#Whip a Tesla

[foone]

What does BDSM look like in the cars universe?

Like, I don't think they'd necessarily be into, like, rope bondage, because cars don't have the same range of motion as humans.

You could maybe do things like take their wheels off, but does that end up being like a doctor kink too? Like, mechanics are car doctors, right?

Do you use one of those folding sun-visor things as a blindfold?

What's the car equivalent to a leash. A tow truck? A hitch? Maybe.

Can you whip a car? Maybe you use some of those rubber hammers, like "kneel*, slave, and receive your 5 dents from your mistress! Count them"

Suspension bondage I guess is doable, you just need one of these:

Which again is probably like a medical kink to cars. It's like a putting a human on a doctor's examination bed with stirrups.

I'm just wondering if there's BDSM in the cars universe without it getting mechanic-kink. It seems an easy trap to fall in.

How do you gag a car? Take out their radiator? Drain the fluid? Or maybe the grille? What about, like, Teslas that don't have grilles? (Are there teslas in the carverse?) are they mute?

Where do cars hear from? Like, if you wanted to do sensory deprivation on a car, where do you put the earbuds? It's the side mirrors, isn't it. They're probably equivalent anatomical features.

I don't think you can do wax play to a car, because that's just a fancy car wash.

Bondo and one of those dent-hammer things is probably involved in Car BDSM. A welder and angle grinder for the extreme stuff. Speaking of angle grinder, is booting a car like putting them in handcuffs?

Instead of a cage, do you put your Puppy!car in a garage? Do you role play that she's at the mean impound lot and has to do you a favor to get released?

I have so many questions. I'm tempted to go look on ao3 to see if fans have come up with answers. But at the same time, I don't want to.

* don't ask how cars kneel

[brokeandfamouseu]

truck-gang //

[hottestvirgin]

ceo sunghoon who loves taking care of you because you're his ౨ৎ

warnings. smut, fluff, age gap (sunghoon!30s & reader!20s), swearing, dirty talk, pet names (ex. princess), unprotected sex, big dick p.sh, praising, light degrading, sweet talking

you’re just a girl. a college girl who’s broke and working part time to gather up whatever you can make to pay off your tuition and other fees. this has been a routine in your life for a while. that was until you met sunghoon.

you got involved with this man unintentionally. while working at a local cafe, he ordered a small black coffee. this man was attractive. like.. very attractive. his blanched skin equated perfectly with his black, dapper full suit. bangs parted perfectly over his forehead which were accompanied by the thin glasses he wore.

while he scrolled on his phone you stole a few glances as you poured his coffee. when he reaches to grab the plastic cup, you easily get distracted by the beaming rolex on his wrist and boom. you spill the coffee all over the counter.

“shit. did it get on you?” the man asks while he slips his phone into his pocket. he doesn't seem pissed but you still palm your heating face, shaking your head at his question. but even after explaining that he was running late for a meeting, he helps you clean your mess.

“i’m park sunghoon. and you?” the man breaks the awkward silence and never breaks eye contact. even when he grabs the coffee from your tense hand, fingers grazing against yours to grip the cup so he can prevent it from spilling again.

“i’m y/n.” you say with a small, nervous smile.

“gorgeous name.”

and like that, sunghoon was hooked. you were charming, and gorgeous. and so the cafe you worked at became his favorite. he would order the same small sized black coffee.

“how can you drink plain black coffee every morning?” you ask sunghoon as he sips from his cup. his lean frame hovers over the counter while you wipe the same spot repeatedly to keep your mind from spiraling.

“keeps me busy, princess.” he simply answers. when he tells you that he’s the ceo of a family-owned business, it all makes sense.

soon, you both exchanged contacts which blossomed into a thing. a thing where he pays for your tuition and anything else you need and you repay him with sex. it’s that situation. and you would’ve hated it if the circumstances were different. but you were fucking a rich, hot ceo with the biggest dick ever. you wouldn’t change that for anything.

stepping outside after clocking out, you see that familiar tesla parked and waiting for you. the whiskey smell of sunghoon’s cologne immediately hits you when you get inside his car. his scent never fails to calm you after long hours of being around coffee.

“d’you like this, princess?” sunghoon whips out a small box with a gorgeous heart pendant inside. your heart thumps at the sight, blood rushing to your cheeks as you take the box into your hands. you catch a glimpse at the price sticker.

“it’s so beautiful. but the price is..” you’re interrupted with a peck on your cheek.

“i’ve spent way more on you, pretty. this ain’t nothing.” taking the pendant out of the box, “turn around f'me..”

it’s embarrassing how fast he gets aroused when he sees how pretty the pendant looks on you and how it contrasts with your glowing skin.

“looks pretty on me?” you ask, slightly pulling the collar of your shirt down to show the pendant on your chest.

sunghoon nods. “let’s go back to my place.”

“n-now?”

“mhm,” he pauses for a minute, “or do you wanna get fucked here?”

your stomach churns at his arousing words and you clench your thighs together. you wouldn’t mind it. instead you found yourself sprawled out on his bed. his hot, heavy body on top of you.

you can feel every vein on his big cock grinding against your walls with each thrust, his swollen tip abusing that sensitive spot deep within you.

you’re being fucked dumb. you couldn’t even remember to swallow which had you drooling. in a panic, you reach to grasp onto his arms in hopes of him slowing down, but he doesn’t.

“move your hands, princess. i gotchu.” sunghoon grunts with shivering breaths following afterwards. he observes how his cock can barely fit in your dripping cunt, how he can barely bottom out. he groans at the sight.

“hoon.. i can’t.. fuckfuckfuck.” you sob, turning your head away from him.

sunghoon tsks, “unt uh. let me see your face.” he grabs your cheeks and yanks your head towards him, squishing them together and chuckling at your muffled moans.

he traces his thumb over your swollen lips and shoves it in your mouth. that same hand travels down to your tits and he rubs over your hardened nipples. sunghoon slows his hips and focuses more on his rhythm.

“you’re so wet,” he groans, absolutely loving how much you're squirming and crying underneath him, “so gorgeous. all for me.”

“j-just for you, hoonie.. feels so good. so big..” you slur. and you can tell he’s close from his sloppy thrusts and unsteady breaths.

sunghoon nuzzles his face into your neck, licking and kissing at your skin just near the pendant he got you. fuck. he’s so obsessed with you. how’d he get so damn lucky?

“princess, say you love me.” he whimpers, wet lips still on your neck.

you stomach churns at his words. and you could feel your own orgasm building from the desperation in his voice.

“love you so much, so so much..” you whimper, clenching hard around him as that spring coils tightly and releases. you cum hard around him with a shuttered cry, vision fading to black.

“fuuuck.” sunghoon spills his thick, sticky cum deep inside your womb, rocking his hips against you while he chases his orgasm.

“you should quit your job.” sunghoon says.

“what?” he stops cooking and turns to you in confusion. you had thought that he understood that you weren’t, unfortunately, wealthy like him and needed that job for the money.

“did you forget, princess? you got me now.”

“i’d rather us date before risking that..” you say, biting back your lip nervously in hopes that he doesn’t get upset. but he only chuckles.

“then let’s date.” sunghoon smiles.

[bruciemilf]

Bruce who accidentally parents his rogues because the mom syndrome is starting to take deep roots.

He threatens Harvey with no dessert if he keeps escaping from Arkham, and blushes bright under the cowl when the man's mouth splits In a teasing, switchblade smirk, " Is that code for something else, doll?"

Harley insists on kicking his seat everytime he arrests her, " I will turn this car around!"

"To where! Also, I'm pretty sure this is just a Tesla with fancy gadgets and an emo makeover."

"You take that back, missy--"

Selina has to sit through 3 hours of " our generation doesn't know what real music is" speeches until she finally cracks and chokes him with her whip

Martinez will never forget the day Batman grabs Riddler by the scruff of his neck and holds him like a misbehaving cat, " What do we say when we flood the city?"

"Sorry."

"That's right. Now go to your cell for reflection time."

Don't misunderstand, he's like that with the league, too. Bruce gives Billy a juice box for not obliterating an enemy to bits and he almost gets lasered.

[dirtyvulture]

Envy and Venom - Part 2

Heiress!Natasha Romanoff x CEO!Beefy!Fem!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You are the notorious playboy who just inherited one of the biggest tech companies in the world. Your first move? Sleeping with the heiress of your rival company.

Word count: 4911

AN: Didn't think I'd write this, but the opportunity was too good to let pass. :)

Click here for Part 1!

DAY 2

“I can’t believe you,” Tony says, watching as you anxiously like a caged animal. “I mean, I can, because Romanoff is smoking hot, but really? On your first day?”

“I didn’t know who she was!” you snap, your stomach churning in knots. You hadn’t been able to eat breakfast, even ignoring the hot black coffee your secretary Wanda had waiting for you like usual when you arrived to the office.

“Literally the daughter of the guy of our biggest rival,” Tony says, clearly only trying to make you feel worse than you already feel.

“I know who he is!” you bark, well familiar with Alexei Shostakov, the enormous, bearded and beer-bellied Russian who had once been on the board of directors at Envy Industries. Alexei was long gone from your dad’s company by the time you entered the scene, and at that point had formed Black Widow Corporation into a juggernaut. Word on the street was that Alexei used “unconventional methods” to stay ahead of competitors and now you wondered if you had fallen right into one of those traps. 

“Why was Romanoff even at the party in the first place?” you ask.

“Why do you think?” Tony scoffs. “Daddy probably sent her to mess with you and no offense…but it worked.”

“We don’t know that,” you defend, although your gut is telling you that Tony is right. 

“So, what did you tell her?” Tony asks, kicking his chair back to wobble on its hind legs.

“Nothing!” You sigh, your brain scrambling to remember your interaction with Natasha before you took her up to your suite. “Uh, I mean…I mentioned the contract we have with Tesla. But a bunch of other people probably overhead too, and that’s not exactly a secret anymore.”

“Mhmm, sure. Anything else?” Tony prompts.

“No. No, nothing else,” you say with an edge of uncertainty. “There wasn’t really much time for talking, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know you, you horndog.” He waves at you.

For once, you feel immensely guilty about not being able to control your behavior. This wouldn’t be the first time you had to face the consequences of the people you chose to take to bed with you, but none had been this jarring or dangerous. You feel used, even though you truly hadn’t revealed any company secrets to Natasha. Just the thought that she knew who you were, and wasn’t honest with you about herself, made your whole interaction with her feel slimy and fake. While you also knew it was ridiculous to think that you were in love with someone you just met, even you won’t deny there had been some kind of spark between you two, but perhaps it had all been manufactured. 

You genuinely want to see Natasha again, hopefully in more honest circumstances, and not just purely for the physical pleasure of it. You knew she was one of the few women on Earth who truly understood your line of work. She didn’t need to pretend (or even study ahead) like some of the partners you had in the past. She was beautiful and smart and managed to turn you into a stuttering, whipped mess in less than ten minutes. No one else had ever been able to do that, and as humbling as it was, it was also hot as hell.

“What am I supposed to do now?” you ask, pulling at the suffocating collar of your shirt. 

“First of all, don’t see her ever again,” Tony responds, and it sounds like he’s telling you you’re not allowed to breathe anymore.

“Fuck,” you grumble, because you know he’s right, but it won’t be that easy to just forget about Natasha. 

“Seriously, Y/N,” Tony goes on. “You have a whole company to run now. Let the media say what they want, but promise me that you won’t be caught with that woman ever again.”

“Caught, you say?” you tease, knowing that he would always offer you a way out.

“I know you,” he repeats. “Besides, I heard she has a sister.”

You laugh, the tense mood lightening considerably. “Yeah, sure, I’ll put in a good word for you when I see her again.”

“You’re the best.” Tony stands up to give you a high-five.

***********************************************************************

Natasha hums to herself as she opens her laptop. She plugs in her headphones and boots up the application that is connected to the microphone she slipped into your jacket pocket. Over 12 hours of audio have already been recorded. Just out of curiosity, she scrolls to the first hour.

“Look how wet you are. You’ve been waiting for this all night, sweetheart?”

“Shut up and let me fuck you.”

Natasha feels her core light up with desire as she remembers the previous night with you. It had been a long time since she had been fucked so well and you certainly lived up to the hype. When she closes her eyes, she can still remember how your body had felt against hers, the way your muscles flexed in warning when you were about to finish but were waiting for her permission, the intoxicating taste that coated her tongue and had her (quite literally) demanding more and more from you.

“Hey, sestra.” Yelena walks in without knocking, and Natasha’s eyes snap open, tearing off her headphones and closing the audio application.

“What?” she growls, annoyed by the interruption.

Yelena smirks at her. “How was the party last night?”

“Good.”

Yelena doesn’t look convinced. “Did you see that TMZ article?”

“Anyone who relies on that hack as a legitimate source of information is just setting themselves up for disappointment.”

“A picture is worth a thousand words,” Yelena states, walking up to Natasha and showing her her phone. 

New CEO of Envy Industries Y/N spotted getting cozy with Black Widow Corp. heiress Natasha Romanoff 

Below the headline is a grainy photo of her almost sitting on your lap, both of your heads leaned close together. 

“What’s your point?” Natasha asks, pushing Yelena’s phone away from her face.

“Did Dad approve of this?”

“What does his approval have to do with anything?” Natasha snaps. “I’m a grown woman, I can do whatever I want with whoever I want–”

“We’re not stupid, Natasha,” Yelena frowns. “And you aren’t either. You aren’t getting mixed up with just anyone, this is the CEO of Envy Industries–”

Natasha waves her hand. “Just stop, Yelena. I know what I’m doing, okay? And I’m the one who’s going to take over the company when Dad steps down, so I need to make sure that we are on top and stay that way.”

Yelena’s expression softens. “Just be careful, sestra. You don’t know what some of these people are capable of.”

“Like Y/N?” Natasha laughs. “She’s just a big rich idiot. I could steal her entire company right from under her nose and she’d just go fill her bed with Victoria’s Secret models and forget it by the next morning.”

“Please be careful, Nat,” Yelena begs. “Do not forget what happened last time–”

“That was in the past. I know better now,” Natasha dismisses, although the hair on the back of her neck rises at the memory. She had been too cocky, too arrogant, and nearly lost her life as a result. But she was certain that wouldn’t happen with you. She had you eating out of the palm of her hand even before the mind-blowing sex. You’d happily hand her the keys to Envy Industries if she promised you five minutes in bed. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Natasha gruffs, turning back to her computer. “Close the door on your way out.”

Yelena doesn’t respond and backtracks. Natasha waits until she hears the click of her door to open the files on her flash drive that contains the data stolen from your systems. None of your files are even password-protected. Maybe your company was even more of a joke than she thought.

***********************************************************************

DAY 14

Tesla backs out of contract with Envy Industries, reportedly in talks with Black Widow Corporation for GPUs

DAY 15

Envy Industries (ENVY) stock drops 15%

Black Widow Corporation (BWC) stock up 10%

DAY 18

Tesla hires Black Widow Corporation to produce hardware for upcoming Model 2

DAY 24

Black Widow Corporation announces AI supercomputer project

DAY 30

Black Widow Corporation (BWC) joins the Magnificent Seven stocks, knocking Envy Industries (ENVY) out

“You need to fix this. Now.”

“I’m trying!” you practically sob, staring at the same headline on your computer that your father is looking at. 

Your first 30 days as CEO had been an absolute whirlwind–of defeats. First, an intern at Tesla had called you to tell you the deal was off. And then to hear that they were taking up business with Black Widow Corporation was like a sucker punch to the gut. No one at your company could understand how Black Widow suddenly had the technology you’d been working on for months, but a nagging feeling in the back of your head told you that you were the only person who knew the answer.

But you couldn’t be one-hundred-percent sure. After all, you had spent one night with Natasha Romanoff, most of it in bed with her getting your brains fucked out. But she had left even before you woke up, and there was no way to confirm if she had managed to get her hands on the confidential information that your company was built upon.

Whatever had happened, Envy Industries was on a steady decline ever since you had taken over and it was not a good feeling. The stock prices were tanking and now you had lost your spot amongst the prized “Magnificent Seven”–also known as the seven highest-valued companies in the United States. It was embarrassing, shameful, and upsetting. The board of directors were having daily meetings about your leadership qualities and you were worried they would boot you from the position any day now. Your father still had some influence, despite stepping down, but with the way he was speaking to you now, you weren’t sure he was going to defend you anymore.  

“I don’t care how Black Widow Corp got the intel. They have it now and we can’t get it back. You need to raise security protocols and if anyone is caught leaking information, they will be publicly humiliated and sued to kingdom come,” your dad rages through the phone. 

“Yes, yes, I agree,” you say.

“You need to focus on recovering from this. What’s done is done. But if you let it get worse, there will be severe consequences. For the company, for its future, and for you.”

“Yes. Yes, Dad,” you gulp.

“Stop fucking around and get your shit together,” he says. “You have a reputation that precedes you and thousands of people are depending on you to see them through this. Envy will come back. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you repeat hollowly, not even convinced of your own words.

“Good girl. We’ll talk later.”

“Okay. Bye, Dad.” You hang up and put your phone face-down on your desk, staring once more at the headline. For the first time, you don’t feel sad, you feel angry. You want to lash out at something–someone. Preferably the person or persons who put you in this predicament. You didn’t deserve this. You hadn’t done anything wrong. But one thing was for certain: you weren’t going to mope around and let them continue to take advantage of you.

There’s a heavy knock on your door.

“Hey, Y/N. Ready for lunch?” It’s Tony.

“Sure. Give me a minute.” You whip your burgundy blazer off the back of your chair with more force than necessary; it gets twisted upside-down and something falls out of the pocket. You squat to pick it up. It’s a black, small, flat circular device that blinks red and there’s tiny little ridges in the center to indicate some kind of microphone.

What the hell is this? you think. You look back at your burgundy jacket. It’s the same one you were wearing the day you were made CEO, the night you met Natasha Romanoff. It wasn’t your most worn jacket, making the occasional appearance if you felt it complimented the rest of your outfit, but spending most of its time hanging in the front of your closet.

A disturbing thought enters your head. This little device couldn’t be what you thought it was, right? But you knew tech better than most people. And you knew that Black Widow Corporation had somehow gotten ahold of confidential information that was causing catastrophic damage to your company.

It takes all of five seconds to formulate a plan. 

You slip the audio recorder back into your pocket and put your jacket on.

Two could play at this game.

“Hey, Tony. Where are we going for lunch?” you call out, trying to keep your voice flat and clear.

“The steakhouse!” But his voice is muffled through the door.

“The steakhouse? The one on 6th Avenue, right?” you ask.

“Unless you suddenly have a new favorite that’s not on 6th,” he grumbles.

“Nope, that’s fine. Let me go check on something in the lab and I’ll be ready.”

***********************************************************************

“What’s wrong with you? Did they get your order wrong?” Tony asks as you poke at the slab of beef on your plate. 

“I’m just not really hungry,” you say. “You know, since our whole company is falling apart and everything.”

“Well, it’s still standing the last time I checked.” You appreciate how straightforward Tony is. Granted, he isn’t under the same kind of pressure as you, but you need someone who can be this cool under pressure in your life. “And I know you can’t be productive on an empty stomach. Should we order those crab legs you like?” 

“No more food please,” you mumble, pushing your plate away from you. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Hurry back. Or I’ll order the whole appetizer menu!”

“Okay, whatever.” But you smile as you walk away from the table to the back. You look at your reflection in the gold gilded mirror, noticing the clear stress lines in your forehead, the darkness under your eyes, the way your cheeks are more hollowed in because you aren’t eating your usual 4,000 calories a day.

You rinse your hands in the sink and pat water on your face. You hear the door open behind you and your heart starts pounding faster. Had your plan worked?

“What’s wrong, honey?” Her voice snaps you to attention, velvety and seductive just like how you remember hearing it the first time. You turn to see Natasha Romanoff leaned against the wall, wearing a white blouse ready to burst at its buttons along with black slacks and towering heels. Her hair loosely bounces on her shoulders and her exposed wrists and neck are adorned with more jewelry than you can count. 

“You,” you growl, striding over to her in three big steps and glaring down at her. “Are we adding stalker charges to your growing list of crimes now?”

“What are you talking about?” Natasha tilts her head to the side dumbly. “I’m here for lunch, just like you. A coincidence isn’t a crime–”

You pull the little audio device out of your pocket. Natasha’s eyes widen for a second before she quickly turns her expression into one of defiance, but she’s already given away her familiarity. “So this is how you’ve been stealing all of our ideas, huh?” you ask. 

“You have no proof that came from me,” she objects.

“I guess not.” You toss the device to the floor and stomp on it so hard with your Gucci loafers that it crumbles with an audible crunch. “And now we’ll never know. But now you’ll have to leave alone for a little bit, right? You have to give us some time to come up with more ideas for you to steal–”

“It’s nothing personal,” Natasha insists. “Business is business, isn’t it?”

“Well, once you put my reputation at risk–” You move one step closer until your chests almost bump. “–My future at risk–” You lower your head until you’re practically breathing on her face. Natasha doesn’t shy away. In fact, you think you see a glint of triumph in her green eyes. “–It becomes very, very personal.”

The tension between you is so thick it’s suffocating. You refuse to break eye contact with Natasha, but you’re not even sure what your next move should be. You know that you should hate this woman, should be calling for her head and outing her to the media for the literal crimes she’s committed, but you also want her. She hadn’t left your mind since the day you met her and knowing that she had been spying on you this whole time was both infuriating and a little arousing. 

Natasha suddenly grabs onto the front of your shirt, yanking you closer to her until your lips crash together. You hate that the contact makes you feel relief, and you wonder if part of your recent frustration can be attributed to the fact that all this time you were secretly yearning for the same woman who was responsible for ruining your life.

“Things between us are very, very personal,” Natasha whispers, her hands slipping under your shirt to scratch across your abdomen. The coldness of her skin makes you want to cringe away, but her fingers hook onto your belt to keep you from going too far.

“Did you get jealous listening to all the girls I was fucking?” you ask.

“No,” Natasha says, but her cheeks redden and you know she’s lying. “But none of them could make you moan the way I do.”

“I wished they were you,” you admit, panting against her forehead as she undoes your belt. “Which is a fucked up thing to say given what you’ve been doing to my company.”

“I’m very good at what I do, baby,” Natasha says, pressing another hot kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I’ll make your life hell if you don’t stop fucking with my company,” you growl, but your threat is significantly undermined by the whimper you let out when her fingers trace down the V-line of your hips to your center. 

“Would you rather I fuck you over your company?” she asks.

“Shit,” you gasp, unable to focus on her question when two fingers slip into you. You’re embarrassingly soaked for her, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t had wet dreams of letting Natasha Romanoff fuck you ever since your first encounter. You fall back against the wall, panting as she pistons her fingers in and out of you. “Someone might walk in,” you warn, suddenly reminded about the forbiddenness of this relationship.

“I locked the door,” Natasha says, using her free hand to tug down the collar of your shirt so she can lick and kiss the skin of your neck. You bite on your lip to muffle your moan, your hands going to hold her hips roughly, pulling her closer to you. Her fingers curl and her thumb presses hard into your clit. You feel yourself clench tightly around her and your knees are ready to buckle. “For the record, I did miss you too.” 

“What took you so long?” You have no idea how you’re able to hold a conversation with Natasha Romanoff while she fucks you, but here you are. Your hands wander towards her ass, cupping her solidly and almost lifting her off the floor. 

“I had to wait,” she answers simply, her thumb flicking against your clit and your stomach burns with the stimulation. The slick noises of her fingers sliding into you is downright filthy and you rock your hips forward to urge her to move faster.

“What did you…have to wait…for?” you pant. “Your stocks to…overtake…mine?”

“Sure, baby,” Natasha says, nibbling at your collarbone and marking you with a dark hickey. You still have enough consciousness to notice the way she dodges your question. “You want to cum for me?” she asks, pistoning her hand faster.

“Yes, yes, please,” you beg, already on the verge of finishing. You adjust the angle of your hips so she can reach deeper, her fingers brushing past the sensitive ridges that make you see stars with every touch.

“Wait until I say,” she demands and you whine at her dominance. But you’re in no position to negotiate, so you keep your back pressed against the wall, desperately fighting the tidal wave of arousal threatening to crash down. 

“Nat,” you say, your fingers digging hard into her ass, “Please let me–”

“Wait,” she repeats, sounding both annoyed and aroused. She pumps into you harder and faster, until you’re quivering and don’t think you can physically hold back anymore–

“Babe–”

“Cum for me.”

You feel like your body is tearing apart as you explode over her hand, arching your back off the wall, pressing your heaving chest into Natasha’s, heart pounding like you’ve just sprinted through a marathon. Natasha’s thrusts slow as you ride out your orgasm, and as you slump against the wall, she pulls her fingers out and, sticking them into her mouth to suck off your juices. You watch her hungrily, still dizzy from the rush of endorphins. 

“My turn,” you say, hooking your arms under her thighs and her arms loop around your neck. You pick her up effortlessly and shuffle with her into the handicapped stall. This time, Natasha’s back is pinned to the wall as you crash your lips into hers, reigniting the heat between your legs. But you’ve already got your release and you are more than eager to return the favor. 

You pull down her pants and panties, mouth watering at the sight of her glistening center. You crouch down to pick her up again, this time letting her thighs rest on your shoulders so when you stand up, her pussy is perfectly in line with your mouth. Natasha’s hands tangle tightly in your hair as she draws your head towards her center, her calves locking across the back of your neck.

Without needing any more prompting, you pull forward to taste her. Her moans are music to your ears as you lap at her dripping heat, your tongue pressing deeper in search of more. All you can smell is her, all you can taste is her, and all you can think about is her. Natasha is sinful heaven to you and for a few seconds, you let yourself completely forget about how she’s ruining your life.

Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door.

“Hello? Why is this locked?” someone’s voice on the other side says. 

You reach up with your right hand and cover Natasha’s mouth. She bites into the side of your hand and you hiss at the pain.

“Go get one of the staff.”

“You better finish soon,” you hum, nipping at the insides of her thighs while she squirms on your shoulders. “Or the whole world is going to hear me eating you out in here.”

“They should,” Natasha pants, gripping almost painfully at the back of your head, trying to force you back between her legs. “They need to know that you’re all mine, baby.”

You want to tell her that you don’t belong to anyone, and certainly not her of all people, but the protests die in your throat as she squeezes her thighs around your head. You truly are some kind of servant to Natasha Romanoff. Your tongue runs up and down her slit, poking at her throbbing clit as she bucks forward against your face.

“Fuck, take me already,” she whines. 

“So impatient,” you tease. 

“Less talking, more fucking,” she demands.

“Same to you.” You shove your fingers into her mouth to quiet her, and she sucks on them in a way that you try to mirror against her pussy. Wrapping your lips around her clit and thrusting your tongue into her until she’s a puddle in your arms.

“...I don’t know why the door is locked. Let me speak to the manager to get the key.”

Natasha’s whimpers are muted so you have to gauge her reaction by the rest of her body. The way she grips onto your hair like it’s some kind of lifeline. Her walls milk your tongue desperately, slick spilling onto your chin. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to get enough of this woman.

The door clicks open just as Natasha finally comes undone. Your fingers muffle her moans as you quickly lick her clean, wishing you had time to bring her to a second orgasm, but the heels on the floor indicate the two of you are no longer alone. You slowly lower Natasha to the floor, suddenly feeling the burn in your shoulders as you finally relieve yourself of her weight.

“Call me next time you want to fuck someone,” Natasha pulls you in for one final kiss and slips something into your pocket. It’s her business card. 

“We’ll see,” you say, still not exactly sure of this arrangement, but not having the time to hang around and discuss. You leave the stall first, washing off at the sink and slinking out.

***********************************************************************

Natasha waits until you’ve left the bathroom to adjust herself in the mirror. She reapplies another layer of lipstick, smoothing down her blouse and tucking it back into her pants. She struts out of the restaurant, her body tingling in the aftermath of her sexcapade in the bathroom with you.

She steps into the alley adjacent to the restaurant and stands by the overflowing dumpster. She takes your wallet out of her pocket, unfolding it and laughing at the photo on your driver’s license. It was almost disappointing how easy you were. You weren’t cut out to lead a powerful company like Envy Industries. While you might have had the intellect, you clearly could not handle confrontation and even the idea of failure.

Natasha almost feels bad for you, but not bad enough to stop.

She empties the cash from your wallet, the several crisp hundred dollar bills fluttering to the ground. Maybe they’ll make some lucky homeless person’s day. Natasha pockets your heavy metal credit cards, despite having no intention but to use them as paperweights for her office. Then she finds what she’s really after: the solid black card that’s your apartment key. 

Natasha discards your wallet into the dumpster and walks out to the street to be picked up by her driver. 

***********************************************************************

You return to the table, smoothing back your hair and pulling at the newly-formed wrinkles in your shirt. You barely remember to button your shirt back up to your throat to hide the collar of hickeys Natasha left to remember her by.

“You were in there a while,” Tony comments. “You need some Pepto?”

“No, I’m fine.” You sit down, staring at your cold steak while you think. “Can we go now? I have some stuff I need to do.”

“Sure, sure.” Tony calls for the waitress and the check. You slip your phone out to view the location of the tracking device you (literally) implanted into Natasha.

It was a tiny, tiny device, probably about the size of a grain of rice. You could barely feel its weight when you have it balanced on the tip of your finger. 

“This GPS will provide an accurate location down to a meter,” Dr. Pym explains. “Designed and manufactured right here at Envy Industries, so you can rest assured this is the highest quality product you’ll find on the market.”

“Don’t mention this to my dad, will you?” you request, placing the little tracker back in its foam-padded case.

“Of course,” Dr. Pym says. “I answer to you and only you now.”

“Good.”

You weren’t a hundred-percent sure how successful you’d be, but you had tried your best to hold the GPS on your fingertip before sticking your fingers in Natasha’s mouth. Her natural reaction would be to suck and swallow, and you were hoping that the rice-sized GPS would easily find its way down her esophagus into her. 

There was no way she would know about it (or even be able to taste it) in the heat of the moment, and after a few days, it would pass through and the evidence wouldn’t be in her system anymore. You didn’t need more than a few days to track her location and habits. 

With a sigh of relief, you see the red dot on the map indicating that she’s still waiting by the street side of the restaurant, probably for her driver. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself, wondering what Natasha would say when she realizes you’re willing to play just as dirty as her.

The waitress boxes up your steak and hands it to you in a paper bag. You and Tony leave through the back entrance to the cramped parking lot and you wait until you’ve climbed into his Aston Martin to say, “Are you still in touch with that…uh…Buck guy?”

Tony is quiet for a moment. “Oh, you mean Bucky? Yeah, I see him from time to time. Why?”

You’ve never made a request like this before in your life, and you know the moment you do, it’s going to change everything. You take a deep breath, fighting the anxiety in your chest.

“I need him to get me a gun.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Click here for Part 3!

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - part 14.1

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 3.5k | previous part | masterlist

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: okay babes I’m desperate to get this out bc this part is going to be so fucking long I had to break it up into parts

“Rhys, stop!”

Feyre’s shriek of annoyance draws your attention to the front, your eyes watching Feyre chastise Rhysand for driving almost 30 miles per hour over the speed limit. You and Azriel were in the backseat of Rhys’s car (“It’s a Tesla,” Rhys would correct), Feyre in the front seat making several comments about the way Rhys drives as if he is attempting to murder all of you.

Mor and Cassian drove separately in Cassian’s truck - you and Azriel snickered at their less than covert attempts to be alone in the apartment. The six of you had been about to hit the road when Cassian had ‘forgotten his driving sunglasses’ and Mor had immediately offered to help. Rhys had rolled his eyes, telling Cassian the four of you were going to head off instead of waiting for them.

Rhys’s lake house was about an hour and a half away, so you and Azriel had spent that time in the back mindlessly chatting, showing each other silly videos of mostly cats. Feyre sat in the passenger seat, deeming herself in charge of the music, the three of you not caring what she put on.

Whenever Rhys and Feyre were too preoccupied in their own conversation to notice the two of you, you would slip your hand into one of Azriel’s, playing with his fingers or just squeezing lightly before pulling away.

“When do we think Cassian will show up?” You ask, making eye contact with Rhys in the rearview mirror. He scoffs, turning his eyes back to the road, “no telling. He’ll get hungry eventually, so he’ll probably show up around dinner.”

The six of you met up around two, you and Azriel almost arriving late because of your lunch date taking too long. Neither of you wanted to pretend there wasn’t something between you two, but both of you wanted to wait a bit before telling everyone, causing the two of you to linger in the parking lot for far too long, neither of you wanting to keep up the charade.

The impending deadline didn’t stop him from kissing you as if he were going off to war in the parking lot of the cafe you two went to, though. You could still taste the coffee he had on your tongue.

Feyre sighed, looking out the window, “maybe I shouldn’t have put my bag in his truck.”

You laughed, partly at her melodramatics, partly at how foolish she was to leave her bag in Cassian’s truck, “I don’t think you’re seeing that bag for a while, Fey.”

She turns her head to look at you, a scowl on her face, “you make it sound like this is my fault.”

“Well, we did put Cassian and Mor in a car together, so maybe the group is at fault. Just be thankful they didn’t pull over and have sex on top of your bag.”

Her scowl deepened, a look of disgust on her features, “my poor bag would never be the same. I would never be the same.”

“You’d have Cassian butt sweat on it.”

“Ewww, stop.”

“Or worse, his butt hair.”

You laugh as Feyre whips her head to scowl at Rhys, “and how do you know about his hairy butt?”

“Cassian spent our teenage years with a new approach to life - he was determined to be naked at any and every opportunity.” You giggle at Azriel’s words, his ears reddening a bit at the attention you were giving him.

“My mother considered kicking him out because he kept walking around naked and standing in the windows.”

You and Feyre giggled at the image, but Rhys continued. “Our neighbors kept calling and complaining. I’m actually not sure how she got him to stop.”

“She probably bribed him. It’s the only way with him.” You quirk an eyebrow at Azriel before he continues, “nothing ever got to him as a kid - yelling, getting in trouble, praising him. But bribery always worked on him.”

You turn to Azriel, pointing your head in the direction of the front seat, “what was Rhys like as a kid.”

Az huffs, “same as now. Spoiled and annoying.”

Rhys glares at him through the rearview mirror, but Az continues. “He was a bit pompous, always talking about how rich his family was.”

You watch Az try to keep from smiling as Feyre laughs, before reaching a hand out to pinch Rhys’s cheek. The movement pings something in your mind, telling you to ask about it later.

“I did not.”

“You once came to school in a helicopter.”

Rhys sinks a bit in his seat, but you file this whole conversation away in a folder of your brain titled ‘ask again later’. You had a vague sense of things you had picked up over time - Rhys’ parents were technically married, but his dad would travel a lot. Rhys’ mother and sister died at some point. Somehow Azriel and Cassian came into the picture.

It was a bit fuzzy, and you never found out why Cassian lived on his own away from Rhys and Az. You had little pieces, but you needed some way to connect the. You filed it away, just allowing yourself to enjoy the car ride.

The ride eventually reached a lull where the two of you sat in the backseat texting each other while Feyre and Rhys talked mindlessly about goats, maybe. You really weren’t sure what was going on up there.

Azriel: did you know all the guys in this town are riddled with disease

Azriel: so you shouldn’t get anywhere near them

Azriel: just to be safe

You: I like disease-riddled men

Azriel: is now a good time to tell you I had chicken pox as a kid

You: oh really?

You: Mmm itchy men

Azriel: I regret this

You: do you have any scars from it?

Azriel: that’s classified

You: I’ll just have to go around searching for them from other men

Azriel: wait no

Azriel: no no no no no

Azriel: this is a joke right

His eyes snap up to you after you refuse to respond to him, and you have to stifle a giggle at the way he’s looking at you.

You: I’m a changed woman. I prefer disease free men now

Azriel: thank god you’ll stay away from Cassian now

You look up at him with wide eyes before you type back furiously.

You: Azriel we share an apartment what do you mean

You: I let him drink my coffee the other day

You: Azzy please tell me you’re joking

You huff as each of your texts is met back with the three dots indicating he was typing. You looked over at him to find him typing random letters before backspacing to allow the dots to stay up.

You: meanie head

Azriel: you’re the one who said you preferred disease riddled men

You: they wouldn’t treat me like this

You: I would be a queen to them

You: me and my disease riddled king

Azriel: that implies you are their diseased queen

The two of you continue trying to stifle giggles as Rhys drives, Az’s hand moving to squeeze your thigh. You’re so distracted by texting him and his hand on your thigh you don’t notice where you are until the car is pulling into a neighborhood of massive houses that could likely fit multiple families with room to spare. You sit up straighter, looking out the window at these multi-dollar houses and wonder if this was a vacation home, what did Rhys’ house look like growing up?

You knew Rhys’s dad’s lake house was going to be a ridiculously large house. You knew that before, you knew that as the car drove through the neighborhood, but pulling up into the driveway it was as if you had completely forgotten. The house was massive - it had to be at least three floors above ground, and the property it was on was large too.

Rhys’ car slows across the long driveway, no other cars around. You have to strain your neck to look at the house in its entirety - it was beautiful - three or four floors, large windows showing off spacious areas on the second and third floors. It was a mix of the classic lakehouse look, but with slightly modern twists to it. All you could think about while looking at it was how long it would take to clean it. Most of your squabbles with Cassian were over whose turn it was to do dishes, and you knew this place would really test your friendship with him if you lived here.

Or maybe he’d just be able to better hide his messes in this house.

“How long would this take to clean?”

Your voice comes out a bit squeaky before you clear your throat, looking over at Az.

“You think Rhys’s dad does his own cleaning?”

Rhys parks his car in the garage, the four of you getting out. Rhys opens the trunk, and you reach out to grab your bags but Azriel beats you to it, slinging your duffle bag over his shoulder. He crinkles his nose at your pout, sticking his tongue out as he walks into the house. You follow after him, taking in how nice his back looked through his shirt.

Azriel heads to the stairs, taking Feyre to her room, but you fall back to take in the living room. You could host a house party in this living room and fit a hundred people easily. You siddle next to Rhys, watching him play with the lid of his coffee in one hand, his phone lit up in the other.

“Are you worried at all about your dad showing up?”

Rhys sips his coffee before answering, “I’d be more shocked than anyone if he showed up here. Az, Cass, and I once spent an entire summer camped out here. Didn’t even catch a glimpse of him.” He shrugs, his face looking indifferent as his phone screen displays the ‘find my friends’ app, and he looks quizzically at the screen, trying to figure out where Cassian was, you presume.

He blows out a breath, “I’m gonna call him.”

You walk away, opting to look at the photos that decorated the walls. The living room is covered in them, all shapes and sizes of frames littered the yellow wall. You see photos of younger versions of Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys, photos from when they were about ten or so until pretty recently, if you had to guess. You can watch them grow, the three of them looking so unsure of themselves at various stages.

The young photos of Azriel are littered with an air of sadness to them, his eyes not quite as bright as they are now, bandages still lingering on his hands for a long time. Azriel’s the smallest in what you think is the first photo, not much more than skin and bones, his now tan skin had a sickly pale hue to it. A woman and a young girl are in the photos with them, the five of them all looking remarkably similar - it’d be very easy to convince others that the two boys were Rhys’s brothers. The photos are all tan skin, dark curls limp in some photos from the ocean water. They are scattered across the wall, no chronological order to them, but if you lined them up you could watch the three of them grow.

The photos made you feel a well of emotion - how someone could be so cruel to someone so small, so defenseless. But as the photos continued and Azriel blended in more with this family, it made you feel so proud of him for opening himself up like that, when all he knew was pain.

He hadn’t told you the extent of his childhood - just that his family was awful, he hadn't seen or spoken to them in a decade, and his step brothers burned his hands. But the pictures of this small, helpless boy looking so lost at the lake spoke volumes for him.

Rhys put the phone down from his ear as he hung up. “They’ll meet us at the restaurant for dinner. He muttered something about a pit stop before hanging up on me.”

He gazes at the photos as he stands next to you, his eyes landing on the one you’ve been staring at. It involved a very young Azriel, fresh bandages adorning his hands. The striking woman was holding him so delicately, as if her arms squeezed him too hard he’d burst in her hold.

“That’s my mom.”

His voice catches you off guard, not expecting much of anything from him. He points at the photo, his finger tapping slightly on the glass.

“She’s beautiful.”

He hums in agreement, “she loved Az. She fought so hard for him. First person to fight for him, really. Spent a shit ton of money getting custody of him.”

That surprises you, but you leave it there for now, keeping your eyes on her smiling face. His gaze lingers on her soft smile, “she loved all of us, but boy did she love Az.”

You watch his mind go somewhere, not wanting to intrude, about to step away when he speaks up again. “That’s my sister. Kaylah.”

His finger moves to a photo nearby, landing on the young girl that Cassian had hoisted on his shoulders.

“She’s cute.”

“She loved bothering Cassian. The two of them butted heads more than any of us combined.” His voice was full of love and nostalgia. “She once got so mad at him she pulled her shoe off and threw it at his head. He was so chuffed he didn’t notice her throw the other, both of them hitting his eyes. He had a black eye for weeks.”

You laugh, “oh my gods, what happened?”

“What happened?” He turned to you, a wide grin on his face, “we got kicked out of the restaurant we were in, and she had the audacity to ask for her shoes back because they landed at another table.” He laughs, a twinkle in his eye you had never seen before. “Oh, Kaylah was something. She always made us laugh.”

“What happened to her?”

Rhys looks down, the twinkle immediately leaving his eye, “she and my mom were hit by a drunk driver when we started school. We- it was a hard time.”

You look over at him, tentatively moving your arms around his waist and hugging him to you.

“I’m sorry.”

He squeezes you back, his citrusy scent filling your nose. “Me too.”

The two of you gaze at the photos, at a time long gone, standing in silence as if an embrace could change the ending for the subjects of the photos.

The moment’s broken by Feyre’s voice, “what’s going on here?”

You turn your face to look at her, head still against Rhys’s chest, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way. We’re in love. He’s having my baby.”

She gasps overdramatically, clutching her chest as she puts on a ridiculous voice, “oh my stars! The scandal!”

You giggle as Rhys unwraps himself from you, “we were going to tell everyone while we were here, but it’s true. We’re naming the baby Cassian Junior.”

Feyre breaks her resolve, giggling, “how is it Cassian Junior?”

“Cassian’s adopting him, of course.”

Feyre giggles before coming to the wall of photos, looking too. “Wow, you guys were so little!”

You laugh, “yeah now we have proof Cassian wasn’t born with a six pack.”

“A six pack of beer, maybe.”

Azriel’s voice startled you. How a man so large was so adept at sneaking up on you unaware was impressive. He stopped behind you, but you could feel his warmth through your back.

“That would explain a lot,” Rhys mutters, turning away from the photos and sitting onto the couch. He stretched out his long legs, propping them on the ottoman before him. “That drive took a lot out of me.”

“It was two hours,” you scoff, sitting on a nearby chair. Azriel followed you, sitting in the chair next to you.

“Two hours is a long time.”

“Maybe for a baby,” Feyre coos, sitting next to Rhysand, pinching his cheeks. His hands swat at hers, pushing her away with very little effort. The four of you mindlessly chatter away, Feyre telling you all about something one of her sisters recently did, until Rhys’s phone buzzed again, Mor texting him that they were half an hour away.

The four of you jump back into Rhys’ Tesla, and he rolls down the windows as he drives you all to some restaurant called ‘Mama’s’.

“But ‘Mama’s’ what?” You had asked, to which Rhys and Az shrugged.

“Just ‘Mama’s’.”

You had huffed, accepting the nonanswer for the time being. The windows give you a glimpse of the tax brackets you drove through - starting the journey in multi-million dollar homes occupied during the warm months, the landscape quickly changes to lower and middle class homes for the people who live here year round.

Rhys pulls the car into a small restaurant, fitted with outdoor lighting and seating. It was so homey - a dozen or so people stood around outside, playing some variety of games like checkers and cornhole. A couple dozen more sat at tables, eating what smelled to be the most enticing food ever created. Your stomach rumbles at the smell, and Feyre laughs at you before you poke her in the stomach with an elbow.

You spot Cassian leaning against his car, Mor standing next to him on her phone. He stretches his arms out, huffing, “finally, we’ve been waiting for you!”

Rhys promptly pushes him as he walks past, and Mor giggles as he falters a bit and she falls in line with you and Feyre and you gag at her. “You smell like sex.”

She gasps, “no I do not,” before discreetly smelling her shirt.

“No, you don’t. Made you sniff.”

She rolls her eyes, copying your words in an exaggerated voice.

The six of you find a table, and you’re seated in the middle of the booth with Feyre and Rhys next to you. Azriel sits on the end of the other booth, and you make brief eye contact across the table, sending him a soft smile.

The waitress comes up to your table, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, her black clothes making her eyes pop, her name tag reading ‘Steph’. She looked at all of you, but her eyes stopped on Azriel, her smile growing wider at the sight of him.

“Hi everybody, what can I get you all to drink?”

She takes your drinks orders, rubbing Azriel’s shoulder as she walks away. Cassian laughs at Azriel’s grimace, “I think she likes you, Azzy.”

“Shut up, Cass.”

Azriel looked to you as your friends kept talking, and you offered him a smile back. His face was hard to read, but his eyes looked so sad. You cock your head to the side, trying to figure out what the problem was, but he turned his head away.

Dinner goes by in a blur, the food was delicious, the six of you spent the evening joking around, except for Azriel, who spent most of the meal quiet. The waitress came by to check on you all several times, and her blatant efforts at flirting would have been amusing if it wasn’t completely obvious how uncomfortable it made Azriel. Each time she returned to your table, you would watch him tense up as she approached, her hands always finding their way to his shoulders. On her third stop at your table, she began calling him Muffin.

Rhys paid the check, handing over the receipt to Azriel.

“For you, Muffin.”

Azriel takes it, and from next to him you can see the phone number written beneath the total. His hands crumple it, discarding it before you all made it to the parking lot. He opens your door before heading to the other side of the car after you slide into your seat. You immediately pull out your phone, your texts with Azriel lighting up the backseat.

You: hi Muffin

Azriel: I’m so sorry

You: why? Did you do something?

Azriel: for the waitress?

You: did you do something with the waitress?

You: I did go to the bathroom, maybe you slipped out and made out with her?

You can hear Azriel furiously typing on his phone.

Azriel: no no no no

Azriel: I didn’t do that, I wouldn’t do that. I’m sorry she was hitting on me.

Azriel: I didn’t know what to do because I didn’t want to tell her I had a girlfriend

You: you have a girlfriend?

You: and you’ve been making out with me?

You: you dog

You peak over at him and his face is a deep red. You want to laugh but you feel a little bad about your teasing once you see his fingers shaking, having to backspace several times over misspelled words.

Azriel: I think so

Azriel: I didn’t mean to imply anything

You: so, you don’t have a girlfriend?

Azriel: I don’t know

Azriel: maybe?

You: do you want one?

You: a girlfriend, that is

Azriel: god yes

Azriel: but it has to be a specific girl

You: anyone in mind?

Azriel: I have my eye on someone

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Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading ❣️

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Poseidon, Leonidas, Tesla, and Hades with a dainty s/o who knows how to wield any weapon? A sword, claymore, bow, whip, you name it! She can wield it with little, if any issue.

Ah…his beautiful little sword dancer.

Poseidon loves to watch her flit around, hold her two rapier in each hand like ribbon wands, as she dances through an enemy. Slaughtering them with grace & beauty.

Her ability to topple giants with her precision and strategical attacks is something he admires, and he is always enthralled to watch her ‘dance’.

As a Spartan, he would expect any woman of his to be able to fight. So he’s not surprised that she can.

He is a little surprised she’s chosen a long spear. Given her size, a long weapon would be harder to manage; even though she does it with ease.

He wonders if it’s because of his past that she’s chosen it, so they have something in common. Or perhaps it just a happy coincidence. Either way, he’s proud to call his honorary Spartan his.

Tesla isn’t one for brute force of combat (Ragnarok aside) but he does appreciate the complexity of it.

He also appreciates the challenges a smaller fighter would have in combat, and how his s/o overcomes it with ease.

Using a distance weapon like a bow, but also their intellect of poisons & compounds to take an opponent down is miraculous to him. The perfect match of brains & brawn is his lady, and Tesla could not be more proud.

Being a god, he knows that the size & stature of a being is not relative to their actual strength.

Still, it is pretty amusing to see his little wife swing that big board sword, originally made for Titans, around.

She seems pretty happy when she gets to bring it out to play. Maniacally laughing as her great sword mows down fiends left & right. Whatever makes her happy he supposes.

[lenixsocial]

Watcher (and why nothing matters anymore):

So, in case you've been locked away under a proverbial bridge for a few days, Internet personalities Steven Lim, Ryan Bergara, and Shane Madej (known as Watcher) have elected to begin their own streaming service and ditch YouTube.

On the surface, that mightn't even seem like news at all.

After all, this sort of thing seems to happen all the time: The Try Guys left Buzzfeed to create their own company, Rhett and Link took the dive and diversified into paywalled entertainment a few years back with Mythical Society. Both of which however still rely on YouTube itself to generate views on the main channels, which funnel viewers into a FOMO type situation where "you can't miss" a special airing on the app (Mythical Society) or Patreon (Try Guys).

Watcher, in its infinite wisdom (stupidity, carelessness, unparalleled greed - take your pick) has decided that YouTube is pointless, and has moved ALL their content behind a paywall, claiming that the service was amping up to provide "TV quality programming", leaving only old content and the first episodes of the new shows up on their YouTube page as a subtle tease as to what you could get for $6/month.

It's now quite apparent from reading the comments section of their (now infamous) YouTube video, their official subreddit, and the tag on X that the fans were...not thrilled. The fingers began to be pointed within minutes. Name calling soon after. Then this blossomed into dissertations on why this was a horrible idea.

Then we found out that there was no app. Just a website. So you're paying for website access. Not a full blown streaming service to rival Netflix. Oh, and they don't even have their own servers, the videos are hosted by Vimeo. The deeper the comments section dug, the nastier the attacks got. Steven soon became the whipping boy. His past, his interviews, scanned and mercurially dug up for juicy tidbits (although all anyone gleaned from these was he's rich, was born rich, drives a Tesla in LA, likes fancy food, and has friends whom he values who are racist and possibly sexist and will not sever ties with them).

Then came the cries of incongruity. Shane Madej repeatedly said to "Eat the Rich", and here he was schilling for a platform that cost $6 a month. The cries began to pirate all of the new Watcher content because maybe he was under duress and was secretly telling them to do so. Fact is, I don't know if he was or what, but I'm certain he's under contract and wants his job.

Then came the videos from other internet users analyzing the video, and comparing this to the Try Guys situation with Ned a few months back. Both are disasters, each in unique ways with different players, and such like but here's the vast difference: none of this will even matter in a month.

Let me explain: We are in the total free fall stage of Watcher's Internet Streamer Service. What they do in the next 24-48 hours is crucial. If they revert back to their YouTube channel and apologize, they'll be fine. People will probably poke fun at them, but they'll be forgiven, eventually. But if they don't and they keep on, ignoring the fans, dousing the haters, and make it a month, I doubt we will see any resistance outside of a terse article or two.

Why? The collective memory span in this day and age is extremely short, many have likely already made judgment in their head and have passed said judgment. Therefore, they'll avoid the channel, and the streamer and will be blissfully unaware of any changes. Those who have joined up and paid will remain members, and those who have elected to remain subscribed will likely remain so and will watch the free content until they can afford the $6/month.

The thing is like it or hate it, if they decide to do nothing and ignore the public at large, they most likely will be fine. Maybe they will not have the hugest subscriber base, but people will forget about this. Something else major that is more salacious will spring up in the months ahead. Will there be lingering anger? Sure, but like I said before, these people have already passed judgment so they're already gone.

In an era of "nothing fucking matters" when your choices are sometimes entirely out of your direct control and are (at best) two sides of the same coin, it should be of absolutely no surprise to anyone that there is a fairly good possibility even after all that has transpired that nothing bad will happen. Lest we forget that old adage: "there is no such thing as bad PR".

Personally, I feel $6 is a tad much for a non-app based web streamer with little to no content. It was disingenuous to announce its launch internationally where even more people can't afford it, and some can't even view it. Steven wasn't upfront with who was in charge and now it really does seem like he's using the subscriptions to fund his international gallivanting. It's clear nobody wanted TV-show quality Ghost Files to take place in another country, nor did they want an old show revived with votes when you pay the first month's dues. They say it's a case of Watcher "not reading the room".

[jimzittos]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ🍮👚 ํ⟡˖.🍀. ᥫ᭡✴️𓈒ིུ❀

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMY WHIP KAMIKAZE ⤿.͟◟ ᩠͡ (ó THE SUICIDE TESLA

[lunarscaled]

👁

- @samagwi

"———‼️"

-> Their posture grows tense abruptly at the sudden pressure of something nearby, so dense and potent they feel as though their spine wants to buckle beneath it. The hairs on the back of their neck stand up as they turn, and—there. A figure standing at a distance from them in the sands. One they don't quite recognize and yet do, if only on Tesla's warning. A quiet, reserved growling leaves them; it may not even be perceptible at his distance, but they're making it anyways as their blue tail whips back and forth in the sand.

They keep their eyes on him, shoulders bowing low like a dog used to being kicked. Wary.

@samagwi

[wing-ed-thing]

Sidekick (Tesla Lindocruz x Reader)

Synopsis: Just Fracción, you had no power when it came to the rivalry between your masters. You knew that, Tesla... not so much.

Word Count: 0.7k

Tags/Warnings: Fracción!Reader, No Reader Pronouns

Notes: Ugh still fawning over underrated characters

It wasn’t much of a fight. At least it didn’t look like it to you. It didn’t appear like one to your master, either, and yet, Tesla stood on the sidelines, ready to intervene as if he would be allowed to take a singular step onto the battlefield in the first place. 

You thought that the way he stood was funny, all straight with square shoulders and a gloved hand on the hilt of his Zanpakutō. You came up next to him to watch the battle. Your Master Nelliel fended off Nnoitra’s crescent axe with a thumb looped in the loose belt around her waist. You leaned forward, staring at Tesla from the side of your eye to gauge his reaction to the match. He gave nothing away other than the stiffening of his shoulders. You studied his eyepatch and leaned farther forward. Perhaps he didn’t see you.

“Can I help you?” he grumbled.  You let out a slight huff of satisfaction, mirroring his stance mockingly.

“Nnoitra is struggling.”

“Master Nnoitra is doing no such thing!” Tesla whipped toward you, hand now fully gripped around the hilt of his Zanpakutō, ready to draw at any moment. The motion didn’t escape you. Your eyes flickered downward, but a deep sigh ultimately overtook you as you fluttered to the sand below.

Tesla blinked, taken aback as you situated yourself among the white grains. You sat on the side of your thigh, leaning on one of your palms as you drew reishi pictures in the sand. The shapes glowed. Tesla frowned, watching as you smoothed out the particles.

“What are you doing?” he asked curtly. You glanced over to the match to your right, just in time to see Nnoitra go tumbling by the sheer force of Nelliel’s sword. He left a lengthy skidmark as he was enveloped by the white substrate below. You turned back to your little drawings. 

“This is going to take a while,” you sighed absentmindedly. “What are you going to do, Sidekick? It’s not like Nnoitra would let you intervene anyway.” 

Tesla looked at the field as you did. Nnoitra was bleeding from the shoulder, and Nelliel was already walking away. But despite his injuries, Nnoitra had already begun charging with his weapon, splashing sand behind him, only to be struck down again. Tesla studied you a moment more before he sat down with you. 

He sat with his legs crossed, letting his elbows rest on his knees as his back bent with the slightest slouch. His Verruga drew a long line in the sand by Tesla’s hip. You drew four diagonal lines between you and another four across them in the opposite direction.

“Do you know how to play?”

“Yes, I know.”

“First move is yours.” You clasped your hands in your lap, watching the board. Tesla didn’t make a motion to play, studying you intently instead. He scowled, sitting up the slightest bit in alert. 

“Why would you give me the first move?” he asked assusingly. Tesla crossed his arms over his chest, his brow furrowing in annoyance. You shrugged, running over one of the lines that didn’t fully form in the sand. 

“Our masters are the ones with the rivalry, Tesla. I have no ill will against you.” 

Tesla met your eye, watching you closely before he ultimately gave in and played the first move. 

By the time Nnoitra had enough, you and Tesla had made it through at least five games. He had relaxed some, bent ankles spread on either side of your game board with his head on his palm. Nnoitra barked Tesla’s name, causing him to jump.

“Tesla! Get over here; we’re leaving.” 

“Coming, Master Nnoitra!” Tesla scrambled up, smudging a quarter of your game with his boot. He did a trouble-take, almost freezing where he stood as he glanced briefly back to where you sat on the sand. Tesla’s lips parted and then closed. A nearly inaudible strangled sound stalled in his throat as he whipped back toward Nnoitra. 

“We’ll do a tie-breaker next time,” you said, dusting yourself off as you stood. You offered a slight smile and a nod. The corners of Tesla’s mouth threatened to turn upward.

“Tesla!” Nnoitra shouted somewhere in the background in a rage. Tesla jumped, turning on his heel to follow after his master. 

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: The itch to go back to my Szayel series slowly creeping

[mememanufactorum]

Badger’s Best of 2023 sentence starters

* FEEL FREE TO SHARE AS YOU PLEASE, NO CREDIT NEEDED. CHANGE PRONOUNS OR ANYTHING ELSE AS DESIRED

All lines are from this video created by TheRussianBadger.

"I ACTUALLY EARNED ONE, MOTHERFUCKERS!"

"Those noises that were coming out of you were inhuman."

"You ever had a hotdog burger before?"

"You did NOT just come up with that word."

"I need to know if this was a riff or if this was an actual meal."

"I heard the word 'hotdurger' unprovoked."

"Dudes with nut allergies when I hit them in the head with a brick."

"YOU DIDN'T JUJU ON THE FUCKIN' BEAT."

"I don't misinform. I just lie."

"Did you just punch someone for all their coins?"

"I don't know, just blow 'em all up, I don't care."

"I just fucken hate you."

"STOP BLINDING ME, YOU ASSHOLE! I CAN'T SEE, YOU GOBLIN!"

"To the charge of wire fraud, you are pleading 'nuh-uh'?"

"Your honor, shut the fuck up. You wasn't even there."

"This conversation sounds like four raccoons with internet access."

"You wanna know how I got these GAINS?"

"I was driving through upstate New York and I saw a Tesla with the license plate 'I'M HIM'."

"That license plate made me laugh so hard that I walked up to his window and put a 12-gauge slug in his chest."

"You got me fucked up bro, I can't believe you would question if I'm real."

"Here's a picture of my nuts."

"Those are gonna be my dying words to my wife: I just want you to know… PS3 has no games."

"Chimichangas are a CIA psyop."

"If you put me in the cockpit of an apache I will Kevin Gates, put my hand on the dashboard, and start it."

"Boy I love having something with none of the same consistency as anything else in my sandwich in my sandwich."

"Dude I definitely love biting into my sandwich and then leaving with an entire pickle slice in my mouth."

"Own a musket for home defense since that's what the founding fathers intended."

"I have to resort to the cannon mounted at the top of the stairs loaded with grapeshot. Tally ho, lads!"

"Well it's just straight up racism, and it's not even like an occasional racism, it's like, this is full blast firehose racism."

"It's the floodgate of racism! The Big Gulp of racism!"

"This shit will turn your pacemaker off."

"I point blanked that shit with a panzerfaust."

"Me going to Arby's after losing a $50,000 Marvel vs Capcom tournament."

"Me walking to the fridge to get my five day old caesar salad."

"Fresh caesar salad, already not a good start. Five days, dog."

"How does that predator missile work? Oh, you just go NYOOOOOOM."

"This Nyquil beatin' my ass, that is not THAT funny but, like, I can't stop laughing!"

"Y'all just verbally buzzered that man."

"I stole your girl, I stole your whip, I stole your shoes."

"You cannot land a KC-135 in a Kroger parking lot."

"As someone who lives in Tennessee, you can land a KC-135 in a Kroger parking lot."

"That's how I'm going to describe the size of our parking lots to Europeans without internet connections. We can land that in our parking lots."

"I call that my main menu tax."

"Bro, I can't hail a cab in Detroit for shit, bro."

"First bullet, Toyota Tacoma be like 'I ain't hear NOTHING. Y'all hear something?' Second bullet? Legalize nuclear bombs."

"Your voice literally has to wait in line to be heard."

"I'm gonna bomb your trailer park."

"Don't take advice from the dead guys."

"Smoking on that diabolical arch-necromancer pack. Those who don't ball would do well to steer clear."

"Do you know the word 'whermst'?"

"It's like where and for what purpose and why. Location, reason, background context in one word: Whermst."

"Did he just prefire me? Bro, go to jail."

"That's your first option for recourse?"

"Alcatraz, we ain't talking county jail. You're getting in there with the dementors."

"Stop calling the 3D avatar mommy."

"How do they fit this many flares in an airplane? It makes no sense. It's like a clown car but for fireworks."

"I'M SCREAMING ABOUT IT MOTHERFUCKER, STOP!"

"Hey what's up guys? I just bought a 1911 at a Red Lobster parking lot, AMA."

"Just kill me. Just take me to heaven. Just… Take me out of this reality."

"Heaven? BITCH, YOU GOING TO HELL!"

"Hey, fuckin' imagine getting friendly fired by a .50 BMG. Imagine."

"My client pleads oopsie-daisy."

"I'm sorry that your dog is not going to college now."

"Ay you ain't on your grind, son. You ain't on your bag."

"No one's Batman impression is bad."

"You sound like you're in an alley with a trench coat, what the fuck?"

"Oh my God, his Scooby-Doo villain is coming out again."

"Are you repairing our conversation?"

"Why is 'slime' such a funny yet affectionate nickname?"

"Get the fuck out of our shower."

"Why can't we just share the shower?"

"Enemy. Man. 300 meters. North. Fast. Fast. Fast."

"Fun fact: The TSA allows you to bring a live lobster through security."

"I myself have brought 432 lobsters through security."

"THAT'S THE FOURTH TIME YOU'VE SHOT ME!"

"SHUT UP! YOU JUST HAPPEN TO BE WHERE MY BULLETS ARE!"

"All units, be advised: My stummy hurt."

"Homie got the dog in him with that one."

"Pulled pork? Yeah I cranked my hog today too."

"How blessed are we that I can just log on to YouTube and the first video I see is 'Master Chief teaches you how to change the oil on your 2006 Nissan Murano'?"

"That went from 'funny' to 'demonitized'."

"If your state has 90 degree corners, you probably eat corn syrup on your pancakes."

"Why do you always say 'theoretically' and it's not at all theoretical?"

"You have the world's WORST EVERYTHING."

"My boy got the object permanence of a frog."

"That boy cooked the most rare steak."

"I gotta use the bathroom or something, bro. I gotta go to college or something. I can't be with these motherfuckers."

"He went behind the tree and my brain was like 'WHERE'D HE GO?'"

"Somebody buy me a stat reset, PLEASE!"

"You should not be legally allowed to commit crimes if you're listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd."

"I'm on my Super Mario Sunshine shit."

"Are you barking at me?"

"You might wanna be a LITTLE shidded right now."

"I'd trust Gengar with my kid."

"I didn't know he was chill like that."

"No. We are not putting a controller around somebody's neck and twisting it. It's a wireless controller, you can't even do that."

"And 45 is just a caliber."

"Ranch was made by California to keep the Midwest fat because they're scared of our power."

"I refuse to believe that Kranch is real."

"Alignment charts are for the governable. I grow corn in my yard."

"Tell me the name of God you fungal piece of shit."

"I'm pretty sure that was the most sacrilegious shit I've heard in my life."

"I will pass that to the higher ups – parentheses: I do not give a shit."

"This is getting a little too fast for my brain."

"You fuckers are at a pie eating contest and I'm just like, nah son. Free pie."

"I'm about to hit 'em with the Glock-no-jutsu, on God, bro."

"Regretting a free purchase is crazy."

"THEY'RE JUST POLYGONS!"

"I've had people call me things that I wouldn't even dare say to myself."

"Take five 5-Hour Energies and enter the forbidden hour of the day."

"Those responses do not surprise me at all. I definitely expected that kind of language."

"Bro, it's goof-a-clock right now."

"The moon already isn't real."

"You think I can't kill a fuckin' banana?"

"That was a little too much rage for a potassium transportation device. I didn't mean it. You full of electrolytes."

"I'm gonna eat pizza because I like the sauce on the pizza with the cheese on the pizza."

"I could not have killed him any harder."

"Don't make me make you say some out of pocket shit."

"I've been saying out of pocket shit all day."

"By sheer artillery alone, we should have tunneled our way to Atlantis by now."

"Yo, I don't know the Tom & Jerry lore, fuck you!"

"What if you wanted to go to heaven but God said to you, 'WE'RE GONNA TRY THIS WEEK'S CRUMBL COOKIE MENU'?"

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE TINNITUS, WHAT?"

"Is this like punching someone in the dark? Is it like a legal loophole?"

"There's only one of me in all the world. I am one in a krillion."

"If you're a chest sleeper, you're just a fuckin' psychopath, alright?"

[deathmetalunicorn1]

What if God killer kitty talked to Tesla as he question if there anyone that even close to see their void domain, and only one did and it's Buddha but he only got one small glimpse of what the actually looks liked and it is frightening as he sees all the eyes that they consume to be part of it

-You licked your paw free from the whipped cream Nikola had provided for you, payment for answering his questions.

-He was a curious human, even more so than other humans you had met, but you didn’t mind, especially since you got whipped cream!

-Buddha was nearby, as he was answering his own questions, about what it felt like to be enlightened, if there was any physical feeling to be felt.

-Tesla then spoke, turning to you again after writing down his notes, “Has anyone ever been able to see into your void, Y/N?”

-While in cat form, your void was inside you, only able to be seen through your eyes if you allowed it to be seen, as you know the void would drive others mad.

-Buddha flinched lightly as you turned to look up at him and he nodded, “I did, Y/N let me have a glimpse when I got curious. It was… not what I was expecting.”

-Nikola noticed the god looked a bit freaked out, but didn’t push, allowing Buddha to speak, but you spoke first, “The void is everything and nothing all at once, what Buddha saw might be completely different to what you would see, but as a human, I won’t allow it, as you would go mad.”

-Nikola did have to admit he was curious about it, but agreed with your decision.

-Buddha, after stuffing his face with whipped cream, after topping your dish off, spoke, “It was frightening. I could see nothing but darkness, then eyes- just millions of eyes, all staring back.”

-A shiver went up Nikola’s spine, hearing the description of what Buddha saw, “Eyes?”

-You licked at your nose, getting whipped cream on it, “He saw the eyes of those I have absorbed, they became one with the void, forever trapped.”

-Growing just slightly nervous, Nikola asked a bolt question, “Do you just absorb beings into your void at random? Or do you only absorb certain ones?”

-Buddha was nervous as well, which you easily sensed, finding it amusing, but soothed their worries, “I only destroy gods and beings who are corrupt, even, those who kill senselessly. They have no place in life. So don’t worry, I don’t plan on eating either of you.”

-Buddha then asked his own bold question, “Is there anyone from our world you’ve thought about absorbing.”

-You chuckled, your voice low, “A few, gods and humans both, but for the moment, I don’t feel a need to. I’m content how things are.”

-The two men gave you a nod before the questions returned to other things, like what does it feel like to change your form and for the moment, their fear diminished.

[lesbiandanhowell]

just saw a white Tesla and whipped my head around so fast... scared for life fr

[adrian-sheppy]

whip a tesla