ceehaz · 10 hours
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Dog Knights and pets
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Zero Day 4
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Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, violence, anal play, spitting, humiliation, and other possible triggers. Warnings are not exhaustive and will not include plot devices/elements.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your independence is threatened by a mysterious man. (hacker!reader)
Characters: Lloyd Hansen
Note: He’s back, not that he was gone that long.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3
Love you all like Lord Farquaad loves unnecessary vowels. Take care. 💖
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Back at the house, you're given no reprieve. You return to your computer as Lloyd parts without acknowledgement. You rub your sore jaw as you try to burn off your tastebuds with the endless supply of coffee.
Your break comes without relief. You drag yourself up the stairs, ready to roll into oblivion until your alarm tears you back to reality. You enter your room and find your bag dumped on your mattress. There's something else tucked behind it. You sit and pull the pink garment onto your lap. It's not yours.
You toss it to the foot of the bed and lay back, skull heavy and throbbing. It takes all of thirty seconds to slip off into your unconscious, dreams haunted by Lloyd’s rough grip on your neck and his violent intrusion down your throat. 
You wake with a start and nearly fall out of bed, instead knocking your bag onto the floor. Dizzily, you sit up as Delilah shuffles in. She collapses onto her mattress as if you're not even there. You miss the days when it was just your own weirdness.
You change into your only other pair of jeans and a new tee. What does it take to get a shower around here? You swipe deodorant under your arms and leave your already snoring roommate. Coffee, maybe some food if you can stomach it, then back to work.
A chill flows over you as you exit. The memory of bullets piercing flesh, the sickening sight of blood spurting in a fatal spray. You shudder and pull the door shut.
You make your way through the halls, it's 6am and dead. Keystrokes clack in the air as you come downstairs and enter the room of techs and you surpass your seat for the temptation of your caffeinated rush. You take your time putting on a new pot before claiming your station and settling in with the bitter comfort. 
'Mission ETA 2300'. The bright green text greets your tired eyes with a thrumming sear. You drain half the mug and put it down. Another mission? You're not ready.
You hunch over as you set to your task list. It was easier when you were just fucking over incels on 4chan. This… this is something else. This is murder. And Lloyd. 
The clock rolls around as you work off instinct. It's old hat. You know what you're doing, it's only the implications of your work that makes it difficult. 
You scratch your throat unthinkingly, a twinge that makes you cough. You shake your head and focus on typing. You put your earbuds on and plug them into the tower, finding a random playlist on Youtube to tune out the atmosphere.
You zone out, a talent and not so much. Your obliviousness got you into this mess but it's your only defense left. 
You blink long and hard as the screen etches into your vision and you lean back. You squeak in surprise as suddenly your earbuds are pulled out by the wires and left to fall into your lap. Two large hands settle on your shoulders, a familiar grip that takes you back to the small underground room the night before.
"Whatcha listening to?" Lloyd bends to put his face next to yours, scanning your screen.
"Uhh, Tool?"
"I've been called worse," he snickers.
"No, it's a ba–"
"I know," he grabs your chin and turns to press his mouth to your hair, "what are you wearing, sweet cheeks?"
"What?" Your eyes flit side to side. The other techs don't look away from their work.
"I left you a gift. A treat for using that pretty mouth of yours so nicely," he snarls against your hair, "but what? You're too good for me?"
"No, Lloyd, I–"
"You don't wanna wear what I give you? Fine. Stand up," he releases you gruffly, his fingernails scratching your chin as he steps back.
You grasp the arms of the chair and stare dumbly ahead.
"I said get the fuck up," he raises his voice. Marigold flinches but no one dares glance away from their monitors.
You shake and push yourself to your feet. He kicks your chair away and it hits your neighbour before bouncing over onto its side. Lloyd grabs you and spins you to face him.
He reaches to his belt and takes out a knife, spinning it theatrically with one hand as his other grips the top of your cotton shirt. You stutter and he slices through the fabric, renting it to the hem.
"Woah, what the–" 
"Shut your fucking mouth," he points the blade at your nose and you snap your jaw closed, "you use that mouth when I tell you to."
You stare at the point and shoves the shirt down your arms. It droops past your wrists and pools at your feet as you stand exposed and helpless. He cuts just as swiftly through your jeans, shredding the denim to quarters so it heaps around your sneakers. He pops the front of your bra open with the sharp knife and makes easy work of your panties. 
You whimper and hide your face as you're left naked in the room full of strangers. All but your shoes and socks. He flips the knife around and prods your knuckles. 
"If you're gonna cry for me, sweet cheeks, I wanna see it," he taunts and you drop your hands down, your lip sticking out pathetically. "Otherwise, sit down and get back to work." He trails the silver edge down your cheek and neck, grazing along your chest and between your tits. "You're not half bad for a fucking nerd."
You swallow and watch him lift your chair back to its base. He rolls it towards you and you turn rigidly. He pushes it under you so you fall onto the seat. You hold back tears of humiliation as he eases you against the desk.
Once more, he leans in to whisper against your ear, "you know where my office is."
He jolts the chair and backs away. You don't look as he strolls out of the room. You rest your hand on your mouse and swirl it around the screen listlessly. You sense Marigold's curious gaze and ignore it, just like they all ignored what he did.
The leather grows uncomfortable as it sticks to your naked skin and the tension of your exposure knots along your shoulders. You grit your teeth as you fight to keep from wilting entirely. You can hear your breath and feel the steady tamp of your heart.
"On break. Now." Drake frightens you as he puts his hand on the top of your chair.
You don't look at him as you log off. He lets go and you roll the chair back, standing as you try to hide your body behind your arms. You can feel him looking at you.
He chuckles, "you know where to go… mmmm."
You skirt around him. Gross. You march away and continue up the stairs. 'You know where my office is.' You're not too sure you remember. 
As you get the upper floor, you pass other techs and some men in the typical all black attire. You keep your eyes to the floor as you hurry away from their gazes. This is absolutely humiliating.
Finally, you get to the right door. Knock twice! You remember that.
"In," Lloyd's timbre seeps through the wood. You obey if only to get out of the hall.
You step inside, too eager to shut the door behind you. He stands at the window, his arm bent above him as he grips the frame. He stares into the courtyard, the blue sky peering back at him and illuminating the pristine office.
"We learn our lesson?" He asks but it's flat as a statement.
"Yes, Lloyd," you eke out.
"I don't believe you," he snips and pushes away from the window, "I want to hear 'yes, sir' from now on. Makes my dick hard."
You cringe and force out the response, "yes, sir."
His cheek dimples and he snorts, "look at you. I'm sure all those dweebs are about to cum in their cargo pants. Can't imagine how long it's been since they saw some tits. If ever."
You stand silent, uncertain. You wish you were back at the desk. Even naked.
"I got you a pretty little dress and what do you do? Dress like some fucking virgin– well, I guess that fits but not for much longer, huh?"
You shift on your feet as your skin scalds. He pulls open a drawer and reaches inside. He takes out a long, thick zip tie.
"I don't want to make you but I will if I have to, sweet cheeks." He comes around the desk and wiggles the plastic at you, "bend over," he gestures to the desk with the tie, "hands behind your back."
Your swallow and gape at him. You look to the window then over your shoulder. He sighs and whips his knuckles across your ass. You exclaim and he snarls.
You step up to the desk and bend over it. He moves behind you and yanks your arms up, holding your wrists together as he winds the tie around and pulls it tight. You curl your fingers and quiver.
He drags his hands down your back and slaps your ass. The impact echoes as you whimper.
"We got a mission tonight so I'll try no to get too carried away."
You turn your face down to hide your horror. He gropes your ass, kneading the flesh. He hums and you feel his breath on you and yipe as he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of your ass. He purrs as he nips you hard.
He pulls away, "damn, that's juicy. I gotta say, I really didn't expect it but you're not too bad on the eyes. Or the dick."
You bite your lip as your breath clouds damply against the desk. He leans on, kneading your flesh before delving further, prodding with his thick fingers. He rubs along your cunt and spreads your folds.
He spits and you wince at the warmth that globs onto you. Your stomach roils in revulsion as his mouth meets your cunt and you flinch. He pulls back and slaps your ass.
"I'm being fucking nice," he warns.
He slides his fingers along your lips  smearing his spit and poking against your entrance. You clench and he tuts. He jams a finger inside and you squeal.
"Sweet cheeks, you better stop fucking squirming."
He feels around and slides in another finger. You tighten around his knuckles and measure your breaths, furling your fists tight as you groan. He turns his hand and presses against your clit, a twitch unwittingly jerking your hips.
"That the spot?" He teases, moving his hand slowly, pinching the pressure between his thumb and fingertips. 
He rocks steadily, the weight building in your core as your thighs clench. You hiss as you try to resist. You can hear how wet you're getting, feel it as it spreads down his knuckles.
You squeak as suddenly a wet warmth flicks across your ass, his tongue swirling over your tight ring as he pushes his face between your cheeks. Your gasp as he laps at your puckered hole, humming in delight as he tastes you. The strange sensation of his tending makes your toes curl as you wiggle helplessly.
He pushes his fingers wide inside of you and you moan. His fingers keep an even rhythm as his mouth competes, the war between the two mingling at your core. You tremble and whine as the thrumming swells, breaths shallow as your heart races.
"Mmm," he drags his wet lips along your ass, "get loud for me, baby. I want the whole fucking compound to hear who you belong to me."
You inhale as your feet arch and you lift your ass. He turns his face down again and puts his tongue to work. You huff as your arms strain against the zip tie.
He edges his ring finger along your cunt and twists his hand. He slides it in with the rest and you cry out at the stretch. He shoves them in to his knuckles, his other hand brushing up to toy with your clit.
You quake as he fucks you with his hand, his tongue dancing around your ass, prodding just enough to send a zing through you. You don't understand why it feels so good. Your head lolls and you hang your tongue out as the tension clusters.
His pinky pokes against the back of your entrance and you puff out into a long whine.
"Lloyd," you beg and he forced his pinky into you, four fingers rammed to their limit. "S-s-sir," you stammer, "oh, god."
He shakes his head, licking you hungrily as he growls. His voice rumbles through you and you bend your legs as you exclaim. You let loose as he pushes into you as far as he can, fucking you harder and harder.
"Louder," he murmurs against your ass and keeps going.
"Lloydddddd. Llloyd. Lloy–" you gulp put as you coil around him, "plea–"
His sloppy lapping adds to the wet sound of your cunt and he pounds into you hard, your bones aching from the force that has your hips hitting the wood hard. You push your head back and drone between your teeth. "Fuuuuuuckkkkkkk."
The snap is instantaneous, a sudden deluge that slicks his fingers and gushes down your thigh. He purrs as he tastes your orgasm as it splashes around his furious motion.
He parts and keeps his hand moving until you're writhing and gibbering, legs dangling weakly as you pant weakly. He shoves his fingers in to the top of his hand and wiggles them inside you.
"I just needed to get you loosened up, sweet cheeks," he slips his fingers out and another trickle runs down your thighs. He strides around to the other side and falls into the chair. "Tonight will be a bit intense and I'm gonna need you nice and fucking ready for me."
His mustache is wet and his hand glistens as he licks your cum away, smacking lips. He smirks as you watch him, your chin on the wood as you struggle to catch your breath. He wipes his hand down his shirt and sniffs his knuckles.
"I'll need something to keep me focused," he takes another deep whiff, "just as good as you taste, baby."
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Bosé 1.05 “Los chicos no lloran“
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The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power / S1 / 2 Sep. 2022 - 14 Oct. 2022 Favorite moments: Episode 6 - Udûn
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That’s the good thing about being scared. Sometimes it’s a reminder that you have to be brave, you have to fight.
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tensmutdepot · 3 hours
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Dedication (part 2)
Pairing: Ten Lee x fem/afab!reader
Genre: idol au, slow-ish burn, acquaintances to friends to lovers, major fluff, eventual and abundant smut (it'll be worth it, just stay with me)
Tags: incredibly self-indulgent; mentions of Shakespeare and bubble tea and Studio Ghibli; reference to this hoodie; Y/N is oblivious and self-deprecating but Ten remains enchanted through it all because I make the rules ; playful banter; Ten is romantic af; you could cut the tension with a butter knife; tiniest little plot twist; cursing
Summary: Y/N wakes up to study for university after Ten spent the night with her best friend. Surely, he'll be on his way out her front door, no words exchanged and never to be heard from again, right? Seems legit.
Word Count: 5.3k
Read part 1 here!
The morning came too soon, your alarm violently yanking you from what was likely your first and only REM cycle of the night. It took all your willpower not to hit snooze and decide to sleep in, but you had actual work to get done today, so you whipped your covers off and dragged yourself out of bed. 
After a quick shower, you grabbed your schoolwork and made your way downstairs to set up shop in the living room, the height of the coffee table in front of the couch perfect for spreading your laptop, textbooks, and notebooks out on. Then you grabbed yourself an energy drink from the fridge. You briefly examined the first floor of the house as you moved throughout, and it actually didn’t look too bad. You and Karina would be able to get it cleaned up fairly easily.
Once you were finally settled into your favorite study spot, notebook in your lap and mechanical pencil in hand, you heard footsteps coming down the stairs, followed by the sound of Karina saying goodbye to her overnight guest. 
You did your best to ignore it, desperate not to eavesdrop and overhear any specifics about the time they’d spent together, but the bottom of the stairs was directly next to the living room, so it wasn’t easy. 
Still, you managed, and you felt at ease again as you heard Karina travel back up the stairs, probably to fall right back into bed and get the extra sleep you had stupidly denied yourself. It amazed you how different the two of you were, how she would regularly keep new people in her room after parties while you absolutely never kept anyone. 
“I don’t know how she does it,” you mused aloud, shaking your head. 
Your heart nearly stopped when a smooth, honeyed voice responded to you. “Does what exactly?” You thought Ten had left when you heard the door click, but you were very unfortunately mistaken. There he was, standing at the bottom of the stairs in the foyer, looking as appallingly beautiful as ever. He walked toward you until he reached the coffee table and sat on it, placing himself directly across from where you sat sideways on the couch.
Blushing like mad, you cleared your throat awkwardly and said, “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you were still here. The whole, um…” you gestured vaguely with your hand, “casual hook-up thing, you know? I don’t know how she manages.” You shrugged, avoiding eye contact and fiddling with the edge of your notebook.
He raised an eyebrow at you, intrigued by where this was going. And intrigued by you if he was being honest with himself. “What, you’ve never had a one-night stand before?” He chuckled lightly. 
You scoffed, which only added to his amusement. “Of course I have, but only a few and not for a long time now. I just don’t think I’m capable of connecting with someone like that without walking away feeling sort of empty inside, no matter how good the sex was. I guess I just need more.” He gazed at you with curiosity, like he’d been wandering through the woods and had come across a wild deer. You were suddenly reminded of how different your two lives were, how ridiculous you must have sounded to him. “But you probably wouldn’t understand that.”
He raised his eyebrows at you, incredulous of your blunt statement, yet he also smirked at you, captivated by your unrestrained sincerity. “I wouldn’t?” 
You were an idiot. You wanted to hit yourself. But instead you scrambled to salvage your dignity, words coming out of you in a rush, “Oh god, I didn’t mean it as an insult or anything. I’m not judging you, I— I just mean that you’re you, and I’m me, and our situations aren’t exactly the same. Like, I’m just a regular person. I don’t have the social obligations that you have, so I can afford the luxury of waiting around for love before I decide to have my physical needs met, whereas you might not be able to.” 
He was quiet for a while, his head tilted like a kitten’s as he looked you over, like he could make sense of you if he just stared at you long and hard enough. You weren’t sure what to do, so you sat there in silence, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. Eventually – seconds, minutes, or days later, you couldn’t be sure – he spoke, the silky sweetness of his voice surprising you as much as it did the first time you heard it. “They— Our managers, that is— they do... encourage us to stay single, so you’re not technically wrong about the difference in our situations. But you are wrong to assume that I don’t understand where you’re coming from.”
You met his eyes and saw something sad in them, something almost numb. You couldn’t just let it go. You always had a knack for recognizing when someone had something to get off their chest, and you were more than happy to be their sounding board. You knew how unhealthy it could be to hold things in, how it could slowly eat away at you. You knew it better than most. “How so?”
He sighed wearily. “Not being allowed something and having no desire for it are two completely different things. I’m not allowed to fall in love, but that doesn’t magically change who I am.”
“And who are you?” Without realizing, you’d begun to lean toward him, your fascination and investment in his words drawing you in.
Ten did his best to seem unfazed by your proximity, but the truth was that it affected him greatly. He had to fight to gather his thoughts, remember what the two of you had even been talking about, focus on anything besides the smell of your shampoo. He shook his head slightly, clearing his head of the fog produced by your presence. “Someone who’s always wanted to find true love. I haven’t always been an idol, you know? I have a mom and dad, who are best friends. They can sit with each other in complete silence and still be happy just because they’re together. I want that for myself. I just can’t have it right now. So, yeah, until that day comes, I hook up with people where I can and make sure my physical needs are met. But that doesn’t mean I don’t walk away yearning for something more.”
You gave him a small, understanding smile and nodded. “Fair enough.” Turning your attention away from him and back to your notebook, you assumed the conversation to be over. 
But apparently you were wrong. “What about you?” he asked, completely sure of himself, not concerned at all that you might no longer be interested in talking to him. Of course, you were still interested, but that was beside the point.
Your brow furrowed with confusion. “What do you mean?”
He huffed a laugh. “I’m not sure. It just seems like I shared a lot about myself, and for some reason, I really wish you’d share something in return. Maybe I’d feel less vulnerable.” If it had been anyone else who said this, you probably would’ve assumed they were feeding you a line, feigning sensitivity as a form of flirtation. But you could tell that Ten was being truthful, could tell that he was genuinely uncomfortable with how easily you’d gotten him to open up to you. He obviously didn’t like being vulnerable, at least not emotionally. It must be lonely to appear so strong and confident all the time.
Maybe that’s why you said what you said next. Maybe you wanted to melt away his insecurity. Or maybe you just couldn’t help yourself. “Well, how about a confession? Last night, before they told me who you were, I strongly considered making a move on you.”
He squinted at you, skeptical. “Really?” Your mind went back to the party yesterday evening, when you’d first seen him, how immediately enchanted you’d been. 
A shy giggle spilled from your lips. “I swear! You carry yourself with so much strength while seeming so free, so at ease. You were confident yet kind, outgoing without being overbearing. Aggressive yet somehow still so soft. It’s an attractive quality. It gives the impression that you’re a gentleman who... knows when not to be gentle.” Okay, you hadn’t meant to be quite that vulnerable, but one of the cornerstones of your personality was that you never knew when to shut the hell up. The implication of your word vomit made you want to retract into yourself like a turtle in its shell.
Ten bit back a grin. “You’re quite generous with your thoughts and opinions.”
You ran your hands through your hair, an anxious habit. “Sorry, I have almost no brain-to-mouth filter. It’s a flaw of mine.” 
“That’s good to know,” he said. “I was beginning to think you didn’t have any.” 
Your heart fluttered at his subtle compliment, but your mind warned you against taking him too seriously. You rolled your eyes and said, “Very smooth.”
He gave you a playful smile, but part of him was disappointed that you thought he’d been poking fun at you rather than genuinely praising you. He wondered if you were hesitant to trust him or if you just had low self-esteem. Neither of those options were appealing, but they were both issues he could work to remedy over time. He realized he wanted a lot of that with you. Time. How strange. He barely knew you. “So... what were you working on before I disrupted you?” He gestured at the notebook in your lap.
You were once again shocked to discover that this interaction wasn’t over, not that you wanted it to be, but you were sure that Ten had places to be and far more interesting people to talk to. Still, if he wanted to be bored by the minutiae of your classwork, then far be it from you to deny him. “Oh, just outlining the final paper I have due in a couple days for one of my classes. I’m a Creative Writing major, so I have to take a disgusting amount of English classes and write an even more disgusting amount of essays on topics that are nowhere near the realm of ‘creative.’”
Ten loved the way you talked, loved how alive you were, the passion you put behind your every word. You were the most charming person he’d ever met. “And today’s lucky topic is...?”
“The true inspiration behind Shakespeare’s Hamlet.” Even just saying it out loud made you groan internally. Your Shakespearean Literature class was easily your least favorite of the semester. And look, you didn’t hate Shakespeare or his works. You respected their history and their continued impact on literature today. They just weren’t your style, didn’t reach you the way other writers’ works did. It was hard to study something you truly didn’t have any interest in. But you needed another elective if you wanted to graduate on time, and this class had been the only one with any openings left. Go figure.
He could read the distaste on your face clear as day. It was refreshing to him, what an open book you were. “Yikes,” he empathized.
“Yeah, that about covers it.” You sighed and throttled your notebook like you could choke it into submission, make the paper write itself, which made him laugh. “What’s really frustrating is that the answer is actually super obvious, but I have to somehow stretch it out into a multi-paragraph, six-page research paper. I mean, sure, there are multiple theories about what inspired him, but it’s not hard to figure out which theory holds the most water.”
You were smart, Ten realized, really smart. As if he couldn’t be more attracted to you. “Sounds exhausting.”
“Oh, for sure! Even more so since I decided to procrastinate. I probably won’t be getting much sleep until I’ve submitted it, especially on top of all the other work I have to get done for finals in my other classes.” He didn’t like the sound of you not getting the sleep you needed, but he tried to be understanding of the fact that it was the end of the semester. You’d be on summer break soon. 
“Sometimes I regret that I never got the chance to go to a university, but you’re really helping to soothe that feeling right now.”
“Glad I can help!” you snarked.
Silence fell between the two of you, and he decided he’d interrogated you enough. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome, and you clearly had a lot of work to do, so he swiped his hands over his legs and stood. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.”
Your heart sank at the idea of him leaving, knowing you would probably never see him again, but you were nobody’s fool. You knew he couldn’t stick around forever, and besides, you’d only just met him. There was no reason for you to feel so… attached. “Thanks! It was nice talking to you, Ten.” You really meant it.
The smile you offered him took his breath away. “It was nice talking to you, too, Y/N.” He bowed at you respectfully before turning and heading out the door. 
Karina had plans the following day, meeting up with some other students from one of her journalism classes to go over details for a final project, which meant you had the entire house to yourself. 
You’d just taken a relaxing afternoon shower and finished drying your hair with an old t-shirt. And as you often did on the rare occasions when you had the place to yourself, you threw a pair of panties and socks on but chose to forego any other clothing as your body air-dried. Walking around your home mostly naked made you feel liberated.
Unfortunately, the feeling of liberation quickly transformed into terror when you heard an unexpected knock at your front door, your blood running cold.
Panicked, you sprinted to the closet in the foyer and grabbed the first thing you saw: a giant hoodie, some distressed pink monstrosity with a unicorn on the hood and chest. You assumed it was Karina’s, always way ahead of you on fashion trends, and wrenched it on as quickly as possible, covering your naked torso and panties before running your hands through your mussed hair and yanking the front door open in a frenzy.
You felt like you were hallucinating when your eyes fell on none other than Ten standing with his fist held in mid-air about to knock again.
His eyes took you in, eyebrows lifting almost imperceptibly before quickly falling back down as if he were surprised by something but afraid to show his reaction. You assumed it must have been your incredibly bare legs but decided it was probably better for you not to address it and to ignore your current state of dress entirely. “Hi, Ten. I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” Or, like, ever.
“I brought you something,” he blurted, skipping any attempt at greeting you altogether, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d have said he seemed nervous for some reason. But you didn’t think on it much because it was then you noticed the hand he hadn’t been using to knock on your door was tucked behind him, hiding something.
“You did?” you pressed, now dying to know.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yeah, I left something here yesterday and needed to come get it. I remembered that you’d probably be working on your paper still, so I thought you might need a pick-me-up.” And then he swung his arm around, revealing his gift for you, his fingers gripping the handle of a cardboard drink holder. You recognized the logo of your favorite boba place instantly and felt your heart skip a beat, your eyes lighting up as they lifted from the colorful beverages to meet Ten’s.
“You got me bubble tea?” you asked, trying but ultimately failing to conceal the uniquely girlish excitement that came from someone surprising you with a sweet treat. Ten smiled wide and nodded, pulling one of the two drinks from the holder and handing it to you. You accepted it gratefully, immediately bringing the exceptionally large straw to your lips and taking a long pull of the sugary concoction, popping boba exploding with flavor on your tongue, making you groan with satisfaction as your eyes drifted closed. 
You got so swept up in one of life’s simplest joys that you forgot yourself completely, forgot where you were and who was in front of you, watching you with unrestrained interest. Your eyes shot back open as you pulled the drink away from your lips. As the last of the swig you’d taken drained down your throat, the taste slowly fading from your tongue, you were struck by something: the drink you held was your favorite flavor combination, your regular order. He either somehow knew this information, or it was a deeply spooky coincidence. Either way, you were thrown back into a state of terror as you remembered yourself.
Ten had disarmed you with his oddly specific kindness, but you were violently reminded of the conclusion you’d come to the first time you’d met: he was too good to be true. Your guard was back up in an instant, physically manifesting itself in the way you crossed your arms, the plastic cup in your hand forgotten for the moment. “Anyway,” you redirected, “what is it that you left here? I can go grab it for you.”
All of the sudden, he looked incredibly apprehensive. And if your eyes weren’t deceiving you, there was a blush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks. Scratching the back of his head anxiously, his pointed gaze slowly raked over your body, down then back up. Your pulse raced at the display, at first mistaking it for flirtation until you registered what he was trying to convey, your own eyes dropping to the hoodie you were wearing and your pulse increasing tenfold at this newfound mortification.
“Oh my god…” you breathed as you gestured to the garment, staring anywhere but his face, terrified to resume direct eye contact. “This is yours, isn’t it?”
Doing his best to spare you as much embarrassment as he could, he simply nodded in your peripheral vision. 
You wanted to cry. You were wearing his hoodie in front of him with no bra and no pants, nipples undoubtedly poking through the fabric from the breeze drifting in through your front door, nothing else on but your panties and a pair of fuzzy socks. You’d opened the door for him actively donning the very article of clothing he’d come to retrieve as if it belonged to you. “Holy fuck, I am so sorry—”
“It’s fine,” he interrupted your meltdown, “really. It actually looks way better on you than it ever did on me.” You looked at him as if he’d grown a second head, and he laughed lightly. “Seriously, you should just keep it. I’ll, uh… I’ll go.”
Your brain was absolutely scrambled. He had supposedly shown up to get this sweatshirt back but was now giving it up with little to no fight, all after having brought you your favorite drink to help get you through your studies, which had apparently registered as important enough during your last conversation for him to be concerned and do this ridiculously nice and completely unnecessary thing for you. Nothing about this interaction made any sense to you. All you knew is you weren’t comfortable letting it end there. “Ten, wait,” you started, stopping him in his tracks as he turned to head back to his car.
“Yes, Y/N?” he responded, grinning, the purest amusement gracing his features. Unlike you, he didn’t think the interaction the two of you had just shared could’ve gone any more perfectly. He got a glimpse of your bare legs and bare face, got to see you wearing a piece of his clothing, got to see you enjoy the gift he’d brought you, and even though your defenses had returned as quickly as they’d dissolved, for a brief moment, he’d gotten to see what it might look like if you received him without fear. And he thought it was beautiful.
You sighed and pushed your front door open farther, stepping to the side. “Do you want to come in?”
“Love to,” he said, no hesitation, his grin brightening even further as he followed you through your doorway.
“Sorry,” you offered as you closed the door behind Ten, “Karina and I haven’t had a chance to get the place cleaned up quite yet, so we’ll have to, um, hang out in my room if… if that’s cool.” You deliberately avoided eye contact as you began trailing up the stairs, not even checking to make sure that he was following you, your heart pounding almost painfully. You had no idea what the fuck you were doing, what you were thinking. Why did you invite him in? Why were you about to take him upstairs to your bedroom? Why were your palms so sweaty?
Yeah, that’s definitely cool, Ten thought, though he didn’t voice it, more than aware of how anxious you’d become and not wanting to make it any worse by saying the wrong thing. He could see it in the way you were fidgeting, the way you wiped your palms against your sides, the way your shoulders tensed. He hated that he made you feel this way, and he honestly would’ve just left if he weren’t also aware of the courage it took you to open up to him. He would much rather have to swim the moat of your anxiety than risk actively hurting your feelings. Besides, he was a strong swimmer.
You led him into your room, sat your drink on your nightstand, and gestured to your bed. “You can sit there if you want. I’m just gonna… throw on some pants. Make yourself at home.” You entered your walk-in closet, closing yourself inside, leaning up against the shelves and taking a moment to breathe. After a few seconds, the panic started to subside. Meanwhile, Ten got comfortable, throwing the drink holder in the trash can by your door before taking his shoes off and sitting down cross-legged on top of your duvet, taking his first sip from his own drink as he patiently waited for you to rejoin him. 
By the time you summoned the strength to come back out of your closet, now wearing sweatpants, about half of Ten’s drink was gone. You had taken an extraordinarily long time just to put some pants on, but if Ten noticed, he didn’t say anything, only smiled sweetly as you hesitantly walked toward the bed and climbed to sit next to him. 
“So… I had actually just showered when you knocked and was about to take a break from school stuff.” Ten nodded, encouraging you to go on. He pretended not to notice the way your eyes tracked his movements as he ran the straw from his drink back and forth across his lips. “Um, I-I’ve been on a really big Studio Ghibli kick recently and was probably gonna watch Howl’s Moving Castle if you’d want to.” You felt like such a fucking idiot. An international superstar was sitting on your bed with you, and rather than attempting to jump his bones, you were asking him if he wanted to watch an animated movie with you.
But as was starting to become tradition with Ten, he surprised you. His face absolutely glowed at the suggestion. “I love that movie!” His enthusiasm was contagious, and you felt yourself smiling wide as you reached for your laptop and set it up at the end of your bed. You both laid down on your stomachs in front of it. After pulling up the film and pressing play, you reached back for your favorite stuffed animal that you kept between your pillows, tucking it under your chin to support your neck as you watched. You could feel Ten staring at you, so you turned to him, and he was grinning again. “Cute,” he sighed, leaning his cheek against the palm of his hand.
You looked down at the stuffed animal in your arms then back to the man next you. “It is pretty cute, I guess, even though it’s kind of raggedy now. I’ve had it since I was little.”
He rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t talking about the stuffed animal.”
Your face flushed, and you turned back to your laptop screen, burrowing your face into the head of the plushie, maddeningly unequipped to maneuver such blatant flirting. “Watch the movie, idiot.” Ten’s grin turned triumphant, but he did as you told him to, focusing on the movie. After a few minutes, you glanced at the drink in his hand. “What are you drinking?”
“It’s Thai iced tea. Ever had it?”
“Nope,” you shrugged.
He offered the cup to you. “Do you wanna try it?”
“Sure.” Rather than reaching for the cup, you opted to lean forward and simply take the straw into your mouth as he held it. It was an incredibly provocative visual, and Ten was a very weak man, specifically for you, but against all odds, he managed not to die right then and there. “Ohhh, that’s good.”
“I’m glad you like it.” 
You both seemed to settle into each other’s presence after that, making commentary here and there, sharing fun facts about the film, cracking jokes, getting hyped up during your favorite parts. 
It felt natural. It felt right. So right that, by the time the credits were rolling, you were perfectly comfortable with the fact that you were now crying in front of Ten, blubbering as you said, “But when he says he’s been looking everywhere for her at the beginning, it turns out he means it literally. He’s been waiting for her all that time! He always had faith that they would find each other. He always had faith in her!” Ten chuckled at your display of emotion, and you shoved his shoulder in mock anger. “Are you laughing at me?”
He gasped theatrically. “I would never.”
Before you could respond, there was a tap on your door, Karina poking her head in, then opening it all the way. You’d been so distracted by Ten that you hadn’t heard her come home. At first, you felt bad because you hadn’t given her any warning that someone else would be here when she arrived. But then you realized she didn’t seem all too shocked to find the two of you, which was quite suspect.
Ten hopped up off the bed, stretching after sitting in the same position for so long. “Hey, Karina! How’d the meeting for your project go?”
You suddenly felt sick, reality crashing down on you, the sounds of Ten and Karina giggling with each other the night before last now replaying in your head. He must’ve just come over under the pretense of picking up his sweatshirt so that he could see Karina again. He must’ve brought the drink for her. And he must’ve hung around in hopes that she’d come home sooner or later. It all made sense now.
“Eh, it was fine, but I am beat. I can’t wait to turn my brain off for a while and get some sleep. Did you guys have fun?” she asked, looking between you and Ten.
Your mind was still processing everything, so you could only manage to smile and nod. Ten looked at you curiously, masking his slight sadness at your response. He thought you’d had a great time with each other, but maybe it was just him. “Yeah, I had a lot of fun,” he said. You tried to ignore the way that made your heart flutter. “I should probably get going, though.” You tried even harder to ignore the way that made your heart sink. “Walk me to the door, Y/N?”
You were very confused to hear him say your name at the end of that sentence, but again, your mind was a jumbled mess, so you didn’t question it and instantly got up, leading him out of your room and down the stairs back to the front door of your house while Karina stayed upstairs. 
As he passed the threshold, he stopped and turned on his heels, hands gripping either side of the doorway, his face only a few inches from yours. “I meant it, you know. I had so much fun with you.”
You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m glad,” you said. “I’m sorry it wasn’t the kind of fun you were expecting.”
Now it was his turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”
“You were expecting Karina earlier and got stuck with me, only for her to be too tired to hang out with you when she finally got home.”
Ten frowned at you, mind running back over the last few minutes and quickly understanding what had gone wrong. “Y/N, I wasn’t expecting to see Karina. I asked her about her journalism project because I knew she wasn’t going to be home. The only thing I wasn’t totally honest about was the sweatshirt. I didn’t forget it. I left it here on purpose.”
Your head hurt. “So you left your sweatshirt here on purpose… but you didn’t leave it in hopes of coming back and sleeping with Karina again?”
He simply shook his head.
“So that means…” Ten could practically see the cogs working in your brain. “You left it and came back to see… me?”
A nod.
“Did you… expect to sleep with me?”
“What? No,” Ten cried, exasperated. “I didn’t expect anything! I just,” he huffed, “I just wanted to see you.”
“You just wanted to see me?” you repeated slowly.
“Is that really so hard to believe?”
You laughed humorlessly. “Yes, it is.”
“Well, it’s true. And I want to see you again, so get used to it.” Despite the aggressive nature of his words, his tone was soft, almost imploring. And how could you argue with that?
“Okay,” you whispered.
He smiled, releasing a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. “Good night, Y/N. I’ll text you.” And then he quickly got into his car and drove off. You stood there, flabbergasted, for several moments before finally closing the front door and making your way back up the stairs and into your room, where Karina was still waiting for you.
“Kay, what the fuck is going on?” you whined, running into her arms.
As if she’d expected this from you, she immediately wrapped you in her arms and began to pet the back of your head. “You’re the smartest girl in the world. I’m pretty sure you know what’s going on. You just don’t want to admit it.”
“But I thought he liked you.”
“Well, he doesn’t.”
“But he slept with you!”
“No, he didn’t.”
Your head shot up at this, and you squinted at her. “Then what the fuck did you two do the other night?”
She bit back a grin. “Talked about you mostly.”
“He wanted to know all about you. So I told him. You know, not everything, but enough. And then he texted me today asking what my plans were and if you’d be home and what your favorite drink was, blah, blah, blah. And now here we are!”
You were silent for quite a bit, mulling over what she’d said. “So you two text each other?”
She sighed, too tired to spell it out for you, and kissed your forehead. “You’re hopeless, babe. Good night.” 
And then she was gone, too. And once again, you were left alone with your thoughts. Your thoughts were loud and messy and there were just so many of them. Until there weren’t. Until they all devolved and mingled into a single, powerful thought that lulled you to sleep:
You were going to see Ten again.
A/N: And that's part 2! I've already got part 3 and 4 written, and part 4 will be when the smut begins, so you only have to survive one more part without! I'll try to post part 3 a little more quickly than this one! Feel free to tell me your thoughts so far :)
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ceehaz · 2 days
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Rory and Ori make a good team (sometimes)
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Little Lies 33
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Warnings: this fic includes grey/dark content including dubcon, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your boss throws your comfortably dull life into chaos. (Boss AU)
Characters: Loki
Note: I’m here again. Honestly, I’m exhausted already.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3
Love you all like the Gingerbread Man loves gumdrop buttons. Take care. 💖
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The real hangover sets in the next day. The shadow of shame follows you around at the memory of your outburst. The outpour of emotion drains you, leaving you hollow.
You can't hide. Just that one day was defeat enough. You have to keep going. You can't let him think he's broke you. You've been through worse.
The office building stands against the unusually sunny winter sky as you pull up. You take your time getting yourself together, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat and checking your reflection in the mirror. You shiver as you open the door and a gust fills your open jacket.
You march up the walkway and enter the lobby, heels clicking as you approach the elevator and wait. The minutes tick by and you step on impatiently. You just want to get to your desk and hunker down.
The agency door is unlocked when you get there, confirming your fear that you aren't the first to show. As you enter, a vase of red roses, white lilies, and pink tulips awaits you on the desk. You let the door click shut and ignore the bright bunch as you drop your bag on the other side of your monitor.
A silhouette darkens the edge of your vision as he appears in his open office door. You pull out your phone and bend to slip your bag under your desk. You peel off your jacket and hang it on the coat rack before returning to sit in the squeaky chair.
"Darling," he begins in a fragile tone as he nears, "I am so very sorry." He comes around and nudges the crystal vase closer, "this is only but a sliver of my regret–"
You pivot in your chair and grab the wire bin, turning back to clunk it down before him, a clear rejection. He sighs as his fingers slip down the crystal and rest on the desktop.
"I understand you're still very angry and you've every right to be. Hell, I am angry at myself," he continues, "how stupid could I be not to see it. Not to realise how I was so careless–"
You hit the power button on your PC and wait for it to boot, tapping your heel impatiently on the floor. He shifts and turns off the monitor as it comes to life. You cross your arms and stare straight ahead.
"Please, just give me a chance. I am trying to apologise to you, darling. How can I ever atone if you refuse to hear me?"
You don't acknowledge him, not even a flinch. You reach for your phone but he scoops it up first. He grabs the arm of your chair and swivels you to face him. He gets to his knees before you as he sets your phone behind the vase, out of your grasp.
"I am begging you," he clasps his hands together, "please just listen to me. I have never begged a woman–"
You roll your eyes and he clears his throat, "what I mean is you are not any other woman, darling, and I see now how gravely I've hurt you. That I made a mess of things and I don't know what came over me. Why I ever sought comfort elsewhere when you–" 
Your heart clenches as you bite down. There's a tugging in your chest that tells you to hear him. You look at the petals and waggle your fingers against your leg.
"You're right here and I know now, I knew then and was too stupid to see, that I need you."
He waits for a response, frozen in the tableau of his desperate plea. You bite your cheek and curl your fingers into a fist.
"Darling, I can never say sorry enough for how–"
The door opens abruptly and he looks over as you dig your heel into the floor and roll away from him. You turn and face Irena as she struts in, a fur cap on her head as she flutters her fingers in her ivory gloves, "where is–"
She stops short as Loki plants his hand on the desk and peers over as her.
"Oh, what are you doing down there, honey? How ridiculous you look."
He grunts as he pushes himself to his feet, "Irena."
"I've been calling but no one's picking up," she declares, "not a very professional way to treat your clients."
"You're not a client," he insists as he buttons his jacket, "I believe we had this conversation."
"Did we? Darling, you were absolutely mad. Your judgement–"
"Stands," he smooths his tie as he peeks at you, "I have business to attend to."
"Ugh, don't tell me you're still playing around with the mouse. Honey, truly, it does not look well on you."
"I wonder," Loki says, "you claim to be here upon business so why should it matter to you?"
Irena strides to you desk and looks down her nose at you, "you should just give me the ring. It would be much more fun."
You sit up straight and grab your phone, "don't let me get in your way of business," you stand, "I have an appointment with the contractor."
"I should come-" Loki intones as you swipe up your bag.
"I can handle it. It's business, she has a property, we need the revenue."
"Darling," his fingers brush your sleeve as you skirt around the desk.
"Such a precious thing," Irena remarks, "running away. Again."
You let her comment fly away with Loki's apology and take your coat from the rack. You slip through the open door and clack down the hall, shaking as you grip your phone. You stop and hit the button, uncertain of your destination, only sure that you can't stay there.
Another day grinds by, another night alone. The grim horizon greets you as snow blankets the dirty city. You run on habit, letting routine guide you through the morning commute.
The office is empty when you arrive. You haven't returned since you fled the day before. You take the vase and dump it in the bin, the scent of pollen stirring in the air.
You sip on your apple spice latte as you wait for sign in to complete and lazily click through the schedule. Loki's due for showings all day which allows you some solace, a comfort quickly growing isolating.
It takes some time for you to settle into your work. You almost miss the days you were kept on your feet getting houses set up and viewing properties. In the last few weeks, you let Loki take over, only calling ahead to make sure all was in order. That is his responsibility, to sell, you're just there to put together the pieces.
A few calls come in from prospective buyers and you settle the invoice from the florist and the caterers. On top of that, your phone buzzes as Frigga sends pictures of the venue and suggestions for the menu. The reminder of Loki does nothing for your focus.
You lean back and stare at the ceiling. The day before echoes in your head. Loki on his knees, begging, apologising. You almost believe him. Again. You know better and that lesson can't be forgotten.
Noon rolls around as your stomach grumbles. You ignore it as you have for much of the morning. The espresso burns a hole in your guy as it squeezes hungrily. You should eat, you should sleep, you should actually try to be human.
There's a knock at the door and you look up to the shadow on the other side of the frosted glass. You hesitate. Before you can get up, the door opens and the savoury smell of food wafts in.
"Hey," Jonathan pokes his head around the door, "I was in the area and–"
"Hi," you eke out as you stand. He shoulders the door open and you help him with the tray of drinks.
"I haven't seen you since... well," he says, "I figured you might want a hot lunch on a cold day too."
"Yeah, um," you spin on your heel and set the cups on your desk, "I'm so sorry about that."
"Sorry? I had fun."
"Yeah, but after..."
"I knew what it was. I liked it. You liked it. No harm, no foul."
You go around your desk as he sits and opens up the large paper bag. He unpacks the cardboard containers and slides one across with a pair of plastic utensils.
"Stir fry," he says, "I wasn't sure what you liked so I just got chicken."
"Chicken sounds delicious," you nearly slobber as your stomach clenches.
You open the flaps and stir the noodles, twirling them around your fork and devouring a shameless mouthful. He patiently opens his own and pokes at the contents.
"So, is he around?" He asks cautiously.
"Thankfully, no," you set the box down and grab a tissue to wipe your lips.
"So, you haven't talked?" He prompts.
You kick the bin full of flowers, "he apologised."
"Look, I'm not the guy's biggest fan. He's got a bit of an ego but well, I'm a man and I know how we are. I can tell he's--"
"What can you tell? How many women have you paid to pretend to be your girlfriend? How many women have you dragged to your family home to be humiliated? And sent down a ski slope to be maimed? Or constantly embarrassed them for your own amusement?"
He exhales, "fair enough, but that just sounds like all the bad stuff. You don't seem the type to stick around without some good stuff."
You shake your head and take another bite. You shrug. Sex isn't enough. It's only made everything messier.
"I get it, we don't have to talk about it. I just wanted to check on you. We're still neighbours. For now. Friends, I hope."
"No, I appreciate that," you sniff, "I think I need someone else to do that sometimes."
He smirks and digs into his food. You sit in silence, content for once, and finish the entire thing. It leaves a painful knot in your stomach but you feel better. You toss the container atop the flowers and take a long drink of the iced tea.
"So, you working all day?"
"Mmhmm, I think I recall I was supposed to get some closing papers signed," you tut, "for a property on Caswell."
"Ah," he catches on, "yes, I did like that one."
"One minute," you wipe your hands and get up.
You search the filing cabinet and pull out the file, returning to him as you place it beside his half-eaten lunch.
"Read it over, sign it if it makes sense," you say as you lean on the edge of the desk.
"Oh, my lawyer did that, think I'll sign away my soul to get out of that building," he scoffs as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a pen, clicking it, "so..." he flips through and signs on the lines, "I think it's a done deal and I will be certain that Mr. Laufeyson knows who made up my mind."
"Sure," you roll your eyes and hit his shoulder lightly, "I'm sure you'll be overjoyed to get away from your crazy neighbour."
"Oh, she is a wild one," he slides the pen away and closes up the file as he stands, "fiery, mouthy, loud..."
You meet his eye as you take his meaning. The thin walls didn't conceal much on either side.
"Look who's talking," you put your hands on your hip defiantly, "and you never complained."
"Oh, I like an opera," he teases.
The door clicks and he glances over from the corner of his eye. Loki stops short as he enters and coughs as if choking on his surprise. You poke your tongue in your cheek and look back to Jonathan as he meets your gaze. His irises flicker menacingly as his lips slant.
"Anyway, sweetie," his tones softens as he reaches to put his hand on your side, "I gotta go," he pulls you close and bends to kiss you. You hide your shock and kiss him back, pressing your hand to his chest as his arm hooks around you. He parts and takes his jacket from the back of the chair, "see you tonight?"
"Sure," you answer breathlessly.
He turns on his heel and marches towards Loki, "nice to see ya, bud. Just signing off on the lot." He offers his hand coolly, "thanks again for all your help."
Loki's lip curls as he eyes the man before him. They stand, locked in a glare. Finally, they shake hands and Jonathan gives a smug smirk.
"Oh, and your assistant, so helpful. I'll be sure to give you a great review."
He pats Loki's shoulder and sidles past. You hide your laughter as you clean off the desk, piling the garbage on top of the wilting stems in the bin. The door shuts as Loki steps inside, the rustle of his jacket as he hangs it, lingering behind you.
"Tonight?" He utters, "that's a regular thing now?"
"I don't think that's any of your concern," you sit heavily.
"No, I suppose not," he nears and flips open the folder, fluttering through the pages, "I'll scan this."
"My job," you insist, "don't worry about it."
He watches you as you ignore his gaze. He lets the file close and pulls his fingers away. 
"What do I do? What do I say?" He asks softly, "how can I make you forgive me?"
"You can't," you say bluntly. "Mr. Laufeyson, if I am not doing my job to your standards, I will be happy to take severance and find something else."
He's silent. So quiet you hear him gulp. 
"My mother called me, they have the venue and we must go for a viewing," he declares.
"She called me too," you assure him as you tap on your keyboard and the screensaver flicks away, "I've already booked the flight."
He nods and drags his soles on the floor, reluctant to leave.
"So, you're not leaving?"
"As long as your paying," you say nonchalantly.
He clucks and runs his fingers up the edge of his lapel, "Irena won't be back. I swear."
"I don't care about Irena," you snarl as you click a bit too hard with the mouse, "I have work to do."
He points his finger as if to say something but doesn't. Instead, he backs away and slowly crosses the office floor.
"As do I," he rasps before his door snaps shut, leaving you in the static silence of your anger.
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sara-pepper22 · 12 hours
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fukutomichi · 2 days
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1899 / S1.E2 - The Boy
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vengerb3rg · 1 day
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sing-from-the-hair · 2 days
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