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call-me-strega · 7 months ago

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Dc x Dp Prompt #20: Wishes of a Secret Romantic

Jason doesn’t really advertise it but he’s a romantic at heart. He craves having his own cliche romance with someone who will actually care about him. Sometimes he indulges in his fantasies by reading romance novels or setting up at-home dinner dates that he takes himself on. He often finds himself sighing and wishing he had someone to relate to, that would give him unconditional care and enjoy going on romantic dates with him.

~~~

Desiree doesn’t quite know how she ended up supervising this beautiful mess but she’s not complaining. If anything she has some sweet gossip to share at girls night and a story for Ghost Writer to obsess over.

~~~ It starts like this:

Ever since Frostbite had taken to teaching the young ghost boy lessons on the Realms Culture and Ghost Biology he’d made great strides in his diplomatic and medical skills. His fighting skills were already impressive but were refined under the tutelage of the warriors of Far Frozen. Personally, she thinks he is grooming the Boy to join the Council of Ancients which have taken a more active role in governance now that Pariah has been defeated for a second time.

The boy has been going around and creating treaties with his enemies in which he finds them another outlet for their obsessions. He has already worked out deals with the likes of Technus, Amorpho, and oddly enough a joint deal between Penelope Spectra and Walker.

Technus was allowed to indulge in his technological creation so long as he was supervised by the Pharoah boy or doing on of the preapproved tasks of mischief, such as causing mild inconvenience to the bastards in white.

He had set up Amorpho with a “Cosplay TikTok” on which he was able to show off his different forms and get recognition for them. He’d amassed a large following thespians and costume artists who greatly admired him.

Due to his position on the Council, the Boy managed to get Spectra and Walker to agree to take part in the new justice system the Council had been setting up. Walker could run his prison so long as he abided by the rules and scentence lengths set by the Council. And Spectra was free to torment those whom the council deemed the worthy of the worst punishments. Many ghosts had grievances against living and non-living menaces, last she heard, there was a whole list for Spectra to go down. Currently, she was in another universe tormenting a man named Eobard Thawne, who went by a ridiculous name called the Reverse Flash. Once she had her fill of torment, they would be taken to Walker’s prison.

The Ghostling continued to do this with many of his former adversaries until he came knocking at the door to her lair. She was well aware of what the GhostBoy would want, and was curious as to what he could offer her.

She granted him the grace of her presence and was charmed by his earnest nature. He genuinely wanted to know her story and obsessions so that he could find the best way to help her. She revealed to him it was not Desire as many people assumed but Fulfillment. She wanted to people to attain their desires in place of how she had been unable too. But there are consequences to wish granting so there’s only so much the Boy could do.

The ghostling had been unbelievable smug when he wished that her wishes wouldn’t have catastrophically negative outcomes. When she granted and skeptically tested this wish she found it had worked. The boy grew even more smug.

Of course balance had to be maintained so her power became not weaker per say, just more indirect. During their trial run, Desiree was granting the wish young boy had wished for a large cookie. Instead of instantly summoning a 50 foot tall cookie as she would have previously done, she simply caused his mother to have the desire to bake cookies and then had two of them fuse together in the oven creating one larger cookie.

A bit more round about than she prefers but it got the job done.

The two brokered a deal that would allow Desiree to travel into the mortal realm and grant the wishes she desired to, so long as the wouldn’t cause catastrophically negative outcomes in the future. Young Phantom had even gone as far as to direct her to the so-called Make-A-Wish foundation in which she could find many deserving children to fulfill the wishes of.

~~~

One night Desiree had been flying through the mortal realm to visit a friend, a city spirit she hadn’t seen in ages. As she flew over the city a strong sense of longing and desire resonated with her core. Where there was desire there was someone with a wish. Invisible, she flew down to the source of these feelings to investigate.

She ended up out side the window of a building that held longer traces of death and her friend’s magic. She peered through to see a young man putting the finishing touches on a lavish dinner. She observed as he created a beautiful meal with an air of melancholy before pouring himself a glass of wine and turning on his television to watch mediocre romantic comedies. Intrigued by this young man, Desiree decided to lurk and observe for a while, perhaps he would soon reveal the wish his heart yearned for?

Jason sighed into his Osso Bucco as another romantic comedy began to play. Man he really was bumming himself out wasn’t he. He shook his head and took a sip of his wine. He winced slightly as some cringey kids’ movie called How to Build A Better Boy appeared on screen. How had that even gotten in his queue? However, his laziness won out and he made no move to change it, resigning himself to a hour and a half or so of second-hand embarrassment and semi-decent acting.

As he watched the best friend girl make a virtual boyfriend based on her friend, the main girl’s, preferences and huffed to himself. Oh if only things could be that easy. He hummed to himself adding on his own thoughts to the teen girl’s rambling list.

“ If only, sister. I’d wish for a sensitive and sweet guy too. Someone who wouldn’t mind death jokes, or my odd hours. Someone who I could just relax and nerd out with. Someone who’d go on romantic dates with me so I wouldn’t have to sit here eating this nice dinner on my own. Yeah, I’d wish for my perfect guy too.”

Suddenly, a chill washed over Jason and his hair stood on edge. He whipped his head around in search for an intruder only to see nothing there. He scanned the apartment suspiciously before his eyes landed on an open window. He sighed, reassured it was just a draft and turned back to the movie.

Desiree was touched by the earnest desires of the young man who was touched by both death and her friend’s magic. It almost reminded her of her own desires for romance while she was still living. Perhaps she would stick around to see how this wish played out for the young man~?

Miles away, something sparked in Danny Fenton, helping him make his final decision on which of the colleges that accepted him he should attend.

#long post #dc x dp #dead on main #jason todd #danny phantom #danny fenton #desiree #jason todd is a romantic #romantic jason todd #jason todd deserves to be happy #accidental matchmaking #desiree and lady gotham are friends #desiree grants jason’s wish #desiree doesn’t know it yet but she’s low key gonna become jason’s personal fairy godmother #desiree is fond of jason #aha aha what if I made lady gotham and desiree jason’s moms #jk jk... unless?#Strega’s dc x dp prompt

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elanorpam · 6 months ago

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it's been way too long since i last did wildly self-indulgent fanart, so of course i did it for an SVSSS AU that doesn't even have any actual fanfiction written of it yet. but what can i say! it's a compelling scenario! Just check the original post for details!

here's a workplace doodle for his mess of an outfit, too:

Xin Mo is floating behind his back, wrapped in talismans. the collars are meant to be vaguely inspired on a flower bud.

Some notes i came up with for this version, copied straight from a month-old discord convo:

he may have protagonist halo now, but he's for sure not a stallion protagonist. he literally exchanged fates with his favorite person in the world in order to spare them a hellish trial-- that's romantic as fuck!! damn!! this is old CLAMP shoujo and no mistake!!

binghe may no longer be the protag, but he's still a half-heavenly demon. power-wise, heavenly demons can't be topped, and all the remaining heavenly demons are accounted for. so, SQQ can't be a heavenly demon, even in part.

HOWEVER, as a protagonist, there's a factor more important than power! it's the CHUUNI FACTOR. what's more CHUUNI™️ than being part demon?

one option is being part demon and part angel.

how would that even fucking work??????? IDK man, you can either pull from chinese folklore for fairies or heavenly beings or spirits, or you can blame Airplane and go "he accidentally implied the existence of christian elements by means of importing unexamined anime tropes"

Shen Jiu conveniently has a big fat blank on his parentage. We as fans can and have put whatever the hell we wanted there.

SQQ would jump into the abyss still under the impression SJ was a shallow villain. If his trip through the abyss involves recovering SJ's memories somehow, that sure would be fun times, huh?

so he awakens a mysterious ancestry and survives the abyss and takes Xin Mo, but he probably takes longer than Binghe did due to being squishier.

but Xin Mo isn't ACTUALLY his! so he papers it over with sealing talismans, and to battle the temptation to wield it he takes to wearing these longass sleeves. they're probably covered in talismans as well.

guessing Xiu Ya stayed behind to be mooned over by the clown trio in Cang Qiong. let's go full sparkle-sue here and say he's now fighting almost entirely via musical cultivation. i like swan-necked konghou harps so let's go with that, it'll look dope.

why is he barefoot? why WOULDN'T he be, is the question. fragile!! suffering!! dainty!! he's a shrinking flower, tormented by the weight of the One Sword To Rule Them All!!

also for extra pathos, his constant mental struggle against Xin Mo means he can't spare energy to front. it takes constant focus! he's still a bit in his delusional shit, but even when he's going "oh no, binghe is only latched throat-deep onto my dick because he's a good boy who's concerned about me and the danger i could pose by losing control" he'd probably… well, he'd probably say that out loud to anyone who asked. he's in a half-trance, mentally battling the crazy-making sword. lying is too much work.

Wouldn’t resisting Xin Mo’s influence be the mental and spiritual equivalent to training under 400x gravity or something? his wife-beam is going to be off the charts when he puts it down.

also also: who the hell dressed him like that? fucking shang qinghua, of course, after SQQ showed up in the northern palace to punish MBJ for hurting binghe in the conference. did the system explain shit to SQH? on the one hand, extremely funny if it updates him on the role change out of nowhere mid-alliance. on the other hand, extremely funny if he only finds out because Binghe is crying safely in Qing Jing while the scum villain apparently jumped into the abyss.

Here's another link to the original AU post! I've had it open on a tab all this time just so i could point to it when I was done, so make sure to check it out!

#svsss #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #scum villain's self saving system #paulart #fanart

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physalian · 8 months ago

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You don’t have to pay for that fancy worldbuilding program

As mentioned in this post about writing with executive dysfunction, if one of your reasons to keep procrastinating on starting your book is not being able to afford something like World Anvil or Campfire, I’m here to tell you those programs are a luxury, not a necessity: Enter Google Suite (not sponsored but gosh I wish).

MS Office offers more processing power and more fine-tuning, but Office is expensive and only autosaves to OneDrive, and I have a perfectly healthy grudge against OneDrive for failing to sync and losing 19k words of a WIP that I never got back.

Google’s sync has never failed me, and the Google apps (at least for iPhone) aren’t nearly as buggy and clunky as Microsoft’s. So today I’m outlining the system I used for my upcoming fantasy novel with all the helpful pictures and diagrams. Maybe this won’t work for you, maybe you have something else, and that’s okay! I refuse to pay for what I can get legally for free and sometimes Google’s simplicity is to its benefit.

The biggest downside is that you have to manually input and update your data, but as someone who loves organizing and made all these willingly and for fun, I don’t mind.

So. Let’s start with Google Sheets.

The Character Cheat Sheet:

I organized it this way for several reasons:

I can easily see which characters belong to which factions and how many I have named and have to keep up with for each faction

All names are in alphabetical order so when I have to come up with a new name, I can look at my list and pick a letter or a string of sounds I haven’t used as often (and then ignore it and start 8 names with A).

The strikethrough feature lets me keep track of which characters I kill off (yes, I changed it, so this remains spoiler-free)

It’s an easy place to go instead of scrolling up and down an entire manuscript for names I’ve forgotten, with every named character, however minor their role, all in one spot

Also on this page are spare names I’ll see randomly in other media (commercials, movie end credits, etc) and can add easily from my phone before I forget

Also on this page are my summary, my elevator pitch, and important character beats I could otherwise easily mess up, it helps stay consistent

*I also have on here not pictured an age timeline for all my vampires so I keep track of who’s older than who and how well I’ve staggered their ages relative to important events, but it’s made in Photoshop and too much of a pain to censor and add here

On other tabs, I keep track of location names, deities, made-up vocabulary and definitions, and my chapter word count.

The Word Count Guide:

*3/30 Edit to update this chart to its full glory. Column 3 is a cumulative count. Most of what I write breaks 100k and it's fun watching the word count rise until it boils over.

This is the most frustrating to update manually, especially if you don’t have separate docs for each chapter, but it really helps me stay consistent with chapter lengths and the formula for calculating the average and rising totals is super basic.

Not that all your chapters have to be uniform, but if you care about that, this little chart is a fantastic visualizer.

If you have multiple narrators, and this book does, you can also keep track of how many POVs each narrator has, and how spread out they are. I didn’t do that for this book since it’s not an ensemble team and matters less, but I did for my sci-fi WIP, pictured below.

As I was writing that one, I had “scripted” the chapters before going back and writing out all the glorious narrative, and updated the symbols from “scripted” to “finished” accordingly.

I also have a pie chart that I had to make manually on a convoluted iPhone app to color coordinate specifically the way I wanted to easily tell who narrates the most out of the cast, and who needs more representation.

—

Google Docs

Can’t show you much here unfortunately but I’d like to take an aside to talk about my “scene bits” docs.

It’s what it says on the tin, an entire doc all labeled with different heading styles with blurbs for each scene I want to include at some point in the book so I can hop around easily. Whether they make it into the manuscript or not, all practice is good practice and I like to keep old ideas because they might be useful in unsuspecting ways later.

Separate from that, I keep most of my deleted scenes and scene chunks for, again, possible use later in a “deleted scenes” doc, all labeled accordingly.

When I designed my alien language for the sci-fi series, I created a Word doc dictionary and my own "translation" matrix, for easy look-up or word generation whenever I needed it (do y'all want a breakdown for creating foreign languages? It's so fun).

Normally, as with my sci-fi series, I have an entire doc filled with character sheets and important details, I just… didn’t do that for this book. But the point is—you can still make those for free on any word processing software, you don’t need fancy gadgets.

—

I hope this helps anyone struggling! It doesn’t have to be fancy. It doesn’t have to be expensive. Everything I made here, minus the aforementioned timeline and pie chart, was done with basic excel skills and the paint bucket tool. I imagine this can be applicable to games, comics, what have you, it knows no bounds!

Now you have one less excuse to sit down and start writing.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #organizing your book #outlining #shut up and write the book #google sheets #google docs

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tinydefector · 5 months ago

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TFP Shockwave with a pet human who he's come to be rather affectionate with absent mindedly and has become more interactive with them outside of experiments even. One day human goes missing / isn't in usual spot and Shockwave is trying to figure out wtf is going on but then a con makes a cruel joke (anyone of choosing I thought arachnid or starscream) that they fell out of their cage and got caught underfoot whoopsies . how does Shockwave react before the human comes out from their hiding spot where they were resting??? O_O

Out of Reach

Shockwave x human

Warning: none

Word count: 1k

Shockwave masterlist

_________________________

Shockwave grew increasingly troubled as his thorough search of the lab turned up no sign of his human companion. They were always precisely where he expected upon his arrival, yet this cycle they were nowhere to be found. A nagging unease arose within the Decepticon scientist, though he remained outwardly calm as he searched.

Shockwave diligently swept across the laboratory once more, searching for any trace or clue that could indicate the human's whereabouts or condition. This simply made no logical sense. They had never hidden from him, something must have happened. Had something interfered with the lab's systems without triggering alerts? No breaches were indicated. Shockwave did not appreciate unexplained variables in his work.The sooner this small mystery was solved, the better.

Arachnid watches with a smirk on her lips as Shockwave walks through the halls checking different areas and in hopes that his little companion was just hiding. "Missing something Shockwave?" She inquires with a raised optic brow, not looking rather interested.

Shockwave paused in his meticulous vent searches to regard the inquisitive Arachnid. She took far too much pleasure in others' losses, however minor.

"My human subject is absent from their Enclosure without explanation," he stated flatly. No sense indulging her obvious gloating. "Their whereabouts remain unknown." Her smirk only widened. "And you thought you had everything so neatly ordered. Surprises happen, even to our beloved scientist." Her tone held thinly veiled mockery. "Perhaps a fleshling has more spirit than you gave it credit for."

Shockwave disregarded her taunting for now. "If you possess any data that could aid my investigation, speak. Else your presence here serves no purpose." His patience for games was nonexistent. She lets out a huff as she turns away. "Last I saw them Starscream was rambling about discarding the little pest, I would much rather have added them to my collection, but no use once they are squished" she replies amusement flicking in her optics. It makes Shockwave's spark go cold at the thought.

Starscream, interfering in his work yet again... but to harm the human? It made no sense. "Elaborate. What precisely did Starscream say?" Starscream's actions often lacked reason, but there had to be a thread of logic here. The thought of harm coming to his research subject was. displeasing.

His optic narrowed on Arachnid, another smile graced her lips. "If my memory serves correctly, starscream stepped on them when he was in your laboratory last, and decided it was easier to discard them before they made a mess with all their bloo " she teases. She was going to see just how far Shockwave was willing to go for the little flesh bag.

Something akin to anger flashed through Shockwave's circuits at Arachnid's vague 'memory' and obvious game. Starscream would pay dearly for damaging laboratory property and disrupting critical research. His optic burned into hers. "Show me. Now."

Starscream looks up from his data pad when the sound of Shockwave's shadow forms over him. Arachnid gives him a little wave before stalking off, leaving Shockwave with him. "What can I do for you, Shockwave, as you can see I am rather busy" he states, wings flickering in annoyance at being interrupted.

"You will explain the human's current status and your role in their disappearance, Starscream," he stated calmly. Too calmly, given the swirling calculations within his processor. "Arachnid insinuated you were involved with deactivating them."

Starscream shifted uneasily under that baleful optical lens. “How dare you accuse me!” he snarls as his optics glare at the scientist. Shockwave cut him off. "The human. Where is it? I will have answers, one way or another. Do not test me further, Starscream."

"You babbling Moron I haven't been anywhere near your Lab nor near that disgusting little creature you adore!I'm Sure Arachnid would just love to add them to her collection of prizes and is using this time to hunt them" Starscream snarls out wings flickering even more as Shockwave threatens him.

The moment those words leave Starscream, Shockwave turned on a heel strut and departed, optic aglow with sheer anger. When Shockwave stalks back into his laboratory Arachnid isn't paying attention as she looks through the vents eager to try and find the human before Shockwave's return.A faint whirring was Shockwave's only warning before his blaster cannon trained directly on Arachnid's backstrut. "Cease your prowling immediately, My companion is off limits as is instructed by Lord Megatron" he commanded, weapon charged and ready.

She froze at the sound of his calm yet irrefutable voice. “Such a shame, yet you still have found your precious little pet, perhaps they have finally abandoned you” she sneers back at him. His optic narrowed to a slit. He took a measured step forward. "The human. Where have you hidden or disposed of them, Arachnid?" A hiss escaped her in mingled frustration and wary respect. Lying to Shockwave was never wise. Slowly, delicately, she extracted herself away from the vent. "I have no idea."

Movement catches Shockwave optics from over on his bench, it makes both Decepticons helms snap to the moment. "What time is it?" the little human asked while rubbing their eyes as they pulled the large cloth around their body. walking out of the unoccupied crate that originally held Shockwave's energon cube rations. Arachnid snarls as she pushes Shockwave off before stalking out of the lab. "What was that about?" They mumble tiredly.

Shockwave's cannon whirred down as he took in the dishevelled yet apparently unharmed human, "It is roughly mid-cycle," he replied calmly, his servo moving across their frame taking in their appearance making sure they are not injured. all traces of anger leave his processes.

"You appear undamaged. How did you get to be within the energon container? Arachnid led me to believe you'd been.harmed." he questioned, Relief pulsed through his lines, though he showed no outward emotion.

"I fell asleep in there last night while you were working, sorry I didn't mean to cause any issues" they state as he lifts them up. Shockwave processed this new information and he cursed himself for not checking the crate. "You have nothing for which to apologise for " he replied calmly, holding the human against his chassis. “I ask that you alert me as to your wear about before recharge for your own safety” he states before setting down with them in his servos.

______________

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#transformers #transformers idw #transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers prime #idw shockwave #tfp shockwave #transformers shockwave #shockwave transformers #shockwave #shockwave x human #shockwave x reader

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dinarosie · 2 months ago

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I Was Bullied Too, So Why Didn’t I Turn Out Like Severus Snape?

I came across an anti-Snape post where someone shared their experience of being bullied in school. They said that even though they were bullied, they were able to overcome it, which is why they admired James Potter—because he changed and stopped being a bully. However, they hate Snape for not being able to move on from his past.

Everyone has the right to hate or love the characters based on their taste but What bothers me is how people often compare their own trauma to others' and disregard the genetic and environmental differences that shape us as individuals. I’ve decided to write a long post comparing my own life with Snape’s—two people who were both bullied as children. it was difficult for me to write this post, but I hope this comparison shows that not everyone who experiences bullying ends up the same. The variances in our upbringing and support systems play a crucial role in shaping who we become.

When I was seven years old, I was mocked and humiliated by a group of older girls on the school bus (they were eleven at the time). They made it clear that they bullied me because I was smaller and weaker than them. They treated me in a way that made me believe I deserved their bullying. I thought a weak and ugly girl like me was deserving of all their humiliation. They would mess up my hair, pull it, and ridicule me for having messy and ugly hair. Whenever I cried, they laughed. They didn't even let me be friends with other girls. To torment me further, they would point at me, whisper to each other, and giggle, making me feel even more isolated. I had allergies and a runny nose, and they wouldn’t let me wipe it, which they used as another reason to belittle me, saying I was disgusting. Even if there was an empty seat, they wouldn’t let me sit with them because I was "gross." I was terrified of them, hated school because of them, and cried every morning, begging not to go to school.

But why didn’t I turn out like Severus Snape?

1- I grew up like a normal child in every other aspect of my life. I was cared for and valued. I always had birthday parties with cake and gifts. I was praised when I got good grades. I had friends outside of school to play with, went on family vacations, and had fun times. From childhood to adulthood, I’ve had a safe home, enough sleep, good food, and a loving family.

2- I had parents who loved and cared about me. When my mother found out about the bullying, she went to the school and demanded they stop it. My parents also enrolled me in a private school to protect me from further bullying. When I started having nightmares and trouble sleeping, they took me to a child therapist.

3- My grandparents adored me. I would stay at their house when my parents were at work, and they made my childhood even more joyful. I always had safe arms to run to. Plus, my aunts and uncles cared for me and regularly took me to parks and other fun places, showering me with gifts and making sure I enjoyed my time.

4- My family had a respectable place in society, and I was never shamed or humiliated because of my family's circumstances. My father cared for me, my sister, and my mother, and he worked hard to provide for our needs. He respected my mother, and I never witnessed any abuse from him toward her.

5- My family had a stable income, and I always had new, appropriate clothes to wear. I never had to worry about poverty, hunger, or wearing hand-me-downs that would make me feel inferior to my peers.

6- My bullies mocked me, but they never caused me serious physical harm. I never feared for my life or sexual assault at school. The bullying was short-lived, lasting less than two years, and by the time I was a teenager, it had completely stopped. As I grew older, I made plenty of good friends and was popular among them. I have many fond memories from high school with my friends.

7- As a teenager, I didn’t worry about my future. My concerns were not about surviving a war, avoiding humiliation, or escaping poverty. I was free to plan my life, knowing I would go to university and study what I loved. Whenever I needed help, I knew I could count on my family—they were always there to support me.

8- I’m a psychology student, and studying this field has completely shifted my perspective on myself and others. It has allowed me to see the world with greater depth and empathy. I’ve become better at recognizing not only my own psychological wounds but also those of others, which has helped me connect with people on a deeper level. I've also sought therapy, both in-person and online, and have seen positive results. While I still struggle with some issues from my past—like feeling insecure about my appearance, doubting people’s motives, and having a hard time trusting—I’ve learned how to manage these feelings fairly well.

All of these factors combined have shaped me into someone different from Severus Snape. Yes, I was bullied, but I didn’t turn out like him because, unlike Snape, I was given numerous opportunities to grow, to experience love and joy, to heal, and to find pleasure in life.

Now, It’s much easier for someone like me to be kind and nice to others, to love people, to forgive myself and others, and to move on from those who don’t like me. It’s easier for me to see the world and people not as threats but with a more mature and balanced perspective. but I’m under no illusion that I am a better and more worthy person than Severus Snape or anyone like him who didn’t have the chance to heal. I simply know that I’ve been luckier, and for that, I’m grateful. But I never want to dismiss or belittle the suffering of others or blame them for their psychological struggles.

I can’t say for certain what I would’ve done in Snape’s exact situation or how bitter I might’ve become. But I’m certain of one thing: I could never be as brave or as selfless as Snape was, sacrificing his own life so readily for others. I know that I could never be a hero like him.

#severus snape #pro snape #professor snape #snapedom #snape fandom #anti snaters #snape defender #snape meta #anti james potter #character complexity

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silvery-orchid · 1 year ago

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BE A BETTER PET FOR ME.

synopsis: neuvillette found a perfect use for you after you left your homeland. (honestly this is so depraved and filthy and messed up i will just give you the warnings so you can decide if you wish to read it. neuvillete the man that you are!!)

pairing: dom!yan! neuvillette x fem!sub!reader; (mentions of dom!yan!dottore x reader) warnings: blowjobs, dubcon (barely), humping, dom/sub dynamics, breeding, pet play, hard kinks, masochist reader, facials, handjobs; mentions of: gang bangs, blackmail, hypnosis, bdsm, bondage, has plot kind of, probably more i can't think of right now.

You've always had to answer to someone in your life. Someone higher than you because they gaze down on everyone and you should be grateful they spared you a glance and asked you anything. If they relied on you get something done - at the orphanage you grew up in or the elections you ran - you should have counted yourself lucky they needed you at all. Leaving Snezhnaya wasn't easy by any means but luck and bravery happened to be on your side that night. No, maybe it was an idea of grandeur on your part?

Regardless of the reason, in your life you learned not to ask too many questions and Fontaine was not hard for you to get used to. Being part of this justice system reminded you of something familiar but far more noble than sending children to their punishments. And, while it did resemble a show, you weren't surprised by that - the only thing that surprised you was your boss.

Neuvillette, the archetypal leader with enough calm and manipulative wit to stand elevated above everyone. People marvelled at him, some were jealous that you were the one to carry his paperwork back and forth and you only have Neuvillette to thank for being so ruthless and cold they never suspected anything else.

In public settings, he didn't allow you to even stand near him. During work hours, you were treated just like anyone else. But after everyone left; Neuvillette never let you run away.

At first, given his nature, you thought you were being too paranoid. You thought his intense gaze that made you drop your pens was just his way of saying you were not good enough. His tugs at your clothes were only reminders of how sloppy you were, surely. He only did that to make you more presentable because he couldn't stand the sight of you. That must have been it.

However, you quickly realized that he was simply a man who wanted to control everything. People had specific roles to fulfil in his eyes and you should have been even more paranoid about your own.

Doubts went away on the night his gloved hand slid up your skirt during a banquet he didn't deem important enough. He saw you standing in the hallway and told you to follow him. He was so calm and composed even when locking the door behind him and pressing you against it. He didn't flinch while you were confused, his fingers were already sliding up your thigh.

'Your dress tonight is far too tempting. Simply groping you to fix it won't be enough.' were the last words he said before sliding your panties to the side and covering your mouth with his hand.

Neuvillette did not have enough regard for you that would disobey his wishes and, while you just remember being hazy, you don't remember fighting his advances.

And that is how it all began. Soon enough, your main job of sorting documents became secondary even if you still had to carry it out with perfection.

Your main job and joy transformed into being perfect enough for him to breed and break. You were lucky nobody was allowed to enter into his office without a direct invitation. If anyone did, they might have found you pressed against the walls or chained to his desk. Perhaps, they would have found you on a pile of important paperwork you brought with his cock buried deep inside while he manhandles you.

But he was so good at it. Sometimes you would stand on the sidelines during his speeches or trials and you would feel warm just from looking at him on that podium. He was always, always above you and a twisted need find it's way between your legs. You would never admit to anyone but him to where you disappeared to. You would never even tell him how, if he was on the radio, you would masturbate to his voice alone.

And fuck, did he have such a nice voice. Anytime it gave you a command, your spine would feel it. If he gave you praise and called you a 'perfect dumb toy', your body would get flushed. If he degraded you? You just felt the need to hear his insults over and over again. Neuvillette was a selfish man, but he loved to see and hear you break.

Right now, you were sitting down next to his chair. He was signing off the final papers you brought with one hand while his other absentmindedly played with your hair.

He would soon be finished. Your eyes carefully traced his movements in anticipation. Soon he would be done and you wouldn't have to keep rubbing your thighs together. Sometimes you would glance at this lap and see that he was already half hard. His libido was insatiable. And it felt so nice to know you were the only one he would breed and stain with his cum.

When he put the last stamp, you looked up at him. He didn't issue you a command and you didn't dare to do anything on your own.

'What? Are you looking at me and hoping for something?'

His voice was always cold unless he was moaning and panting against yohr body. Perhaps that is why you enjoyed everything he did if it made you feel wanted by a man like him?

'Are you so eager to moan out you love me while you cream all over my cock again?'

He hadn't even done anything and you were starting to get wet. Who would imagine such a proper man respected by all would ever say such a thing? Nobody. And that was the allure. Only you knew how much his depravity ran.

'Pet, move over in front of me.' A command. Finally. He could see your eyes light up as you dragged yourself over the floor to kneel down. Your thighs rubbed together and Neuvillette realized just how much he had spoilt you when your hand reached for his belt.

He glared at you and that was enough sign that you had done something wrong. To make it look like an accident, you placed it on his knee instead and rubbed small circles just so that he could feel the warmth of your skin.

Maybe he would punish you by tying you up again? Or he would deny your orgasms and cum on your stomach to prove you weren't good enough for him to actually fuck?

'Tell me pet, am I the best man you've ever been with?'

That was odd. Neuvillette never asked you questions of this nature. Usually they were only questions during passion like: 'You love being dragged on the floor don't you?' and 'Wouldn't you just look so good pregnant and stuffed with my seed?'. But this was new.

'The best man I've been with?' Maybe this was a new game of making you embarrassed? It certainly did the trick

'Y-Yes.' 'Prove it to me then. Before I replace you.'

Even from the darkness inside his office and your current position now you could see that light smirk he had while resting his head on his hand. He wanted to be especially cruel tonight but you never thought he would replace you so soon.

With a shaky hand and a racing mind you reached out for his belt. He allowed it this time but he wasn't amused. If he wanted to replace you, you'd just have to make him feel better than ever before.

Your thighs were so hot and warm you couldn't control yourself. You wanted nothing more than to put his cock in your mouth. No time to undress him or tug down your own clothes.

Neuvellitte let you just free his cock from the restraints and it was already hard by that look on your face. Warm skin, glassy eyes that didn't look anywhere else and complete obedience were in front of him. How could he not enjoy the face you didn't even realize your mouth was open before you pressed yourself forward to lick his tip.

He was such a pale man and yet his tip was the most beautiful shade of red to you. Your fingers wrapped around his girthy and veiny cock and your hips jerked slightly. You remembered how nice it felt when it was inside you - stretching you and hitting all the spots. You had to thank his generosity by circling the tip of it with your tongue. Your excitement was so immense that your mouth was filling with spit and since it was so late Neuvillette didn't care if it got all over his cock and dripped down to his pants.

You were so eager and adorable, looking blissful before he even did anything to you. He thought it would make him happy but instead he furrowed his brow.

'Not good enough.'

You barely had time to register what he said before he gripped your jaw and pulled your head up. The sudden shift had you groaning because you were still on your knees.

'You say i am the best man you've been with yet that look on your face didn't change.'

What was he talking about?

'It looks the same on the photos where you're sucking off that doctor. Tell me, did you take me for a fool?'

All the warmth in your body suddenly disappears. You feel cold, colder than ever. Maybe even cold like your homeland and the messed up laboratory Dottore forced you in. Neuvillette knew. He knew about your past and the fact you were a fugitive. Would he turn you in? Wait, was this his messed up trial to prove you didn't deserve this comfortable life?

You were shivering by this point and refusing to cry but you simply couldn't stop your eyes from getting teary when Neuvillette tossed an envelope and all the photos flew out.

It reminded you what you ran way from and what formed all these kinks Neuvillette triggered again.

There was a photo of you in a cow bikini drinking milk from a bowl on the floor with bruised hands. Then, there was one of you being tied to his table. Another one of you with a special device that hypnotised you. One where you were covered in cum all over your body. And the last one was the one Neuvillette spoke of; it was from when Dottore made you fuck him and some of his clothes. A perfect shot of you giving one of them a blowjob that he took.

But you ran away! You did everything you could! Was this a warning? How did Neuvillette get this envelope?

'I never thought you would dare lie in front of me. You should know better than that.'

His voice was cold but never like this. Never did you feel hatred from it but not it was different. Neuvillette hated you and you lost everything you had. Your hair was standing up, your hands were shaking and you could feel your heartbeat pounding away in your ears. Neuvillette was getting blurry and you were growing more desperate.

Then, when he saw you like that, completely afraid and dependent on him, Neuvillette's twisted desires grew. No where on those photos did you look so lost and desperate. He was probably the first man to make you feel that way and he couldn't deny how your brokenness made his cock throb. Then, he decided to be your saviour instead. Preventing crime and punishing it went hand and hand. He would throw you a bone to cling to, and would get a pet even more eager to please.

How desperately he wanted to see your ruin. To hear it and taste it on his tongue.

'Prove to me how desperate you are and I might take pity on you.'

Save you from himself? You aren't sure if it was the glimmer of hope or the messiness in your head at all those years in Dottore's hands that made you act but your blood started to flow and bloom again.

All you had to do was prove just how good and desperate you are. Nobody was better at that than you and nobody got more wet at the idea of it.

You placed your knees on the sides of Neuvillette's left leg. Those glassy eyes of yours and tear strained cheeks were a sight to behold when he saw you were looking up at him in marvel. Then, you rested your head on his knee and reached to jerk him off with your right hand. Your head was hazy and tired, but your hips were moving on their own. You were grinding down on his boot; you were fucking yourself crazy on it.

That night, you kept humping his foot until you reached the most intense and messy orgasm. You were so fucked out and desperate you probably didn't even know you were drooling and slobbering all over his pants while moaning how you were a good pet; how badly you wanted him to fuck you. Fuck, you didn't even realize your hand had stopped moving before he reached his high because you tired yourself out and fell asleep.

But Neuvillete didn't mind; he simply let you stay on his lap looking so serene before he gave his cock a few final strokes to paint your face white.

Maybe he should thank that man for sending him this envelope. Maybe even for training you to be such a perfect pet. But one thing was for sure, he definitely wouldn't let you go anytime soon.

avert you eyes. i was hormonal

#yandere neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #genshin smut #neuvillette smut #genshin x reader #genshin neuvillette #yan genshin #genshin imagines #genshin impact

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annabelle--cane · 6 months ago

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there's a lot going on in the mag 58 supplemental, this one little scene does a lot of heavy lifting to set up martin and tim's arcs for the rest of the show, but I want to focus on these lines particularly because of how therapy comes back as a symbol in s4/s5.

broadly, in the context of the meta plot and not the individual statements, seeking therapy in tma is representative of trying to improve oneself and get out of a bad situation. later, when taking melanie to therapy, georgie suggests that jon should get some as well but, when asked, says she wouldn't be willing to escort him like she does with melanie, showing how she does wish the best for jon in theory but doesn't think he actually wants to get better, or at least that she's not sure enough to involve herself with him.

that view of jon doesn't come from nowhere, because here we have an instance of him rejecting that same offer, symbolically rejecting help in favor of digging himself deeper on his own (obligatory disclaimer that irl therapy is a very personal thing and says nothing about one's overall character, this is just an examination of a motif in fiction). the word choice of "he just says no" imo implies that martin has suggested this multiple times and jon keeps giving the same answer, continually reaffirming that he does not want outside assistance to pull him out of this spiral.

the fact that martin's the one advocating to go soft on jon despite repeated refusals for more sympathetic help is interesting to me, because I would guess that this conversation was instigated by jon aggressively confronting martin about trevor herbert two episodes earlier. we know he was stalking all three of his assistants, but that is the biggest and most threatening outburst we get from jon in this period, and in this conversation it is still martin being defensive and apologetic vs tim being frustrated and pissed off.

I've said recently that I'm pretty sure martin believed jon was self harming and/or suicidal at this point, so I can see why he would be particularly willing to give jon slack and try to prevent any big conflicts, but that still contributes to his current narrative role of "guy who is treated the worst but ignores it because he's also the guy who cares the most." in that way, he's a foil for georgie; she cares, sure, but not enough to ignore (perceived) risks. martin pushes for jon to get therapy even as he lashes out and rejects help, and georgie won't involve herself when jon asks if she'd be willing to help him see a therapist.

this motif comes back around for a final complication in s5, when laverne, melanie's therapist, winds up as part of her cult. melanie's effort to get better and get out did have lasting effects, she is separated from the watcher/watched system and is coping a whole lot better than she would have before, but those personal efforts still weren't enough to fully get her out of the whole mess. no amount of individual action could remove her from this structural problem, her therapist helped her a lot but also now thinks she's a prophet.

which also comes back to the above scene. tim and martin both write off elias as useless in this situation, so they start sniping at each other and talking about how to stop jon from doing what he's doing without even really lingering on how the guy who is actually in charge and has power over them all is making it worse by neglecting his managerial duties. I'm sure jon could have done with some therapy at this point, but that would have only dealt with, like, 10% of the archive gang's current problems.

#tma #marina marvels at life #id in alt text

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fastcardotmp3 · 8 months ago

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welcome to dot drops something that's been sitting in her tumblr drafts for 4 months Saturday I hope you enjoy your visit mwah! Steddie; Ballet AU; Dancer!Steve; mentions of cancer treatment; 1.5k words

Dress rehearsal is supposed to be a mess.

That's the point of it, really, to get all the mistakes out of your system and start the actual show run with a clean slate. Or at least, that had been the point of which they'd all convinced themselves when Steve was the one performing.

Bad dress meant good show, or so the old adage went, and so at least there was some ease of worry with the collective understanding that it won't happen on the night within the company.

That was the case when Steve was a student, when he was an apprentice, even during his time in the big leagues at Joffrey, but right now? At the end of a truly abysmal dress in this run-down theater on the edge of a town from which he'd once run away?

Steve is not the performer. He's the guy in charge.

And so he spirals.

He'd never wanted to be a director or an instructor or the head of a studio like this. It had never been in his plans. Steve was a man of action, where the people who do these jobs are the brains behind the operation.

Steve knows how to work hard, how to force his body and even his mind into submission until he gets the steps just right, but this? These past six months back in Hawkins temporarily helping out?

(God, please let it be temporary.)

He's not built for this. He's sitting center stage after everyone has left with only half the house lights to illuminate his misery and he's not. Built. For. This.

Not built for being a mentor or a leader or a role model; not built to handle the strenuous nature of his mother's legacy; not built to carry the name she's made for herself as a teacher and a choreographer and a shaper of young dancers.

Steve's not built for it!

They'd had a shitty fucking dress.

"Hey, uh, you gonna be a while? I kinda need to close up for the night."

The voice echoes across the empty space, bouncing off the high ceiling and straight up to land on the Marley floors at Steve's feet. The stage isn't built for dancers, much like Steve isn't built to be here, so they'd had to pull up the floors from the studio and drag them halfway across town just to roll them out here.

"Hello? Are you, like, alive up there?"

Steve sighs. "Yeah," he calls back, catching sight of the figure talking to him at the back of the theater, the young guy who runs the place and who Steve met a grand total of three days ago. His name is Eddie and he dresses more like he's running a music venue than a local community theater, but he's mostly stayed out of Steve's way so far. "Sorry, I'll get outta your hair."

"Sure," Eddie says, but he's just sort of leaning against the back wall by the window to the sound and lighting booth without an ounce of urgency to him as Steve drags himself to his aching feet and lugs his three separate bags of show stuff onto his shoulders.

There's an energy to an empty theater, one which has held a performance and one which now holds the ghosts of that performance, which tugs at the anxieties sitting buried deep beneath the more immediate ones.

Fears about his mom's health, about what will happen to the studio if she doesn't win this particular battle, about what will happen to him.

There's an energy here in the creak of the steps which lead down off the front of the stage and there's an energy to the plod of Steve's sneakers up the long, racked aisle between the seats.

There's an energy, but it's also not empty, is it.

"Hey, good show, dude," Eddie says, pushing off his wall as Steve grows nearer. "Like, talented kids you've got there."

Steve scoffs before he can help himself and then pinches the bridge of his nose in a grimace for not being able to help himself.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," he grits out, thinking about his bed. Thinking about how he never made time for dinner and he has to be here early again tomorrow.

"Wow, resounding confidence on this one," Eddie snorts, and when Steve opens his eyes it's to genuine amusement, genuine curiosity in the tilt of a head and furrow of a brow.

"No, just," he shakes his head, "you should see 'em when they're really on their game, y'know?"

Eddie hums, and when did Steve come to a stop right in front of him? He's leaving. He has to leave. Go home. Think about all the spacing corrections he needs to fix tomorrow and run through with the girls before show time.

"Bad dress, good show though, right?"

Steve startles. Maybe a little too visibly because Eddie is actively holding back laughter at the sight of him.

"What, I've worked at a theater for four years and I'm not supposed to pick up a thing or two about the ballet?" he snarks good-naturedly. "Caroline, the lady who did your job before you, she was a chatty one, taught me everything I know about Giselle."

It's a knife between the ribs. It's a soothing sort of heat, like from a roaring bonfire.

"You--" he clears his throat, "you know Caroline?"

"Highlight of the job honestly, before she retired," Eddie shrugs.

"She didn't retire."

"Oh. She...?"

"Chemo," Steve doesn't know why he's saying it all so willingly, why after months of trying to run the studio without having to talk about how's your mom doing, sweetheart? he's opening up to this stranger with the curly hair and curious eyes. But he knows her. He's-- Well, he knows her. "I'm just here to-- to fill in until she can come back. So."

Eddie is studying him now. Curious eyes turned intelligent, knowing, sad with the weight of realization.

"You're the wonder boy," he says on a breath like oh, I get it now.

"The what?" Steve balks.

"Her kid," Eddie says like it's simple. He's leaning against the wall again, like he's not planning on getting back to work anymore, "she was-- Shit, man, she loves the hell outta you. Oh, you should see my son, he's in Les Corsaire this season! Oh, my boy, he's just gotten promoted to soloist, he'll be a principal in no time! Oh, the talent on him, the--"

"Okay, okay, Jesus," Steve cuts him off, a half-hysterical laugh bubbling up out of his chest in the process.

"You should tell her I say hi next time you see her," Eddie isn't remotely deterred by having his little, lilting performance derailed. There's a softness to him that deserves a smaller space, walls less prone to echo.

"I will," Steve nods. His bags grow heavy on his shoulders.

"And you should chill out a little bit," he says, this time with the kind of glint to his eye that needs a bigger space, needs to be up on the stage to the point where it has Steve floundering, "y'know, about the the shitty dress that, between you and me," he leans in conspiratorially, close enough to feel the heat of his breath, "wasn't really all that shitty."

Steve sucks in a breath.

It strikes him somewhere old, the reassurance, somewhere young deep inside of him. The comforting from a mother that if he just works hard enough he’ll land that double tour in fifth some day soon, the unbroken promise that she would never give him special treatment as the son of the studio owner, but that she would never hesitate to reward him when he’d earned it on his own.

It strikes him because no one tells you how little reassurance the guy in charge is ever offered and it strikes him because it’s been such a long day and it strikes him because—

“Hey, have you had dinner yet?”

Eddie’s eyebrows lift high on his forehead and Steve sees it, the attitude on this dude that his mother absolutely would have loved in an instant. There’s a performer in there, even just in the brief interaction they’ve shared so far. There’s a spotlight pointing inwards and a show begging to be dragged out.

“No,” Eddie drags out slow and curious, “you offering, ballet boy?”

Steve needs a sounding board and he needs another set of eyes and he needs his mom to be okay and the show tomorrow to prove that he can handle this for her if she’s not, but maybe what he needs most right now, on the other side of a spiral in a dark and echoing theater, is this.

“Meet me at Benny’s in thirty,” he says simply as he makes his way for the door. “Since you’re such an experienced test audience.”

Eddie’s responding laugh is bright and his eyes glitter with curious amusement and maybe this is what Steve needs because maybe all of this is one big rehearsal at a big new life in and old small town.

And maybe this is his chance to make a mess of it. At least until the real show starts.

#dot fic #dot post #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #dancer!steve #community theater!eddie #sometimes i realize i have over 50 drafts and just need to clear one out for my sanity and today is that day fdjlsakf #one day i'll write a fleshed out dancer steve au but for now have some of This

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glorysiren444 · 8 months ago

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♰ . 𝒹opamine detox & why it’s important

⠀⠀

─── first of all what is the role of dopamine .ᐣ

dopamine acts on areas of the brain to give you feelings of pleasure, satisfaction & motivation. dopamine also has a role to play in controlling memory, mood, sleep, learning, concentration, movement & other body functions.

⠀⠀

─── what is a dopamine detox (fasting) .ᐣ

dopamine detox is a form of fasting from any activities or pleasures that produce dopamine so that drive for quick rewards decreases.

⠀⠀

─── what are the benefits of doing dopamine detox .ᐣ

𝟭 . regulates your dopamine response, so your brain can function at it’s best. when dopamine level is to high it can lead to addiction, impaired decision making & mental health problem,

𝟮 . makes you feel calmer & less anxious,

𝟯 . reduce the risk of depression that social media produces by addiction & comparing your life to other people,

𝟰 . boost your sleep quality & academic performance,

remember: benefits will always depending on the person, so do NOT compare to each other ♥︎

⠀⠀

─── what to avoid during dopamine detox .ᐣ

social media: spending endless time scrolling, liking, & commenting on social media platforms can really mess with our brains because of these little dopamine hits what keep us addicted,

gaming: especially avoid the super stimulating ones. they send our dopamine levels through the roof & make it hard to pay attention to real-life stuff,

eating junk food: high-sugar & high-fat food destroy your eating habits & body, including brain,

caffeine: it gives us that kick, but it also stimulates dopamine, which is why we gotta be mindful of our caffeine intake during a detox,

nicotine, alcohol & drugs: do i really have to explain?

watching shows: binge-watching your favorite tv shows it’s amazing way to spend time & flood your brain with too much dopamine,

⠀⠀

─── how to create a detox-friendly environment .ᐣ

𝟭 . designing a digital detox space

set up an environment that minimizes digital distractions. you can do this by creating a dedicated workspace or relaxation area where you limit or eliminate access to digital devices,

𝟮 . mindful nutrition

it’s important to choose foods that help maintain balanced dopamine levels. this might involve consuming foods rich in precursors like tyrosine (found in lean proteins), clean food & nutrients like antioxidants (found in fruits and vegetables) to support overall brain health and function,

𝟯 . engaging in low-stimulus activities

low-stimulus or low-dopamine activities are those that don't trigger excessive dopamine release. examples include meditation, gentle exercise, reading, or spending time in nature. engaging in these activities during your detox helps maintain a calmer & more focused state of mind, making it easier to resist the allure of high-dopamine behaviors & substances.

creating a detox-friendly environment is crucial to supports your efforts to reduce the impact of overstimulation on your brain's reward system. it sets the stage for a healthier lifestyle and a more balanced relationship with activities that can lead to excessive dopamine release.

─── with 𝑙ove, 𝓋ittoria ♥︎

#📁#it girl #loa #manifesting #subliminals #thewizardliz #law of assumption #affirmations #that girl #self care #self love #wonyoung #self concept #void state #pinterest #advice #neville goddard

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turtle-paced · 1 month ago

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Would you consider Doran's treatment of Arianne effective training for the role as queen consort he imagined her in? On one hand, being in charge of feasts and event planning to show off the power/wealth of the family, maintain alliances etc are things a queen consort would be doing. On the other, Doran doesn't seem to have given Arianne much training to actually rule. I would think that in less patriarchal Dorne, Doran would be envisioning his daughter as influential to the governence, if in softer ways (like Good Queen Alysanne), respecting that this is Westeros so she'll never be an equal co monarch. Why does he skip this part of her education?

There are a few things going on here.

First up, Doran doesn't want Arianne to expect to rule Dorne. That sets her up with expectations and skills that might not fit the situation he does not intend for her - and mess with his plans for Quentyn, too. Where Doran went wrong on this one is that Arianne does not exist in an information vacuum and of course she's going to start wondering why her father wouldn't treat her like his heir.

But the key word in the phrase "less patriarchal Dorne" is "less". There's no structure for Doran (or anyone else) to think about systemic bias and discrmination against women (and all AFAB people in the setting) - and that includes serious thinking about the many and varied ways queens could wield their influence and power.

Doran's clearly got an idea about what a queen consort does and he's tried to prepare Arianne for that, but what he doesn't have is a broader view of how noblewomen live in King's Landing. There's no Lives of Four Queens out there, which tells you about what the in-universe historians value and what the predominantly male power structure demands in terms of education. Which also helps perpetuate that male power structure, since people outside it end up self-taught and reinventing the soft power wheel every time. Doran's not thinking about Rhaenys, Visenya, and Alysanne - and so he's not thinking about how he could best help Arianne to find her own niche.

On top of all this, Doran plain does not trust Arianne.

"If I kept you ignorant too long, it was only to protect you. Arianne, your nature . . . to you, a secret was only a choice tale to whisper to Garin and Tyene in your bed of a night." Doran to Arianne, The Princess in the Tower, AFFC

If Doran had tried to teach Arianne to rule, sooner or later he would have to discuss more sensitive information with her, and he does not believe her capable of keeping a secret. How accurate this is isn't entirely clear - as pointed out, Doran keeps his secrets too well, so he's coming at it from an entirely different standard - but that's what he believed. It's not an incentive to start talking politics with Arianne.

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #doran martell #arianne martell

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 18 days ago

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𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒏 ║ ⓞⓝⓔ๏ⓞⓕⓕⓢ

Held by the Moon | fic masterlist | PAIRING(s): Daddy!Dave York x Baby Boy!Dieter Bravo

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 5k | CONTENT: dommy daddy subby baby vibes, "is somebody gonna match my freak?" is the main theme here, drugs/sobriety, Dave is uptight, Dieter is a silly goose, brief film industry stuff, heavy flirting, Dieter is on some Esmerelda shit and Dave is lusting bad like Frollo but without the attempted murder and self-righteous religious stuff, drug testing but make it erotic, this pairing made me insanely horny | SYNOPSIS: Dieter is determined to prove his dedication to the film consultant on his latest project. Dave is determined to not cross any professional boundaries. Only one has the mental fortitude to see their intentions through.

“𝙸𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚞𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚐𝚘.” ― 𝘕𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘔𝘰𝘶𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘥

Dieter’s agent had all but threatened her resignation if he didn’t show up to this meeting on time. As the co-lead in an upcoming CIA operative film, Dieter had his career comeback riding on this role, and his agent, like many of the people in his inner circle, was growing frustrated with his antics. After a series of box office blunders and an outright refusal to “downgrade” to television or digital programming, his name in the tabloids was no longer paired with prestigious acclaim but rather unflattering paparazzi snapshots of benders and partying. The years of sacrifice and dedication to his craft lay in the shadow of this new reputation: a fading star who was more known for snorting lines than learning them.

A few favors called in and a desperate plea for a shot at this film, and Dieter found himself with a shiny new opportunity to get back into the good days where he had some sort of direction and purpose. He’d stumbled out of bed this morning, bleary eyed and unrested, and smoked a bowl to calm his nerves and center his thoughts. The film was still in pre-production, so there was always a chance his part could be recast or significantly reduced. The former CIA operative hired as a consultant for the film sounded like a complete pain in the ass to work with based on what the casting director had said, but Dave York was experienced, available, and affordable.

The ding of the elevator as it rose up a few dozen levels made him feel irritable and nervous all over again, like that tightly packed morning piece was a beginner strain nowhere near capable of hanging around his system long enough to deal with this meeting. The cabin came to a smooth halt, and the etched gold doors parted. Dieter mumbled a half-hearted thanks to the floor attendant who directed him towards the conference room he was supposed to be in 10 minutes ago. Before he could even knock, the door swung open to reveal the impatient casting director and the broad outline of a man with his hands in his pockets, watching nothing in particular outside the window. He glanced at his watch and placed the hand back into his pocket.

“You’re late,” the casting director hissed under her breath.

“Hit a little traffic on the way over,” Dieter lied. “You know how that stupid arena construction project messes with the light cycles sometimes.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t press him about it further. “Ah, Mr. York. I’d like to introduce you to our other lead, Dieter Bravo. Dieter, this is Dave York. He’ll be a resource for you during pre-production and throughout filming as you take on this character.”

“Mr. York” turned around, and a little gasp escaped Dieter’s lips before he could contain it. This consultant was far more handsome than what he was used to dealing with. Usually these types were experts in their field who helped give depth and realism to projects, but, being that they weren’t camera facing talent, there wasn’t much concern with how easy they were on the eyes. It was less distracting that way, anyway.

“Mr. Bravo,” Dave greeted curtly. “Pleasure to meet you.”

His firm handshake was all too brief. Dieter had only just been made aware of how much bigger and warmer Dave’s hands were than his own when he tucked them back into his pockets.

“Yeah. Uh. Nice to meet you.”

Dave didn’t respond, instead gesturing to the empty conference table in the center of the room. “Shall we get started? I know we’re already running a little behind.”

Dieter resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Dave might be a strikingly handsome man with an aggravatingly biteable set of lips, but the hardass stickler thing was like a bucket of ice cold water dousing all that giddy electric charge. All those good looks and commanding presence had made Dieter entirely forget that this was exactly the sort of personality he’d been informed about. What else would you expect from a former CIA operative?

Dieter was more handsome in person, that was certain. Any photos Dave had seen of him had always given Adam-Sandler-making-a-trip-to-Whole-Foods adjacent vibes, but Dieter made an otherwise unkempt look almost purposefully careless, which was as aggravating as it was attractive. His disheveled hair was barely brushed through, but that didn’t matter anyway when he constantly ran his hands through it, mussing it into every configuration of sultry bedhead imaginable. His natural charm and magnetism were undeniable, and it wasn’t any wonder how he’d manage to stay on good terms with so many people in the industry despite some of his less palatable aspects.

He reeked of weed the very first meeting on top of showing up late and making some bullshit excuse for his tardiness. Where others might miss the slight uptick in tone and muffled answer through a hand rubbing against lips, Dave clocked the lie immediately. It was such a simple thing to lie about. Why not just admit you left the house late? Typically people who lied about such minor things would be dishonest about pretty much anything, almost like a nervous habit or narcissistic hobby. By the end of that first meeting, Dave wasn’t sure which of those categories Dieter belonged to. Drug use sometimes made it harder to pin people’s dispositions and intentions.

With the next several meetings planned over the coming weeks, Dave was interested to see just how many Dieter actually showed up on time for – if at all. The morning of the second meeting was going pretty much how he’d expected. While he had been ready 15 minutes prior to the scheduled time, Dieter was now approaching 35 minutes late. The conference room connected to his hotel suite was lit up, stocked with pens and pads of paper, and carefully arranged for optimal workflow. He sipped his black coffee leisurely but felt his patience running thin. By the time Dieter’s haphazard knock on the door came, Dave was officially irritated.

The heavy aroma of weed wafted into the office space when Dave yanked the door open. He wrinkled his nose, half at the odor and half at the unprofessionalism, and sidestepped as Dieter ambled into the room with breezy excuses and apologies for “running a little behind.” Dave wondered if he’d ever had an actual consequence for these types of behaviors in his entire career, just one person to tell him no or reprimand him in any way.

“It’s one thing to be nearly 45 minutes late. It’s another thing entirely to try to bullshit me about it,” Dave snipped.

Dieter’s mouth curved into a grin, single eyebrow raising in an impudent show of amusement, and huffed a little laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of bullshitting you, Dave,” he cooed, all coy and unbothered.

The eye watering cloud of scent that blanketed his entire body. The bloodshot eyes. The lax facial muscles. The fluid, dancelike way he moved about. Dieter was high as a kite.

“It’s clear you don’t respect yourself, Mr. Bravo, but that doesn’t mean I will tolerate a lack of respect for myself and my work,” he tersely responded. “You can see yourself out.”

Without another word, Dave turned on his heel and strolled through the doors leading into his hotel suite.

At first Dieter thought he was imagining the sharp cut of Dave’s eyes as somehow harsher than he remembered, but then there was no denying he was angry when he all but kicked Dieter out of the conference room and left through some door Dieter hadn’t even noticed before. He scurried after him in a haze of curiosity and placation. If word got back to production or the director that Dieter wasn’t taking this seriously, his slot was in peril. He needed to convince Dave – and fast – that he deserved a little grace.

He darted after him into what looked like a lower end luxury hotel suite and called his name, but he didn’t pay Dieter any mind. He finally chased him down in a living room area and put his arms out in a feeble barricade to keep him from ignoring him further.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” Dieter rushed to explain.

Dave snorted and rolled his eyes. “Oh, is that all it is? Just some ‘misunderstanding’?”

His words pierced, all sharp edges and caustic barb, but Dieter pushed past it. “Listen, whatever I did to get on your bad side, I’m sure we can find a way to smooth it over, alright?”

“You’re pretty well spoken for somebody that’s high outta their mind, I’ll give you that,” Dave huffed in a humorless laugh. “But you can still fuck off until you show some sort of commitment to this process.”

The accusation stung like a slap across the face, but Dieter did his best to play it off. “Can we have a conversation about— I mean, can you even tell me what commitment looks like to you? Because I’m serious about this film. I am. I just— Tell me what would make you happy. Tell me what you need for me to do to show you.”

Dave turned to evaluate the suddenly vulnerable, honest man in front of him. For Dave, Dieter was a classic “heart on your sleeve” type subject. Easy to read. Easier to manipulate. And yet, there was a constant thread of surprise that was woven into every bit of conversation and movement. He wasn’t all that he seemed, and there was certainly more to discover beneath it all. Letting curiosity lead the way, Dave decided to throw Dieter a bone.

“You show up here late and strung out, and it’s a waste of both our time. I’m not in the business of indulging and coddling some wannabe rockstar, so sober up or consider this affiliation severed.”

This was worse than when people straight up called him a junkie. Dave addressed him like he believed there was still a glimmer of decorum buried underneath Dieter’s bedraggled exterior, and he swore it almost sounded like he was equal parts angry and disappointed. It felt like being called into the school office by a principal you actually respected.

“I-I can–Listen,” he stuttered. “I–You’re right. You’re right, okay? I–I’m…. It’s not fair to you to show up late and, um, ‘clouded’.”

“That’s really fucking downplaying it, but, yeah, I’m right.”

“So what if I show up without a morning pre-sesh next time? Would that– I mean, that would be what you’d say was showing my commitment to this?”

“What the fuck is a ‘pre-sesh’?”

“Oh, like a little morning pick-me-up. You know, a little smoke session or, er, whatever else to make me feel chill.”

Dave took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling for a moment as though he was reevaluating his willingness to give Dieter another shot. Before he could talk himself out of it, Dieter piped up again.

“So, what do you say? Deal? I swear I’ll skip all the fun stuff on meeting days. I’ll be here on time. Okay? Deal?”

Despite looking like he felt he would regret the decision, Dave agreed.

It shouldn’t have made Dave so hard to learn how obedient Dieter was. True to his word, he’d showed up roughly on time but definitely not under the influence of anything for the next few meetings. Watching Dieter lock onto details and take a real interest in the materials Dave had produced for pre-production stirred something weighty in his chest. He had a knack for catching onto things and incorporating it into his craft. Perhaps most intoxicating was Dieter’s legitimate desire to appease and impress Dave. It made him think that perhaps the party boy persona just needed a firm hand to keep it in check.

Unfortunately for Dave, a sober Dieter meant sharpened mental faculties and a quicker tongue. The sizzling air of attraction flared into full on flirtation on Dieter’s end, and Dave did his damndest to pretend otherwise. In Dave’s past experience, keeping cool under pressure meant conducting high stake stings or carrying out a hit, but nowadays it was more along the lines of not signaling his physical interest at Dieter’s intentionally handsy conduct or resisting the urge to bend him over the desk and swat his ass raw for being so shameless and taunting.

Dave could see it in his mind’s eye. Dieter sweating and writhing, a thank you, sir spilling from his lips with each strike, and after taking his punishment he’d hold that plump ass open for Dave to wreck. It was driving him crazy how badly he wanted him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had set his nerves ablaze like this, and he hated that out of everyone it just had to be Dieter fucking Bravo.

As much as he tried to will it away, the want and the attraction persisted. Watching Dieter sit and scribble something into the ledger and glance back and forth between his notes and the whiteboard Dave had filled up that morning, he couldn’t help but drink in the dedication and focus. Seeing someone so unruly and blithe morph into this pensive artist was captivating. Despite his best efforts, his failure to resist Dieter was inevitable.

Dieter was delighted when he felt the continued weight of Dave’s gaze pinned on him, more and more with each meeting. He’d been suggestive and impish and outright bold with his interest in Dave, but there was still some line he wasn’t willing to cross. Dieter was determined to push and push and push until he figured out what that line was and how to tear it down. Having been completely sober for a few weeks now, there was so much raw mental energy to be wielded, and a good chunk of it was going towards wearing Dave down.

When he makes a passing statement about Dieter “staying off things before their meetings,” Dieter is appalled to learn that Dave is unaware of just how dedicated he’s actually been. He wanted the praise and recognition for his efforts. He deserved that much from Dave. When Dieter corrects him and says he’s been off everything since the day that Dave asked, he’s met with a dubious smirk.

“You really expect me to believe you not only stay sober for these meetings but that you’ve also cut everything out completely?”

For the first time, Dieter got genuinely annoyed with him.

“Yeah, actually. I do,” he bit back. “You said me being sober was what you would take as a sign I was serious about this project, so that’s what I did. Not just for our meetings, but for the whole project.”

Dave is quiet and still. Dieter wants to deck him right in his stupid, unreadable face.

He gives Dieter a thoughtful once over, eyes gliding at a glacial pace and making no attempt to hide it. He resists the urge to squirm under such patent scrutiny. Seemingly satisfied with his inspection, Dave nods to himself and leans back against the edge of the table with crossed arms.

“You know, you’re much more tolerable like this. Not so … sloppy,” he noted. He pins Dieter with a probing gaze as if to unearth some other tell. “Works a whole lot better for the film and your character, too. The CIA doesn’t do sloppy.”

While he should’ve just taken the rare compliment and basked in it, Dieter found himself entirely incapable of not pushing the edge of this charged back and forth to see what it would take to get the stoic veneer to splinter. That and the fact that Dave’s lack of trust in him made him want to get under his skin.

“And how about you, Dave? Do you do sloppy?”

It came out far breathier than intended, but that didn’t much matter when the intended effect played out. Dave’s cheeks visibly pinked at the not so subtle question, jaw clicking to the side before he drew himself up to full sitting height on the edge of the table. He obviously hadn’t expected Dieter to be so forward out of nowhere, but he quickly regained his composure.

Dave stood and dipped his hands into his pockets, making his broad shoulders appear all the more strong and wide, as he casually walked up to Dieter until their chests nearly touched. Dieter jutted his chin out proudly at the taller man and resisted the urge to haul him into a kiss. Dave’s head tilted just so to the side, eyes drifting up and down Dieter’s face for a moment, before responding in a deep, firm tone.

“I never make a mess that can’t clean itself up.”

Dave had to know if it was true. He had to know if Dieter really craved his approval so much that he’d go above and beyond with his sobriety agreement. If he was willing to do that just to prove himself, Dave would really lose all professional resolve. Someone as attractive as Dieter also being that obedient wasn’t something he could resist.

He’d make him crawl around the entire hotel suite stark naked. He’d have him cockwarm while Dave prepared documents. He’d come all over his face and have him sit in it until it dried and crusted to his facial hair. He’d make him recite his movie lines and belt his bare ass if he made a mistake. He’d tie him to a chair and edge him until he was crying.

Dieter would do so fucking well for him. Dave just knew he would. But first, he had to see if Dieter was telling the truth.

He looked a little surprised when Dave swung the door open and gestured for him to come inside.

“Excited to see me, huh?” Dieter teased.

“Yes, actually,” Dave conceded. “I’m eager to get to the bottom of something. Follow me.”

He didn’t stop to see if Dieter would follow. He knew he would. The echo of his footsteps carried throughout Dave’s attached hotel suite and stopped when they reached the primary bathroom.

“I’m sure you’ve done this before. Don’t think you need to be walked through the steps.”

Dieter stared at the empty specimen cup and then at Dave. “You’re not serious.”

“Humor me.”

Dieter scoffed, a little indignant at the proposition. “You really don’t believe me, do you? A fucking piss test?”

“I find that believing someone doesn’t get you quite as far as irrefutable, objective proof.”

Dieter’s eyes narrowed as he focused on the cup again. Something in his initial irritation fluctuated into a prideful resolution. “You know what? Fine. Fuckin’ uptight prick.”

He snatched the cup from the counter and made his way to the toilet. His mouth hangs in disbelief when Dave directs him to do it right in the middle of the bathroom. When it’s clear he isn’t joking, Dieter swallows hard and shimmies up to the counter. The mirror in front of him reflects his movements, so there’s no hiding his soft dick as he pulls it over the waistband of his pants and braces it above the rim of the cup.

He can feel the warmth of Dave’s body before it hovers against his back, so close he can feel his steady breaths clouding on the nape of his neck. Whatever this game was, Dieter was going to play it. He steadied himself and tried to get over the nerves of being watched so intimately. Being observed was certainly not a new phenomenon for Dieter, but this was beyond filming a scene or walking a red carpet or waving off paparazzi. An audible gulp wrapped in a whimper leapt from his throat when Dave propped himself forward, forearms braced beside Dieter’s hips and bracketing him against the counter.

By some miracle, he’s able to fill the cup all the way up to the line. Dave no sooner scoops it up, hand grazing Dieter’s thickening length and making him gasp, and swishes a testing strip into the liquid. The moment he steps away, Dieter feels like he can breathe again. His body slumps at the reprieve, although he hadn’t been aware that his shoulders had been inching their way to his earlobes. He can feel his heartbeat in his dick as the blood pools between his thighs. The white testing strip begins to bloom little square colors along its edges.

Dave lifts an eyebrow as he reads it, eyes darting to find Dieter’s. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Dieter ignored his insistent cock because that’s what Dave appeared to be doing. Whatever this game was, Dieter was going to play it, too.

“Told you, you smug bastard.”

Dave smiled warmly at this as though it were some affectionate pet name. Dieter turned to face him so he could see it directly rather than through the reflection. It was even more breathtaking face to face.

“Yes, Dieter, you’ve been a very good boy,” Dave drawled, each word dripping in condescension.

Dieter shivered and squeezed his eyes shut at the praising ridicule, his dick standing at full attention now and needing desperately to be touched. The sound of Dave’s fading footsteps brought him back to the present, and he shuffled after him yet again. He followed his movements to the end of a long hallway, and the heavy tingle of exhilaration stirred in his gut when he realized that he’d be led to the bedroom. A plush armchair sits out of place towards the end of the bed.

“Have a seat, Dieter,” Dave instructed calmly.

He doesn’t hesitate to plop down into the chair and wait expectantly. Dave rolled his sleeves up a few times as he strolled lazily across the room to where Dieter sat waiting. He stood right between Dieter’s legs, his own pushing them open wider. He looked up at Dave with big, eager eyes, hands gripping the plush armrests.

“You fucked around with anybody since your last STI panel a few weeks ago?”

Dieter didn’t bother to ask how Dave had gotten access to his medical records. He shook his head no, and Dave leaned in, planting his hands on the armrest beside Dieter’s shoulders.

“Good,” he replied flatly.

Dieter’s mouth was so dry he couldn’t form the words to ask the same of Dave. He knew regardless. Dave was selective and methodical. Dieter had spent the last few weeks breaking down his resolve, and he knew it wasn’t just anybody who got to have Dave in this sort of setting.

“You know what I like about you, Dieter? You’re so damn easy to read,” Dave said in a charged hush, not waiting for him to answer the question before continuing. “I’ve got all your little tells catalogued right up here—” he paused to point at his temple “—and yet I know there’s so much more to unearth.”

“Anybody ever tell you that your interrogation style feels a lot like foreplay?” Dieter murmured with a devious grin.

“Careful now,” Dave feigned in warning. “Wouldn’t want you thinking you’ve got a handle on what sort of things guys like me get up to.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow and leaned back into the seat with Dave leaning in after him. “Wouldn’t want you thinking I couldn’t keep up with you,” he shot back.

“Might get in over your head trying to keep up with guys like me. Strange things happen in this line of work. Might find yourself in a sticky situation,” Dave husked, barely hiding a grin at Dieter’s hips involuntarily canting upwards at the suggestive wording. “On the receiving end of some electromagnetic frequency that no crystal or sage burning can protect you from.”

“Fuck off,” Dieter panted at the taunting jab. Dave’s eyes followed the curved swipe of Dieter’s tongue flicking across his lips.

“You seem a little nervous licking your lips like that. Or is that just you subconsciously begging for something to be inside it?”

“Oh fuck,” Dieter groaned as his hand instinctively reached for his aching cock.

Dave snatched the wandering hand and braced his own along the curve of Dieter’s neck.“You don’t touch yourself until you’re given permission, is that clear?”

A hazy, ecstatic grin spread across Dieter’s features as Dave’s grip tightened around his neck. “God I was hoping your control freak bullshit carried over to the bedroom.”

The flare of Dave’s nostrils punctuated his stony expression of want. He stood upright, giving Dieter an eye level view of a substantial tent. “Take it out,” he growled.

Dieter quickly unfastened the belt and unzipped the slacks. When he moved to unbutton them, Dave stopped him.

“I said ‘take it out,’ not ‘undress me.’”

Dieter nodded and worked his hand through the fly and carefully extracted Dave’s erection.

“Get the rest of it,” he commanded.

Dieter gingerly worked the heavy sack through the metal teeth of the zipper, careful to not let them snag. The sight of Dave fully dressed, save for his cock and balls hanging lewdly out of the crotch of his pants, had Dieter squirming and dribbling precum. He moaned when Dave snatched his head forward by a fistful of hair and pressed it against his clothed hip. With his free hand, Dave began slowly stroking himself.

“You wanna play with somebody’s cock, it’s gonna be mine.”

Dieter nodded emphatically in agreement. Dave looked down at him with unbridled amusement.

“I knew underneath all that party monster facade was just a good little boy waiting to be told what to do.”

Dieter squeezed his eyes shut and nodded with a throaty moan before staring up at Dave with big, pleading eyes.

“You like being a good boy, huh?” Dave continued.

“Yes, Daddy,” Dieter breathed. “I love being Daddy’s good boy.”

Dave inhaled sharply at the title, his entire body wracked with electric desire. “Yeah? Then show Daddy how good you take a cock down your throat.”

Dieter doesn’t need any further incentive, immediately tugging against Dave’s hold and mouthing at his length. He licks at the slight curve of it and flicks on the underside of the tip. Dave eventually sees fit to let go, and Dieter sinks his hot, wet mouth over the cockhead and suckles.

Despite letting out a long groan of pleasure, Dave snapped, “I said throat.”

Dieter’s eyes flick up to see the impatient, needy man he’d been working so tirelessly to unravel all these weeks. He smiled as much as he could around the thickness and held eye contact as he slowly inched his way to the base. Just as the tip settled into the narrowing entrance, Dieter made several swallowing movements and held his jaw lax a little more than necessary so the wet gurgling sounds were amplified.

“Fuck yeah, that’s it. There you go.”

He bobbed steadily back and forth to let the fat head slip down his throat over and over again until spit started to drip and bubble from the corners of his mouth. Dave stood with his legs in a wide stance, hands clasped loosely behind his back, as he watched Dieter take him. When Dieter popped off to gulp down some much needed deep breaths, Dave instructed him to strip down naked, which he readily obliged to. Dave hissed when Dieter dragged his teeth up his cock with a giggle, but the sound was cut short when Dave held Dieter’s head in place and began thrusting into it with a hastened pace.

“Too–busy–laughing–when–you–should–be–choking,” Dave grunted, each word paired with a harsh drive of his hips.

Dieter was reduced to a slobbery, gagging mess, all moans and whines as Dave fucked his throat. When he pulled off the rigid cock, his voice was hoarse from the onslaught.

“I need to touch my dick, Daddy,” he choked.

“Lemme see it, baby boy. Jerk us both off.”

Dieter let out an almost pained sound as his spit coated hand gripped around his own erection. He stroked them both in a steady, firm hold with Dave’s cock positioned over his face.

“Can I come?” he begged. “Please can I come, Daddy? I have so much cum for you, Daddy.”

Dave’s balls started to draw up at the sight of a completely wrecked and desperate Dieter on his knees and pleading for release.

“I’m gonna come all over that pathetic face, and when I do, I want you to show me how much cum Daddy’s good boy has for him.”

Dieter panted and hastened his strokes, mouth parting to receive his reward.

“You can be sloppy for Daddy just this once. Make a mess for Daddy,” he ordered.

Dieter went silent as his face contorted into a blissed out exhaustion, spurts of cum jetting out as he pumped himself hurriedly. Dave gasped loudly when Dieter’s skilled motions drew out his own release and moaned as he watched heavy bands of pearly white flood Dieter’s face. He grabbed the sides of his head and fucked gently into his mouth while he softened.

“Clean it up,” he rasped. “Suck Daddy clean.”

Dieter’s half-lidded eyes drooped contentedly while he did as he was told.

“Fuck you’re so good,” Dave choked.

Dieter smiled up at him with the full knowledge that Dave was never going to let him go now that he had him.

special shout out to @guiltyasdave who started the Dave York brainrot and to @bonezone44 for using reverse psychology on me and basically forcing my hand in writing these two 💜

tagging people who showed interest

@angiewatson @galaxyedging @bubble-pop-eclectic @for-a-longlongtime @perotovar

@clawdee @sp00kymulderr @amanitacowboy @katw474 @for-everhalloween

@magneticecstasy @yorksgirl @ghoulzsstuff @drunk-and-capable @tammythr

#dave york x dieter bravo #dave york #dieter bravo #pedro pascal characters #dave york equalizer 2 #dieter bravo the bubble

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ducktoo · 2 months ago

Text

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

6. Year-end spectacular

Note: Happy weekends! Enjoy more fluff!

Masterlist here

It had been a few months since Y/n first stepped into his role as aespa’s manager and also moved in with them. He’d gotten better, that much was certain.

Gone were the days of fumbling through schedules or confusing rehearsal rooms. He’d learned the ropes, built a system that worked for him, and even earned a few nods of approval from the girls—Karina’s hesitant trust, Winter’s playful banter, and even Giselle and Ningning’s constant teasing had become part of his daily life.

Comparing to his first few days, it was as clear as day and night.

But nothing could’ve prepared him for MAMA. The year-end show was on an entirely different level.

Whereas rehearsals, smaller concerts, and fan events had become routine, MAMA was like stepping into the lion’s den. The venue was massive, the expectations were higher, and the backstage atmosphere was a chaotic whirlwind of artists, staff, and equipment moving at lightning speed. Every second mattered. Every detail could be the difference between a flawless performance and a career-defining disaster.

Y/n stood at the venue’s loading dock, eyes wide as the scene unfolded in front of him. Trucks were unloading equipment, stage props were being wheeled in by frantic staff, and idols were practicing last-minute routines in every available corner of the building. It was overwhelming. He had faced difficult moments before, but this was a whole new ball game. His nerves, which had subsided in recent weeks, surged back with a vengeance.

"You good?" Winter’s voice broke through his thoughts. She was standing beside him, her arms crossed and a slight smirk on her lips, as if sensing his nervousness.

Y/n gave her a shaky smile. "Yeah, just...taking it all in."

Winter chuckled softly, nudging his shoulder. "Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Just don’t pass out on us."

"Bet you 5k won I will," Y/n said, and the knot in his stomach confirmed his losing bet.

It wasn’t just the scale of the event that was getting to him. It was the fact that this was their biggest performance of the year—the kind of showcase that could make or break aespa’s place at the top of the industry. All eyes would be on them, and Y/n knew that, as the manager, a lot of the responsibility fell on his shoulders.

If anything went wrong, it would reflect on him.

He had been improving, yes. But MAMA was an entirely different beast. Could he handle it?

The atmosphere at the MAMA Year-End Showcase was electric. The lights, the screams from fans, the high energy—it was the kind of event that brought out the best in every artist.

He stood backstage, clutching his clipboard as though his life depended on it. The pressure was suffocating, and the chaos that ensued backstage only made things worse.

"Y/n, where are the backup costumes?!" one of the stylists ran up to him, her voice laced with panic. Y/n’s eyes widened as he quickly skimmed through the checklist.

"Backup costumes…" he muttered under his breath, flipping page after page. But the backup costumes were nowhere to be found on the list.

His heart sank. Of all the things to mess up on, it had to be this.

"Uh, I’ll figure it out!" Y/n called over his shoulder as he dashed towards the costume storage room. He could hear the hum of excitement growing louder as other groups prepared to go on stage. The countdown to aespa’s performance was ticking down, and he was nowhere near ready.

As he reached the storage room, Y/n’s heart pounded in his chest. His mind raced, trying to figure out where he could’ve gone wrong. Where were the damn costumes?

That’s when Karina appeared, calm as ever. She surveyed the chaos with a raised eyebrow before walking over to a stack of boxes labeled incorrectly.

"These?" she asked, pulling out the missing costumes effortlessly.

Y/n blinked, staring at the box in disbelief. "How did you—?"

"They were mislabeled," Karina explained, her voice calm but assertive. "It happens. Don’t stress."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Karina’s cool demeanour helped settle Y/n’s nerves. She was so… composed. It was hard to believe this was the same girl who had been skeptical of him just months ago. Before he could respond, Winter entered the room, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"You look like you’re about to pass out," Winter teased, her voice filled with playful sarcasm. “And I’ll get my free money.”

Y/n shot her a tired look. "Tsk, this girl…”

Winter chuckled and clapped him on the back. "Relax. We’ve got this. You’re making this a bigger deal than it is."

"Easy for you to say," Y/n muttered under his breath. "You’re not the one in charge of making sure everything runs smoothly."

Winter smirked. "We’ve been through worse. Trust me, this is nothing."

With Karina taking charge of the wardrobe situation and Winter wrangling the crew, Y/n found himself watching in awe. They were naturals under pressure, far more used to handling chaos than he was. Slowly but surely, they were piecing everything together. The clock was still ticking down, but somehow, the group had everything under control.

The lead-up to the performance was a blur. Y/n was juggling multiple tasks—coordinating with the production team, finalizing the setlist with the crew, and ensuring the girls were ready for hair and makeup. He had a checklist in his hand, his pen furiously scribbling down last-minute changes as staff members darted around him.

"Y/n, we need the final lighting cues for the stage!" someone from the production crew called out.

"Give me two minutes," he responded, already flipping through the pages of his clipboard. He was proud of how much better he’d gotten at handling these situations, but as more people approached him with urgent requests, he could feel the pressure building.

To make things more intense, the backstage area was filled with other groups—many of whom Y/n recognised from his trainee days. Some of the NCT members were hanging around, joking and laughing as they warmed up for their own performance. He could feel their eyes on him as he rushed by, no longer the fellow trainee they used to know, but now aespa’s manager. It was a surreal feeling, knowing that they probably remembered him as the kid who was training alongside them just a few years ago.

"Yo, Y/n!" one of them called out as he passed by, causing him to stop in his tracks.

He turned to see Jaehyun from NCT giving him a nod and a grin. "You surviving back here?"

"I need ICU, hyung!!," Y/n laughed, rubbing his face in agony. "This is way more intense than I thought!"

Jaehyun chuckled. "It’s impressive, man! You got this!"

"You're killing it, hyung!"

"Slayy!"

Y/n appreciated the words, but he didn’t have time to let them sink in. As much as he would’ve liked to catch up with his former trainee mates, the clock was ticking, and the pressure was mounting. He gave them a quick peace and hurried back to his duties.

Y/n watched from the side of the stage as aespa stepped onto the platform, the deafening cheers of the crowd echoing throughout the arena. The stage lights dimmed, and for a moment, everything was still.

Then, in an explosion of colour and sound, the girls began their performance.

The opening line of "Trick or trick" from Ningning blasted through the speakers, and Y/n’s breath caught in his throat. He had seen them practice a hundred times, but there was something different about watching them perform at MAMA. The sheer energy, the intensity in their movements, the way they commanded the stage—it was mesmerising.

The transition to "Drama" got him really excited. (It was his most listened song this year)

He glanced up at the massive screens displaying their every move. Karina’s sharp dance lines, Giselle’s flawless rap delivery, Winter’s vocals soaring effortlessly, and Ningning’s charisma radiating out to the audience—it all felt surreal. The fans were losing their minds, screaming every lyric, and Y/n couldn’t help but feel proud. His chest swelled with admiration.

Don’t even mention about the outfit because they all look so good.

For a brief moment, he forgot about the chaos backstage. He wasn’t thinking about the costumes or the props or the miscommunications. All that mattered was the performance happening in front of him. It was awe-inspiring.

They’re really something else.

When the final note hit, the arena erupted into a wave of applause. The lights dimmed, and aespa exited the stage, sweat glistening on their skin but smiles plastered on their faces. As they walked back toward Y/n, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief and pride wash over him.

"We nailed it," Ningning grinned, giving him a fist bump as she passed by.

"Thanks for not losing the costumes," Karina added, her voice remained stern but there was a moment tease cracked through.

Y/n chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Don’t remind me, Jimin."

The adrenaline high didn’t last long. Once they were backstage, the post-performance chaos hit in full force. The props for their next segment were missing, and there was a miscommunication with the lighting crew, who had already moved on to the next group. Panic spread quickly through the staff, and Y/n found himself at the centre of the storm once again.

"What do we do?" someone from the production team asked, their voice filled with urgency.

Before Y/n could even open his mouth to answer, Karina stepped in, her calm presence immediately commanding attention. "Winter and I will go look for the missing props. Y/n—" she pointed at Y/n, "—talk to the lighting team. Make sure they’re ready to switch back to us for the encore."

Y/n nodded, still in awe of how quickly Karina had taken control of the situation. Despite the chaos, there was a strange sense of calm in the air. With the group pulling together, everything seemed less overwhelming.

After a frantic few minutes of running around, Y/n managed to communicate with the lighting crew. Meanwhile, Winter and Karina returned with the missing props just in time for the encore.

When the show finally ended and the curtain fell, Y/n felt like he could finally breathe. The performance had gone off without a hitch—well, at least from the audience’s perspective. Backstage had been a whirlwind, but they had pulled through.

As the girls gathered in their dressing room, laughter filled the air. Giselle threw herself onto the couch, exhausted but smiling. "That was insane. I can’t believe we made it through."

"Yeah, thanks to Jimin-unnie saving the day," Winter teased, elbowing Karina playfully.

Y/n chuckled as he entered the dressing room, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Yeah, we would've been done for if it weren't for you, Jimin."

Karina shrugged, a modest smile on her face. "It's all part of the job. We're a team, right?"

Ningning, sitting cross-legged on the couch, chimed in with a cheeky grin. "And here I thought Y/n was going to have a heart attack backstage."

"Close call," Y/n admitted, collapsing into one of the empty chairs. "I really thought my life flashed before my eyes when the props went missing."

"But you didn’t," Giselle pointed out, still smiling. "You kept it together and got it done. That's what matters."

Y/n nodded, taking in the words of encouragement. He'd survived his first MAMA show—and barely at that. But seeing the girls relaxed, joking, and satisfied with their performance made all the stress worth it. In the grand scheme of things, he realized that no matter how chaotic things got behind the scenes, they had each other's backs. It was a team effort, both on and off the stage.

Suddenly, Winter threw a towel at him. "So, how does it feel to officially manage your first big event, idiot?"

Y/n caught the towel with a laugh. "Exhausting. But honestly?..." He looked at each of the girls, his expression softening. "I’m proud of you all. That performance was incredible."

"We’re proud of you too," Karina said, her tone more serious. "We know how much pressure you’ve been under. You handled it well, Y/n."

The sincerity in her words caught him off guard. After all, Y/n was still relatively new to this—he hadn’t even hit the one-year mark as their manager. But hearing them, especially from Karina, say they were proud of him meant more than he could put into words.

"You guys made it easier," he finally said, smiling. "I’m lucky to manage a group like aespa."

Ningning’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned forward. "Aww, is our manager getting emotional on us?"

"Oh shush, this child" Y/n admitted, earning laughs from everyone in the room.

After the whirlwind of MAMA, Y/n was exhausted beyond words. He had just dropped the girls off at their dorm and had one thing on his mind: go home, collapse in bed, and not think about work for at least twelve hours. But as soon as he sat in the van, ready to drive away, his phone buzzed.

Message from the organisers at MAMA:

"Hi, sorry to burst your peace, but please send over the report on the MAMA showcase tonight. We do need it urgently"

Y/n groaned, his head hitting the steering wheel. Of course, the day wasn’t done yet. He stared at his laptop bag on the passenger seat, feeling his last ounce of energy drain away. As much as he wanted to head up with everyone, he just wanted to get this done quickly before winding down. So, he decided to just stay parked outside the dorm and work from the van.

He set up his laptop, trying to get comfortable in the driver's seat. Typing in a cramped space wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing. The glow of the laptop lit up the van as he began typing the report, each keystroke feeling like a Herculean task.

Just when Y/n was finally getting into the flow, a sudden knock on his window startled him. He turned to see Giselle, grinning mischievously despite wearing her mask, peeking through the window.

Saying that his heart jumped out was light in comparison to his reaction.

“What are you still doing in there?” she asked, her voice slightly muffled by the glass.

"Girlie, I thought I was going to be mobbed…" Y/n sighed.

"Tsk. But seriously, what are you doing here?"

Y/n rolled the window down with a sigh. “Finishing up the MAMA report. Why?”

Giselle raised an eyebrow, glancing at the glowing screen. “In the van?”

“Won't make it in time if I wash up,” he admitted, leaning back in his seat. “Plus, it’s quiet in here.”

Giselle stared at him for a second, then crossed her arms. “You're not finishing it up here. Get inside.”

“What? Aeri, I wasn’t planning to—"

“Too late. I’ve decided,” she interrupted, already turning on her heel toward the building. “Hurry up, manager-nim. We'll order take out for tonight”

Y/n blinked after her, dumbfounded. "B-but-"

A minute later, Giselle sent him a text:

"You’re getting up now, mister. We’re not letting you work and accidentally sleep in the car like some stray. Karina will actually kill you if you don't come up in 5 mins."

Y/n groaned but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face. He packed up his laptop, locked the van, and begrudgingly made his way toward the dorm. As he entered the building, he was greeted by a lounging Winter and Ningning, sprawled out on the couch, half-watching some drama on TV.

“Well, look who’s finally ready to join us,” Ningning smirked as Y/n entered the living room. “Aeri-unnie said you were trying to camp out in the car to finish up sudden work?”

Y/n shrugged, his fatigue hitting him like a wave. “I was just trying to finish the report before getting up.”

“Eh…they will understand if you fell asleep,” Winter said with a playful grin. “Idiot. Just do it tomorrow."

Without waiting for permission, Y/n collapsed onto the couch, his body sinking into the cushions like it was made of clouds. “Fine. But don’t mess with me while I’m asleep. I know how you guys are.”

He was reminded by the pranks these 3 did to him throughout the months. A combo of wasabi Russian roulette, scare prank, and the recent doodle incidents wasn’t easy to counter back.

“No promises,” Giselle called from the kitchen, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.

As Y/n finally got comfortable, Giselle tossed him a blanket. “Rest up, manager-nim. But be warned: We get up early.”

Y/n mumbled something unintelligible, already half-asleep. His body was so exhausted that he didn’t care where he was as long as he could sleep.

Y/n stirred from his sleep, but something felt… off. He blinked his eyes open and immediately noticed two things: one, he was lying in the most uncomfortable position imaginable, and two, he was covered in sticky notes.

Again. At this point, Y/n forfeited.

Each one had a doodle or ridiculous comment scribbled on it.

"World’s Sleepiest Manager (and the Best)."

"Nice nap, huh?"

"Don't forget the MAMA report!"

"You're as stressed as Karina!"

"Please don't lose us again!"

3-0 to aespa.

Groaning, Y/n peeled off the notes, feeling the stiffness in his neck from sleeping awkwardly on the couch. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and looked around the room. Winter was sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping a cup of coffee and smirking at him.

“Morning,” she greeted, still trying her best to hold it in.

“Morning…” Y/n muttered, still groggy.

“I see the others couldn’t resist messing with you,” Winter chuckled, motioning to the now-empty living room. “They’ve already gone out for schedules. Red Velvet’s manager-unnie drove them there instead. You’re stuck with me for now.”

Y/n sighed as he stretched, feeling every sore muscle in his body. “Why didn’t anyone wake me?”

Winter raised an eyebrow. “You were dead to the world. Plus, we figured you needed the rest after yesterday.”

Y/n glanced down at the pile of sticky notes in his lap. “Yeah, clearly.”

Winter grinned as she got up and handed him a cup of coffee. “Here, drink this. You’ve got a long day ahead.”

Y/n took the coffee gratefully, but as he sipped it, Winter’s expression softened. “You’re doing good, you know?”

Y/n looked at her, surprised by the sudden sincerity in her voice. “…Jeong. It’s morning and you’re scaring me.”

Winter shrugged. “You’ve been thrown into the deep end, but you’re managing. And, you know, it’s kind of nice having someone who’s been around… well, me, at least, for so long.”

A nostalgic smile crept onto her face, and Y/n couldn’t help but smile back. He had known Winter since they were trainees, and despite the chaos of the past few weeks, there was a strange sense of comfort in their friendship. It was like old times, just in a completely different world.

“Thanks,” Y/n said quietly, feeling the weight of her words. “That means a lot.”

Winter settled onto the couch beside him, nudging his shoulder. "And you’re still the same guy I knew back then, always falling asleep in the weirdest places."

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, and you’re still a pain in the—"

Winter playfully punched his arm. “Now, finish your coffee and clean up. You got a report to do and we’ve got dance practice later.”

Y/n groaned, but this time, it wasn’t from exhaustion. He finished his coffee, feeling slightly more energised, and started peeling off the last few sticky notes from his arms. Despite everything, he couldn’t help but smile.

Maybe being part of aespa’s chaotic circle wasn’t so bad after all.

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