons along with your bra and you thrashed desperately in his grasp, angry over the loss of your favorite top. He paid your escape attempt no mind, enraptured with the way your tits rose and fell with the timing of your breath and the way you tried to wriggle yourself free.
Still holding your hands to the floor above you, his head bent to wrap a skilled tongue around your tits, a soft sigh involuntarily falling away from you.
“I fuckin’ ha-ate you, Hisoka—ah,” His teeth bit down on your peak at the comment, peering up at you from under his fiery hair.
“Oh? Then why is it you’re moaning like a little whore?” He shifted his weight above you and you saw an opportunity.
You kicked with all your strength between his legs, pulling your knee back and shoving him off with a dig of your shoe into his stomach, “I’m not, don’t call me that shit!”
He actually loosened his grip on you clearly not intending for you to get free from his grasp, a choked sound of what you thought was pain devolving to something much more heated as he stared into you.
“You... are well worth the wait, my dear,” His bloodlust seeped out from every pore, grounding you to the spot. You could usually hold your own against someone like him but it wasn’t hard to see the disadvantage you were at.
Within a fraction of a second he was on you, twisting your waist in his clawed grasp until your ass was hiked into the air, a sharpened playing card slicing through the denim until he could rip it from your legs, yelp echoing like music in the long-silent theatre.
“I knew you’d have some fight left in you,” He crawled forward and you started to realize why he wore exclusively baggy pants, his length hot against you through the fabric as his hips caged you in. As he began to remove that street-performer getup he always wore he’d occasionally curl his hand around your waist to mercifully tug on your ignored clit, your groans muffled and cursed, “I love it. That resilience? It just turns me on.”
You could feel your confidence fade as he tugged those sweatpants down, the weight of him grinding into your ass made all your bravado vanish.
“It will make it so much more satisfying...” He pointed his finger upwards, and suddenly your hands became magnetized to each other, no amount of struggle even budging the rubbery nen substance. “...when I break you.”
Without warning he slid himself inside you, hands holding your hips still as he forced your back into an arch. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, the flailing of your bound arms useless as he shallowly began pumping his cock deeper inside you.
Your muffled curses whispered into the floor made him laugh, pulling his hand back and cruelly slapping the vulnerable flesh of your ass without a warning.
“Wh.. Why?”
“Because, darling, I want to hear you beg for me.” He pouted, teasing your clenched walls with only the tip of his slick head.
Despite the desire coursing through your veins you still had your pride in tact, “Never gonna happen, asshole.”
Gripping your hips, he dug himself into your dripping cunt as far as he could, both of you unrestrained with a moan at the feeling of his cock brushing near your cervix, your hips traitorously snapping back to meet his eager thrusts, movement near impossible as Hisoka forced you into the ground.
You cried out softly with each quick pull and stretch, only able to say his name one syllable at a time,
“Hi-so—kah...” It was hard to turn your head to the side from his brutal pace but somehow you manage, craning yourself in order to see him; His head was thrown back with a sheer bliss softening his glistening skin, his eyes closed and lips parted. The sight made your keening grow louder, the simple image of him losing himself in your twitching pussy sending a wave of slick dripping around his length.
He must’ve felt your gaze on him because soon enough his was staring at you, his pupils blown wide with desire in a way that made them look like a sun eclipsed, black outlined with a ring of fiery gold.
All at once his hips froze, digging his cock so far as to leave an indent in your pelvis. For a confused second you thought he’d finished, but his gaze was cruel and focused, his lips in a smirk, and you felt no more full than you had a moment ago. He was doing this on purpose.
“Wait, no-nono, wh..y?” You hiccuped, taking his break as a moment to wipe unshed tears from your glossy eyes.
He sighed, “I don’t like repeating myself, darling,” He accentuated the infuriating nickname with a slap to your thigh, face unchanged as he trailed his sharpened fingertips along the reddening skin.
“His..oh.. fuck, Hisoka—“ The banished tears returned, falling silently down your pink face as you whispered, “please,”
“Hmm? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you, my dear, mind saying that again?
Your voice hiccuped as you spoke, “Please, alright? Please,” You thought it’d be enough, that he might finally go back to toying with your clit while he fucked you into the old floorboards, but you’d underestimated the magician’s self-control.
Innocently, he tilted his head, “Please what, dear? Please hit you again?” Hisoka didn’t blink as he slowly brought up his palm, giving you plenty of time to try and wiggle free from your punishment just to show off how futile escape really was, lashing his hand down on the same patch of skin as before, grinning at the shriek he yanked from your lungs.
“No! No, fu-uck.. just—“ You whimpered, brain seemingly disconnected from your mouth as you struggled to form the words, “just fuck me, Hisoka, please.”
“Look at you, huh? You were a slut after all,” He purred, letting the weight of your words hang lifeless in the air along with your stubborn pride. Before you could argue again his hand had returned to your clit, pace unforgiving as he pulled your nerves ever closer to snapping only to halt the second he grew bored, “Say it,”
Mindlessly, you nodded your head, “I’m yours, I’m your slut, Hisoka,” you intentionally clenched yourself around him, mumbling lucid pleas for more as his hard cock twitched, pre cum dripping from your heat onto the floor as your conscience trying to deny what your body so willingly accepted, “want you to fuck me, Hisoka, fu-ck,” you whined, the still presence inside your sensitive walls drove you insane.
With each word a truly unhinged aura began to surround him, and by extension, you, the intoxicating menace dripping over you like a drug as you faced forward once again, wiggling your ass as best you could in his grip.
That was his breaking point, ripping you away from his cock only to drive himself back in, digging the full blade of his nails into your hips, blood pooling around the crescent cuts.
“Fuck, ah.. Darling, ‘doing so good, so good’fr me-ah,” He slurred his words together, more drunk on you than the vodka as he leaned back, forcing you to meet him as his thrusts became so quick that it was getting hard to breathe, your ribcage creaking with discomfort as you were nailed into the stage.
“M..o-re, more...” You begged, and he was happy to oblige. the smearing crimson of blood running hot down your thighs, the pain only making you more pliant in his sculptor’s hands as he folded your body however he liked, ignoring your pained weep from the stretch as he slung one of your bleeding legs over his shoulder.
It was almost weird to hear him say your actual name, so often he used a pet name to mock or flirt with you, sometimes both, “So good for me like this, taking me so goo-uh,” He choked on his words as your cunt tightened around him, your hands clinging for balance in his hair, and Hisoka clearly didn’t mind if the slew of moans from his lips was any indication.
The angle his hips cut into had the edges of your vision turning into a vignette, “I’m close, so close, gonna cum inside you, yeah? Right here,” The hand that had been toying with your clit changed angles, his fingertips spinning spirals onto your aching bud while the flat of his hand pushed against your stomach, your shout swallowed by his pretty lips, tongue toying with yours.
“Ye-es cum inn-side me,” You were too far gone to care, anything he said sounded good as long as he said it in that sultry purr, arms numb as they lay suspended above your head.
“Take it, take it, Darling,” With what little strength you had left you curved your calf beside his neck, pulling him in until his cock brushed your cervix, the pain indistinguishable from the pleasure, “Uhn, cumm-fuck, i’m cumming—“
His cum was thick, the curve of his cock jutting inside you as he filled you up, mercifully swallowing your hallowed scream as he kissed you deeply, almost all feeling in your raised leg lost until he lowered it to his waist, involuntarily snapping his hips up although they had nowhere left to go until your moan turned into a broken sob of lingering bliss.
“Shh, dear, I’ve got you,” With a whirl of his wrist your arms were free of his bungee gum, shakily pulling them to your sides again as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, whispering a slurred mess of sweet words, stopping to suck a particularly deep hickey into the vein of your flesh.
“Hisoka, quit it!” Your fight had returned along with feeling to your fingertips as you wrenched him back by the hair, his cock jumping.a bit inside you at the grip, “I’ll have to wear sweaters for weeks now, you jerk.”
The capillaries had already begun to burst as he laughed, reaching up behind your head to pull his discarded top forward, digging out what looked like a piece of smooth cleaning cloth from its pocket and lying it over your neck with a simple point of his finger, gyo revealing the pink gum of his aura that controlled it before he smoothed the fabric over your skin, the texture so light you could barely feel it.
“A deal’s a deal, love, I’ll tell you how I cheated,” He smiled as satisfied and smug as he could ever be, a tingling sensation overtaking the patch of covered skin.
As he pulled your hand away you ran your fingers over the cloth, not finding a seam among the normal tone of your chest. Eyes wide as you looked at him for answers he was already happy to provide, “It’s called texture surprise. I can apply it to any flat surface and change its appearance. It’s quite handy,”
“It works on skin, paper, even playing cards,” You felt like an idiot. During the match you kept analyzing him for a sleight of hand trick all while he was using a second nen technique to win. It was so simple but genius, and you felt a little bit better knowing you weren’t outwitted by something obvious.
“You’re the worst, Hisoka,”
He chuckled, kissing along the new unblemished canvas of your neck, “I know~”
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