#Also the words manipulation and negotiation

[yinyuedijun]

translation

Aventurine doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you. (Or: You are the only person in the universe who understands Aventurine in his mother tongue. He often regrets teaching it to you.)

5k words. gender neutral reader, established relationship, angst, non-graphic sex (reader bottoms, anatomy neutral), themes of cultural loss, references to slavery, aventurine’s canonically implied desire to die. MDNI.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

Deception does not come easily to him in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak—and too kind. The universe was a different place in the days when his life was coloured by the warble of Avgin dialect. It felt simpler, partly because he was a child and partly because Sigonia was yet untouched by outsiders. There were no corporations, no casinos, no commodity codes. His entire world was sand, desert, mother, sister, father (or more often—ghost), goddess, tent, wagon, luck, sin, rain, blessing, Avgin.

Katican.

Aventurine is sure that he knew more than just those words. He was fluent as a child. He had conversations with his sister that were complex enough to make his heart hurt, though perhaps his heart was just constantly aching anyway. But the rest of his early words escapes him. He could maybe dredge them up if he thinks long enough, but he also isn't sure if his tongue and lips could form the shape of them anymore. Sometimes he still counts in Avgin, memorises phone numbers in it, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually strung together a full sentence in the language.

When Aventurine was first stolen into slavery (a word that he had not known as a child, and still doesn't know in Avgin), he wasn’t given a Synesthesia Beacon. He had to rely on his ears and his wits, deciphering the harsh edges of the Katican dialect and then the strange garble of Interastral Standard Language. By the time he had a Beacon installed, it was already translating all speech into Standard—his dominant language.

Sometimes he feels a little aggrieved by it, but at least it wasn't Katican. He'd have blown out his brains if it were.

But it is easy to console himself: Avgin is not a useful language anyway. Dead languages have no value, and the Avgin dialect was killed along with its people. You can’t perform commerce in a dead language, can't negotiate contracts, can't enter a gambling den and use your silver tongue to rob people blind. You can't use a dead language to fell governments and extract resources; you can't use a dead language to bring an entire planet to its knees. You can’t use a dead language to gamble your life; you can't use it to save yourself from the gallows.

You cannot deceive people in a language that is defined by sand, sister, goddess, ghost.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin. His command of it is too weak, and there is no one left to which he can lie, anyway.

When you ask Aventurine to teach you his first language, he gives you an amused look.

“Why Avgin?” he asks. “No one speaks it anymore. I can teach you Common Sigonian if you’d like. Or we could learn Xianzhounese together. Maybe Intellitron code? I know a little.”

“You speak Avgin,” you argue.

“Not often,” he says. “And badly when I do.”

“But it's still your language. And I want to understand you.”

Aventurine has to stop himself from laughing. Understand him? He hates being understood. When people understand him, it makes him predictable. And unlikeable. Hardly a position from which he can manipulate people in.

You understand him well enough to know that.

“You'll have to give me a better reason than that,” he says neatly. “Make it worth my while. Reward me.”

You look at him as you ponder, your eyes lingering on his. Perhaps trying to read him, though he prefers to think you're just enjoying the sight of them.

“I’ll teach you my language as well?”

“You mean—you'll reward my hard labour with more work?” he says, lighthearted.

You frown at him despite the joke. “You don't want to understand me better than what a Synesthesia Beacon would allow?” He blinks, pausing. “It’ll be convenient too. We can talk shit about other people in public and no one will understand us.”

Aventurine considers you. He doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you.

He also likes the idea of talking shit in public.

“I'm listening,” he says, voice lilting. You lean in, smiling. Sweet. It makes his heart feel something he isn't used to. Something addictive. Something disgusting. He scrambles to cover it with one of the usual tools: humour or distraction or maybe just plain old lying—his most reliable weapon.

“I'll throw in a kiss?” you try.

He hums. “Just one?”

“One per day.”

“Three.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“Well, I am a businessman.”

You snort, but he knows you're endeared. You have very noticeable tells when you’re flustered.

“Okay,” you say. “Three kisses on days you teach me.”

“Deal.”

Aventurine remembers more Avgin than he thought he would.

It comes to him slowly, painstakingly. You aren't interested in structured lessons, and he wouldn't be able to provide them anyway. He has a nonexistent grasp of grammar aside from this sounds right and that sounds strange, and Avgin dialect is both so niche and so dead that no textbooks are available. The scholars have abandoned the language as much as the politicians abandoned its people. Aventurine only has you, his fragmented memory, and whatever questions come to mind as you live out your days with him.

Mostly, you ask him about basic vocabulary. Sometimes you ask him to repeat sentences from your conversations in Avgin, like he’s some kind of multilingual parrot. Each prompt forces him to wade through the fog in his mind, the one that’s been shrouding his childhood memories until now. He's startled at how naturally the old words roll off his tongue: One, two, three, four. Good morning. Good evening. Good night. Sweet dreams. Five, six, seven, eight. You're lying to me. Why do you always lie to me? I don't know what you're talking about. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Welcome home. Have you eaten? Have some bread. I made you stew. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. That was dangerous. I thought you wouldn't make it back to me. Sometimes I think you want to die. One hundred, one thousand, one million, one billion. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

When you say, How do I ask you to let me hold you, he answers easily. He'd heard the words so often as a child: Let me hold you, Kakavasha. Let Mama hold you. His mouth forms the sounds without conscious thought.

He regrets it almost immediately.

When Aventurine hears it from you—stilted, halting, but no less gentle—he stops breathing. Let me hold you. You say it all the time in Standard, but it feels different in Avgin. More painful. A strange sense of panic closes in on him when he's wrapped up in you, thinking in Avgin, thinking sand, sister, goddess, ghost. He holds you tightly, like the rags cut from his father’s shirt, or his mother’s locket won back from the shell-slashers, or a bag of poker chips beneath a card table, clutched within his trembling grip.

“Aventurine, is something wrong?” you ask in Avgin, and he replies in Standard with his usual smile.

“Hm? No. What could be wrong if I have you here?”

Lying is one of his greatest tools. Sex is another one. So he says, “I think I'd like my reward now,” and he runs his lips along your jaw, your pulse, the spot over your heart (there's a word for that in Avgin but not Standard, he tells you), until you're laughing. I thought you wanted three kisses, you tease, and he replies, Who said I wanted to kiss you on the mouth?

But he coaxes open your thighs, and once he's inside you, he collects his payment properly. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and you swallow his lies whole.

There are some things that Aventurine doesn't teach you. Mostly, they’re things that he can’t teach you.

There are countless gaps in his Avgin. His speech is painfully childish—probably more childish than it was when he actually stopped speaking it. He doesn't know how to swear (something that disappoints you) and he doesn't know how to flirt (something that devastates you). He doesn’t know any words that would be useful for work either: commercialization, governance, stakes, winnings, profit. When you ask him what his job title is in Avgin (“Was senior management even a thing in Avgin society?”), he laughs and gives you the word for gambler.

Then there are the words that he remembers—has remembered his whole life—but never says. Not to you, and not to himself. He doesn't teach you any prayers. He doesn't teach you any blessings. He doesn't teach you about Mama Fenge, or the Kakava Festival, or how the rain fell when he was born. When you ask him, What holidays did you celebrate when you were little? he shrugs and says, We didn't have any. Sigonia’s too bleak to do any partying.

Then you ask him one day, while your bodies are spent in the afterglow of sex, sticky with sweat and sweetness, how to say I love you. And he goes quiet.

Love is a cheap word in Interastral Standard. In the language of globalisation and trade, love has been commercialised, commodified, capitalised for power. You say it to him in many contexts: I love this, I love that, I love you. He hardly ever reacts, and he's never said it back. It would feel unnecessary and also cruel if he did: Aventurine has only ever said the words himself as either a joke or a manipulation.

But love feels different in Avgin than in Interastral Standard, doesn't sound like a thing that can be traded or bought. Kakavasha only ever said the word love to his mother, to his sister, to his father's grave. Love in his mother tongue feels priceless.

When Aventurine thinks about you saying it—I love you, Kakavasha, in clumsy, earnest Avgin—something so painful swells in his throat that he can hardly breathe.

“There is no word for love in my language,” he tells you.

You blink. “Okay, then what's an idiom for it?”

“There is none. There’s no word or phrase expressing love.”

You raise a brow. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Is it?” He smiles. “There’s no Avgin in the known universe who cares about love. Only scheming, thieving, and treachery—and you can't do those things when love is involved.”

You look at him in alarm. “Why are you saying that?” You're practically squirming in your discomfort. “I don't know why you think I'd believe such a racist stereotype.”

“It’s not a stereotype,” he says. “I'm not talking about the Avgin culture. I'm talking about myself.”

After all, he is the only Avgin left.

It is an unfair thing to say. A cruel thing to say. After all the laughing and kissing and crying and fucking, after all the tender eyes and gentle words from you—it is probably the worst pain imaginable: I don't give a shit about you. He waits for you to cry.

But you only stare at him calmly, studying him. You brush the hair out of his eyes, seeing them clearly.

“If you lie to me all the time,” you say in Avgin, “eventually I'll stop believing anything you say.”

Aventurine is speechless. His heart does that addictive, disgusting thing again. He thinks about leaving, but then you say, Let me hold you, and he can't do anything other than obey.

Avgin dialect was once included in the Synesthesia Beacon list of functions. The Intelligentsia Guild added it before the Second Katica-Avgin Extinction Event, when the IPC was trying to get a political foothold on Sigonia via the Avgin people. The language was alive then, with enough value to be included into the Synesthesia LLM by the linguists.

But since the Extinction Event—since Kakavasha ran away from home—the Synesthesia data on Avgin has been stagnant, a fossil. Aventurine knows because he's subscribed to software updates for certain languages (Avgin Sigonian, Common Sigonian, Interastral Standard, and now your mother tongue). He gets pinged every time there's a new addition for slang, for neologisms—but there hasn't been a ping for the Avgin dialect since he had the Beacon installed. The live translation function hasn't even been available since the previous Amber Era. When he checks its page on his Synesthesia app, it's very clear why—

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 0 STATUS: Extinct END OF SERVICE: 2156 AE

The complete death of the language has led to an irritating dilemma for you and Aventurine. You keep running into words that he doesn't know—this time not because of his childlike speech, but because they never existed in his language to begin with. Ocean, tropical, rainforest. Starskiff, accelerator, space fleet. Stock market, shortselling, mutual funds. Black hole, event horizon, spaghettification. All things that never came up for Kakavasha, but now come up for Aventurine, and the language has not evolved to include it.

He always wants to switch to Standard to discuss these things, but you're insistent on speaking in Avgin as much as possible. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't mind humouring you—partly because he likes to indulge you, and partly because he’s grown used to hearing the honeyed timbre of Avgin dialect in your household. The place would feel strange without it.

So you start filling the gaps with other languages, filtering them through the lyricism of Avgin. Loanwords, he thinks they’re called. You take ocean, tropical, rainforest from Amazian; starskiff, accelerator, space fleet from Xianzhounese; stock market, shortselling, mutual funds from Interastral Standard. For the astrophysics terms, you try directly translating them—with limited success.

“Can't I literally just say ‘black hole’?” you ask in Avgin, and he nearly spits out his coffee.

“Please don't. That's a dirty word.” He can't bring himself to say what it means, but from the way you’re laughing, you can clearly guess.

“I thought you said you didn't know how to swear.”

“You've just reminded me how.”

“You're welcome.” You look on the verge of cackling. Aventurine finishes his coffee and wonders when you're going to surprise him with your newfound vulgarity.

“Let's just do the space terms based on Standard,” he says. Begs.

“No, that's so boring.”

“Then let's do your language.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Give him a blank look.

“You don't know how to say those words in your mother tongue either, do you,” he intuits.

“Well, ‘spaghettification’ doesn't really come up in everyday conversation, does it?”

“Then maybe we don't need it.” He smiles, senses an opportunity. Smells blood. “How about ‘love’? I'd much rather know how you say that. I bet it sounds beautiful.”

You give him a long look. Your eyes are vulnerable when you share it: Love. I love you. He’s fascinated by the sound of it. Your voice is never that fragile when you say it in Standard. It's never so earnest. He repeats it, staring at you, and your gaze falls to the ground. His mouth curls.

“I like it,” he says. “Let's use that. It'll sound nice in Avgin.”

You try to recover. “Sure. That works. But back to ‘black hole’—”

And the two of you continue like that for days, weeks, months. It feels like a complete bastardization of his mother tongue on some days, in some conversations. Almost unrecognisable. But it doesn't feel bad. It’s all he has, it's all you have, and when he walks into your home, he starts speaking it without thinking: your bastard, patchwork language. The Avgin dialect that exists only in your house. A tongue that can only be understood by a liar.

And then, one lazy Sunday morning, he gets a familiar ping. He expects it to be Interastral Standard, as usual. The language balloons with each planet that the IPC colonises.

But instead, he opens his screen and freezes.

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 2 STATUS: Endangered. SERVICE RESUMED: 2157 AE NEW UPDATES: 103 loanwords and 5 neologisms added.

He can't stop looking at the status. Endangered. Endangered, which means dying, but alive. The Avgin dialect is alive again. The Intelligentsia Guild determined it, so it must be true. But Aventurine can't agree: there are no Avgin speakers in the known universe other than the two of you, and what you speak isn't real Avgin. The Avgin spoken by his mother and father and sister is dead; the Avgin spoken by Kakavasha is dead. The festivals are gone; the deserts have been terraformed. There are no wagons; there are no dances; there are no prayers. There are no blessings, and he has no home—

As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.

His throat locks up.

“Aventurine?” you ask. Your voice is drowsy, but concerned. “Is something wrong?”

He looks at you from his phone, a polished smile on his face.

“No.” His syllables are plain and efficient in the noise of Interastral Standard: “Just looking at details for a new assignment. It’ll be a long one.”

“Oh.” You frown. “Will you be away from home for a long time, then?”

He stops himself from swallowing. “Yes, I'll be away from the house. For several months, probably.”

“Okay.” Your voice is small. “Take care of yourself, okay? I'll miss you.”

Each word you speak resonates with heartbreak. It always does in these conversations, even in Standard—but the sorrow is amplified in Avgin. His mother tongue has an inherently sad quality to it, he's noticed. His people have lost so much over their history—their language is one of loss. It's his language of loss. Kakavasha did all his grieving in Avgin; Aventurine has never felt sorrow in Standard. When the language died, so did Kakavasha—and all his regrets with it.

“You'll come home to me, right?” you ask. It's a beautiful sentence in Avgin. A heartrending one. He feels something that he hasn't known since he was a child.

It's a feeling he has to kill.

“Yes,” he says in Standard. “Of course I'll come back.”

This is not the first time that Aventurine has been mistaken for dead, but this is the longest time.

The latest world to join the IPC network was a tough acquisition. It had been ruled by a despot who wreaked havoc on both the people and the planet, and who was too stupid and reckless to resolve conflicts with his trade partners. He probably would have blown up the whole star system had he been left to his own devices. Aventurine had no qualms about bringing him to ruin, nor did he have qualms about nearly dying in the process.

If things had gone his way, he'd either be dead or missing. This would have been the perfect opportunity to do the latter, actually—to be freed from the IPC. Free to drift alone, speaking with strangers in strange, unfamiliar tongues. No connection to his past, to the cruel history of his luck, to his commodity code. No tether to his inherently unjust destiny. But instead he's back in your house, pockets heavy with his borrowed wealth, speaking to you in his bastardised, childish Avgin. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

Your Avgin is—shockingly fluent. He doesn't know how. He can't think about it right now. All he can process is the wounded animal noise of your speech as you yell at him, as you cry. Like an injured songbird, or a weeping child. Why did you leave, why did you lie, why do you always lie to me, why don't you give a shit about me, you spit. Why do you want to die, why do you want to die, why do you want to die, you keep saying. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost, he keeps hearing. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost. Don't leave me, big sister. People will die. Why do you have to go?

“I’m sorry,” he tries again, this time in your language. “I'm so sorry. Come here. Let me hold you.”

You collapse into your mother tongue. Aventurine is both relieved and horrified. Relieved that he doesn't need to hear the language of his grief—horrified that he needs to hear yours. He's never heard you cry like this. He's never heard you break like this. These must have been the words you used when the soldiers found you hiding in your closet, when they dragged you out of your home. You were just a child.

Aventurine doesn't know the words you are using—you've never taught them—but he still understands them.

You're very malleable when you’re sad; even more so when you're hysterical. Aventurine understands this about you, and he understands how to calm you—this time in your native tongue—and he understands how to kiss you. He understands that you need to feel close to him. He understands that there are ways to accomplish this other than sex. A normal person would talk it out, have an honest conversation, come to a mutual understanding, and maybe even stop trying to kill himself. They wouldn't fuck you into the mattress while your face is still wet with tears.

But Aventurine is not a normal person. He doesn't know how to have an honest conversation, and he doesn't want to be understood. Lying is his greatest weapon, and sex is a close second. So he kisses you until you’re too breathless to cry, fucks you until you can't think, and makes you come so hard that you’re in too much bliss to grieve. And maybe it's horrible of him, but he enjoys it. He enjoys the way your body takes him in so easily, the way your nails dig into his back, the way you tighten around him when you climax, so wet and needy for him. The way you beg for him in your language for liars as he spends himself inside you: I love you, Aventurine, I love you, I love you, I love you—

Only because it feels good. This is all only because he enjoys fucking you. This is all only because you enjoy fucking him. This is all it'll ever be, and it'll be this way until he gets to meet his end.

(Some months ago, Aventurine started dreaming in Avgin.

It surprised him when he first noticed it. The last time he remembers having a dream in his native tongue, he was twelve years old and still in chains. And even then, it had become a sporadic, strange thing. Awful to wake up from. One minute he was with his mother and sister on a cool, rainy day, speaking fluently in Avgin as he laughed and played—and the next minute, he was being shaken awake in his cage, hearing the cruel lash of Katican.

But ever since he's started speaking Avgin with you, he's been dreaming in it. Vividly. Sometimes he's a child in these dreams, and sometimes he's grown. He's always back in the Sigonian desert, among the tents and the campfires and his family wagons. His mother and sister are alive. Sometimes his father is too. The skies roar with thunder and the stellar winds are always harsh, but they always keep him cocooned up in their arms. He's always warm.

Sometimes Aventurine dreams of nicer days. Clear skies, warm sun, cool breeze—all blessings from the Mother Goddess. On these days, he tends to be an adult, and you tend to be there with him. Your Avgin is fluent but strange, filled with funny loanwords and peculiar slang. His father likes the neologisms and starts using them—but only in wrong ways. His sister finds it embarrassing and keeps apologising to you.

His mother loves you. She loves you so much it hurts. This is how I know you're blessed, Kakavasha, she says, glowing. You’re so lucky to have found such a kind person.

Kakavasha knows this. He knows he's lucky, and in his dreams, that isn't a bad thing. In his dreams, his luck means that his home is not violently excised from his heart: his father never dies; his mother never dies; his sister never dies. The tents are not burned; the wagons are not destroyed. He is never forced to forget his people's dishes, their songs, their language, their joy. And in his dreams, his luck means that he meets you anyway, without all the loss and the chains and the lying.

In his dreams, he is able to bring you to the desert. He is able to teach you the Avgin he spoke as a child, to cook all the meals his mother used to make, to share with you their coffee and their tea. He teaches you prayers. He teaches you blessings. He tells you about Mama Fenge, about how the rain fell when he was born. He takes you to the Kakava Festival, shows you how to dance, sings to you all the Avgin songs until you're singing back. He presses his palm to yours in prayer; he kisses you in devotion, not avoidance.

Sometimes the two of you still fight, the same fights that you have in real life, but he handles them with honesty. He listens to you. He apologises to you. He tells you that he’ll change, and he means it—because this world is a kind one, and he has no need to be so cruel to you.

In this kind world, when you lay in bed with his arms tight around you, you smile at him and say, I love you, Kakavasha. You say it in Avgin—real Avgin, not the dialect born from genocide and deceit—and when he responds, there's not even a little bit of insincerity in his voice. Because Kakavasha never became Aventurine in these dreams, so he has no Interastral Standard in which he can lie to you, no silver tongue with which he can manipulate you, no commodity code that inspires his fear of being controlled by you. Kakavasha only knows Avgin, and he only has his sand, his family, his goddess, his home.

And he has you. Finally, he has you.

He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and then he tells you the truth.)

.

.

.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

You noticed this very early on: whenever he lies to you, he always switches to Interastral Standard. Probably he wouldn't be able to do it in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak, and the words he knows are all too kind. He speaks with the innocence of a child, and children cannot deceive people in the way that adults can. Children cannot perform commerce or negotiate contracts. They cannot use a silver tongue to rob people blind. They cannot save themselves from the gallows.

So Aventurine’s Avgin is defenceless. Vulnerable. So vulnerable it hurts. You are not so vulnerable in your first language because your captors spoke it on occasion, and you learned to lie in it to gain their pity. You told Aventurine that knowing it would help him understand you, but this was a deception. Aventurine’s mother tongue was a language of trust, but yours is a dialect of abuse.

The Avgin language died before Aventurine could be gutted by it; this is why it disarms him so completely. This is why he’s so indulgent and so warm when you use it with him, why he yields to all your requests. Not requests for money or gifts—you’re certain those are meaningless to him—but for affection. Let me hold you. Let me touch you. Let me kiss you. He can never say no.

This is also why he loves hearing you speak his mother tongue, you think—it makes him feel at home, it makes him feel safe. Maybe it even makes him feel loved. He never seems so at peace speaking any other language, so you try to use Avgin as much as possible. You like seeing him happy. You like it even if it means you need to teach him your own native language in exchange, even when it means you need to hear him say all the things your captors used to say. You don't mind it if it's him. You never mind the harm he inflicts on you, especially not when it brings you closer to him.

It is convenient that he cannot lie in Avgin. You only wanted to learn it in the first place because he talks in his sleep—mostly in Standard, but sometimes in his native tongue. And now that you know he cannot lie in Avgin, you also know he's always being honest in his dreams. Honest when he throws his arms around you in his sleep. Honest when he grabs you so tightly that you bruise. Honest when he buries his face into your neck and whispers prayers into your skin.

Most of the words he says are common ones, the earliest vocabulary that he taught you. But there are some things he's withheld from you—and to learn those things, you had to track down linguists from the Intelligentsia Guild, bribe them with your dirty money, have them give you all their deprecated, extinct data. It felt two-faced, and it was violating, but it was the only way. You already know that Aventurine would rather die than translate his feelings for you, would never want this part of himself understood.

I'm sorry for always leaving you.

I'm sorry for making you cry.

I can't bear the thought of losing you.

Freedom would be too lonely without you.

I don't want to hurt you anymore.

I don't want to lie to you anymore.

I missed you.

I want you.

I need you.

I love you.

end

afterword

[botanicalsword]

Mercury in Houses & Signs - How does Mercury govern their languages, tones, thoughts?

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❥ Mercury in Houses

Mercury in the 1st House - Enhances intellect and self-awareness, often prone to overthinking

Mercury in the 2nd House - Skilled in negotiation, places importance on financial matters

Mercury in the 3rd House - Excellent communication skills, enjoys traveling

Mercury in the 4th House - Values family and home life

Mercury in the 5th House - Proficient in intellectual games, enjoys performing

Mercury in the 6th House - Emphasizes health and well-being

Mercury in the 7th House - Values and admires an intelligent partner

Mercury in the 8th House - Enjoys studying mysticism and has the ability to uncover secrets

Mercury in the 9th House - Likes to enrich oneself through reading

Mercury in the 10th House - Mostly engaged in intellectual and research-oriented work

Mercury in the 11th House - Has a larger circle of friends

Mercury in the 12th House - Prefers to keep their thoughts and ideas hidden

❥ Mercury in signs

Mercury in Aries - they tend to speak directly and lack patience and sometimes are stubborn with their words.

Mercury in Taurus - they are shrewd and conservative in their speech. They carefully choose their words. They are good at leaving themselves room to maneuver.

Mercury in Gemini - they are skilled at communication and may use a mix of truth and fiction in their speech.

Mercury in Cancer - they are are sensitive and empathetic communicators, they avoid using harsh words when they genuinely like someone. They prioritize maintaining emotional connections in their communication.

Mercury in Leo - They have a strong desire to be seen as right and may express themselves boldly and confidently, sometimes even exaggerating their points to prove themselves correct.

Mercury in Virgo - They are known for their precise and clear communication style. They express themselves with clarity and attention to detail, ensuring that what they say aligns with what they think. They value accuracy and practicality in their speech.

Mercury in Libra - They are skilled at sweet-talking and using tactful language. However, their ability to follow through on their words may vary, as they prioritize maintaining harmony and balance in their relationships.

Mercury in Scorpio - they are sarcastic and may disregard others' feelings. They have a sharp and sarcastic communication style. They may disregard the feelings of others unless they have a deep emotional connection. They are often straightforward and unafraid to speak their minds, even if it may come across as harsh.

Mercury in Sagittarius - they tend to speak impulsively and without much filter. They may say things without fully considering the consequences and often forget their words quickly.

Mercury in Capricorn - they take responsibility for their words and have a serious and practical approach to communication. They prefer to speak with purpose and avoid engaging in meaningless conversations. They value clarity and reliability in their speech.

Mercury in Aquarius - they hold strong opinions and are often resistant to changing their views. They can be persuasive communicators and have the ability to influence and even brainwash others. They are independent thinkers who value intellectual stimulation.

Mercury in Pisces - People with Mercury in Pisces speak based on imagination and intuition. They are easily influenced or misled, but they can also be manipulative and deceptive.

It is advisable to approach astrology as a tool for self-reflection and guidance rather than relying solely on it for making major life decisions.

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[grandisknight]

dots and dashes | sylus

summary: Sylus gives insight into one of the many languages he's well-versed in.

tags: nsfw (mdni), established relationship, afab!reader, banter, morse code, vibrator, sex toys, orgasm edging, f!orgasm, aftercare/morning after, gift giving, evol abilites (sylus' energy manipulation), a pinch of fluff

wc: 2.6k | ao3 | kinktober in deepspace masterlist

a/n: mildly inspired by one of his older text messages (affinity 37’s text message: deal)! also around his pre-debut, he had morse code in one of the teasers (official weibo post here) and i thought that was pretty neat so here we are ^_^)7

The leader of Onychinus kept a plethora of languages stored away under his sleeve. A man of multiple tongues and talents, you just wanted to know how to say one thing—anything, really. 

Though, you didn’t think he’d take a silly comment in passing so seriously, and it landed you in his personal study the following evening. A rare day where your schedules aligned, Sylus took the opportunity to extend a warm welcome into the N109 Zone under the promise of a ‘lesson.’

Of all the languages, morse code was what he decided to reveal in his cards. A curious choice, to say the least, but it piqued your interest nevertheless. Cozied in one of the cushioned chairs, a beginner’s guide laid flat across the desk with your scribbled notes. Sylus’ chair was tucked to the side in observation, accompanying your lessons as a stand-in teacher of sorts.

Time passed in this way—he would offer a series of taps and drags with his fingers against the surface, and you would write them down. He was patient with you all throughout, solidifying the foundation for the alphabet before switching to small words and phrases.

A question that had been plaguing your mind since you arrived drifted into the air during a self-proclaimed break. “By the way, why do you know morse code?” 

With a hand propping your chin, your gaze takes in his relaxed figure. Comfortably dressed in his light gray sweater, the detailed threads of silver patterns painted him in a softer aura that juxtaposed his usually formidable appearance. Rimless glass coveted the rubied gaze that would occasionally meet yours, though occupied in thought. 

It was distracting, to say the least. A handsome distraction at its finest, though it doesn’t pull away from the message he quietly relayed to you.

A dot, two dashes. A series of dashes, another dot and some more followed.  (.-- / --- / .-. / -.-)

Counting off the units that met the table in muted taps, you answer, “Work?”

“Good ear, sweetie.” Sylus nods, leaning back and adjusting the thin frames balancing atop his nose. “Sometimes, negotiations are better said without words.”

“That’s a thinly veiled way of saying threats, but sure,” you retort. He doesn’t deny your claims, rather letting out a small chuckle in acquiesce. 

Sylus taps your forehead with his forefinger, amusement quirked in his brow. “You’ve seen the kind of talks and people I’ve dealt with. Who knows, you could use this in one of your little undercover missions too.” 

His hands return to nestle in his lap, and it catches your eye then—a faint snap and swirl of black manifested into a box underneath his palm. Perfectly fitted and nearly hidden if it weren’t for the glimmering trim around the edges, and the fluttering crow feather swaying towards the floor.

“Curious, are we?” Sylus voices your thoughts, fingers drumming against the lid. 

Two dashes and a dot, a couple more dots, another dash-dot and lasting dash. (--. / .. / ..-. / -) 

“Gift,” you echo upon realization. 

Your eyes wandered between his lap and the sparkling rubied gaze that honed his presence, reading between the lines. “Don’t tell me it’s another gun? Last time I checked, my Harrier 700 still works well.” 

And the last thing you wanted to deal with was a run-in with customs, if that were the case—he’s already tried his luck before, and you weren’t counting on his luck index to grant a second chance.

“You’ve been taking good care of it, so there’s no need for a replacement,” Sylus says. He leans back, tapping a forefinger to his temple in thought. “I thought it would be nice to get you something for studying so diligently.”

It had your back straightening in attention—now you really had no idea what he could be hiding. Even so, a scowl sketched onto your face, wondering if you’ve walked into a trap. A dry chuckle parts his lips at your clear interest and adamant attempt to maintain a façade all the same.

“Sweetie, it’s all yours.”

“It’s not that simple though, is it?”

“Ah. You know me so well,” he muses. “As vigilant as ever.”

The box finds itself on the desk and his hands reach for your chair. They dance over the armrest before turning your full front towards him—where his cocked head and curled lips asked, “Let’s make a deal. How does that sound?” 

“What’s the catch?” Your heart jumped into your throat, unsure of when the air became so… palpable. Damn him and his ridiculously handsome face, you couldn’t tell if it made this more bearable or stirred your senses further. “I might be willing to wager.”

“Relax, that’s one of the conditions.” His larger fingers swipe over one of yours, which had subconsciously curled into a fist. Gently, he coaxes your hand to open into his, soon neatly slotted and all encompassing with warmth. “You look nervous, and I haven’t done a thing.”

“I know.” Your shoulders relax when his thumb massages yours in a light stroke. “But you haven’t done anything yet,” you clarify.

“Which brings me to my second condition.” He brings it closer to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours when he presses a kiss to your knuckles. “A test, if you will. You pass if you manage to decode my sequence correctly.”

“My sequence,” you pause, catching the tail end of his proposal. “So there’s only one?” 

“Why, do you want a whole pop quiz?” He snickers, a brow raised. “We’ll be stuck here all night if that’s the case.”

“Nevermind,” you shake your head, finding the prospect to be less than charming. One was more than enough to take on your plate.

You purse your lips then and poke in jest. “Are you doubting my academic prowess now?”

“I would’ve dismissed you entirely if I was,” Sylus points out, tugging your hand towards him. 

It jerked you forward unexpectedly, though it seemed he was anticipating this—smooth swirls of red and black tangled around your body, gently placing you atop his expecting lap before softly dispersing. “There’s no doubt in my mind you’re as bright as they come,” he adds in honesty.

“What the—hey, now!” A flush ran across your cheeks at the newfound proximity. 

Hips hovering above him, you nearly fell onto the fine meeting place between his thighs. You save yourself the embarrassment, reaching for the chair’s headrest to steady your shift. He allows you this much, your legs soon bracketing his own and enjoying the sight all the same.

You huffed, “Is this part necessary?”

“Par for the course, actually.” Sylus’ fingers ghost over your sides, before settling atop your thighs and his palms lying flat in a gentle caress. “You can always back out if you’re not game.”

An arrow to your pride dug into your heart at the mere offense. The competitive spirit that once laid dormant jerked into consciousness—absolutely not.  “No, we’re on. Do your worst,” you raise in steadfast confidence. “I can take it.”

“Those are fighting words,” he says. The glint in his eyes was unmistakable, teetering on a fine line of fondness and scheme alike. “But I’ll hold you to it.”

—

So, maybe your confidence could only carry you so far. 

Rather, it tumbled you into a predicament at the cost of your exposed cunt. His free hand lazily dimpled into the plush of your hip, simultaneously careful to keep you steady. No longer a comfortable chill, the study’s air swirled into a concoction of heat and burning salacity in every inhale.

“Sweetie,” Sylus purrs. “You still haven’t answered my question.” 

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. The game of codes was the last thing on your mind when a fine man of caliber was perched beneath you, gracefully stringing you along and allowing you the same right.

Easily thrown out the window, especially so, when all inhibition was lost to his kneaded touches and peppered kisses. The smooth movements that treasured your skin with care, tugging your bottoms down just enough in the process and tenderly appreciating you throughout the heat of the moment. Even his hair stuck out in one direction to the next, unkempt from the field day your tugging fingers reshaped the silver stands into. 

Be that as it may, you still groan, chest rising to catch your breath. Nails drag into planes of his firm shoulder blades, lightly leaving their mark. “It’s because you’re not playing fair, Sy.” If you had a nickel for every time you were close to crashing in his embrace from an impending climax, it would be two. While it’s not an impressive sum, both were earned in the past few minutes alone, under the direction of his cunning smile and newfound toy in hand.

To his kindness, he pulls the rounded head of the vibrator away from your clit—the once muffled hums rang out more clearly, whirring at the highest setting. It glistened to the naked eye, finely coated in a layer of your evident arousal.

“All is fair in love and war,” he says, unphased by the line of bait you failed to reel in. He leans forward to press a kiss into your temple, a sign of affection pairing with a gentle squeeze to your side. “Should I be nice and walk you through one last chance?”

Your hands trace the curves melting into his neck, grazing his nape in forewarning. “Thin ice, Onychinus head.” 

“Alright,” he muses, though reveling at the added pressure that only spurs him further. “No need to get so formal with me.” The vibrator lowers in the same breath to meet your anticipating heat.

“Five letters. Ready?”

Your hips roll forward then, impatience losing its virtue if meant you could finally, finally seek some relief. “Was practically born ready, at this point.” And then, the first rhythm played out in three, gentle presses to where you needed it most. 

Three dots. (...)

This was fine, you could handle this much.

A moment of pause soon sways into the vibrator sliding between skin, returning to the apex of your labia, and dipping once again. 

A dash, added dot, and paired dashes thereafter. (-.--) “Still with me?” Sylus asks, taking in the sight of your eyes screwed in concentration. It was endearing, in some sense of the word, and his gaze lingered on your expression in intrigue.

Though grateful for the concern, you chide when your breath allows it. “Don’t stop, go all the way already.”

To stop halfway tested what little patience there was left in you. You raised your head to find his circles of crimson brimming with a fondness and undivided attention. All for you.

The grin he graces you with carries the same sentiments, newly tinted with mirth. “Whatever the boss wants.” 

The humming returns without warning, and you jerk against the touch, gasping. A press and slide, following upwards once more in double succession. 

Another dot, dash, and two dots in a row. (.-.. )

You were quickly beginning to piece together the puzzle he left you to solve, the audacity of it all.

Before you could admonish such revelations, you bite your tongue when he continues into the next piece. It was fleeting, but memorable—identical presses and a sinister slide, the buzzing toy greeting your entrance in slick abundance. 

Two dots, and a dash. (..- )

“You’re not—” Your eyes grow wide at the newly placed prodding. 

“Getting cold feet? A minute ago you wanted me to go all the way,” Sylus recalls with a click of his tongue. “It would be unlike you to stop right before the finish line, sweetie.”

You squirm against him, sensitive and incredibly aware of the coil threatening to unfurl. He takes notice, hand stilling in consideration.

“You can do it,” he croons, forehead to yours and capturing your fluttering gaze.

“Never said I couldn’t,” you say, a swallow sealing your determination.

Sylus smiles. “Last letter. Let's make it count.” The vibrator slips into your cunt, whirring against your walls in a sense of overwhelming ecstasy. He makes quick work of it all then, three generous thrusts of the wand disappearing almost entirely, save for his firm grip around the base. 

Three final dots. (...)

It marks the end of his charades, and the beginning of your incandescent cries.

You came undone at last, release ebbing as a flurry of sounds shape themselves into your call. “Sylus, Sylus, Sylus.”

“That’s it, ride it out for me. You worked so hard to earn it, after all.” His nose brushes just beneath your jaw, a tender kiss in consolation to soothe your high. 

He relaxes the toy out of your spent heat by the time your trembling thighs subsided, power shutting off and rolling onto the desk’s surface. A brief swirling of black and crimson manifests a small cloth into his hand, gently patting away the stickied outcome before it disperses in the same specks. His fingers rake along your sides, dragging the fabric of your bottoms into their proper place.

“Sylus.” You slump against his shoulder in recovery, bemoaning amidst the moment of calm clarity. “You are unbelievable. The damn answer was your name, of all things.” “And now you know how to call for me in code. Aren’t I generous?” The slight rumble of his chest supports the chuckle he lets out, deepened further when a curl of your fist smacks his shoulder in protest.

Endearment softens his tone as he draws circles into your back, taking the rolling punches. The other tangles his fingers against your temple, smoothing out the sides in thought. “I would say our lesson went well today.”

“One hell of a lesson,” you remark. Your breathing slows for a moment, listening to the drumming heart beneath your ear. His caresses were kind, lulling, attentive. A sense of peace, wholeheartedly yours and Sylus' alone.

Your gaze shifts towards the desk, when another piece of memory, well-decorated in its untouched trim, lies next to the toy. Forgotten, nearly—the gift. “By the way,” you murmur. “What’s in the box?” Whether it was out of laziness and unwilling to move from your warmth or pure convenience, Sylus waves his hand in summoning. Accepting the floating item midair, you were about to peel off the lid when he began to shift under you, interrupting your grand reveal.

“Hold on.”

With practiced ease, Sylus single-handedly cradles you to his chest and adeptly rises from the cushioned seat. No matter how many times he’s pulled it off in the past, it still leaves you breathless as if it were the first time.

You circle an arm around his neck, the other clutching the box with a huff, “I was about to do an unboxing, you know.” 

“I know,” he confirms, and presses another kiss to your temple. “But you’re getting sleepy. Open it after a good night’s rest.”

A swirl of Evol pushes the doors open, his footsteps echoing down the hall and towards his sanctuary. Your mind willed to protest his attempt of procrastination, yet only a yawn pushed past your lips and proved his point.

Curling into his embrace, you faintly mumble into his neck, “I’m wide awake.”

“And the sun shines at midnight,” Sylus deadpans, unimpressed at your performance. “Don’t fight it. If you’re tired, then sleep. I’ll make sure the gift will be there when you wake up.”  “You promise?”

“With my heart,” he says.

It was a simple response, yet the timbre of his words imbued security and affection all the same. As if he meant more than just ensuring your box was safe, swearing to something beyond your greater comprehension. 

One blink lasted longer than the one prior, sweeping the thought and yourself away into soundless sleep. Another time, perhaps.

—

You would find out the following day that he stayed true to his word. In the quiet hums of the morning, a slumbering giant clung to your side, his breathing calm and unknowing you had finally peeled open the mysterious box. 

A finely crafted jewel twinkled amidst padded velvet, a clasp secured on one end. Engravings inlaid in a series of familiar dots and dashes; you couldn't help but softly laugh, a finger tracing the pattern.

(-... . .-.. --- ...- . -..)

Beloved.

[brummiereader]

Binding Love (Part One/ Dark!Tommy)

Summary: After a morning of negotiations between lawyers, the day goes wasted when Tommy takes it upon himself to interfere in court proceedings. With your muddled intentions made clear, and your husband's declarations of love forcefully made known, a blazing row erupts between you both in the bustling streets of Birmingham. Will you ever be free from your husband's restraints? Do you even want to be?

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, language, violence, psychological mind games, controlling behaviour, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, psychological abuse, mutual pining, angst.

Word Count: 5K

Authors Note: For the purpose of depicting the manipulative behaviour of Tommy in the first part of this chapter, I've taken it upon myself to have radios become a common feature in cars before they were. We'll pick back up from the first scene again in the last chapter. The song playing on the car radio is called "Release Me" by Engelbert Humperdinck.

[Masterlist] [Trailer] [Main Masterlist]

" Please release me, let me go. For I don't love you, anymore..." the sound of your husband's humming voice accompanied by the taunting song and a sharp turn of the cars rumbling wheels on the gritted ground, jolted you from the daze your tired body had drifted into.

"Tommy...Tommy!" you began to frantically cry into the darkness, faced once again with the horrors sleep had dulled for you. A slither of light beaming through a crack in the rear headlights, the salty air of sand and kelp your only comfort to stop your racing heart from plunging you into complete obscurity.

"Tommy please! I'm...I'm sorry! I was scared...you were scaring me!" Your stifled breath wept with desperation as you begged for mercy before panic took over, and you succumbed to the tight enclosure.

Losing track of the countless halting stops, the speeding turns as Tommy's foot pressed down onto the pedal with determination. You had given up on trying to route your husband's destination and fallen into a weary haze of slumber. But with Tommy's clear attempt to awaken you, and bless his lonely thoughts with the beauty of your strangled cries, he had also awoken the searing panic within you once again.

How many hours had it been...fuck, how many hours had it been?! How much air was left?!, your frightened mind scrambled to make sense of the amount of time that had passed through the music loudly confusing any tangible answer you could come to.

" I can't breathe...Oh my god, I...I can't breathe!" your chest heaved in a frenzy, relenting to the alarming situation you had distanced yourself from as your hands searched to ground your body before you let what was left of your sanity slip into the terror your husband was hellbent on inflicting on you.

" Tommy! I...I can't breathe!" your hand flew to your chest as adrenaline coursed through the blood pumping furiously throughout your body. Every muscle reacting in a torturous plea for you to flee the inescapable.

" Maybe you should stop screaming, sweetheart" Tommy's voice rose above the music as a wicked smirk etched on the corner of his curling lips. His arm resting casually on the open window with a lit cigarette perched between his fingers as one would on a leisurely Sunday drive in the country.

" You bastard!" you snapped forgetting yourself, throwing the warranted insult his way as a low chuckle obnoxiously echoed back to you in response.

" And to think I put a cushion in there for you" he teased, if only to spur on the enticing game of cat and mouse he had become the sole player of.

" Don't say I don't do anything nice for you, eh?" a slither of irritation seethed at the end of his tongue for the chaos he blamed you for. For the cascade of selfish decisions you had made he blamed on the day's events.

How could you have done this to him, after all...no. After everything he'd lovingly done for you to keep you away from those that wanted to ruin what you shared.

" I hate you...I fucking hate you! I never loved you Tommy, just like your fucking song! I don't love you! Are you listening?! " your screams continued as you thrashed your limbs against the walls. Desperately trying to garner a reaction out of him as your lungs heaved for the stolen air, panic had snatched from them.

And a reaction you got, but one you'd be thankful to not have witnessed when Tommy shifted in his seat, loosening the collar of his shirt from the restricting pang of anger bobbing in his throat. His jaw clenching into a grating sound of teeth grinding on top of one another as the blue of his eyes eclipsed with a foreboding shade of coal at the lies you had spoken to scorch him. Lies he knew were only said to fool yourself into believing, rather than succumbing to the truth that your doting husband was, and always would be, the only man you would ever love.

You were just...tired. A knock to the head would make anyone confused, Tommy told the distasteful burn that had settled on his chest as the calloused pads of his fingers turned the volume up to drown out any more unwarranted admissions that would have him act out on the sting you had pierced him with.

"I'm warning you, eh? You hear me? One more fucking word Y/N, I dare you!" Tommy's voice loudly ordered with a shuddering tone of control as his eyes narrowed in on the road in front of him. His leather gloves snapping with a crisp creak under his curling fingers as they tightly grasped around the steering wheel. Tethering on the idea of stopping the car to an abrupt halt and dealing with you by hand.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, your trembling bottom lip steadied itself from any further statements you'd be a fool to make as the toying melody lulled your weeping body back into hopelessness. Your eyes drifting to the narrow rays of the sun fading with each passing minute.

Hovering your fingers over the dusting of light, you began to quietly mouth the tormenting lyrics of the song Tommy had chosen to accompany your long drive into the unknown as you let your body sink into itself.

Feeling a strangled cry build in your throat, one last frustrated thrash of your elbow against the side of the car boot had a flash of light searing into the darkness, causing your head to turn from the glaring brightness of the outside world now beaming into your enclosure.

" Shit, shit..." your head turned in a panic to see the back headlight gone, your pent-up hopelessness now your saviour.

Whipping your head back to the sound of your husband's toying lips whistling in tune to the song, your heart pounded rapidly against your chest as you waited for him to acknowledge his taillight skimming across the road. But when no reaction came, you tempted fate and slipped your arm through the open gap, frantically waving your hand in hopes somebody would see.

Hearing the rumbling sound of a car approaching, you pushed your arm further through the shards of glass as you desperately tried to alert its drivers' attention.

" No, no, no..." you cried, pulling away to see the car disappear into the fading sun, hurtling all despair back to you in a strangled muffle of cries.

Readying yourself for the burning sting once again, you pushed your bloody hand back into the sharp teeth of your only escape, forcing it through until your shoulder met the door of your prison one last time.

And that's when you felt it. The lock that had kept you captive for countless hours in the dark.

In for a penny, in for a..., your teeth bit down onto your wobbling bottom lip, dried with a layer of blood from the dripping gash on your forehead.

Steadying your heavy breaths from backing out, you pushed your thumb down onto the chrome button, committing to your escape and the horrors you would face if your husband caught you.

With a subtle click, the door effortlessly popped open as you pulled yourself up with shaky hands, throwing the weight of your body out onto the road without care to any car approaching or injury you'd likely sustain as Tommy's foot slammed on the breaks to a screeching halt.

" Now just where do you think you're going..." Tommy's eyes narrowed, the rolled cylinder of tobacco resting between his plump lips puffing a cloud of smoke with each quiet breathy observation as he flicked the wing mirror with his finger to see the reflection of you scrambling to your feet.

" Help! Somebody!" You screamed in horror as you ran barefoot along the gritted ground. Only a thin slip covering your modesty, Tommy hadn't given you a chance to conceal with his unexpected appearance that morning.

"Shit" Tommy huffed throwing the door open, discarding the burnt cigarette from his mouth as he bolted after your sprinting feet.

" C'mon darling, don't make a scene!" you heard his gravelly voice call after you as you dared to look back to see him chasing towards you with a malicious smile of amusement toying on the corners of his lips.

With no sign of life but the two of you on the long winding road, you took your chances in the bushy hedgerow, heading down the dangerous coastal path with screams of terror as Tommy stayed hot on your heels behind you.

But your frantic escape and pleas for help would go unheard among the thrashing sound of waves, leaving only the echos of the melody coming from Tommy's abandoned car in the middle of the lone country road, and the ticking of its blinkers counting the moments down until he caught you.

"Please release me, let me go. For I don't love you anymore. To waste our lives would be a sin..."

One month earlier...

"Shit, I'm sorry. I don't..I don't have any change" your cheeks reddened with embarrassment as your fingers fumbled with the small, empty purse. Not a single shilling nestled within its velvety padding. Not a single penny to your name.

"My husband wi..." you stopped yourself, feeling a fool to have even referred to him as such, that you were going to rely on him to settle your fare, knowing full well he'd find enjoyment paying on your behalf with the proceedings set to take place in a moment's time.

" S'alright, Mrs Shelby. On the house" the taxi driver nodded to you in the rear mirror with a bushy bearded smile. For he was not foolish enough to follow in suit with your slipping tongue and make the wife of the leader of the Peaky Blinders pay a sum so trivial it could see him costing a finger his profession deemed vital.

" Thank you, Jeffery. But after today I'll no longer be, Mrs Shelby" you stated, opening the car door to a gust of autumn air nipping at your cheeks, your heels stepping onto the cobbled street, that paved your way to the grand building where a judge would decide on your future.

Strutting into the towering structure, you held your head high as your heels loudly echoed along the marble floors. But as you pushed through the heavy court doors, your mustered confidence took a sudden blow when the room turned to face you and the man that would reside over your divorce proceedings, scolded you like a child in front of a class of their peers.

" You're late, Mrs Shelby" he looked past the rims of his glasses as your pace slowed in a desperate attempt to muffle your poor choice of shoes and the unwarranted attention it garnered.

"I'm sorry your honor" you apologised, shamed in front of everyone as you hurried past the set of blue eyes following your every step. His piercing stare roaming over your body from head to toe, to every curve your fitted dress accentuated. His head leaning into your musky perfume filled with notes of amber and vanilla that drifted past him in a gentle greeting as you took your seat next to your solicitor. The intoxicating smell enough to cause a breathy exhale of repressed want from his throat. Tommy.

Feeling the intent stare of your husband boring into your heated cheek, you whipped your head up from the documents between your painted nails to see Tommy leant back in his chair, admiring your choice of outfit from between the men of law that separated you. Why did he have to look at you that way? He was doing it on fucking purpose.

Snapping your eyes away, a screeching sound of a chair scraped along the floor, followed by the heavy footsteps of your husband approaching.

" Darling" he greeted, taking the opportunity to approach you and the tray of refreshments stood feet from your desk as the fumbling Judge lay out your weighty file in front of him with the help of his assistant.

"Tommy" you replied, eyes fixed on the documents in front of you, trying your upmost to shield yourself from the pull of his daily dose of sweet-talking.

Scoffing a chuckle, Tommy raised the glass tumbler of water to his grinning lips. Amused by the cold shoulder you were adamant on giving him.

"Quite the entrance. Was that little show all for me..." You suddenly felt the heat of his body next to you, his distinct cologne of tobacco intertwined with whiskey and soot filling your senses. "...eh?" he perched himself on the edge of your desk as he leant into your ear, his fiery breath sending a ripple of goosebumps down your neck as the beginnings of a cocky smile curled against your skin.

" No" you firmly stated, feeling the remaining surges of embarrassment making laps in your stomach as you raised your eyes to see the smug smirk of enjoyment plastered across his face. Did you do it for him? Were you still seeking his attention, his approval after all this time, after everything that had happened?

" You sure, sweetheart?" his brows knitted together, mischief twinkling in the corners of his creased eyes as his hand reached under the table, roaming under your dress until his fingers met the clasps of your garter and unclipped one.

"Hmm, such a tease" he chuckled to himself, feeling the sting of your hand slapping his fingers away. Toying with your emotions and the agreed boundaries he was unwilling to follow once again.

Whether it be to purposely play with you or sheer refusal to admit he was the one that had pushed you to this point. Tommy didn't care. For your husband would never abide by anyone, let alone follow life's rules that weren't from the beat of his own drum.

" Be seated everyone" the Judge ordered, bringing your racing heart down to a manageable speed as Tommy scooted off the wooden table onto two feet, adjusting his suit before reluctantly playing along to the six-month temper tantrum he believed you was having.

As the dreary morning of papers being sent back and forth between lawyers, of decisions over the custody of your shared child continued. Tommy made it his sole mission to find an issue with every suggestion raised. Addressing only you throughout the entire ordeal as his generously paid lawyer, buried his head in his hands with frustration.

" Mr Shelby" the Judge's voice rose above Tommy's interruptions as he wiped the bead of sweat that had settled on his temple. A huff of defeat in response to the insult that he, a man of his position, couldn't keep his courtroom and its sole troublemaker under control.

" Two Sundays out of the month, Y/N? I won't allow it, understood? Sunday is family time and we'll spend it together, whether you like it or not" Tommy rolled his shoulders, straightening the lapels of his suit jacket as the Judge desperately tried to bring order to the room.

"Why don't we go back home and end this fucking circus, eh? I'll make love to you, we'll take Elsie out for an afternoon with the horses..." Tommy trailed off into a tangent of things he'd rather be doing than sitting in the stuffy room he was currently forced to be in with a wigged man telling him what he could and couldn't do with his family.

"Mr Shelby, I beseech you" the Judge removed his glasses, peering at your husband's lawyer to keep control of his client.

" You really want to do this, eh? To our daughter? Y/N? Y/N?!" the last of Tommy's patience quickly evaporated as you snapped your head away from his bellowing voice to the window beside you, tears spilling over your cheeks.

" Mr Shelby!" The magistrate slammed his hammer down onto its wooden pillow as an exasperated sigh at the tiresome morning loudly left his throat.

Ignoring the resonating boom of the wooden hammer, Tommy rested his arm on the back of his lawyer's chair as he leaned in. Whispering his orders into his ear as his scorching stare stayed fixed on you.

Daring to challenge the piercing pair of eyes burning into you, you raised your head as your husband's lawyer approached the bench with his orders.

Gaze drifting up from his clenched fists, you were met with nothing but anger. Anger at your refusal to bring an end to the whole charade, for your unwillingness to let him back into your martial bed over a paddy he believed would fizzle out within a week's time. How had things gotten to this point? Or more precisely, what had your dear husband done to push you to this point?

" Proceedings are postponed until further notice" the Judge's damning words shocked you out of your husband's hold on your every thought as your eyes darted to your lawyer.

" All rise" the portly guard beside him announced as those present dispersed from the room, leaving you with darting eyes scanning the empty rows of chairs until they settled on Tommy, and the satisfied smirk he was maliciously sending your way.

"What did you do? Tommy! What did you do?!" you shouted, storming over to him as he rose from his seat. Unbothered by your fit of rage and the role he played in its sudden appearance.

"You're so angry all the time, darling" he replied, dismissing your questions as his hands snaked over your waist, playfully pouting down at your widening eyes as if the entire ordeal was nothing but a small spat between a married couple.

"You might wanna get that checked love, can't be good for you, now can it?" He continued to rile you up after getting his way as you pushed him off you, feeling fooled by your lawyers guarantee that not even your husband could bring a halt to court proceedings after the lengthy battle you had already fought to get this point.

Tears settling between your lashes, you shook your head in disbelief at another delay to your freedom as you ran from the courtroom and your husband calling your name.

" Y/N!" Tommy's voice bellowed into the chilly blue sky as he followed after your hurried steps down to the bustling main road of Birmingham's town center.

"Hey!" He grabbed hold of your hips, spinning you around to face him and the tears streaming down your reddened cheeks.

"Hey..." he hushed your cries as you clutched your arms around your body from the bitter breeze of winter slowly rolling in.

"Here" he pulled his black overcoat from his shoulders, wrapping it around your trembling body, you shrugged off the moment it's warmth enveloped you.

No matter what he did, you wouldn't let him in. Why wouldn't you fucking let him back in?!, Tommy thought to himself, throwing his coat on the hood of his car. Oblivious or rather, ignorant to how he had toyed with you moments earlier.

" Why are you doing this, Tommy? We agreed to this. You agreed to this!" a sigh of defeat had your head turning in frustration to the cobbled ground below you. A stream of tears following in tow.

"Forced my hand more like" his huffy response snapped back as he fished in his suit jacket for a cigarette.

Eyes cast down, Tommy's stare darted between your tear-ridden cheeks and the morning dash of men and women hurrying to their places of work as you both stood in silence.

"Hey, look at me" he cupped your chin, turning your head to face him as he shuffled from foot to foot with a breathy exhale. "We'll deal with this in private, alright?" his brows raised, only to be welcomed with your rolling eyes of skepticism on what the word private actually meant to your husband whose idea of a fair deal was only if he was the one making all the deciding factors.

"Y/N?" he waited on your answer, softly brushing a lock of hair from your cheek when his eyes caught the sight of a police car sat guzzling gas on the opposite side of the road, and the prick inside he'd learnt had been hounding you for months on the whereabouts of his colleague.

Jaw tightening, Tommy watched as the detective gave a two-finger salute before turning the wheels of his car into the road and driving off with a pleased smirk. A clear provocation to rile up the notorious gangster on a day he knew Tommy's reputable temper could see him snap given the right push, in the right direction.

" Y/N?" his attention flew back to you as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. " I don't want this" he held your gaze as the end of his cigarette sizzled inches from your cold cheeks.

" I love you" his stare intensified as he wet his lips, his hands reinforcing his words with a stern shake to your face. " I can't lose you. If you want me to change...fuck, I'll change, alright?"

" For god's sake Tommy, that's not...not what I want from you" You felt a surge of disappointment plummet to the bottom of your stomach at the empty promises you had heard countless times before. Hoping that for once, just once, he'd say something that could reassure you enough to put a stop to the yearning you had to reconcile without a shit load of regret following shortly after it.

"I was just keeping you safe, darling" his hands dropped to your arms, tenderly rubbing them within his palms.

" Is that what you want me to do? Pull back my men? Is that what this is all about, eh?" He continued with his refusal to acknowledge the lengths he'd gone to keep control over every waking moment of your day.

" You've given up on us, haven't you?" Tommy huffed at your silence and the reaction it had on his grating need to have your undivided attention at all times.

"Just know this is all on you, eh? Our daughters' parent's separated because of you. Great fucking example you're showing her, darling. Well done" Tommy shook his head, viscously switching his mood back to his bitter brooding over your lack of response, and the expected answer you were unwilling to give.

Your silence being enough to make clear where you stood on the matter, you turned to leave as his hurtful words settled in your chest. Burrowing down to your heart, to the pang of guilt you felt for the stress you was putting your six-year-old daughter through.

"Where are you going?" He stopped you from taking another step as he grabbed hold of your arm.

" Into town" you attempted to shrug off his grip as you watched the barrage of questions form behind his eyes.

" You need some money?" He slipped his burning cigarette between his lips as he pulled out a bundle of cash, flicking through the notes.

" No" you huffed, folding your arms away from him as a wave of embarrassment that you didn't have the money for a taxi fare, let alone a trip into town without your husband giving you your weekly pocket money, scorched you with humiliation.

" Why not?" Tommy's brow furrowed as he threw his cigarette to the ground. " Y/N, why not?" His question turned into an urgent demand to know what had you needing to walk into the city for something he could get one of his men to fetch for you.

Fuck sake, you sighed to yourself, feeling the familiar tone of interrogation seeping though his questions. You just wanted space, space away from the house you still found yourself sharing with him, from the constant reminder of happy memories spent together, from him, from him and his fucking need to know your whereabouts every hour of every second of the day.

"You have someone else paying for this outing into town, is that why you don't need my money, eh? Tommy's paranoia started to turn it's ugly head into an onslaught of never-ending questions.

"Going on another fucking date, hm? Like you did with that pig" his grip tightened, releasing his pent-up anger out on your reddening arms as he glared at you with eyes burning with enough fury to heat your face.

" It's was a friendly dinner..." You sighed with frustration at his inability to stop himself before he pushed you further away with words intended to hurt.

" You meeting someone, Y/N? You fucking somebody, eh?" His voice rose, letting go of the little self-restraint he still possessed as he abruptly pulled you into his body.

" Why you doing this to me, hm?" His voice suddenly softened into desperate pleas anyone would think was an end to his anger. But his tight hold on your body as his cheek pressed against yours, the sound of his gritted teeth grinding together against your ear, enough to tell you otherwise that his fury was seconds away from bubbling over.

" Tommy stop...enough!" You managed to push him away as you turned to leave, refusing to withstand another second of the man that had replaced your once doting husband.

" You won't get rid of me that easily, darling! I won't let it happen!" His voice bellowed into the soot filled air, garnering the attention of those within ear shot. "You marry a Shelby, you stay married! You hear me?! You stay, fucking married!"

" Fuck!" His hands slammed against the door of his car as his lawyer nervously approached, announcing his presence with the clearing of his throat.

" What?!" Tommy's head snapped back to the fumbling man with a file of papers requiring his attention.

" See that those get lost" Tommy's demeanor quickly simmered, keeping the only document that held any interest before piling the rest into the arms of his lawyer.

Sinking into the driver's seat, his true intentions, written in the words of his solicitor, found their way into the glove box as one of his men slid into the passenger's side.

" What's the plan boss?'" the peaked soldier questioned, his voice drowning out into a distant muffle of unintelligible words as Tommy's eyes followed you walking along the cobbled path. His fingers hovering over the ignition, ready to leave when you turned back to look at him with locks of hair dancing in front of your eyes, cheeks rosy red from the chill that had settled over the foggy city. The sight twisting an unbearable urge within him to have you walk back to him, to have you back in his arms.

Were you coming back to him?, Tommy waited, a breath of anticipation catching in his throat as you stood from afar before the ends of your dress turned with a gust of wind, pushing you around the corner out of sight.

" Boss?" The peaky asked, waiting for his orders as his hand rested on the handle of the door.

" Follow her"

" Fuck..." you stifled the steady flow of tears trickling down your cheeks as you darted into a narrow bricked path behind a row of shops. A face as famous as yours was, and would always be a topic of conversation, even more so with a set of tears covering it.

How had it come to this? Was it after the birth of your daughter? No, no, before then? When you was dating?", you plagued yourself with the same frequency of questions your husband tired you with.

No matter how many questions your weary thoughts tormented you with, the truth was, you couldn't pinpoint when your marriage fell apart. It had happened slowly, small changes gone unnoticed. And then, in true Tommy fashion, accelerated to a point where the ignored had become glaringly obvious.

Yet still, wrenching pangs of yearning had you feeling like you couldn't live without him as long sleepless nights dragged on. The heat of his body absent from under the sheets of your martial bed. He was all you had ever known. And he knew it. He knew it.

"You'll pay privy to his crimes when I finally get him, Mrs Shelby. You and your daughter" a voice snatched you from the beckoning memories of your husband's arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

" Leave me alone" your eyes snapped up as you blinked your tears away, pulling yourself from the detective that had tracked you down for a second time that week.

" You're making a mistake" he caught your arm, forcing you to face his insistent inquiries into your husband.

"For the last time, I don't know anything. Now let me go" you echoed the countless responses you had already given.

One dinner had landed you not only at the brunt end of Tommy's raging anger, that you had dared to entertain someone of the opposite sex that was neither blood nor bound to you by marriage, but the watchful eye of your date's colleague, adamant on finding what he believed would be his partner's dead body, murdered at the hands of your husband after a fit of jealousy.

" I can offer you protection, away from him. All you have to do..." He slipped his details into your hand before you abruptly put an end to his concerns for your safety.

" I said, leave me alone" you pulled his hand off you, tired of being man-handled, of being expected to appease every living fucking creature of the opposite sex.

"You'll be next, Mrs Shelby. Mark my words!" He shouted to you as you drifted back into the bustling streets, his words leaving a harrowing sense of dread tightening around your throat as you shoved his card within the warmth of your pocket.

" Tommy doesn't share his toys!" The last of his warnings rang back to you as you leaned against a lonely lamp post, steadying the weight of your body against its metal frame when the world you were trying to flee from appeared in the corner of your eyes in the form of a peaked cap soldier watching from afar.

In sickness and in health, until death do us part. Would you ever be free from the binding love that had chained you together? Or would fate echo the words of your shared vows spoken on your wedding day?

Next Part

Tag list: @peakyswritings @justrainandcoffee @garrison-girl-08 @meadows5 @lavender-haze-01

@strangeobsessed @ttae-yong @lemonwithstupidity @lindsay00000 @mischievouslittlecreature

@jbrownta @lau219

[hauntedhokage]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

Satoru Gojo/F!Reader

you should know better than to make a deal with Mei Mei, because everything comes at a price.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: drugging (aphrodisiac use), manipulation, non-consensual photos and recording, non-sexual slapping, uneven power dynamics, canon typical Mei Mei behavior, unprotected sex, breeding, yan!gojo

notes: some parts of this are intentionally a bit exaggerated because Gojo is a showman, if nothing else. This was also requested in uh....march so dear anon if you're still here I love you and I'm sorry.

There is always a price. Even in the jujutsu world, nothing just happened because of merit. It was all about who you knew and what you could give them in return for helping you out. Never simply receiving because you worked hard and earned it. 

Which is why you knew paying off Mei Mei to support your promotion to grade one was going to end badly. But she was your only in to get the promotion you knew you deserved quickly. Gojo had been an option, but his price was “be a good girl for twenty-four hours” and that would cost you way more than Mei Mei’s negotiated price of five hundred thousand yen just to consider putting you up for promotion. The higher ups hated Gojo anyway, your paperwork would just get “lost” and then you’d have to resubmit multiple times, and Gojo resubmitting paperwork would come at a cost that grew steeper with every re-submission. The cost of doing business with him.

But that came at the price of Mei Mei not being able to supervise your missions that would fall under consideration, the ultimate price being that your final mission for consideration would be performed with Satoru Gojo at your side - and he looked way too happy to be sitting next to you in the car. 

“Ijichi, there was nobody else?” 

“You ask that as if I make the assignments,” the supervisor retorts, and you sit back in your seat as he sighs. “You’ll live. We always persevere.”

“I am right here, y’know,” Gojo interjects, and you sigh as you lean into the door when he scoots closer. “It’ll be like I’m not even there.”

“Impossible,” you mumble, grateful that the car has slowed to a stop meaning you can get out before Gojo is pressed into your side. Personal space didn’t exist for you when he was around, that’s why you did your best to avoid him. 

Like he’s not even there, he says. 

But he certainly enjoyed standing right next to you as you walked through the closed down hotel in search of the curse. His presence was unsettling for a multitude of reasons, the biggest one being that you didn’t like how he looked at you. Always with a stupid little smirk on his face, like he knew something you didn’t, and then there was the fact that he always had something to say about your appearance. New haircut, wearing your jacket a certain way, he even clocked the one time you smelled like someone else’s cologne. You weren’t bold enough to assume that he wanted anything more than to say he’d fucked you, but the way he just kept trying after the first rejection was creepy. But he was Satoru Gojo - the strongest sorcerer - despite any complaints about his conduct, the higher ups wouldn’t be able to actually do anything. The perk of being Satoru Gojo, and the true downside to hating him. 

“Maybe the windows were mistaken?” you consider, poking your head into another open door and seeing nothing of interest. “I can’t sense any cursed energy besides ours. If this truly was a grade one or higher, we’d have felt it by now.”

“I’m not here, so you should feel it.”

“Are you telling me that you sense something I don’t?” His six eyes technique was annoying, he was annoying, so you keep walking even when he stops to go into a different open room. Maybe without him hovering your senses would be cleared enough to tell what he wasn’t telling you about. You just hoped you found it soon, because searching a hotel top to bottom with Gojo over your shoulder was not how you wanted to spend a Friday night. Maybe you’d call Nanami, see if he was going to leave that office building and at least get a drink? Or go to Yaga and see if there was any way you could get sent overseas to keep an ocean between you and Gojo at all times?

You hear movement behind you but pay it no mind, knowing that it was just Gojo pretending to not be near you. The cursed energy was the same, no residuals to be found, so you were going to let your guard stay dropped until you had a true reason to be on guard. Creaks in the floorboards of an old hotel wasn’t reason enough to stress yourself out. 

A rag covering your mouth while an arm snakes around your torso to pull you against a chest and back through a doorway was, however, cause for great distress. This wasn’t a curse attacking you, even high grade curses weren’t smart enough to stage an attack like this - this was Gojo. And he’s too strong for you to truly be able to fight back, the best you can do is kick and flail and hope that his infinity wouldn’t block it given your close proximity to him. Screaming was pointless, since sound wouldn’t escape the veil, but you do manage to wiggle free just as he kicks the door shut. 

The room is a bit blurry, your body feels warm and fuzzy when it certainly should not be, and every time you inhale you’re getting hints of pomegranate - not normal considering everywhere else in the hotel smelled like dust covered up with lemon cleaning solution. You have to get away from him, but there’s only one exit and he’s blocking it. 

“Well damn. It’s supposed to make you more receptive, guess I didn’t use enough,” he mumbles, tossing the rag to the side as you back away from him. “Or maybe there’s a delay? I really should have read the instructions closer.”

“W-what the fuck is wrong with you!?”

“To start, this hard on. I get like this whenever you’re around, y'know.” And he’s dropping his pants easily, exposing his lower half while he steps closer to you. “You’re just so cute. Even cuter when you make those angry faces at me, like I don’t know how badly you want me, too.” “You’re delusional.”

“And you’re dripping wet, aren’t you? Maybe it is working? Or do you just want me that badly?”

He’s wrong. You know he’s wrong because you did not have any desire for him in the slightest. Satoru Gojo was an annoyance who gave you the creeps, not someone you were attracted to at all. The bastard drugged you, after all, that’s why you had this reaction. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“You want that promotion, right?” His hand is stroking the bulge in his briefs, and your eyes struggle to stay focused on his as he smirks at you. “This is how you’ll get it. I was a little hurt that you didn’t ask me to put your name forward, though, I had our day all planned out.”

“That’s why I didn't ask you. Mei only wanted money, the lesser evil.”

“And isn’t it funny that paying Mei is how we ended up here?” And he’s got you boxed against the wall, long fingers carefully unbuttoning your jacket as he watches you process the implication of that statement. “Five million is a pretty steep price to take on such a bother that’s supervising an exorcism, but alone time with a sweet little thing like you is pretty priceless.”

And your jacket falls to the floor, your blouse coming undone shortly after while you stand frozen in place. Mei Mei sold you to the highest bidder, knowing damn well you paid her to get out of possibly needing to fuck Gojo to get promoted. Five million. What’s more concerning is that you’re sure Gojo would’ve paid more for this opportunity to get you alone on a mission with a veil separating you from society and Ijichi as the Supervisory Assistant - someone who wouldn’t dare intervene in a mission Gojo was on unless the man himself instructed it. The perfect plan.

“Don’t think you can get all frigid on me, don’t you want to be a grade one sorcerer?”

“You know I do.”

“Then you’d better show me how much.” A firm hand on your shoulder has you sliding down the wall to rest on your knees, nodding at his instruction to be cute about it and pressing your cheek to his covered cock. His phone is pointed down at you, pictures taken before you could even consider slapping it away, but you can only grin and bear it as you nuzzle against his crotch. “You want to suck my cock, don’t you? Wanna show me how badly you want to get promoted?”

“Please,” you whisper, kissing along the bulge until you get to the waistband. Your fingers hook into the elastic, but you wait for Gojo’s nod before starting to pull the fabric down. “But can you not record this?”

“Honey, I need this so we can both remember that even when you’re being mean, you want me. That deep down, for all your posturing, you’re just as eager to take my cock as any random woman off the streets in Tokyo.” 

He’s such a bastard. You’d make this the worst blowjob of his life if he wasn’t your only hope of getting promoted, but you can only sigh in resignation. You weren’t getting what you wanted until he was satisfied, but you didn’t know what would truly satisfy him. He paid five million for this opportunity, what more would he spend to get more from you? Or what “tragic accident” could occur should you choose to be noncompliant? A promotion meant nothing if you weren’t alive to use it. 

“Now be good and look cute while you suck me off, don’t want to have to tell the higher ups you can’t take instruction.

Just don’t bite him, you have to tell yourself as he gently taps your cheek with his cock. He’d probably like it, anyway, which wouldn’t be any kind of fun for you. 

Before he can make any kind of request, you gently take the base of his cock in your hand while sucking the tip into your mouth. The taste of his pre on your tongue makes you want to throw up, but you maintain your composure as you take more of him into your mouth. His hand around your wrist pulls your hand from his length, holding it tightly as his other hand settles atop your head, his phone tossed to the side hopefully for the rest of the Awanight. He says something about testing your endurance just before he pushes his length further into your mouth. A sharp thrust makes you choke, but he gives no reprieve - instead warning you that you’d need to sharpen up that performance if you ever wanted to become a grade one sorcerer and reminding you that this was all so you could get a promotion. 

“Oh, you recovered quickly,” he observes aloud, gently tugging on a couple strands of hair while continuing to keep you still. “Has this pretty mouth been used by someone else? Not like it matters, I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

Fuck him and his confidence, honestly. He’s just rich and untouchable, nothing special. Fucking guy. 

Breathing is your only priority since he’d taken his pleasure into his own hands - that and not biting him or throwing up. Shit, was it hot in here now? Why was it so warm?

It’s supposed to make you more receptive, he’d said, the words bouncing in your head as you feel yourself clench around nothing. The drugs were truly kicking in; your greatest fear of the night being realized in knowing that he’d get your skirt off and realize that you were, in fact, dripping wet. Technically because of him, the artificial assistance simply a footnote in the grander scheme of his memories of the event. 

The way he fucks into your mouth should not make you as wet as you are. But it does, your thighs rubbing together in search of friction you wouldn’t get until he was satisfied with intruding your throat, and you know he’s going to be thrilled when he gets you on that bed to finally get to the main event. 

“Oh, are you ready for me?” he asks, and you curse his damn six eyes technique because he truly missed nothing, but you know better than to lie to him if he had all the control in this situation. It takes all of your strength to nod against around his cock, pulling back to confirm his statement and ask him to fuck you. Playing into his game would make this go faster, and you could go home and scrub your skin while waiting for the results of your promotion mission. 

He’s lifting you effortlessly, carefully dropping you onto the bed and pouncing almost instantly. His fingers play with your soaked cunt for only a few seconds before he’s lining himself up, stretching you out with his thick cock with little regard for your comfort as the recipient. 

“Oh, you feel like heaven, just like I thought you would.” His praise comes out half a whine, and you feel nauseous at just how much pleasure he’s getting from simply pushing into you. Even more nauseous at how eagerly your body allowed the intrusion. “Maybe you’ve got potential to help me breed more little Gojos. Being the only one is a bit lonely, y’know.”

“That’s not part of the deal, Go-fuck!” A slap to your cheek has you stopping, just as he forces the rest of his length in to bottom out, leaving you winded and in different types of pain. 

“You should really use my first name. I think we’re well past formalities and all that cold indifference you tried to maintain.” And he’s setting a brutal pace, leaving you no time to adjust to how he was stretching you out. “C’mon, say it for me. Nice and sweet, now.”

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, but you also don’t want him to hit you again. This was all about control, a game you had no hope of winning because Gojo was stronger with or without the aphrodisiac, but saying his name was conceding your defeat. 

As if you hadn’t lost the second you’d set foot in this hotel.  

And it slips out when his fingers pinch your clit, a truly pathetic whine of “S-Satrou,” pushing past your lips only to be swallowed by his delighted groan and his mouth covering yours. He would be getting everything he wanted, and your nausea only intensifies before it’s pushed down by the pleasure you begin to feel as he pushes your legs back while praising how good and tight you felt and how he hoped to break your pussy so only he could have it for the rest of your life. This fucking aphrodisiac would make sure of it, and you know he’d keep dosing you to keep you compliant with what he wanted. Satoru Gojo didn’t take no for an answer. 

His pace becomes unbearably slow, you’re not sure if it’s frustrating because of the need bubbling in your core from the aphrodisiac or the fact that you just wanted this to end. Your attempt at meeting his thrusts is met with a shake of his head and a whispered request that you let him take care of you, his words heavy with an intimacy that you didn’t want to have directed at you and hate that you had any reaction to it. To keep you from moving, his large hands grip your thighs to hold them back - also providing him an angle to allow for his thrusts to reach deeper inside your already tormented cunt. The groan that leaves him is almost primal, eyes darkening as he leans in again and forces your legs to your chest. 

“I’m gonna fill you,” he whispers, sending a chill down your spine. “Are you ready?”

You shake your head, knowing you weren’t getting any semblance of a choice but hoping he’d maybe pull out. You also had to hope that Shoko wasn’t in on this, too. Because she would be able to swap anything you might request out for a placebo if Gojo told her to. Bastard had it all mapped out, you were sure. 

“Satoru, please, you can’t-”

You’re cut off by his groan, your cunt being flooded by the sheer amount of his cum that makes your body feel impossibly hotter while he tilts your body back more, tears rolling down your cheeks that have him grinning before resting his head on the pillow against yours. And you lie there with your thighs pushed back and his hands holding you in place, his breathing heavy and hot against your ear. His hips pressed flush against yours, every other moment pulling back a bit only to push himself back in, a pleasured sigh leaving him every so often and fanning your cheek with his hot breath.  

“You did so well. So good for me, darling,” he purrs into your ear, carefully nipping at your lobe before trailing a line of kisses down your neck. “Ijichi is bound to start getting suspicious, so I can’t keep you here all night. But let's get dinner and drinks after we file your report, then you can come to my place and we’ll continue this assessment of your skills so I can comfortably approve your promotion.”

He knows what he’s doing. With your limbs easily pinned down, his cock still snugly plugged in your cunt, you couldn’t go anywhere unless he allowed it - and he wouldn’t allow it until he got the answer he wanted. The answer you desperately didn’t want to give because you wanted to be anywhere but by his side. But you nod anyway, teary eyes meeting his hopeful gaze as you whisper, “I’d really like that, Satoru.”

“I knew you would. Gotta thank Mei for giving me a pretty little girlfriend.”

[ai-manre]

Reread Sansa's sample TWOW chapter today after very long, and I enjoyed it so much! I had totally forgotten how much I like book!Sansa. Especially her Alayne chapters are so good, where she is teasing knights, gossiping with Lady Myranda, and having fun in general.

I see fans often claiming that Sansa is going to be Queen eventually because she has a leadership/ruler arc. This is flat-out wrong. She does not have a ruler arc, in the Vale, Sansa is learning two things:

Being a Lady of the House. She is doing all the household management, organization, image politicking, handling the guests and house members in the appropriate manners etc. She is also playing at being the proper Westerosi maiden, flirting with Harry and other knights, and acting the scared damsel in distress when needed. And what's more, she is good at it and loving it.

Scheming. That's what she is learning from Littlefinger. To be a political schemer, playing the game of thrones and manipulating things behind the scenes. Littlefinger is no leader by himself, he's a player.

In other words, she is following in Catelyn's footsteps of being a lady with political acumen. Fitting the mold of the society but also exceeding it. Only, Sansa has the advantage of a teacher like Littlefinger (I'm only talking about his scheming skill which he is teaching), so eventually she will get to succeed where Catelyn had failed.

This is why I don't see any chance of her being a ruler in her own name, because till now, Sansa's arc has never been about ruling. In the Eyrie, her role and thoughts are myopically focused on the household, the guests they must entertain, coaxing Sweetrobin, the schemes to play, the right image to project, which servants are suited to which task and such. It's never about how winter impact will impact the kingdom how much food is in their granaries, how the smallfolk are faring, how well she thinks the existing governing systems are functioning, how well justice is being done, how to benefit the kingdom as a whole.

This is big picture stuff, elements of ruling a kingdom or an institution, not just a household. These are all elements very strongly present from the beginning in the arcs of the leaders: Dany, Cersei, Jon, Tyrion. The difference is noticeable especially in the case of the main budding leaders of the story: Dany and Jon, where such qualities had existed in them even before actually becoming leaders. For example, Jon spends AGOT gaining a leadership position among the new recruits of the Night's Watch inspiring them, he assesses the existing institution and framework of the Night's Watch and finds it lacking when someone like Sam is not utilized, negotiates with Maester Aemon based on his argument that every tool has its place, gets himself into a position where he's groomed for leadership. Dany spends AGOT learning to command, first by rightly assessing Viserys and ordering him punished, then proactively taking the Lhazareen women under her protection against Drogo's wish, then inspiring the rest of her khalasar and Ser Jorah to become hers, her men. Those traits had to be planted very early for both Dany and Jon to become such competent leaders at their young age. In each book, they encountered leadership challenges, they led people, negotiated deals, showed military prowess, administrative actions, had clear visions of what they wanted to change.

[carnalconcinnity]

I relate to and feel represented by Towa heavily in that he exhibits Schizoid Personality Disorder unlike any character I've seen before. It was in my head for a while but I couldn't get a hold of Slow Damage to find the evidence for it myself until now, I sort of just used to look at Towa, squint my eyes and mouth the words 'I'm onto you'.

This will be a long, indulgent post, I have not finished said game and will probably update when I do especially after Madarame and Fujieda's route. This is based on patterns I've seen so far in the game as well as some spoilers I came across. Read at your own... something or other.

SzPD's main characteristic is the lack of interest or ability to form relationships. Towa is on the side of a lack of interest rather than ability. One way I see SzPD in him is socially, he's indifferent and blunt or when he makes an attempt to spare feelings he's evasive, he maintains this distance with everyone around him. He doesn't chase after romance; sex and pain are stimuli that allow him to feel something beyond crippling apathy. It doesn't stop there though.

When he wants to, Towa knows how to adapt, negotiate and manipulate others. This can often come as second nature to many with SzPD, not out of malicious intent but through a way to protect themselves by setting the relationships they do make on their own terms. He interchanges between inarticulateness and eloquence according to Akhtar's Profile, selectively choosing what he gives away and what he keeps to himself.

Finally, Towa's art model in the moment, whoever it may be, can easily be considered his 'interest person'. Again referring to Akhtar's profile, those with SzPD can be capable of excitement with carefully selected people and likewise they tend to have a penchant towards typically darker and unconventional things as a form of coping. Combine those two and you have Towa's heightened interest in the selected few when he unravels their darkest desires.

A second way I see SzPD is through his feelings of unreality, schizoids tend to be seen as 'detached observers', there's a lack of motivation or drive beyond the few things they want to do. Towa doesn't hold any long-term ambitions and has no real sense of urgency over anything, he's often dragged outside by others around him or if he bar-hops and searches for hookups. He also holds a sense of grandiosity towards his indifferent observation, the line that stuck out to me the most was when he said to himself, 'All the more proof that life was easier when you didn't care about anything.' A view you will often see from Schizoids time and time again in response to other people's emotionally charged issues.

Towa sometimes dehumanizes himself, describing himself as a 'single minded robot' when painting, playing a role when granting his art model's wish like he did for Asakura or by referring to 'Human Beings' as though he isn't one of them. Obviously as a child Towa was horrifically abused and treated like a 'thing' instead of a person and a result of that he has a weak sense of self, he has a tendency to cave in around more dominant personalities. This can be another thing that goes hand in hand with SzPD, entering into a 'Master/Slave' type dynamic in social relationships (SchizoidVision has a post on this concept, here) As I've explored, Towa has the faculties to play the 'master' in these dynamics like with his art models but he takes a 'slave' role with the main leads that hold the potential to lead into even worse dehumanization in the bad endings.

Thirdly, a way I see Schizoid in him is through his emotions plain and simple, he hardly expresses strong emotions or reactions to anything and everyone sees him similarly, that he's aloof or uncaring. It shows even more in how he doesn't care for social validation, praise or criticism does virtually nothing. He sometimes feels accomplishment for finding his inspiration to paint but Rei ends up being the one posting it on Roost's blog. He isn't dependent on other people's opinions whatsoever. A huge part of SzPD traits.

Finally, the use of his internal fantasy and how it obsessively consumes his time. When he begins painting he becomes utterly immersed to the point he neglects food or sleep, you can't snap him out of it forget any sort of practical responsibilities. This reflects in SzPD in how daydreams tend to consume a lot of schizoid's lives, often preferring it over reality. It can interfere heavily with day to day tasks, I can say there's multiple times I haven't left my room, eaten or slept over a period of time when I get an urge to create something or lose myself in my own head.

Overall, there's so many boxes he ticks so far it's as if he's become the box himself. I connect with him a lot for these reasons and he can easily be considered a major comfort character and face for my page, plus somehow I find the time and dedication to write this essay when I have my abandoned assignments just begging me to make a start on them. (I won't until I feel like it.)

[crushribbons]

𝖈𝖗𝖚𝖘𝖍𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 (𝖓𝖔. 𝖎𝖎)

prompt: [ FIGHT ] our muses are leaders on opposing sides of a war. they have known each other before the war and now their sexual tension is worsened while trying to negotiate a truce. while disagreeing on terms they have rough sex, each one trying to dominate the other. (source)

char: daemon targaryen [house of the dragon] x fem!hightower!oc

warnings: daemon and rhaenyra didn't get together (because i could never endorse infidelity against MY queen) but daemon is still in line for the throne au, oc is alicent’s older sister and grew up in king’s landing as well, SMUT (18+ ONLY), oral (f!receiving), penetrative sex, male manipulator daemon, so canonical daemon.

a/n: this is penance, believe it or not.

The Targaryen rat's smirk would not leave his smug face, no matter what threats she'd been empowered to hurl across the oaken map table at him.

"I do wonder," he began, his words infuriatingly measured and even. Her chest was heaving, she knew it, and she ought not to show how much he riled her. But that smirk. He continued: "Why it is that the unflappable pretender Aegon has sent his aunt to negotiate the terms of his surrender for him."

Her ears flamed red. "Surrender?" she seethed. Daemon was standing, nay, slouching was more the word, against the table as if all this diplomacy bored him, as if the ownership of the entire country configured in tiny marble statuettes in front of them wasn't hanging in the balance. Her sister had warned her what an immovable ass the Targaryen prince would be.

He will not negotiate, he will toy, Alicent had whispered in her ear as the court around them had bustled with preparations for sending her envoy to Dragonstone. We are all mice. He thinks himself the only cat.

"We have no intention of surrender, my prince." She had to spit out the last word, a bitter, oily taste in her mouth.

His eyes narrowed, the first indication he was moved in any way by her presence. "My king," he ordered. Her shoulders did not fall.

She may have wanted nothing more than to see her flighty nephew removed from the seat that he already had nothing more than a tenuous grasp on, but to see this cocky, smug, arrogant usurper in his place...It couldn't be allowed.

Suddenly, Daemon cooed her name, and she dug her nails into the table involuntarily. "You will address me as the Lady Hightower," she said, but the anger in her voice was starting to wain. Memories of Daemon, ten or twelve years prior, taking her face in his hands beneath the Weirwood tree at King's Landing and kissing her deeply before he left to either kill the Crab King or be killed by him, surged through her and set her chest aching.

The tiny part of her that had ached for attention after King Viserys had passed her over in favor of marrying her younger sister had enjoyed the kiss the most, but a swirl of confused arousal had also told her that what she felt when she was near Daemon would not so easily be sated.

They looked across the table at one another, lines etched into their now mature faces, and she knew he was thinking of it, too. Daemon had such a particular way of looking at her, with a downcast face but upturned, ice-blue eyes that were tinted with longing.

"What are the king's terms, my lady?" He finally spoke after several seconds of silence.

"Will you even deign to listen if I tell you?"

Daemon's hand ceased its fidgeting, propped on the edge of his sheathed sword. Then he turned to the attendants lining the wall. "Leave us." Ten small bows and curtsies were given, and they were alone. Daemon rounded the table and made his way towards her. Her heart pounded as he grew closer, his footsteps slow and deliberate.

"Do you think of it, ever?" he asked when he was standing but a foot away from her. His silver-blonde hair was far longer than when she'd seen him last. "Of that night?"

He refused to show any vulnerability, picking up a navy armada from the map and spinning it idly rather than look her in the eyes. The image of Aegon, eyes ablaze with ideas of bloodshed and glory, on the Iron Throne, came into view in her mind. There was urgency to these negotiations, her family was depending on her. Her sister needed her.

"Yes," she whimpered pathetically. Daemon groaned and shed the last bit of his cool demeanor to close the distance between them and grab her just as he had all those years ago. Their lips met, and if anything, it felt even better, even more perfect and sweet. His were soft, and he tasted of dark wine.

Daemon wasted no time positioning her how he liked, bending down to grab the backs of her legs and lift her onto the table. Her shame was almost potent enough to make her push him off, to clear her head and think of her duty and responsibility to her family, and to Westeros. But then Daemon licked along the edge of her jaw, inhaling as he did so, and breathed, "How a woman born of that pig Otto Hightower can be so intoxicating..."

Her brow wrinkled, and she wished to speak up on her noble father's behalf, but then Daemon was falling to his knees and looking up at her, his normally gaunt face flushed pink. "Let's have no more of this--" He flipped her dress around her waist, ran his hands from her knees up her thighs, marveling at the softness, "--unproductive talk."

"It is only unproductive because you do not pay me any heed," she retorted, but her voice was strained and grew more so when Daemon leaned into her covered heat and pressed his lips and nose to it. Pleasure like she hadn't felt in years coursed through her, mixed with a depraved dash of power and headiness. The heavy iron rings on Daemon's fingers were cold against her exposed legs as he gripped her tighter.

The pretender king ate her cunt until she writhed against the Blackwater Rush and knocked the represented King's Guard onto the ground with her flailing arms. One found purchase in his silver hair, and Daemon glanced up at her and smirked, again, that infuriating smirk!

"I am glad to find you so agreeable, my lady," he murmured while kissing her again, his lips covered completely in her. She wished he wasn’t so easily able to break her.

As Daemon drove into her later that night in the chambers prepared for his guest, he said, “You have not yet told me the terms of your surrender, my lady Hightower. Will you place the crown on my brow yourself?” His hands caged her on either side of her shoulders as he thrust and hit a point inside her again and again that made her scream soundlessly. Sweat beaded between their bodies, the sweet mingling of their breath making her dizzy. Words would not form on her kiss-swollen lips.

The Targaryen rat made her come two more times before the sun had risen. He split her apart and laughed about it, and she begged for more. “Do not leave me, dove,” he whispered in her ear while they lay together afterwards, skin glowing. “This war can only have one outcome. Stay with us here and join in our victory. Join me.”

He will not negotiate. He will toy.

[kittyplanchett3]

In a group setting how would someone know if brainwashing play was bad or not? How can you tell if the brainwashing play is abusive or unsafe?

I've been waiting to answer this one cuz it's taken me awhile to type it up. This is a long one. cw: mentions of abuse/manipulation in the context of coersive control/coersive persuasion and both kinky and abusive brainwashing

The use of the word simulate below (in regards to brainwashing) is intentional as there is no way to truly brainwash someone that doesn't involve abusive coersive control and the non-consentual manipulation/subversion of someones core values and boundaries in ways that aren't sexy or fun. Actual (non-kinky/real) brainwashing and consentual kink are incompatible. With that said, you can definitely simulate brainwashing safety in kink scenes. Hopefully what I wrote out will help you figure out where things land <3

The answer:

As y'all know I was in a cult that did involve legitimate abusive mind control techniques that larger cults often use and people frequently ask me the difference between consensual brainwashing/mind control in safe & consensual hypno fantasies/scenes vs abusive brainwashing/mind control/persuasive coercion in abusive dynamics & cults. After experiencing both, I would say the best way to tell is by comparing your situation with scenarios that I've listed below. Obviously this can vary based on the type of play you are engaging in but if you find a few things to be true, I would def be careful.

- you might actually be in an abusive situation if you can't ever hit pause during play, safeword, or discuss the nature of your play with your tist outside of scenes and if there was never discussion about this aspect of the dynamic before engaging in that play. if you tist makes you feel bad about asserting a limit or boundary or changes how they show you attention/communication/shame to punish you for asserting yourself or challenging them esp out of scenes without any negotiation/discussion that's ofc a red flag.

in situations that involve cult like abusive brainwashing, the work rly begins once you have reached a limit so the person would want to bring you to a breaking point, then keep you there and actively surpass it. if this doesn't sound fun, it's not. if it sounds fun, you probably aren't realizing this usually involves limits you have that you cannot sexualize. a good chunk of abusive brainwashing will focus on things you have no interest in doing and that you don't find sexy or fun. in extreme situations this could include things that are disfiguring, or that could ruin or risk your or someone else's life.

- someone assuming you are okay with anything or making you feel like you should be in order to be a good sub is never a good thing when you consider what anything could mean to some people. i know a lot of people enjoy being like "I have no limits" but most people have a list of limits if you bring up situations like bodily disfigurement, theft of money or things that could put their housing/freedom/life at risk...it's important to remember these things don't matter to someone who doesn't care about hurting you.

- you might actually be in an abusive situation if there is no room to challenge or disagree with your tist in and especially out of scenes. emphasis on this if this aspect of the dynamic was never negotiated or talked about before. even in 24/7 dynamics, these things are generally discussed. if your tist expects complete obedience from day one and there has never been space to talk about what that means or your limits/goals etc thats generally not a great sign. if your tist tries to tell you that's what brainwashing entails, i would run cuz they aren't completely lying but that also means your safety, goals and happiness won't matter to them. if you say you are struggling with an aspect of the play and they push it harder, that can be hot in some dynamics but also that's kind of a red flag if they push harder on those things without first sitting you down to ask you about what you mean that you are struggling with a particular thing.

- in abusive dynamics/cults that use persuasive coercion, your goals/boundaries/limits etc don't actually matter and often times these things will be actively weaponized and used against you to break you. if a dominant is constantly testing limits/boundaries without discussion/negotiation or is actively violating your hard limits/boundaries.

- if your tist ONLY seems interested in the things you have clearly stated that don't want to do/have no interest in exploring/explaining things you normally consent to when you aren't in the mood to engage with those things...that's such a fucking red flag. with actual brainwashing your goal for the play doesn't actually matter and your tist is likely to start pushing you towards something you aren't actually that interested in, often using your disinterest/push back as an example of why you haven't reached the actual goal you are attempting to attain. self sacrifice is a theme in abusive brainwashing but you don't get a choice about what parts are sacrificed...which can be hot in theory until you realize you don't get any say or input and the control extends to all of your other relationships. this might start off looking like limit testing disguised as a joke.

**note: limit testing can start out seeming harmless but essentially that's only to groom you to be comfortable with having your limits/boundaries tested in bigger ways. this might look like a dominant telling you to try to eat a food you don't want to try or even a dominant buying you something you told them you didn't want them to buy you. some things they push you to do may seem ultimately beneficial as well which can make this confusing if it's happening at it may not seem as much of a red flag in the moment especially if some of the things they are pushing end up being good experiences. the problem is how this changes over time and often leads to them testing you in ways that aren't at all fun or beneficial. the reason I mentioned gifts is buying you something that you told them not to buy you/sending you money you told them not to send you is often a way to test how you respond to control/limits because it can be written off as a good faith judgment mistake/they can play it off like they didn't have bad intentions if confronted. 

- in a healthy scene or dynamic where mind control/brainwashing is simulated either in a scene or over time ultimately the sub will still always be in control and that loss of control will be simulated safely. hard limits will still be respected and there is always space made to negotiate or pause/stop a scene. the focus will be on something the sub ultimately has set as a goal/has agreed upon. in abusive situations what a sub wants/their goals don't matter, their limits don't matter, their feelings won't matter, and their safety won't matter. in an abusive situation, a lot of play slowly turns from something that aligns with the subs goals to something that aligns with the dominants goals/turns into straight up abuse/assault/sa.

- if more than one kinky friend approaches you concerned about how you changed or the safety of your play, huge red flag. when you are being brainwashed in an abusive situation everything is so normalized that it's hard to see the abuse. trust your besties. trust your other partners. trust the people who have nothing to gain from confronting you about their concerns.

With all of that said, with actual abusive brainwashing, it's all about overhauling your limits and boundaries and getting you comfortable being very uncomfortable all the time. In any brainwashing scene, you are likely to feel overwhelmed, destabilized, unsafe, afraid etc but those are feelings people often want to feel in a kink scene so it can be hard to put your finger on when things might be crossing a line. I hope this helps the anon/someone gain some clarity.

When I was in the cult I was in, I was convinced over time that I needed to be more comfortable being uncomfortable and that my limits were self-limiting, that the person abusing me knew my limits better than I did, and that I should default to him for what those limits are. This can be hot in theory, but I promise you the reality is super unsexy when the person who is doing this doesn't actually care about your life, safety, relationships, goals, or well-being.

[chelleztjs18]

The Monsters Within (N.R) Pt. 5

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!SerialKiller!Reader (Modern AU)

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Summary: You like Natasha and you keep her to yourself.

Warning: This is a Dark Fic. 18+, a lot of swearing words. Graphic and gore descriptions, kidnapping, mind manipulating / brainwashing, blood, death, violence, bone crushing, Stockholm Syndrome and angst (Let me know if I miss anything)

A/N: Hello hello peeps. I'm back for a bit from my sad depressed isolations. I almost not to post this today because something happened and got me down again but I promised to post it today, so here you go! The last and final part of this dark mini series. There is a some angst if squint. Thank you to my Curious George anon for motivating me to write and helping me brainstorming and even writing some parts in it! Y'all can thank her for this chapter. hahaha. Also thank you @honey-sweet-hiraeth for the base of the idea in this chapter. Well, enjoy and happy reading!

It has been a few months since the night Natasha accepted her inner monster. Wanda is dead and she is just part of your memory in the back of your head. You are living your life now with your redhead girlfriend. Not just as happy lovebirds but as a couple who loves taking the lives of others.

After Natasha killed Wanda furiously, a thirst sprung and she slowly started getting into it. You never knew that you would find your perfect match ever. Natasha is a great girlfriend. Loving, gentle and sweet person to you but sinister and dark at the same time which makes you fall for her even more.

Her smile and laugh always look beautiful but my oh my, it even looks ethereal when she does it with some splashes of your victims’ blood and when she looks like she is having fun dismembering them limb by limb. It’s one of your favorite parts besides smelling her perfume that’s mixed with the iron scents of the blood puddle dancing around in the air with the acid smell on your hunting night. Well, that’s what Natasha wants to call it every time both of you go out for the night, killing.

Natasha can’t control her blood thirst and the more she feels the rush from killing the bigger the urge to do some more. You love it so much but sometimes you have to remind her that both of you need to slow down so you won’t grab more police’s attention even though they start to not be able to keep up due to no trace being left behind.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I love killing as much as you do but we have to be careful. I just want us to be more cautious” You explained patiently.

“I know, babe. Fuck, but it feels so good when I feel the knives taking their lives and cut them apart.” she expresses her thoughts in a sinister giggle as both of you put the last body parts into the bathtub.

“Oh yeah, I know what you meant dear. Don’t forget that cracking sound when the grinder grinds the bones and how it looks when the acid burns their flesh.” you added in agreement casually having the disturbing details like it’s a normal daily conversation while pouring all the acid onto the dismembered innocent.

“Oh don’t even start it, you are teasing me right now. You're just making me want to kill more, you know that right?” she complains in a playful nagging tone.

“Look at you, craving to kill some more. I turned you into a monster, didn’t I?” You smile, looking at her as your hand wipes a smudge of blood off her cheek.

“Well, someone said that everybody is a monster in their own way.” she replies in a teasing tone as she kisses your neck that has some splashes of blood on it, gets the taste of it off her lips then smirk at you.

“How about we meet in the middle as a solution?” She offers you a negotiation with her puppy dog eyes begging expression.

“How?” you ask curiously. You know you couldn’t resist her whenever she begs you with that look even though she is under your control. You’ll do anything for her. If Natasha wants the moon, she’ll watch you grab it for her. If she wants the head of the victim, you’ll watch her cut the head off their throat. That’s how much you love Natasha. 

_____

Since then, you and Natasha agreed on something which you can’t lie that it was actually a good idea.

Being the sweetheart she is, Natasha proposes the idea to change your targets to kill criminals especially perverted men instead of helpless women. Every now and then you still kill women you find out there but Natasha always insists on doing the whole process by herself due to her jealousy issue. She hates it when she sees you touch other women even though they are all lifeless and that’s how much Natasha loves you.

A year later after the changes of your targets, it has been leading the police to different tracks and make them think that there is another serial killer who roams free in town. The people are now divided on two sides when it comes to the talk about this so-called controversy theory. Some people take sides to both of you and call you “The Punishers” and some of course still are against you no matter who the victims are even if they deserve it.

With all that, everything changes. Your life has been okay. Natasha gets more attached to you, like a lost clingy puppy. The hunting and killing night has become an easy routine for you and Natasha. Too easy.

_____

The night is getting quieter as the time gets later. The wind blows a soft whistling sound and you see some stars sparkle in the sky shortly before you and Natasha walk into your house after a quick hunting night.

The mess in your house now shocks you and Natasha. You instantly think that someone has broken into your house. You look around and find your glass coffee table is now shattered. Stuff is scattered around. Your tall bookshelf has fallen and your books are all over the floor.

You and Natasha look at each other, puzzled and wondering what had happened. Your hand gesture instructed her to stay quiet. Both of you look around and tip toe. Natasha taps your shoulder rapidly to drag your attention to now unconscious James on the kitchen floor, with his hands tied up behind his back and his ankles tied as well.

Both of you halt your steps as soon as you hear something in the kitchen then a figure of a woman gets into your sight. You don’t recognize her from her back but as soon as the woman turns around, you hear Natasha’s soft surprised gasp.

“Oh Hi!!” She greets both of you. You recognize her, so does Natasha of course.

“Ye-yelena! You are alive!” Natasha exclaims in excitement and gratefully. As soon as she is about to run to her blonde long missing sister, your protective instinct takes control and you grab Natasha’s hand to stop her and she obliges.

Deep down both of you are worried if Yelena found the basement and things under there. You remember that you still have one victim from last night that you haven’t taken care of. As luck would have it, you locked the other door. You clench your jaw as you watch every move Yelena makes so you can be prepared for the worst. As nervous as Natasha is of her sister finding who she is now, she misses her and beyond happy that Yelena is back.

“Yeah, of course I’m alive.” She paused a few seconds then looked at you before she continued. “You guys have a lot of freaky things in your basement.” Your stomach turns after you hear her statement.

“What’s behind the lock door? Dead body or something?” Your heart races especially after she looks at you followed by her sarcastic question. Natasha swallows hard. With a bowl of mac and cheese in her hand, Yelena casually walks to the dining chair next to the knocked out James to sit.

You are enraged seeing what she did to him. Yelena takes notice that you look at him. She puts one of her feet on James and nonchalantly says while chewing her mac and cheese “Relax, he is still alive but I don’t know what to do with him so I gotta tie him up before he wakes up.”

Seeing her boot steps on the side of James’ face really fumed you and your hand slowly grabbed the knife that’s tucked in the back of your belt. This time Natasha’s protective instincts of her sister stops your action. Her hand stops yours and she looks at you then firmly tells you “Don’t you dare.”

“Yes, yes, don’t you dare, Y/n” Yelena echoes Natasha’s words and takes another bite of her food. Your eyes are rounded in surprise when you hear her saying your name. Tension grows around the three of you, none of you saying anything for a good few seconds. Silence covers the room slowly.

“Oh sorry, where’s my manners? You guys want some? This big dude was a fighter, I got hungry after I fought him so I made some food. Do you have hot sauce?” Yelena’s thick accent wrapped voice breaks the silence as she offers both of you unconcernedly and fearlessly even though she noticed what you were about to do.

“Lena, where have you been? I have been looking for you.” Natasha’s eyes turn glossy.

“I have been here and there, trying to survive alone because I thought you were dead but I’m glad you are alive Nat.” She pauses her words, sadness and happiness shows in her eyes looking at Natasha but still tries to keep herself together.

“Soooo, is killing people your full time job? Or is it more of a hobby? If it isn’t your job yet, maybe it should.” Yelena expresses her sarcasm.

“What-what do you mean?” Natasha tries to cover the truth.

“No, thank you. I love my job so—” You sarcastically answer but she interrupts you.

“As a surgeon? And a serial killer at night?” Yelena smirks.

What she just said definitely puts you in high caution. You don’t want anybody to find out about you because you don’t want anything to happen to Natasha.

“How did you–” Natasha halfway asks her and Yelene finishes her question. “Find out?” Yelena puts her bowl down shortly before she continues as she stands up and pulls out a handgun.

“I thought you were dead, so I swore to myself that I would find and kill whoever killed you. Long story short, let’s just say that I did good research and found both of you even though it wasn’t easy. Well, I’m gladly telling you that your time has come." She points her gun at you at the last word she says and you quickly pull out your knife.

“Ah, a pair of killer sisters. I guess it runs in your blood, huh?” Your knife is on your tight grip and ready to take a life.

Natasha’s breath shook seeing what’s going on. “Y/n! Lena!” Of course both of you ignore her calls.

“You seriously gonna bring a knife to a gunfight?” Yelena chuckles and her grips tighten on the gun’s handle.

“Oh knife is more fun to use to torture my victim and guess what? You would be the next one.” Your intuition to survive brings your sinister self up to the surface. You move very slowly and Yelena’s aim follows you.

“Oh yeah? Try me.” The blonde challenges you.

“Y/n, what the hell? She’s my sister!” Natasha raises her voice. “Yelena, please don’t hurt Y/n!” her gaze jumps around between you and Yelena.

“I know, sweetheart but she is putting you in danger right now.” you answered.

“Said someone who kidnapped her and turned her into a killer?” Yelena puts up more guards on her stance.

“I helped her to find the monster in her. It was my act of love for her.” You explained in a disturbing proud tone and followed by a little chuckle.

“That’s bullshit! You sick bastard!” Yelena responded angrily at you then quickly looked at Natasha then back to you.

“Come home with me. Leave her, Nat!” she asked as she continuously watched every move of yours.

“Oh, she won’t. Your sister loves me as much as I love her.” You spoke for Natasha before even the redhead gets the chance to answer, mocking Yelena as you check how sharp your knife is.

“I love her, Lena. We love each other. I found my true self and she kept me grounded. Why don’t both of you put the weapon down and let’s talk. You are my sister and I don’t want to lose you again.” Natasha tries to stay neutral and cut down the tension. It’s hard for her to choose only one of you. She wouldn’t. She loves both of you.

“Look, Nat, she brainwashed you. This is not you. I don’t care how many you killed and I won’t tell anybody about what you did but I won’t let you be around this psycho.” Yelena is still trying her best to talk some sense to Natasha without letting go of her aim at you.

You walk back slowly, step by step with a plan in your head. Yelena notices. “What’s wrong? Are you scared? I would fight for my life if I were you.”

You let out an unamused chuckle the second you hear her mocking words. “You are one cocky little shit, aren’t you?”

“Blonde girls always fight back.” Yelena talks back your remarks and it hits something in Natasha’s memory. Her stomach turns. Before Nat questions Yelena about what she just said, you quickly hit the switch. The kitchen becomes dark. Only the moonlight that’s coming from the windows illuminates the room and you quickly sneak out of there.

With her quick reflex, Yelena instantly pulls the trigger, shooting in the dark a couple of times. To your surprise, she aims better than you thought. Two hot bullets made their way to you. One struck and got you on your waist and the other bullet grazed your thigh causing you to limp a little.

Yelena searches for you in such high caution yet Natasha looks for you worriedly.

“Get out of here, you coward!” Yelena demands, her breathing starts to get faster. She spins around to listen to any subtle hint of you; her gun is cocked and ready to shoot as soon as she sees you.

You walk around the room easily, familiar with how your surroundings are. You tipped toe to the other side and threw your knife at Yelena and it lodged right near her left shoulder blades causing her to yelp in shock. With great pain, Yelena turns around to find you again. As one of her hands tries to remove the knife and the other shoots one more time, thinking that you were still behind her. Shattered window’s sound followed after the loud sound from the shooting. Yelena realizes you are not there.

You snuck behind her then quickly grab her. One arm wrapping around her neck, making her gasp for air. Your left hand firmly holds the knife handle. You put more pressure on the knife, sinking it deeper, making her squirm. Then you twist the knife slowly, the agonizing sound coming from Yelena is music to your ears.

She lets go of her gun then tries to pull down your arm while air slowly empties her lungs. A satisfied sinister laugh flows out of you.

“What’s wrong? Are you fighting for your life right now? Hm?” you asked in a mocking tone. You loosen the grip of her neck for a few seconds then choke her again as if you are playing with her life like it’s nothing. Suddenly, Natasha hits the lights back on. She is torn and shocked from what she is witnessing in front of her.

“Y/n, let her go!” she says. Shaking as she aims her gun at you. She got your attention. “Oh hi, sweetheart.” You answer her nonchalantly.

Yelena gasps for air a bit by a bit. “Y/n, stop hurting her! I swear, I’m gonna shoot you if you don’t let her go!” You ignore her plea.

You laughed at Natasha’s threat. “You wouldn’t hurt me. Without me, you will be nothing. I made you. Without me, you are just a soulless monster.”

Yelena takes this as her chance to do something while you are not paying attention to her. She grabs her pocket knife discreetly then stabs your left thigh. You scream as soon as you can feel the knife against it. Yelena pulls the knife out to try and stab one more time but misses. Your hand is faster than hers. You were able to dodge it with your hand and grabbed the knife from her. You tossed the knife away from her reach.

“You little shit!” You yell at her. “Blonde girls always fight back. Just like last time.” Yelena says it one more time.

Natasha lets out a warning shot that was aimed close to you. “Y/n, you always say that about blondes. Why the hell did she say that??!” Natasha is still conflicted. Panic, confusion and curiosity are all mixed in her.

“Tell her y/n or..I..will.” Yelena tries to speak while struggling to get out of your strong grip as she slowly loses her energy.

“Y/n! I’m asking you one last time! Tell me why did she say that?!”

The silence from you was enough for her to finally connect the dots. “Did you try to kill her before?!” She asks in a shaky voice. Her grip on the gun gets stronger as she walks a step closer. Fury is written all over her face but there is a bit of her that wishes that her own conclusion is wrong. You try to ignore her question.

“DID YOU TRY TO KILL MY SISTER BEFORE?!” she demands an answer in a raised voice. Her pulse slammed in her neck.

“Alright, alright. Since the truth is out now. Yes, I did.” You finally let your arm’s grip off Yelena’s neck.

You yank Yelena’s hair back as you continue telling Natasha the truth. “I tried to kill her but her stupid blonde friend tried to help her and got in the way. Your sister was my first one that got away.” You pull the knife out of Yelena’s shoulder and let her go.

As soon as she falls weakly on her front, you step on her wound and give her a painful pressure. Yelena instantly screams loudly from the torment, leaving her with no strength.

“She..killed..Carol.” Her voice cracks as she tells Natasha between coughing and finally being able to gain more oxygen.

The cold gun barrel is still aimed at you and Natasha never lets her sight off you. Natasha’s skin crawled, sadness tore at her chest after hearing everything. Yelena’s scream, the truth and the view of you with no remorse whatsoever push her to the edge even more. Your confession felt like a knife to her heart. The memories of that night when you came home with a blonde victim and the next day you lied to her that you would never hurt Yelena came back in an instance.

Natasha’s gaze jumps from Yelena then back to you. “You tried to kill Yelena that night. It was Carol’s body that you brought. That was why you didn’t keep her body in the basement because you knew I would recognize her and find out what you did!!” Her body locked up with rage and her blood boiled. She sees your sinister smile, agreeing in everything she just said.

Natasha’s breathing gets faster. Tension grows in her. “Why, Y/n? Why did you try to kill her?”

“I thought she was in the way between us to have a new life together.”

Natasha tries not to let your words get in her head again. “That’s bullshit! You said you won’t kill her, you lied to me!”

“Oh yeah, I lied.” You casually play with your knife, toss it from your left hand to your right hand then back to your left.

“I thought you loved me!” She screams out her disappointment. Her forehead creased. You can see her hands shake a little, her face turns red from the overwhelming feelings.

“I thought so too.” Your answer shook her even more.She quivered with indignation. You punch Yelena and knock her out.

Suddenly, the loud explosive sound from her gun breaks the short silence. Natasha shot your right arm. This time your scream fills the room. “You bitch! You think you can kill me?!” You clench your jaw as you try to hold back the pain and you walk one step closer to her. The displeasure on your face intimidates Natasha a little.

As if your steps are connected to her gun’s trigger, Natasha shoots once more after you walk another step. Her love for you, anger and all of the conflicted feelings clouds her aim and the bullet went near your lower left ribs now. It stops you for a few seconds. Blood stains slowly appear on your clothes more.

“You can’t and you won’t. You are nothing! You should’ve aimed better, that's why you are not good enough!!” You yell louder at her and you quickened your limping steps.

Her heart drummed. Sweats trickled down her spine seeing the real you as she walked backward away from you.

“I’m not going to die. You can’t hurt me! I’ll make you watch me kill your sister!” You laugh in confidence.

The closer you get to her the more it provokes her to shoot you. This time two bullets flew to you as you were trying to charge towards her. Your body flinches each time. The hot deadly metals hit you on your stomach and grazed the curve of your neck. You are soaked with your own blood by now.

Fortunately, as soon as you get in front of her, your grip gets weakened and the knife falls off your hand. You are standing unbalanced. You look down to you all of your wounds then you look at her in the eye. Natasha gets just enough safe distance from you. She lets out a shaky gasp when she sees you fall on her knee weakly in front of her. Fear splintered her heart and her spirit fell seeing you wounded. 

Her feelings for you start to get in her head, part of her still cares for you. Natasha can see that your face is losing its color yet you are still laughing at her.

Meanwhile, Yelena slowly gains her consciousness and crawls weakly towards Natasha.

You spit out blood shortly before you say “I never loved you.” as you look up to her.

The four words of the final truth she heard from you plunged her into despair. Pain gripped Natasha’s chest. She crumbled inside, waking up flames of anger. Shame washed over her. The truth hits her like a huge wrecking ball. All she has ever done for you, all the victim’s life she took with you. In the end, all of them don't matter to you. Natasha starts to scream her lungs out, emptying all of her emotions as her eyes are closed.

CLICK

CLICK

CLICK

CLICK

CLICK

CLICK

CLICK

Her gun makes repeated clicking sounds as her finger pulls the trigger rapidly multiple times. You laugh maniacally and it opens her eyes. Realizing that she is out of bullets, Natasha drops her gun.

Seeing her tears leaving wet traces on her cheeks keeps you wanting to tell her hurtful things “I never loved you because you are not Wanda. You are never gonna be her!”

Yelena finally gets back on her feet.

“Nat, kill her. She doesn’t deserve you, she doesn’t deserve to live.” Yelena suggests as she tries to hand her another gun.

Natasha doesn’t respond to her sister. Your mocking laugh fills her mind. Natasha doesn’t even know anymore how she feels about you. Questions running around in her head, vivid flash images of the dismembered innocences starting to fly around in front of her.  All that is soon followed by tremendous guilt. Her world starts to spin fast, your voice and every word you are saying are muffled.

Then another loud sound brought her back at the same time as the explicit view of blood and particles of your scattered brain exploded in front of Natasha. The bullet went through your head after Yelena finally pulled the trigger to end all this.

“No. No.. Y/n!” Natasha falls onto her knees.

The fed up blonde tosses the gun away then quickly hugs her broken sister. Natasha starts to sob uncontrollably.

“It’s over, Natty. She’s out of your life now. You are free from her chokehold. Come home with me.” Yelena tries her best to comfort her while she is crying hysterically on her shoulders. Natasha nods without any words. Her mind and heart are having a battle. Feelings and common sense trying to make their point to her. A rough tug of war is happening in her. She feels lost. Without you, she doesn’t know what to do. You have always kept her monstrous killer side on ground yet keeps feeling the hungry need to kill.

Natasha’s happy she could be with her only sister again but it doesn’t change the fact that you are gone. She is now left behind with questions. Questions that she will never get the answers ever.

Anger, disappointment, despair, relief and guilt are melted all together in her. Despite all the anger, love and hate she has for you, she crawled to your lifeless body. Pulling you to her hug and rocking back and forth. Your pool of blood got on all over her. She wants to scream at you, asking you if what you said was true.

Yelena stands up with a painful grunt and lets her have her last moment with you while finishing everything up.

“I’ll be right back.” with that the blonde limps away.

Natasha keeps wondering when did you stop loving her. What did she do wrong? What she doesn’t have that Wanda has.

“I love you but I hate you now too. Why, y/n? I hate how much I love you.” She whispers in gritted teeth.

“What am I gonna do without you? What am I gonna do with these memories of all of our victims? I can’t fucking erase them in my head! You turned me into the monster you are! Fuck you! I should hate you for everything you did. I love you! Please come back!” Natasha keeps mumbling to herself.

She feels guilty. She hates herself for everything she did to those innocents and for still loving you but she can’t stop herself. Emotions after emotions, thoughts after thoughts slowly pushing her to the edge mentally.

Yelena stops for a few seconds pouring all the flammable chemicals around the house when she hears Natasha screams in her crying.

It hurts her seeing Natasha like that but she knew she had to kill you and it was for the best, to save her.

Pain claws deep in her heart. Natasha is furious with herself. She knew she can’t turn back the time to bring you nor the innocents’ lives back.

Her guilt is covering her like a huge dark cloud. Natasha cries and cries. She is lost in her own dark mind even deeper. Her mind and memories are out of touch but it wasn’t because she didn’t know enough. She knew too much. Natasha doesn’t know herself anymore. Invisible walls are closing in inside her, the devil’s knocking at her door.

Natasha had a somber look. Her eyes red from crying and her voice becoming hoarse from all the screams that she had let out.

She kept on until there were no tears left to shed, no more anger, no more hate. Just an empty hollow shell.

The strong smell of blood and gasoline didn’t have any effect on her senses. Her sanity starts to wander off.

“I just took care of James, Nat. I just need to make sure everything doesn't look suspicious and then we–” Yelena checks on her sister, but can only see how despondent she is. Her words stop abruptly as soon as she sees Natasha’s condition. Her eyes look empty and not responding to the surroundings even though they are wide open.

“Nat, are you okay?” Yelena asked.

Natasha doesn’t say a word. Her gaze is on one random spot while her arms are still hugging you. No emotions are written on her facial expression.

Yelena breaks Natasha’s hug around you then her hands hold both of Natasha’s cheeks, leading her eyes to look into hers. “Nat, look at me. Look at me. Everything’s gonna be okay. Okay? You are coming home and I’ll be with you always.” her whisper sounds shaky from sadness and worry. Yelena leans her forehead onto Natasha’s. She closes her eyes and her tears roll down. As soon as Yelena opens her eyes back again, Natasha’s expression is still flat even though her eyes turn glossy. No words come out of her lips as if her tongue refuse to work.

_____

Half a year has rolled away since everything that happened at your house, since you died.

“How’s your sister?” Detective Harkness asks Yelena.

“She’s still the same. She didn’t say any word or show any emotions since I found her that night on the road near that burning house.” Yelena responded with the lie she prepared.

“Ah okay. I talked to her doctor. He said that she still doesn’t make any progress and he doubts that she will. Even if she does, it would take a long time. He thinks that her mental health is not fit enough and she won’t be able to cooperate well as the key witness.” Agatha explains.

“Any update on my sister’s case?” Yelena shows her pretend curiosity.

“Yes, we know that the burning house belongs to Y/n Y/L/N. We found her and her butler, James Barne.There was also a bone grinder machine on the house basement and other equipment.The team found some bones that match some of the missing people we have. Everything leads to a conclusion that they might be the serial killers that have been on a killing spree in this town. They believe that the equipment was used by Y/L/N and Barnes to their victims.” Agatha shares some parts of the result of the investigations.

“So my sister has been kidnapped by them? They could’ve killed her! I can’t imagine what she has been through.” Yelena tries her best to play innocent.

“The autopsy showed some gunshot marks as well on her skull. There is a possibility that they both were fighting and trying to kill each other and your sister might use that chance to get out of there when the fire just started. How? I still don’t know. All i know, she got really lucky that she could come out there alive.”

“Yeah. I’m just glad that she is safe now even though she hasn’t been responsive at all.” Yelena can’t hold back her tears, her lips quivered.

Both Yelena and the taller woman look at Natasha through the glass window, watching her sitting still with empty thoughts and looks.

“Then what’s next?” Yelena breaks the silence and looks at the brown haired detective.

Agatha clears her throat and lets out a sigh. “That was the reason I wanted to meet you here. Your sister is such a sweet and amazing person. As much as I want the best for her case but due to her circumstances and with both Barnes and Y/L/N dead, we can’t proceed further investigation on this case.”

“What did you mean?” Yelena shows displeased, the complete opposite expression from how she really feels.

“It means the case is closed. Which is also good because now you can focus on Natasha’s mental health recovery. As a friend, I really hope that she gets better soon and has her normal life back. Please keep me updated about her and I wish you both good luck.” Agatha gives Yelena a comforting hug.

“Thank you. I will let you know. I really hope she gets better.” Yelena hugs her back shortly before Agatha bids her farewell.

After Agatha leaves, Yelena takes Natasha for daily afternoon strolls around the facility’s garden on her wheelchair.

Yelena crouches in front of Natasha. “Hi Nat. I have good news for you. Agatha told me your case is closed. Everything works as planned. Everything was blamed on Y/N and Barnes. They don’t suspect anything about you. Now, please Nat, I want you to get better. I need you, you are my sister and all I have.” Yelena kisses Natasha’s forehead then hugs her lovingly.

“I’m sorry I killed her. I had to. It was for the best, please come back and get better. I love you.” Yelena’s heart breaks from waiting for Natasha’s hug and words that only heaven knows when will it come.

The monster within her has muted Natasha’s own sanity.

A/n: Welp, that's all for today! Let me know what you think. As usual, reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated. I'll be back to my depressed isolation so see you in next maybe for some angst or another dark story. I dont know.

Cheerio!

Chellez TjS.

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[solradguy]

hey whatever happened to that post of you defending sol x ky and sol x sin

Lmao. Ok. Alright. You know what? I've been putting up with this shit for six fucking months now. I'm done with you, Xavier, and your little echo chamber on Discord. You're telling people I'm into pedo shit now and you're straight up pulling it out of your ass. I'd call you out by your handles but you're a coward that gets everyone else to do your dirty work for you.

Six. Fucking. Months.

I haven't posted anything about you publicly, and have never said a single word to you, because of the sake of the wiki and the people in that project that are/were friends with you, and cared about you. But it's clear you're absolutely out of your mind. You've crossed a line with this Sol/Sin shit. This probably isn't you that sent this ask, but I'd be willing to bet it's someone from your echo chamber Discord server because no one except the people in there hate me as much as you do. Even the transphobes on Twitter that sent me death threats have moved on better than you have.

Here's the entire story about my (not even direct) interaction with you and your server for everyone to know.

Back in March—which was nearly six months ago, I cannot stress that enough—you wanted to edit the Bedman page on the new wiki and put information on there that wasn't verifiable, namely that he was a legal adult. We had the page locked because of other people that wanted to vandalize it and weren't willing to unlock it for you specifically, but we were willing to put any additions on there that you suggested. One of our admins spoke with you to try to resolve this. You wanted full editing credits for everything put on there that was written by you. Even if you were editing the page yourself, that just isn't how wikis work. During all of this, we were made aware that you were shit talking us and writing death threats about us. You also trash talked my translations, for some reason. When the negotiations with our mod didn't give you the outcome you wanted, I believe our mod blocked you.

We thought that was the end of it. Over the past few months we'd get little updates about you from concerned people that thought we should know. Other than those updates, we forgot you even existed.

Last night I was made aware that you've been stalking my blog, and trash talking me, for the past six months, and now spreading rumors that I'm into Sol/Sin. I made two vague posts about it, the first ones I've made since this situation started six fucking months ago. I deleted them after being told they were making the situation worse, which they were. You've also been manipulating one of my friends and saying you would kill yourself if any more posts were made about you or this situation.

Then I got this ask.

Xavier: You're a lying, manipulative, piece of shit that needs to stay in his damn lane. I'm sorry for whatever situation led you to become this obsessive over not being able to edit a VIDEO GAME WIKI PAGE to say that the maybe-minor is legally fuckable, but it's not my problem. Guilty Gear and Bedman are clearly bad for your mental health if you're still this mad at ONE PERSON who HASN'T EVEN SPOKEN TO YOU for as long as half a year now. You've made me out to be a demon in your mind entirely based on vague interactions and reading too much into my Tumblr posts that were never about you.

Move the fuck on already. I have never spoken to you, I hardly know who you are, and yet you still hate me so much.

[lunastrophe]

Drow Lore 🕷️ Dangerous Merchants

Drow merchants are often not who they seem to be. Some of them are more or less independent information brokers, selling not only goods, but also knowledge to those who can pay for it. Some others secretly work for noble drow houses, occasionally serving as their spies, agents or assassins.

Normally, the drow merchants' first and foremost priority is to ensure the prosperity of their business, but they are often fine with taking an additional assignment now and then - for a fee, of course, or in exchange for other benefits.

In the Icewind Dale series we can meet a great example of a prosperous drow merchant who is much more powerful than he seems to be at first glance - Nym.

🕷️ Polite Drow Merchant - Nym can be found in the hidden svirfneblin village in the Lower Dorn's Deep and after being approached, he greets the player characters in drow language:

"Mallan uss, dis malli usstan tal tanas talthalra. Usstan zha Nym."

This line contains some drow words from canon sources and some others that seem to be distorted - but it can probably be translated as: Honoured one, you honour me with this meeting. I am Nym.

Nym is always exceptionally polite while talking to adventurers, referring to them as "honored customers" - however, soon it becomes clear that under this veneer of politeness and almost-friendliness, there is a cold, cunning and manipulative mind.

🕷️ Profit And Self Above All Else - when the player character points out that it is strange to see a dark elf in a village of deep gnomes, since svirfneblin typically hate drow, Nym replies casually:

"Dire need overcomes simple hatred in periods of duress. I am a businessman. Petty racial differences are irrelevant in my dealings. The deep gnomes have gems. I have goods. It's an excellent relationship. Most profitable."

Since svirfneblin from Lower Dorn's Deep are in deplorable situation, doing business with them - or maybe rather taking advantage of their misfortune and lack of other options - must be "most profitable" indeed.

Nym also tries to take advantage of the visiting adventurers: he buys even quite valuable items cheaply, but his prices are high; he offers special services (enchanting a shield), but demands an outrageous amount of gold as a payment; he is also a slippery negotiator - if you are not careful, you may end up paying him way too much for a simple dagger +2.

But as it turns out, in the past Nym was doing much worse things for a profit.

🕷️ Skilled Thief - the player character can ask Nym about his profession, commenting that being an Underdark merchant sounds like a possibly dangerous and short career. Nym replies calmly that for many, it is, but then states:

"However, I have been in this trade for over four hundred years. I have seen my way into and out of places that no other dark elf has ever seen. You'd be surprised how powerful a single merchant can be."

He is clearly proud of his accomplishments and cannot resist boasting a bit:

"I have seen many things, been many places. The gem mines of Thay aren't quite as frightening as some might lead you to believe. The depths of the Moonsea aren't filled with undead. Oh, and the treasury of Dorn's Deep wasn't very secure even when it was inhabited by the dwarves."

Why is the information about the treasury of Dorn's Deep so important?

🕷️ Nym's Stratagem - sometime after 900 DR, the elves from the fortress known as Hand of the Seldarine and the dwarves from Dorn's Deep formed an alliance and together they created many powerful artifacts. At some point, though, many of those artifacts mysteriously vanished from the treasury and inexplicably fell into the hands of enemies - orcs and goblins. The elves accused the dwarves for secretly supplying the orcs and ultimately, the alliance was severed. The war that came after destroyed both nations.

The vanishing of artifacts was apparently Nym's doing:

"The darthiir [elven] and dwarven artifacts produced by the so-called "Time of Cooperation" were too valuable to resist. Selling the artifacts to the goblinoid armies was the best business decision I ever made. It had so many angles to play. The stupid goblins went bankrupt just to buy artifacts that they couldn't use properly. The dwarves who were threatening to attack some drow outposts were implicated, and the darthiir slit their own throats when they decided to wage war against the goblins and dwarves. Silly elves."

🕷️ Drow Cause - Nym's words about "dwarves threatening to attack some drow outposts" suggest that he was acting not only for his own benefit, but also for the benefit of some local drow community - likely Rilauven, drow city located below the caverns of Lower Dorn's Deep.

Was Nym supported, or maybe even employed and sponsored by Rilauvenian drow? Or was he acting independently - and making the entire drow city owing him a debt was only a side consequence of his plan?

It is not really known - but when we meet Nym several decades later during the events of Icewind Dale II, he seems to be on good terms with Rilauvenian leaders like Malavon Despana and he even works for them...

Also, in one of the books that can be found in game, we can find this note:

"It is rumored that a dark elf by the name of 'Nym' was the individual truly responsible for the fall of the Hand. Through magical means he entered the vaults of the dwarves, stole their artifacts, and sold them to the goblinoid armies. He then sat back and watched as the elves and dwarves destroyed their alliance with accusations of guilt.

It is speculated that Nym did this to remove a significant threat to the drow population in the area of the Hand. With the elves and dwarves vanquished, the drow were free to claim their territory as their own with no consequence..."

🕷️ So, to sum things up - beware of the Underdark drow merchants... especially the ones who somehow manage to stay in this dangerous business for centuries.

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

[jkftkth]

Sabotaging taekook is not only to elevate their fav member but also to undersell them to negotiate contracts. These people think they are so smart. If bangpd wants to keep taekook under his thumb the best way would be to sabotage them differently. Hybe undersell Taehyung deliberately to make it look like he is nothing without group. And only promotes Jungkook on their conditions (AYS!). I think everyone remembers how weird it was that company didn't contact Jungkook for anything. I don't know much of that is a fact but looking at history of whatever Jungkook has achieved is either distributed with the group or attached with fanship narrative. They also elevated the third member with heavy promo to show they are not dependent on taekook and oversell to investors. On the surface it looks like one is getting everything and the other nothing. Result: constant fight wars between both of their solos. Fandom will believe they are not close and group who supports both of them (tkk) will be mocked and labeled deranged.

If taekook were any less of people or had no United front, company would have done much worse. I don't claim to know what goes inside their heads or how they negotiate but BANG PD is greedy first. While his ego is huge and he will do anything to sabotage anyone who he can't control (Tae), money matters a lot. This way even after sabotaging Tae, his pockets are filled because fans want to outdo each other.

This is a classic but cheap strategy many conglomerate adopts.

it’s a very cheap strategy i agree.

if there’s one thing any of us should take from the current report drama, is that hybe doesn’t respect their artists. they talk about them, and also other idols who are under different companies apparently, as mere products and experiments. i said this to @charjube on here, but the contents of their report reminded me of how army act in fandom wars because the wording was very similar. that in itself should tell you that the writer of this report is chronically online, and deep in our spaces, and his analysis, if we can even call it that, has no real basis.

the contents are only narratives they need to push. we should be asking ourselves why are these narratives important, and what role are we playing in spreading/accepting/challenging these narratives.

when you keep that in mind, it makes you cautious of what to believe, and i think that’s very important right now. i personally know that from this point onwards, i’m taking a step back away from army and solos’ opinions whenever something new happens, because they are biased and based around intense emotions, and those emotions are so often a product of hybe’s manipulative tactics. and i don’t want to fall for that. people who are falling for that are throwing either of t/k under the bus.

i’m seeing so much drama especially today, so i thought i’d answer your ask now, but when we want to have a conversation about mistreatment and sabotage, we need to understand that things have to be separated for us to get somewhere that’s not a fandom war. jk can have been given tools for his album that tae never got and still have been denied basic protection of his well-being and his reputation.

the tools were more about needing to portray bang pd and scooter as “success makers” (bang pd literally tried to make it out that if scooter hadn’t been involved, jk’s album would’ve been in trouble) than it was about the person’s “privilege” or himself. because if the company really cared for the person himself, jk’s schedule would have been a healthy one that didn’t prioritize promoting another member, and his rumors circulating on DC would’ve been shut down immediately regardless of whether that would bring “hate” to the member who’s fans were being malicious, and he wouldn’t have been stalked and harassed, and he wouldn’t have been stripped of his autonomy for his own success and he wouldn’t have been trash talked on blind by staff. where’s the respect here to be found?

unfortunately, a lot of tae solos think that good promotion = the company has your back. if the company had jk’s back, they wouldn’t have a vip membership to sojang.

the company has bang pd’s back. they’re out here embarrassing themselves at the national assembly just so bang pd can carry on pretending he hasn’t been summoned for questioning. bang pd is after his own career. he’s moved towards focusing on his branding in the US and so jk was used conveniently to promote hybe america, because mediaplay is all bang pd has going for himself.

moving on to tae, if there is any tkkr, jk biased or tae biased, who still believes that what he’s being put through is similar to anyone else, or even remotely on a similar level to the rest, we have a problem. he is being beaten down. his career is being toyed with. he is seen by the company as a convenient shield/experiment for later group situations. his achievements are being erased, manipulated, distorted. staff are being told to make up hate to undermine his success. smear campaign after smear campaign. no protection. but apparently heavy monitoring. sneakily swaying fandom opinion and apparently staff opinion of him to make him seem like an outsider. the list goes on.

there is no artist protection when it comes to taekook. there is no respect. there are just narratives and bang pd’s ego. because if you think, that all the discourse and reactions since solo chapter weren’t all instigated by the company, go back to putting your head in the sand.

at least k-kths and k-jjks understand.

[writers-potion]

Hey! I’m creating a charchter and story based off a prompt from a game (clangen, if you know it). They’re wolves, living a wolf life. This character is one of the parents of the main family / pack the story follows.

One of the characters is a skilled mediator, have good insight, but also quick to start fights and bicker with others, and has caused several fights. Obviously these are quite conflicting traits, but I feel like there may be a clever way to tie them in together, to make sense and to make a more interesting character- but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Any ideas?

Writing a Low-Key Manipulative Character

Hmmm. Your questions really did get me thinking here for a good while. While being a good mediator and picking fights between members of the group seem to be conflicting traits, both tasks require a core skill: quickly picking up on others’ wants.

When the character wants to mediate, they’ll be able to negotiate a solution by addressing the underlying needs/wants of others. For example, Character A is fighting with Character B over an orange. Your mediator character quickly picks up that while Character A wants the orange peel for her cake, Character B is just hungry and wants the orange meat. They use that insight to divide the orange efficiently. 

When the character wants to pick a fight, they’ll be hella quick on knowing what the hot takes of the other characters are, and pushing their buttons. 

It can also be the case that your mediator character is simply more blunt/straightforward in voicing their own or other’s thoughts, especially in a society/situation where no one is willing to speak their minds out loud. That trait is easily a double-edged sword: it can cut confusion and foster understanding, or it can just get on people’s nerves and wrack the conversation that should’ve been approached more “softly” by using cushion words. 

Overall, your character sounds like they’re an opportunist – they know they have good social sense, and is willing to leverage that ability to make peace with those whom they think would be helpful for them while driving the people apart when they don’t like seeing them together. 

Since you mentioned that they’re a parent in a central pack in your story, you can try exploring the parent-child power dynamics. Is your parent character trying to choose their children’s friends? Are they purposefully setting up awkward dinner situations in order to win “useful” or “good influence” friends for their kids, while showing negative bias towards other neighbors? Are they whispering in the ears of their partner to make them act in a certain way towards other people? In close-knit family situations, it is a lot easier to make your close ones believe in you since they already have a high level of underlying trust. Children, of course, will take their parents’ words to be true/authoritative. 

If your character does a lot of mediating/picking fights, you may consider whether your character has a manipulative streak. Some people just “have fun” telling others what to do and they’re great at persuading – oftentimes without trying to take responsibility for the outcomes. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

[everythingmp3]

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐨𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

after one too many weeks of Tess refusing to give into her feelings for you, you decide to stop flirting with her and turn to a less noble strategy: dating someone else to make her jealous. you know playing with Tess like that is risky, considering her temper, but you simply can´t help yourself. so, eventually, things are bound to take a turn.

warnings: minors dni! strap use (bottom!reader), light edging, light overstim, oral (reader receiving), slight infidelity

author´s note: this is my take on Tess’s meaner side but the vibe shifts a lot halfway through! definitely more smut in this than my others for her, I truly just wrote this for fun, so no discussion of any personal issues this time, just two desperate fools <3 also as always: I’m not aiming to be super faithful to the source material. hope u enjoy!

wordcount: 8.5k

the way you´d come to work with Tess was a rather funny story looking back. 

for the longest time both her and Joel refused to trust anyone but each other, they were stubborn about it, but as they got older they had to admit to themselves that it really wouldn't hurt to have a few allies, especially when it came to physically demanding work, since they weren´t 25 anymore. they slowly figured out who they should recruit, mostly looking for younger people who were either very fit, very clever or ideally both, so after a while they managed to assemble a group of around 6 people whom they knew they could always rely on. as someone who had grown up in the QZ you knew about the smuggling business, even had friends who were involved in it, but you never seriously considered it for yourself until the day you and Tess met for the first time.

Tess had always been vaguely aware of you, the way she was vaguely aware of anyone living near them, and one day she happened to stand right out of earshot when a few FEDRA guys cornered and questioned you about why they´d seen you loitering around suspicious areas multiple times, who you were working for, what you were hiding. without missing a beat you started lying through your teeth, making up some utter bullshit, Tess knew enough about you to know you were bluffing, but you did it so convincingly and with such charm that they let you go after five minutes. it was pretty impressive to Tess as she listened to it all, pretending to mind her business, the way you weren´t overdoing it but playing into their need for authority so well that she swore she could see one of them blushing as they walked off. this one. we need her. she thought. it would be priceless to have someone who wouldn´t crack under pressure, who could talk their way out of risky situations, who could, for a lack of a better term, manipulate people. the second they were gone she approached you, leading with a compliment, so at first you thought she might be flirting and got all excited, considering how rare it was to talk to encounter someone who was so your type, but when you realized that she was offering you work, the giddiness died down a little. still, it intrigued you enough to agree, because what else was there to do with your life really.

the process of getting integrated into their group was easier than you expected, a few weeks into proving yourself as reliable it became clear as day that you were their best negotiator, their secret weapon when it came to talking your way out of trouble, or talking your way into acquiring information they otherwise wouldn´t have gotten; your charisma was lethal, your way with words was impressive and hardly anyone was immune to it, so a good amount of times Tess and Joel had taken you along with them to help when beating information out of someone hadn´t worked, when smarter tactics were needed. 

the one thing that was hard about the job had nothing to do with what you were actually doing; the violence, the bloodshed, the lack of guilt and shame you needed to have, none of it bothered you, none of it shook you, but one thing messed with you from the start: your insane pull towards Tess. perhaps part of the reason you´d even said yes to her offer in the first place was to get closer to her, to be around her, perhaps it would´ve taken more convincing for someone else, but when she talked to you that day and her deep smooth voice made your face feel hot for a second, you knew before she´d finished her proposal that you´d say yes. 

the first few weeks you tried to gauge the vibe, wondering if there might be a chance she found you attractive too, but you quickly came to realize just how ice-cold her facade was. nobody ever had a good read on her true feelings, except maybe Joel and even he seemed at a loss at times, there was no way of knowing for sure whether you had a chance, so you decided to start dropping hints: lingering around her even when you could´ve stood further away, looking at her more intensely when you listened to her talk, moving your body differently when she was near, showing off certain assets, “coincidently” playing with your hair or licking your lips when you could feel her eyes on you, touching her arm for emphasis when you were telling her story. at first, you thought she was actually uninterested, but after a while you´d caught her looking one too many times to believe that you were reading into things, Tess was subtle but not subtle enough. something told you that she was bluffing, that she was denying her attraction for some reason, you could practically see her restraining herself whenever you flirted with her and it only made you want her more, to know that she did feel something but was hiding it from you. 

what you didn´t know was that it had only taken a few days of knowing you for Tess to feel panicked by her sudden attraction to you. at first it was easy for her to ignore it, but once you started pursuing her she felt herself getting nervous, which made her try to shut down whatever it was that you made her feel because she knew how fucked she´d be if she let some girl she´d have to see on the regular get under her skin like that. Tess grew stubborn, she had too much pride to let you feel like you had the power to get her to give into her urges, so instead of taking your flirting as an invitation to just go for it and have fun, she tried her hardest to let you believe you had no effect on her, unwilling to be the weaker one in a dynamic. someone else would have just delighted in being so aggressively hit on by someone they were so into but she was different, she couldn´t just go with the flow and be normal about desire, and she´d come to regret this, hard. after a few months of unsuccessfully trying to get her to give in, you changed strategies. you had a feeling that jealousy might be a weak spot for her, so you were going to test that theory and do it well. 

there was a girl in your group who obviously had a thing for you, you´d never considered it because she wasn´t really your type, but she was still pretty and good company so one day you thought fuck it, let´s see how good her poker face holds up once she sees someone else claming me right in front of her eyes. 

so, one day you and the others, including Tess, were sitting around planning something and the girl you´d started seeing rested her hand on your thigh, caressed you a little as she listened to Joel and a few others talk, and you caught the brief second of shock on Tess face as she saw it, quickly followed by a flicker of something like rage, I knew it, you thought. the good thing was that the girl was very heavy on physical affection, so she kept touching you and nobody gave much of a fuck but Tess was dying on the inside. you were absolutely shameless about it because while the girl kept showering you in affection you kept giving Tess stares, the kind that made it obvious you were messing with her, challenging her, and she couldn´t believe it, your audacity, but then again, wasn´t that what she´d recruited you for, your effect on people? she hadn´t considered that she might find herself on the receiving end of it. 

the following week you kept doing it every time you were all in a room together, and it was driving Tess increasingly insane, seeing a girl holding your hand, kissing your cheek, rubbing your back absentmindedly, while you kept staring at her, getting a twisted kind of pleasure out of watching her struggle more and more with denying her needs. she´d rarely felt rage like that, so hot and visceral she caught herself being unnecessarily aggressive with other people who just thought jesus, what´s up with her these days. she felt a sense of possessiveness over you that was of course unwarranted, since she´d rejected your advances and of course she knew that you were probably dating people, but actually being confronted with it was a whole different thing, seeing you being touched by someone like that was forcing her to admit that she wanted to be in the girl´s place, and even worse, could have already been if she had just given into your pursuit.

one night as you were all leaving after a brief meet up to plan a mission for the following day, Tess was leaning against the wall of the building smoking as you said goodbye to the girl, really playing it up because she was near, kissing her longer than you usually would, pulling her in tighter, before she walked down the street in the opposite direction of where you had to go home. 

Tess thought okay, if you wanna fuck around with me, two can play that game. as you were about to pass by her she grinned in a way that made it look like she was laughing to herself about you, so you stopped, staring at her, “can I help you?”, not masking your annoyance well. she kept that cocky expression on her face as she flicked her cigarette away and crossed her arms, eyeing you, you hated how hot it looked, her leaning back like that, her hair falling down her shoulders, her eyes piercing even though it was dark, “oh nothing..” she said, which of course only made you press the issue, “no, go on, what´s so funny, enlighten me”, she spoke in a lower tone then, “well. you might wanna dump that girlfriend of yours”, she wasn´t your girlfriend but you didn´t correct her, couldn´t hurt to let her believe it, “huh??”, you were confused, genuinely.

the moment she saw your puzzled expression her body changed the way it usually did before throwing a really good punch or hitting a target perfectly, she knew she´d get you good with what she was about to say, she had you right where she wanted you, “well. she´s clearly not giving it to you right. otherwise you wouldn´t be staring at me all day”. 

your face froze up, your whole being for that matter, it took a good few seconds for words to return to you, you were in utter disbelief. “I´m sorry, what the fuck did you just say to me?”, she loved it, finally seeing you crumble for once, having the upper hand, “you heard me.” she said, very satisfied with herself, still staring you down, unyielding, her stance solid and unmoving, her strong arms pronounced by the shirt she was wearing, you tried your hardest not to look, not there, not at her neck or her lips, there was hardly a part of her that was safe to look at, so you grew angry, “yeah I really wish I hadn´t, Theresa.” drawing the last word out. 

a low blow from you, everyone knew she despised her full name. seeing her flinch a little at its sound was a momentary win, a hint of power in your hands, “careful. and I didn´t hear you denying it yet”, you shifted your stance to look more secure then, regaining your wits a little, “yeah I don´t owe you a justification of my fucking sex life as far as I´m aware. also you´re being pretty inappropriate”, that got her pissed too then, “oh that´s rich coming from you, I´m not the one who keeps eye fucking their superior”, you scoffed then, “superior? really?”, “yes. really.”, technically you knew she was right, it was only fair that those with decades of experience called the shots, still, you knew she used the word in that moment to assert a different kind of dominance, one that had little to do with your work. again, you´d failed to deny her accusation but you were eager to just get the fuck out of there with your dignity somewhat in tact still, you knew she was clever and hadn´t said anything that was too far off from the truth, “what do you want from me Tess? what business of yours is it what I do or who I date?”, a last attempt to push back, tired and riled up by all your unresolved feelings for her, the anger over having been ignored by her for so long and only now getting her attention by playing some mind game that got her to be mean to you, also anger over being turned on by it.

“well if you keep pulling me into your dissatisfaction with her it is kind of.. “my business””, her fingers making air quotes for the last part of the sentence, mocking you in a way, and her calm air as she said it was only pissing you off more, she was enjoying it, having a point, sensing that she was getting to you, “you sound insane you know that right? maybe take a downer or something” you hissed and she was getting fed up, her smile dropped,“okay here´s the deal sweetie. you quit your obnoxious starring act and we´re good. otherwise I won´t play nice anymore” you looked at her, questioning, “this is you playing “nice”?..”, she nodded, “is that a threat I´m hearing?” you inquired, “no. just a very clear instruction of what you should do. so, now go home and try to dream about your girlfriend instead of me” she waved for you to move past her, that fucking grin on her face again, you went to leave, uttering “bitch..” as you were a few feet away from her, but still close enough for her to hear, “say that to my face next time and see what happens”, loud and clear enough for you to hear, somehow not inspiring fear in you, but intrigue, which didn´t help with calming down at all. 

you´d been so wrapped up in trying to defend yourself against her sudden attack that it only dawned on you after that that way of talking to you had also been an admission on her part. you knew her, you knew she wouldn´t have bothered to mess with someone like that if she truly didn´t care about them. it only solidified your belief that there was something there, something thrilling, the air between two people isn´t that charged for no reason. nobody had ever had that physical of an effect on you and you were starved for passion, you were starved for so many things, and she made you sick with a hunger that would only loosen its grip on your insides once you´d get a taste of her. usually people saw you as sweet, as easy to get along with, but she forced something out of you that was darker, and for some reason, despite the rage, you liked it and had a sneaking suspicion she did too. you could have taken her warning as a sign to finally back off and give up, you could have stopped your games and let it go, but of course, you couldn´t. something told you that you were very close to getting what you wanted, if you were willing to take the risk of finally pushing her towards a breaking point. needless to say: you were. 

your work as smugglers, or whatever the hell your own job title was, was often divided within the group, Tess and Joel mostly took care of bigger plans that required multiple days of serious mapping out and careful consideration, often with a few other brainy types to figure out the details, you and a few younger people often did smaller dirty work that required you to be quick on your feet, finding people who´d screwed you over on deals, intimidation tactics, smaller drug deals, so meeting up as a group only happened semi regularly, but about a week and a half after your little stand off with Tess you found yourself in a room with almost all of the others again. that day you told yourself: okay. one last try. if she doesn´t bite now, I´m done. 

part of the agenda that day was you teaching some of the other ones a thing or two about run ins with law enforcement because a few of them had come back bruised and battered from a mission and you were the one person who always without a doubt came back unscathed. it was convenient for you to have to do a lot of talking that day, because it was forcing Tess to pay attention to you, to listen to your voice, to watch you be charming with the others who took in your instructions, a glimmer of admiration in their eyes, and Tess fucking hated all of it, that she felt the same way watching you, convinced you were moving certain ways on purpose when you stood with your back turned to her. that alone was fine, she could manage, but by the time it was someone else´s turn to talk, you´d made your way back to where your “girlfriend” was standing only a few feet away from Tess. you thought perfect and went in for a kiss, but this time you kept your eyes open, looking over her shoulder to stare at Tess as you kissed the girl and you knew in that moment you´d done about the most shameless thing you could think of and for a moment Tess looked like she might actually drag you off and beat you up for it, a darkness in her eyes that would´ve scared you if it hadn´t turned on you on as much as it did, you swore you could see her clenching her teeth. 

about fifteen minutes later you were all ready to leave, your date was in a hurry, she had somewhere to be so you said goodbye and watched everyone including her clear out first before you made your way to the door, for a second fully forgetting about Tess because you were lost in thought, but just as you were about to exit the door you almost ran face first into her because she´d been watching you make your way there and swooped in the last second to block your way, her arm functioning as a barrier.“and where the fuck do you think you´re going?”, she said, her voice sharp, angry, emphasis on the “fuck”. 

“what??” you uttered, still recovering from being ripped out of your thoughts that violently, stumbling back a step, “what?” she mocked, imitating your tone, “you have some fucking nerve. wasn´t it enough to be a bitch to you when I told you to back off? do you need me to hurt you to finally get it? is that what you want?”. “maybe” you shot back as you felt the words hitting you right at your core, the threat of violence drawing your eyes to where her fingers were gripping the doorframe, the sudden thought it wouldn´t be the worst thing in the world to be roughed up by those. you realized you´d done the exact right things to get her to break but you were done playing games, you were done acting like you had no idea what she was talking about, you were tired of pretending; it was time to put all your cards on the table, the game was over. 

you stared into her sou as you said, “you´re really fucking predictable, you know that right?” which was not what she expected to hear, her eyes narrowed then, “excuse me?”, you went on, throwing your hands in the air and looking around as if someone was there whom you could turn to and ask “can you believe this woman?”.

“Jesus fucking Christ Tess, for months I threw myself at you and got nothing in return and then the second I try to make you jealous you´re giving me the time of day, talking to me, paying attention. I was so sure that it would be the only way to get to you and well…” you gestured at her face, the intense expression,“clearly I was right.” a touch of cockiness to that last phrase. she nodded, slowly, thinking, “so you used that girl to get to me, is that it? that´s pretty fucked up of you, you know that right?”, she said it as if she was judging you but there was a clear hint of admiration at the core, Tess was impressed by your cold way of going about things, all to be alone with her.

you shrugged, “sure, yes, I know” she shook her head muttering “you really are something else..”, eyeing you up and down, still a little riled up but also thinking about the fact that you had actually done all that not to just fuck with her but to try and get her to give into her pull towards you. to her it had seemed like you just wanted to rub it in her face, that you´d moved onto someone else, but it was dawning on her that you still wanted her, that you had been trying to get with her all along. a moment of charged silence followed, you trying to understand what she was thinking before she shifted her stance, dropped her arms and looked over her shoulder onto the street, “alright. follow me” she ordered, a questioning look on your face, “what are we-”, she shushed you as she started walking and motioned for you to do the same “just shut up and come”. 

as you walked a few feet behind her, down the dark street that still smelled faintly of rain and wet asphalt, you had a brief second of wondering whether she was taking you to her place or just leading you to a back alley to beat you up, and truthfully you wouldn´t have minded either option. Tess didn´t bother to turn around one single time the entire way, counting on the fact that you were behind her, cocky bitch you thought, you could have walked off in another direction without her even noticing at any second but of course you wouldn´t and of course she knew, so after about five minutes she opened the door of a five story building and didn´t bother to hold the door open, trusting you´d rush in fast enough, still not looking at you, “wow thank you” you uttered under your breath as you caught the heavy door mid closing and tried to keep up with her. 

by the time you found yourself in her apartment you were out of breath and leaned against the wall in the hallway while she turned around to face your for the first time since you´d left the place you were at before, the apartment was only lit by the orange streetlights outside but you saw enough, her hair that had gotten effortlessly wavy from the humid air, the way her shirt sleeves were pushed up to her elbows, something about her arms always got you, so forced yourself to look back at her face, but she´d clocked it, your admiration for her physique, so she stepped closer to you, only stopping when she was about an arm´s length away, your already fast heartbeat not slowing down at all, your cheeks burning. 

for a moment neither of you spoke because you were just sizing each other up, feeling out the vibe, waiting if the other was gonna do or say something. the reality of the situation had come to her: after all those weeks of agonizing over you she had you in her space, you were alone, nothing in the way anymore, and the freedom was almost too much to process for a second, eventually Tess spoke up as she slowly shook her head, taking in the painfully beautiful sight of you, the hint of a smile that you couldn´t suppress, “what am I gonna do with you, hm?” she thought out loud, her voice barely above a whisper, you tilted your head, speaking slowly, putting weight into each word, “you can do whatever you want.”, getting her right in her weakest spot, of course you´d figured out that bending to her will was the one thing that would make you irresistible to her, and watching her face change as the words settled was perfect, she looked like she was blacking out.

Tess realized in that moment why you had gotten under her skin as intensely as you had, why you´d taken up her whole mind and made her blood boil so many times, why her usual stoic facade crumbled around you. it was not like she´d never been pursued by other girls, of course she had, and at times she enjoyed the attention, played into it and had some fun, usually they were easily intimidated by her, tripping over their words if she looked at them long enough, blushing cheeks and wide eyes, but never you, from the very start you talked to her with confidence, unshaken by her aura, you never grew nervous when she looked at you, because you enjoyed it too much, holding eye contact as long as she wanted without breaking it, without surrendering. 

the whole thing of someone twirling their hair and blushing over her had its appeal, sure, but the joy Tess got out of it was very superficial and short-lived, it never really affected her on a deep visceral level because it was so predictable each time, it was almost like following a script, and then you came and showed her what it meant to face an equal, to be caught off guard, the unmatched pleasure it could lead to if she could abandon her pride and let herself be truly moved by someone for once. 

Tess had to admit that what she had going on with you was more thrilling than any other connection she´d ever had before, to see you and to know that you were clever enough to figure her out even when she gave you so little to work with, your ability to do and say exactly the right things to get her worked up, to raise her temperature just with a glance, it was so unlike anything she´d ever experienced that the initial shock made her back away from you, made her try to pretend she wasn´t fully in awe of you, but in that moment it was clear to her: I´ve never wanted anyone the way I want this girl. she sees me for who I am and shes´s not scared of what she sees. we´re the same kind of intense. 

Tess was suddenly devoid of any previous resentment, it all came to her in that moment, just how rare of a thing it was that you´d pursued her for months and months without success and had still not given up, not backed down. for the first time she saw that it wasn´t just some viscous game of yours, it was a deep commitment of time and energy to getting what you wanted and it was a strength she admired, that turned her on. those words you´d used whatever you want, had activated something in her, there was no going back anymore, she saw what she needed to do clearly then. 

she moved even closer to you, close enough for your knees to almost touch, reaching out to mess with the collar of your shirt a little as she said “whatever I want hm?”, you nodded, your eyes wide and expectant, your demeanor suddenly completely different, none of the usual toughness was there anymore, it melted away the second you felt her fingers over your clothing and she could tell, finally you were at her mercy. so without warning she grabbed you by the shoulders and flipped you around, pushing you up against the wall, making you brace yourself with your palms flat against the hard surface, hers placed directly next to them, trapping you, her body pressing against yours, not very gently and you barely had time to shut your mouth to conceal the sound that it got out of your throat, to be manhandled like that by her. your breath was heavy by that point, the feeling of her hips pressing into your lower back, feeling her weight like that made you dizzy with want, it was the closest you´d ever been to Tess, the first time you could properly smell inhale her scent, she leaned in close to your ear, her hot breath sending shivers down your spine as she spoke again, “you´ve imagined this many times, haven´t you?”. 

a nod was all you could give her, words weren´t coming, your mind was blank with need, you were all body in that moment “hm, bet you jerked off thinking about me and felt unsatisfied after, wishing I was actually there, wishing I was between your legs” spot on, you´d spent many nights trying to get off to your image of her but never really did, not in a way that satisfied you, another confessional nod from you as a response, she could feel you struggling under her and she loved it, “poor thing” she whispered before removing her hands from the wall and grabbing your tits, wrapping her strong arms around your torso, the grip immediately forceful enough to get a whimper out of you followed by a breathy, “fuck..” you were scared of actually losing your mind if the action while still being fully dressed was already getting you that soaked, you could feel the heat growing between your legs, spreading through your whole body as her fingers squeezed the sensitive skin of your chest, feeling you up aggressively without shame. “let´s get you out of these already” she said as she spun you around again, your face flushed, your lips parted, the first glimpse of what she could do to you and she was hungry for more, much more. 

Tess briefly pushed a few loose strands of hair out of your face before pulling your shirt over your head in one swift motion. you weren´t wearing a bra so you were left topless immediately and the sight left her speechless for a moment, her motions stopped and she just stood there marveling at your body, none of the clothes you usually wore gave much away about what was hiding beneath them, so being confronted with your bare figure seemed like a dream at first, none of her fantasies of you had prepared her for the real thing, “god..” she sighed, her eyes roaming your upper body, the curve of your neck and where it went down to, and her lustful gaze was too much for you, you couldn´t wait longer, so you grabbed her and pulled her in for a kiss, not a pretty one, but one that made it crystal clear just how much pent up tension you were both dying to release; it was sloppy and hard, a kiss that bordered on violence, hands grabbing at each other frantically, almost biting each other with how eager you were, the soft warmth of the other person´s lips driving you both crazy with wanting more, so very quickly you were open mouthed kissing and groaning at the feeling of your tongues meeting, your fingers in her hair while she grabbed your face, the rough fabric of her shirt brushing your bare chest as you tried to get as close as possible to her.

the second you separated to breathe you used the opportunity to move down to her neck, placing a few kisses down the side of her throat before getting carried away and running your tongue over her skin, you were dying to taste her and she was completely taken off guard by it, usually people were passive with her sexually, but in that moment she realized just how much it turned her on to be desired that openly, to be devoured in a way, she let you have your way for a moment, holding onto your back as you left her neck in red splotches where you´d sucked the skin, before she grew too eager and peeled you off, grabbing your hand as she said “come” and pulled you towards her bedroom.

once you were in her room you didn´t register a single detail about it, not the color of the walls, not the furniture, nothing, because you were so lost in the physical sensations that left you vibrating with anticipation for more, you could barely walk straight as she said “take those off for me” pointing to your pants, which you gladly got rid off, leaving you in your underwear as you approached her bed and saw her walking to the other side of the room, which made you realized that wasn´t just gonna use her hands on you and for the first time that night you felt nervous. you could count on one hand the amount of times you´d let someone strap you and the last time had been a while back so you were worried for a second about how you´d handle yourself, someone less perceptive might not have noticed it but the moment Tess walked over to where you were sitting on the bed waiting for her she saw that something in your face had changed, she gave you a look that said, “what is it?”, so you admitted, “it´s just.. it´s been a while since i´ve done it this way”, in that moment it hit her that the image she had of you as this ruthless seductress was only the surface, that below that you were still just a young woman who probably didn´t have that much experience yet, it softened her a little, especially combined with the sight of you all exposed save for your panties, looking all angelic for her, your thighs driving her crazy with the need to just get between them, she nodded, a slight grin as she responded “well, you´re a tough girl. I know you can take it”. and for some reason that was much hotter to you than if she´d have babied or underestimated you.

you were in the middle of her bed, she was by the edge and waved you over “come”, you obeyed, crawling to her, waiting for further instructions, “why don´t you get it nice ´n wet for me hm, that should help”, she said, holding out her hand right under your face, you realized she was asking you to spit in it, so you did, letting salvia drip from between your lips into her open palm, drawing it out a little to make it filthy, and you knew she loved it, seeing you take her orders well, “hmm, good girl” she uttered as she used your spit to lubricate the strap, licking the residue off her hand after, the sight getting your already drenched underwear even wetter. the moment she was done with that her aggressive side returned, she told you to take off the last piece of fabric, which you did, before she climbed over you, watching your face intently as she got settled and teased your cunt for a moment by lightly running her fingers over the wetness that had collected there, a groan from her as she felt the proof of your lust slick against her hand, the moment she touched you there you let out a pretty deseprate moan and she thought oh. this is gonna be fun.

it was clear to her then that you were the needy kind and nothing drove her wilder than a girl who´d lose her composure for her entirely, so without wasting time she guided the tip to your entrance, a wince from you as she slowly pushed herself into you, carefully, her hands moving up to pin yours down next to your head as she saw your face twisting from the sensation of being stretched out, a slight pain that would subside soon,“you´re fine, breathe, deep breaths” she cooed down at you as she pushed herself fully into you “fuck..”, you sighed, wrapping your legs around her waist instinctively, your eyes shut, she was staring down at you, “no, come on look at me” she ordered, wanting to see your expression so you held eye contact as she started slowly moving in and out of you, building up a rhythm, your walls clenching around the silicone, the feeling of your hands being restrained by hers adding to the rapidly increasing heat in you, she quickly started going at it with deep but slow thrusts, the kind that drove you more insane than fast fucking, the intenstiy of it immediately getting more moans out of you, she leaned down as her hips kept meeting yours, whispering, “this is what you wanted all along hm, being taken by me?” you whined in response, your legs tightening around her, “yes- fuck this feels so good” you got out in a shaky tone  as she kept really driving herself into you as deeply you as possible, not necessarily punishing but determined, forcing more and more pathetic sounds out of you.

the sight of your open mouth, your tongue, was too inviting, so she removed one of her hands from yours and pushed her index and middle finger in, which you immediately closed your lips around, sucking on them, the stifled sounds almost more perverse than the previous loud ones, she got more forceful then as she view of your eyes closed in pleasure with your pretty mouth filled by her digits almost drover her insane, and it turned you on too, not just the sensation of being entered in two ways at once, of feeling your walls throbbing as she kept fucking into you with hard strokes, but also because you knew you looked good, you could tell that you were her fantasy come to life from the way her breath sounded as you sucked her fingers, all messed up and clearly matching you in desperation, “god you were made to be fucked, look at you” she breathed, while getting up from where she was hovering over you to get on her knees to push your legs apart, pressing them towards your chest to really fuck you as deeply as possible, bracing herself against one of your legs as she increased her speed then, making you see stars.

“Tess fuck, unhgg-” you begged as her hands gripped your legs and forced you open for her, your head pushed back into the pillow, your back arching up, “you’re doing so well, so pretty like this” she encouraged as she got you to unravel, your hands frantically grabbing the sheets as you tried to somehow remain conscious as you felt your insides twisting up and your climax approaching, which she could sense, but she wasn´t gonna let you cum just yet, so after a few more moments of savoring the sight of you all fucked out on your back, squirming and holding on as she had her way with you, she stopped, pulling out for a moment, an immediate desperate whine from you, “ugh fuck Tess.. I was close-” you sounded like you might actually cry and she might have felt bad if she wasn´t so into it, seeing you like that, an utter mess for her, “I know sweetheart but I´m not just gonna let you lay there, gotta see that perfect body of yours move” she answered, peppering in some genuine praise that did make the shameless edging hurt a little less, she moved to the other end of the bed and gently slapped your thigh to signal to you to get up, “come on, get on top of me pretty girl” she took satisfaction out of seeing you struggle and shake a bit as you got up on all fours and climbed over to her, weak from her impact, placing your knees on either side of her thighs as you tried to lower yourself and she grabbed your hips to guide you, “nice and slow okay”, she instructed, not wanting you to hurt yourself, her grip securing you as you used one hand to guide the strap back into yourself, your soaked cunt practically begging for it, a pornographic moan from you as you sat down on it and felt yourself full again, “good girl” she cooed, watching your face change again, that intoxicating look of yours, so needy and overwhelmed, “just like that” her hands still on your hips, not letting go.

you faced her then, your eyes glazed over with pure need, an endearing sight to her, she locked eyes with you as you slowly rocked your hips back and forth, but she could tell you were holding back a little, so she said, “come on don´t be shy now, fuck yourself for me, as hard as you want”, her hands on your waist then as you stared back into her eyes and braced yourself on her chest as you moved back and forth with more feeling, more force, moaning each time you could feel the tip hitting that sweet spot, trying hard to find an angle of where it would be hit over and over, “that´s it, ” Tess praised as she got high on of the image of you riding her, using her, losing yourself in the feeling of being full of her, “god nobodys ever looked this good taking me, fuckin´divine..” she sighed before she got you to sit more upright on her so she could lean forward and suck on your tits as you rode her, the sight of your chest bouncing up and down from the rhythm of your fucking too enticing to just watch, your hands on her neck then as she ran her tongue over your nipple and sucked on it hard enough to turn your sighing into broken up cries, “fuck - don´t stop” you mumbled as you felt her switching between licking and sucking the soft skin, her teeth digging in at one point, a sharp pain that felt good mixed with the ache between your legs as you kept rocking back and forth, your clit throbbing too by that point from getting the friction.

you could feel yourself getting close as Tess moved her face away from your chest and used her strength to help you finish by holding you in place while thrusting upwards from below you, your whole body consumed by the need to cum by that point, the heat at your core turning into a heat all over, your limbs tingling, your chest rising and falling with labored breaths as you felt her fucking you from under you, “oh jesus fuck-” you cursed as she did this, throwing your head back and bracing yourself on her legs as your cunt got demolished by her, “let go, cum for me” she groaned, the order pushing you over the edge, a final pathetic sounding whine from you as you shuddered and shook for a moment, your walls clenching hard around the silicone which was drenched in your juices by that point, from the sound of it Tess might have actually cum too just from having you move on her like that, her breaths punctured by sighs as her hands rested on your back to push you towards herself, needing you close as you gave her what she wanted: the uninhibited display of your release, it was pure ecstasy to her, your body goddess-like as you slowly rode out your high, all for her to take in, every detail, she was obsessed to her core.

as you stopped moving and tried to catch you breath before attempting to get off of her, she helped, lifting you up a little and hearing a slight gasp as she left you empty, spent, falling onto your back, your arms splayed out, and you thought that was it, you were done, but Tess wasn´t, not yet. 

she got up from the bed, quickly freed herself of the harness and got down on her knees, pulling you towards the edge of the bed in one rough motion, “Tess fuck no I can´t-” you pleaded as you realized what she was doing, but she just smiled as she pushed your still slightly shaky legs apart, hooking one of them over her shoulder to get good access,“sure you can, one more okay? for me” a sweetness in those last two words, persuading you to give into it and you tried to believe her but your body was losing all sense of place and time, all sanity, as you felt her fingers digging into your thighs, her face close to your soaked, aching cunt, your soft sounds of desperation only turned her on more so she wasted no time and licked up the slick that had leaked out of you and coated your inner thighs, savoring it, “god you taste like heaven” she breathed against your skin, biting down for a second, she had a thing for it, leaving marks, not just to mark her territory but because she loved knowing that you wouldn´t be able to shower and look at yourself in the mirror without thinking of what she´d done, so she briefly lost herself in the feeling of your soft skin between her teeth, the immediately visible red and purple indents, your whimpering, before moving up to where she´d fucked you open before, kissing your aroused lips, sucking on them, running her tongue up and down in a slow, heartfelt rhythm, moving her face to add to the friction.

“fuck- I´m- Tess” you were incoherent as your fingers found their way into her hair, pulling a little as she focused the tip of her tongue on your clit, swirling over it in circles, more crying and begging from you each second, a few tears forming in your eyes from the overwhelming pulsing and twisting at your core, your legs pressing together on the sides of her face, but she didn´t yield, forcing them apart again, flicking her tongue against your overstimulated most sensitive spot and finally just sucking on it, hard, determined, “you´re killing me” you groaned, your hips bucking upwards as a reaction and her fingers probably leaving bruises from how hard she was gripping you, and since you were still so sensitive from before it took little time for you to cum against her face, cursing under your breath as her chin was left glistening from you juices, just how she wanted it. the moment the second climax crashed over you in waves your body was drained of all energy, your limbs went totally slack, your lower half felt like it was burning up, and your breathing was so messed up you didn´t even try conceal it, laying thre exhausted but buzzing with endorphins, the good kind of tired. 

Tess got up from the floor to sit down next to where you were laying, a satisfied grin on her face as she traced your outline with her fingertips, admiring her impact, the light bite marks on your chest, the shine of sweat on your face, it was pure bliss to her, seeing you like that.

“god I really shouldn´t have made you wait this long..” she said, truly at a loss over how stupid she´d been to deny herself the pleasure of being with you, you gave a tired laugh then, turning to look her in the eyes, “yeah no shit”, she smiled, “guess I have a lot to make up for hm?”, you nodded, “well, this was a good start”, reaching for the strand of her hair that framed her face, twirling it around your finger as you slowly regained your composure.

“but just so we´re clear, you´re not getting any favoritsm out of this” she teased, you returned the energy, “well fuck, I clearly just did all this to lower my work load.”, you propped yourself up on your elbows then, looking at her more clearly, her cheeks still flushed, an unusual ease to her expression, you took some pride in being the one to get her to look like that, just eyeing her for a second and for once she loved it, being stared down by you, being fucked with by your intense gaze. “you know, the first time we met I actually thought you were flirting with me for a few minutes. could´ve saved us a lot of time if you had been” you told her, which made her laugh,“really?? and you would´ve just gone with me if I had been? that easy?” you shrugged, “hey, I am not the one who played hard to get here” you had a point, she nodded, amused by the idea of you wanting her from the very start.

you crawled over to her then, wrapping your arms around her neck as she ran her hands up and down the warm skin of your back, both of you just looking at each other all blissed out and relieved, “I didn´t expect you to be so..” you started saying, she cocked her head, “so what?”, “you know, generous..” she smiled then, placing one of her hands on your cheek, “right, you thought I´d just be mean and use you and take out my frustrations, huh?”, you nodded, “maybe, kinda yeah.”, “well, not my thing. I mean I´ll do whatever you want me to, if you want it rough just ask, but I am simple, I just want my girl to feel good”, you squinted your eyes at her, “your girl? is that what I am?”, charmed by that way of putting it, “well you´re sure as hell not anybody else´s anymore”, she said, meaning it, her possessiveness jumping out, “yeah I don´t think I could show up with bite marks at someone else´s place, so..”, “that was the plan” she whispered before leaning in to kiss your neck, getting a soft sigh out of you before moving to your lips, a gentler kiss than the one before.

“you can stay over if you want by the way. it´s so late I won´t make you go home now” she said as you made her lay back so you could lay on top of her, smiling down at her as you asked, “really?”, she didn’t see what was so crazy about her offer, “yes really”, “hm. didn´t figure you for the “falling asleep in each others arms” type”, she feigned offense, “okay rude.. I can be romantic, I do have a heart you know”, you grinned, laying your head on her chest, “I know. also, staying the night is good because then I can return the favor”, a mischievousness to your tone, “oh that´s what you think is gonna happen?”, she asked, “well, I think you´d like seeing me on my knees, wouldn´t you?” , again, you´d said the right thing to her weak, “jesus. you´re still messing with me, aren´t you?” she couldn´t believe how good you were at hitting her where it would get her to fold, but she loved it, “maybe” you whispered, eyes closed and smiling as she caressed your still naked body to keep you warm. 

now that you´d gotten the initial push and pull out of the way, you couldn´t wait to see what it would mean to actually be with her, how you´d spend an evening together, how she’d act as a lover, if you´d sneak around or let people know, all the things that were to come now that your feelings were out in the open. you liked the idea of nobody knowing about you and stealing glances when you were in a room together. maybe that would be your next thing: teasing her in public until she gives in and drags you away. maybe you weren´t fully done with it yet, getting under her skin, and maybe she was secretly hoping that was th case.

for the first time in ages, both of you had the feeling of finally having someone who challenges you, who surprises and thrills you. boredom or a desire for more heat and passion was not going to be an issue anymore, not as long as you had each other.

[bellaxgiornata]

New Jeans

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings/tags: 18+; fluff, dirty thoughts, embarassment, confession of feelings, and Michael’s perfect ass

Summary: Tired of the power struggle and constant arguing between Frank and Amanda, you find yourself distracted by Michael’s ass in a pair of new jeans at an early morning meeting. But your inappropriate daydreams are interrupted when you get caught staring.

a/n: I've had this random little piece sitting around for a bit and I just finally got around to finishing it. That photo of Michael in those black jeans that's been circulating might've fueled me finishing this... Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @shiorimakibawrites @wkndwlff @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @sunflower-tia

Arms crossed over your chest, you stood in the basement of Jimmy and Amanda’s house, warily eyeing the multiple snake enclosures on the other side of the room to your left. It wasn’t the first time you’d been down here for a meeting, but it never failed to make you a little uneasy with all the snakes Jimmy kept in the room. Some of which you knew to be venomous–even if they supposedly weren’t anymore. It didn’t help that a particularly large snake was eyeing you through the glass, its head raised as its tongue darted out, tasting the air.

But you were here because you didn’t have a choice. Frank had called a meeting this morning shortly after you’d woken in order to discuss a deal with a neighboring gang. Though in true Amanda fashion, and also due to her continued efforts in trying to take over the Kinsella business, she'd insisted the meeting happen here. At her house. 

Truthfully you'd grown tired of the power play back and forth between the two over the past couple of months. While you’d long since come to learn that Frank didn't have much of a backbone for running things when real conflict arose–aside from kissing ass and cutting deals to avoid said conflict–he did have a good sense for business and negotiations when you weren't all stuck in disagreements with rival groups. And while you grudgingly admitted Amanda was great at striking deals to get what she wanted when she was motivated enough–only further proof of how manipulative you'd always known she really was–you knew she had no backbone, either. She was all bark and no bite. One threat from a vengeful rival, a single gun waved in her face, and she'd probably end up in tears. Neither of them really had what it took to run this business long term, but Frank always seemed the lesser of two evils. 

And for the past few years that you’d been an important member of the business, Frank had always been the one in charge. He’d been the one to trust you and pull you up through the ranks, landing you in a position as a trusted member among the Kinsellas alongside Dotser. You were almost as trusted as a Kinsella yourself, which was why you were asked to attend these big, important meetings.

Though the back and forth was beginning to affect the business; something you weren't blind to. Which only made your life harder. You'd been dying for Amanda to stop sticking her nose where it didn't belong and to fall back in line already. She'd already had a good position in the family, one that didn't get her hands quite so dirty. You wished she'd just go back to that and stop trying to boss everyone around, but unfortunately the two voices that would have the biggest say in the matter never quieted her down.

A gentle hand on your shoulder startled you out of your thoughts, your head turning to the side. Birdy stood beside you, greeting you with a warm smile, one which you readily returned as the rest of the family filed past you into the room. 

You liked Birdy. She was dangerous when she needed to be, but she was also incredibly sweet. You'd never had an issue with her before and you had a strong feeling that she liked you more than she let on. 

“G'mornin’, dear,” Birdy greeted. “You're lookin’ quite chipper despite the early hour.”

Laughing lightly, your eyes nervously darted around the room. Briefly they landed on the real reason you were feeling so ‘chipper’ this morning. Michael Kinsella. You knew he'd be at the meeting this morning and that alone had made you eager to show early. And maybe it had been the reason you'd spent a bit of extra time getting ready beforehand.

“I just downed a bunch o’ coffee this mornin’,” you replied quietly, your eyes hurriedly returning to Birdy in the hopes that she hadn't caught you glancing at Michael for noticeably longer than the others. “Figured I might need it for this discussion,” you finished with a shrug. 

One of her dark brows rose curiously up onto her forehead in response, the corner of her lip twitching upwards just a fraction. Heat crept its way up your neck as you forced a smile onto your face, hoping she wouldn't somehow piece things together. She was always far too observant.

“Now that we're finally here,” Frank’s voice rang out through the room, catching your's and Birdy's attention, “let's get this matter settled already.”

Birdy gave your shoulder a gentle pat before she crossed the room, making her way over towards her brother. Her presence beside him was meant to be a clear sign of support during the meeting, though you knew it wouldn't stop Amanda. And as your eyes shifted to the opposite side of the room, you saw her pushing off the wall and already opening her mouth. You sighed, bracing yourself for another one of these frustrating meetings. 

“I still say ya aren’t offerin’ good enough terms,” she shot at Frank, arms crossing over her chest. “Ya take that deal to them and they're goin’ to laugh ya right out the door. Now my suggestion–”

“Is cuttin’ into my profits,” Viking snapped at her, eyes narrowed as he leaned against the row of terrariums behind him. “Why don't ya just give all our profits away with that deal, huh? Seems like that's your plan all along.”

An irritated huff quietly slipped out of your lips, your eyes scanning the room and eventually landing on Dotser. Catching him rolling his eyes, he looked just as tired of their bullshit fighting as you were. You almost laughed at his obvious frustration but immediately stopped yourself. This wasn't the time or place for that.

As the bickering began to fill the room, the noise level increasing, your gaze finally traveled to the Kinsella who was standing just in front of you. Michael. Unlike most of the others, he wasn't currently throwing his thoughts loudly out there to be heard and participating in the continuing and heated argument. Instead, he was running the heels of his hands over his eyes looking very much like he hadn't slept well the previous night. He also looked like he wished he wasn't here, and honestly you couldn't blame him.

Inevitably, as your eyes often did whenever Michael was around and you figured no one was watching, your gaze lowered until it landed on his ass. The edge of his jacket hit right above it, always giving you a perfectly unobstructed view, one you admittedly couldn't resist taking a peak at. 

Except this time it looked like he'd thrown on tighter fitting jeans than usual. A new pair of pants perhaps? You'd seen him wearing the same few over the past year ever since he'd been released from prison, you figured you'd have remembered these black ones if he'd have worn them before. Usually he often wore dark wash jeans, but these ones hugged his ass more than any of the others you'd seen him in. They even managed to fit snug around his thick, muscular thighs that you'd daydreamed about far too often.

No, these looked like new jeans. You were certain of it.

Bottom lip rolling back between your teeth, your eyes lingered on the shape of Michael’s lower half in those new jeans. The argument around you continued on, but you ignored the ever increasing noise. You'd much rather imagine running your hands over the perfect, round curve of his ass, even over the stiff new denim. And there were certainly other stiff things you'd have loved to feel beneath those jeans.

Your eyelids fluttered shut for a moment as you tried to imagine being able to actually grope that tempting bit of him currently tugging at the seams of his jeans. Ultimately you had to actively force yourself to remember that you weren't alone in this basement, though that was quickly becoming hard to do as your mind began conjuring up mental images of you undoing the button and zipper of those pants and yanking them down his large thighs. Imagining your hands reaching around to cup his ass in your palms over the dark boxers you pictured he wore, you wondered just how firm the muscle would feel when you gave it a squeeze. Just how much of that ass could you manage to fit into both of your hands? 

Shifting back and forth on your feet, thighs pressing together, you realized you were getting a bit too hot and bothered by your line of thoughts already, but yet you couldn't seem to stop them this morning as you tuned out all the disagreements around you.

You wished you could drag him out of here by the hand and head next door back to his place. You wanted to tear those jeans right off of him. To drop to your knees in front of him and caress his solid thighs between your hands, taking your time massaging the muscles and appreciating his legs as much as they deserved–along with another part of him. You longed to hear the noises he'd make, especially considering you had overheard from Jimmy that he supposedly still hadn't gotten laid since he’d been released from prison. You always imagined he'd be quite vocal with how long it'd been since someone had taken care of him.

What you wouldn't give to feel those powerful thighs of his slamming against the back of you as he bent you over the side of his sofa, too. To feel his strong hands gripping your hips and holding you in place while he fucked you. To feel his–

Your eyes snapped up at the sound of your name being called in clear agitation. Glancing around the room, you noticed everyone was staring at you. Your palms began to sweat when you caught Michael’s eye, the questioning look on his face causing your face to heat in embarrassment after the thoughts you'd just been having about him. Though when Frank ground out your name between his teeth, your eyes flew over towards him.

“Sorry, what was that?” you asked.

“ Christ ,” Frank cursed, running an agitated hand through his hair. “I was askin’ your thoughts on the new proposal. Ya were listenin’ to that, weren't ya? Because that was the whole damn point of this meetin’.”

Arms hugging your chest tighter, you felt that heat burning even more at your face now. Because no, you hadn't heard a damn thing that had been said. 

“Sorry, I s'pose I didn't have as much coffee this mornin’ as I'd thought,” you replied awkwardly. “What uh, what was the new proposal?”

Standing beside Frank's irritated form, you saw Birdy eyeing you with something like a knowing smile growing on her face. That's when you knew you were in trouble. She clearly had some idea of what was going on, but thankfully it seemed that she had the tact not to say anything. 

But quite unfortunately for you, someone else didn't. 

“She might've heard what was goin’ on,” Amanda snapped, shooting you a dark look, “if she hadn't been so damn busy starin’ at Michael’s damn arse the whole time we were talkin’.”

It felt like someone had knocked the air out of your lungs, your heart skipping a beat in your chest at her accusation. Your eyes immediately grew wide in embarrassment. Of course Amanda would've noticed your attentions on Michael and grown jealous with how inappropriately protective she was over her husband's brother. Because she wanted him, too.

“He isn't interested in ya,” Amanda spat. “So ya might as well pay attention to what ya are gettin’ paid to do ‘round here. That should be interestin’ enough for ya.”

You could feel Michael’s eyes boring a hole into the side of your face while Amanda had been speaking, but you hadn't dared to look over at him. How could you even begin to dispute what she'd said? All you could do was wish one of those snakes in the nearby enclosures would suddenly swallow you whole so you could get out of this absolutely mortifying situation. 

Thankfully it was Frank who unintentionally came to your rescue. 

“Alright, fuck it,” he growled in agitation. “We'll reconvene on this shit later. I've got other things to take care of this mornin’, I don't have time to deal with the goddamn lot o’ ya bein’ a fuckin’ pain in my ass this mornin’.” He waved a hand towards the basement steps, gesturing his head sharply at it. “Go on, fuck off all o’ ya.”

You didn't wait to be told twice. Abruptly turning on the spot, you hurried towards the stairs and began to rush your way up them. You couldn't get out of the house fast enough, desperate to get to your car parked on the street and back to your house. 

What an embarrassing morning. How were you ever going to show your face around Michael ever again? Amanda was one thing–you'd certainly have no issue telling her off later for being an asshole–but Mikey? For fuck's sake, you did jobs with him. He relied on you. 

And now he knew you were into him.

Yanking open the front door of Amanda and Jimmy’s house, you rushed outside. The chill of the morning air felt refreshing in comparison to the way your body temperature had vastly begun to increase as you nearly sprinted down the drive, maneuvering around the expensive cars parked there. Relief flooded you once you reached the end of it, your car coming into view. 

You were so close to freedom. All you wanted to do was get back home, then you'd somehow figure out how to deal with this whole awkward situation. Maybe you'd have time to find a way to explain everything away to Michael later in a way that wasn’t quite so embarrassing. But just as you'd managed to unlock your car, your hand reaching for the handle, you heard him exiting the house and calling your name. Hand freezing in midair just before the door handle, your body tensed. You'd been so close to getting out of here before he could confront you, but apparently you still hadn't been fast enough. 

His heavy footsteps were fast approaching and you winced at the sound of the pavement under his shoes. Seconds later he was saying your name again, clearly having come to a stop just behind you as his reflection came into view along your car's window, his face visible above your shoulder. Your eyes clamped shut, your mouth going dry instantly as your hand dropped back to your side. You truly didn't think you could turn around and look him in the face right now. 

“What was that back there?” Michael asked.

You grimaced at the question, opening only one eye to peek at Michael's reflection. He was standing just behind you with such a confused expression on his face, his dark brows knitted together. The sight of it had you blurting the first thing that came to your mind.

“‘M’sorry, I was just in my head ‘cause I was sick o’ the fightin’ those two always get into at meetin's lately,” you said, scrambling for an explanation. “I wasn't actually staring at your ass, ya just happened to be standin’ in front o’ me.”

“So then why did ya run outta there so fast?” he asked.

Shrugging a shoulder lamely, you shook your head. “‘Cause it's a bit embarrassin’ having Amanda call me out in front o’ everyone like that. In a meeting no less.”

Michael blew out a slow, tired breath behind you. Nervously you began chewing the inside of your cheek, wishing this uncomfortable moment would come to an end so you could get in your car and get out of here. 

“And why won't ya even look at me now?” he asked, voice softer. “Ya can't even look me in the eye.”

“‘Cause I…”

Your voice trailed off, the sentence hanging unfinished in the air. What were you supposed to tell him? You figured he'd see right through anything more that you said if he hadn't already. And you knew Michael was smart. Was he really buying any of the bullshit you were spewing now?

Sighing, your shoulders dropped in defeat. You'd already been caught and called out by Amanda, you might as well just confess and deal with the repercussions now and be done with it. He'd probably never want to work jobs with you again, but you'd live. Even if you vastly preferred his company and level head to that of working with Jimmy or Viking.

“Okay, yes,” you admitted, turning around and finally facing him. “I was starin’ at your ass and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been,” you continued, fighting the nerves making you feel like you were about to vomit on his shoes, especially with the way his eyebrows had risen so high onto his forehead. “I find ya attractive, I always have. Ever since I first met ya at that welcome home party Amanda and Jimmy threw for ya. And I've–I've had a stupid little crush on ya for the past year ‘cause ya weren't like any o’ the others in your family, but I've always done my best to keep things professional with ya. Which I will still continue to do, but I understand if ya aren't comfortable workin’ jobs with me anymore.”

Michael continued to stand there, blinking a few times as if he hadn't expected you to quite say all of that. Your stomach twisted anxiously at his silence and you began to wonder if you might have overshared a bit too much. Maybe you shouldn't have confessed the bit about your crush when you'd been owning up to staring at his ass, too.

“This is sufficiently uncomfortable so I'm just,” you gestured your thumb to your car behind you, cringing awkwardly at the situation, “goin’ to go.”

Michael’s hand darted out, catching onto your wrist before you'd had a chance to turn around. You froze, your eyes dropping down to where his long fingers were wrapped around you. It felt like your heart had jumped up into your throat at his unexpected touch, heavily slamming away. Gradually your eyes slid up the length of his arm, landing back on the sheepish expression now etched across Michael’s face. 

“Ya aren't the only one,” he whispered.

Your brows drew together on your forehead as you gazed at him in confusion. “What?” you asked. 

“I mean,” Michael said, taking a step closer to you, “ya aren't the only one. I've had feelings for ya for a while now myself. But I just figured it was best not to get involved. Considerin’ we work together and…I don't have the best past.”

“That wasn't your fault,” you blurted automatically. 

A faint smile spread along his lips, his hand still holding your wrist in a gentle grip. It took your brain a moment to process what he'd just said before that bit though. Did Michael actually have a thing for you too?

“Would ya maybe…let me take ya to dinner later this week?” he asked. 

Sucking in a breath at his question, you swore you stopped breathing for a moment. Especially with the nervous and hopeful way he was staring at you now. 

“As a date?” you managed out.

“Yeah?” he replied hesitantly. “Would that be alright?”

“I–yeah,” you answered, nodding quickly. “Yeah, I'd really like that.”

Relief visibly overtook his features as a wide smile spread along his lips. You could still feel your nerves coursing through you though, and they only increased when Michael's hand on your wrist slid downwards, his fingers carefully entwining with yours. 

“For the record,” he began softly, “I might've stared at your arse a few times myself.”

Mouth falling open, your eyes grew wide in surprise. Michael chuckled softly at your reaction, nodding slowly.

“It's true,” he told you. “Just didn't want ya to feel left out.”

You tried to bite back the stupid smile threatening to break out across your face, but the sight of the one growing even wider on his own mouth had you failing miserably. How long had the pair of you been trying to hide your feelings for the other over this past year? Because it was quickly beginning to feel ridiculous now.

“Can I ask what had ya managin’ to be distracted through the entirety of that meetin’?” Michael asked curiously.

Clearing your throat, your eyes dropped down towards your feet. You could feel a flush forming on your cheeks at the question. “I uh, was tryin’ to figure out if those were new jeans ya had on,” you muttered awkwardly.

Michael’s warm laughter had your stomach somersaulting inside of you, but your embarrassment only grew as your cheeks further heated. Of course you weren’t going to admit to the inappropriate things you’d been imagining while trying to figure out if those were new jeans.

“Yeah,” Michael answered, amused, “they are. Kinda glad I bought ‘em now.”

“So am I,” you mumbled.

Michael’s hand gently squeezed yours, the touch drawing your eyes back up towards his. He was grinning at you now, the corners of his eyes creased. He looked happy in a way you’d never really seen on him. At least, not any time he wasn’t with his daughter, Anna.

“I’ve gotta help Frank with some things this mornin’ but can I call ya later today?” he asked. “To make plans for takin’ ya out later this week?”

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling nervously back at him. “Sounds good.”

His lips curled up slightly higher at the corners, his hand once more squeezing yours before he released it. Then he turned, heading back towards the drive of Jimmy and Amanda’s house no doubt in search of Frank. As he walked, your eyes once more landed on the curve of his ass in those wonderful black jeans, the pockets stretched perfectly across the width of each cheek. But just as Michael made it halfway up the drive, you saw him glance over his shoulder back at you.

Your face burned as your eyes darted back up to meet his. He let out a little laugh that carried towards you on the wind before he shot you a cheeky smile that had your palms beginning to sweat. Spinning around, you opened your car door and quickly slid into the driver’s seat, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. 

But as you started the car, shooting one last glance out of your window at Michael’s form retreating back into the house, you found yourself hoping that he wore those jeans on your date later this week. Because his ass really did look damn good in them.