LOCATION: Mickey's Room
DATE: Monday, September 5, 2005 (some time after dinner)
Closed starter for @themickey
Apologies weren't in Natalia's nature. She was generally of the mind that people needed to get over things. Truly, she didn't actually want to give one now. She still very much stood by what she said. If she was sorry for anything, it was for embarrassing Mickey so needlessly in the name of tough love. While she firmly believed it was what Mickey needed, even Natalia could admit there was a better way to go about it than airing the other ward's dirty laundry out at the dinner table. In hindsight, it was tactless, and for that, she was ashamed.
Knock, knock.
Two steady raps on Mickey's door and she waited. It's been several hours since dinner. She figured Mickey has had enough time to cool off from the high of emotions she experienced at dinner.
"Mickey?"
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LOCATION: Woodrow House, near the Great Room
DATE: Sunday, September 24, 2005
Closed starter for @themickey
After her first handful of conversations, Natalia turned interacting with the guests into something of a game to keep herself entertained. With each person she spoke to, she tried to get closer and closer to the house. By the time she spoke to person number twelve, she had successfully navigated off the lawn, up the stairs, past the terrace, and into the Great Room. Though of course, this room was also... filled with people.
Natalia took the opportunity to get herself a drink while the crowd seemed engrossed in their conversations. With a flute of sparkling cider now in hand, she surveyed the space, trying to recognize some of the guests. There was someone from Richard's book club here, and the guy who owns that artisanal bakery in Bolton. Then her eyes eventually landed on another ward in the room, Mickey.
It didn’t take long for Natalia to pick up on the ward's discomfort, likely trapped in a conversation she wanted to escape. Knowing it'd take Mickey far too long to get out of the conversation on her own, Natalia decided to down the contents of her glass and walk over. She smoothly intervened with an excuse to pull Mickey away, something about Mrs. Tristan needing to speak with them, before she looped her arm around Mickey’s and guided her away from the crowd and out of the Great Room.
"So, how long have you been trying to get out of that conversation?" she asked, mild amusement laced in her voice.
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18+ mdni; gn!reader
toji is okay with you not making eye-contact with him during sex because he knows that you're just overwhelmed, right? it's because he simply loves to feel your lips against his skin when you hide your face in the crook of his neck because that's how he knows he's taking good care of you, right?
fuck no.
those are not the only reasons.
if you look toji in the eyes while he's fucking you, he will cream his pants like a fucking teenager who's just seen a pair of tits for the first time.
when he has you on your back with your heels digging into his lower back and with your hands clawing at your back, his own arms barely supporting his body as he sinks into you; you look beautiful like this – a layer of sweat covers your body and he thinks about licking it all up, your bitten lips are parted and the sounds that spill from you cloud toji's mind like a drug. you're writhing and you're squirming, squeezing around his cock so tight that he feels like he's about to pass out.
and then... your eyes.
eyebrows scrunched together, you stare up at him and toji thinks he's going to die instead. tears brim in the corners while your pupils are blown wide, a mix of pleasure and adoration swimming in the dark orbs as he brings you closer and closer to another high. oh, he thinks you look like a fucking painting. like you belong in a museum.
the way you're looking at him is making his cock twitch inside you and that in turn makes you blink at him. you flutter your eyelashes while pressing your heels deeper into his back, silently begging for more.
"f-fuck..."
toji's head falls as he squeezes his own eyes shut. he feels like he's on fire. he feels like he's about to fucking explode. he's going to cum just because you're looking at him with nothing else but love in your eyes. he feels stupid for it – a little embarrassed that such a simple thing is getting to him so easily, but when he feels your hand on his jaw, cradling him like he's something that could break – the shame fades.
the combination of meeting your gaze once again, the care in them, and the love you offer him, makes the knot in his belly snap.
you caress his cheek as you hold your eyes on him, eager to watch him unfold in front of you. a fucked out smile makes its way to your lips and toji's heart skips a beat at the sight. he's never felt weaker, he's never felt more loved. oh, you're something alright.
he also can't handle your eyes whenever you're giving him head. he simply cannot do it. he does love watching you, he really fucking loves it – how you screw your eyes shut, your eyebrows furrowing as you concentrate on your breathing. how the drool pools in the corners of your mouth and how it dribbles down your chin. how your whole body twitches when you gag around him. how small your hand looks on him, how you massage his heavy balls. how pretty you look while doing it all – he's obsessed.
but the second you open your eyes and look back up at him... he's throwing his head back and hiding behind his arm. and while the view of his neck does get you to rub your own thighs together in want – it's not enough.
you want more.
taking your lips off his cock and ignoring the line of spit that connects you to it, you patiently wait for him to look at you. you even stop jerking him off, just resting your hand around his base. his dick twitches and another glob of pre-cum trickles from his tip.
"toji?"
your voice is as sweet as ever and he knows it's a trap. he grumbles back at you in hopes of convincing you to continue, but he's wrong. merely giving his base a squeeze, you watch how the older man buck his hips into your fist.
"look at me."
he won't, he won't, he won't. you're evil, you're awful, you wish to torture him until he dies. this is how it all ends for him. he won't.
"please..."
his balls twitch and his his body burns. he needs to cum so fucking bad but he hates looking like an actual old man, who can't keep his shit together.
"look at me, baby."
it's more of a demand now and he can't resist you. he never has and he never will. whatever you say goes – if you tell him to jump off a damn cliff, he will do so. if you want to break him just like you're doing right this moment, then so be it. he's all yours.
his arm falls from in front of his face and his green eyes crack open to the most glorious sight in the world. you look completely fucked out and your hair is a mess, your lips and your chin are all covered in spit and he thinks of you as an angel of some sort.
you give him a smile and his hips buck into your fist again, but you don't tease him for it – you want him to feel good. so you press a kiss to his sticky tip as you hold his lust-filled gaze and it's enough for him to blow his load all over your gorgeous face.
you lap at his tip like a kitten, collecting the few drops that threaten to escape while still pumping him with your one hand and massaging his balls with the other. toji grips the sheets below with both his hands – his fingers tug at the material so hard that they almost rip but neither of you care.
you worshipping his cock, or better yet worshipping him, is baffling to him. but he's not complaining. you take him into your mouth again, eyes still on his, you wrap your lips wrap around his tip and push him into overstimulation.
curses tumble from his scarred lips like they're the only words he knows and you can't help but smile while still having him him in your mouth. you're covered in his cum and now you're fucking grinning up at him – he really does think he's about to pass away. there's no way this is real, that you're not something his mind conjured up to plague him with. your hands feel godly and your mouth feels so fucking warm. no, this is it – he's officially dying.
taking your lips off of him with a pop, your smile widens even more as you give him an 'ahhh!' as if you've just had the best meal of your life and toji doesn't waste a second before pushing off the bed.
"fuck, come here."
his knees hit the floor with a thud as he lunges at you like a starved beast. he grabs your cheeks and pulls you toward him, smashing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. he needs to feel you, he needs to taste you. he needs to love you.
he needs to give you his all.
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Mickey Mouse's entry into the public domain comes with significant caveats. While the Mickey Mouse who appears in Steamboat Willie (and other media published in 1928 or earlier) is free to use, there's established precedent that specific elements of a character which appear exclusively in later works which still fall under copyright may be protected, if sufficiently distinctive.
(This is the basis of, e.g., the infamous "Sherlock Holmes can't respect women" lawsuit: the Doyle estate, which at the time owned only a tiny handful of the latest-written stories, the others having already fallen into the public domain, argued that specific personality traits which Holmes exhibits only in those later stories are sufficiently distinctive as to be the valid subject of an infringement claim.)
With respect to various elements of Mickey's visual design, such as his red shorts and signature gloves, the matter is clear: just don't use those for another few years. However, there's another thing Mickey's public domain iterations don't exhibit: speech.
The present consensus among copyright scholars seems to be that "a character speaking" is not sufficiently distinctive as to qualify for protection, but the vocal characterisation with which Mickey Mouse is famously associated may so qualify. So, if you want to be scrupulously safe, you can have him talk, but not in that exact specific voice.
Which raises a fun question: what voice would you give him? Wrong answers only.
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