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ladybyakuya · 3 months ago

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| ALL I WANTED + GOJO SATORU .

+cw. — female!wife!reader x clan-head!husband!(sub)!gojo satoru, arrange marriage, hurt, angst, canon typical elements, smut, f!masturbation + m!masturbation & orgasm interruption.

+wc. — 2.3k

+syn.— satoru comes home from a bunch of missions only to find his wife in their shared bedroom not wanting him, or waiting for him but busy seeking pleasure that was his share to pour into you.

+notes. — special thanks to @gojoest for hyping me up with this idea. & thanks to @sugurouge for beta reading otherwise this never get posted lol | redirect to blog navigation.

The current head of the clan you belong to, your father stands facing his back to you. He is now the housemaster, not your father. “You’re going to be married,” said he, as his palms remained tightly clasped at his back while he looked out through the window. What you once called home became a distant memory in an instant. “You’re going to be married—” as his face turned towards you, “to Gojo Satoru.” you could figure out why he was looking away. “That monster!” he screams tears streaming down his face as his lips tremble in rage and disbelief; how of all people did the marriage broker who has been his friend for a long time have even agreed with such a decision? The thought of him suggesting the idea to the council does not even cross your father’s mind. How utterly naive! a low grunt followed as your father swatted away his chair knocking it down to the ground before killing every bit of hope you had despite the rumors. “This marriage. . . it is nothing but a hopeless dream. ”

Yes! You knew that already. The housemaids and staff just love to gossip about the doom of their sole source of bread and butter. The moment your father summoned you into his study room and told you the news while staring at the greenery of the garden of this mansion you knew your life was going to turn upside down and it did, just like you expected yet you were still disappointed, frustrated even when you came back to your room.

Satoru Gojo is the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in history ever known since Sukuna Ryomen was sealed. No other name has ever made it to the pages of jujutsu history. He is at the top of the jujutsu society regarding status, power, fame, and money. So, what do you do with the strongest of all? worship them out of devotion? subdue them with offerings lest it might lash out? swearing loyalty out of fear? Those were the thoughts that stemmed at the back of your mind when you first came to know about the fact that you were going to be the wife of the Gojo Satoru from a maid whose life never even crossed the threshold of your home. Her world was limited to the mossy parts of the mansion you resided in. Still, she could tell what kind of marriage you would be walking into.

Nothing shocking happened even on the night of your wedding. It was just as you anticipated. Two different futons were kept side by side. There was no sharing of words, glances, or kakebuton . Just both of your backs faced each other. At dawn, you woke up with your wedding kimono intact, a stainless white futon, and an empty room without Gojo.

The maids here knew better than to talk about it, even behind your back. They were aware of the power and status you held and that made everything a lot worse than you expected it to be. You had access to a lot of things, the family history archives, the financial sources, his previous missions— everything tied to him. Your husband, Gojo Satoru, was the clan head as well as the master of this mansion so there were no elderly people pushing responsibilities onto your shoulders like back at home. There was a sense of serenity in the air but how could you breathe it in for the rest of your life?

Satoru Gojo was the kind of man whom one could easily desire. Despite being his wife and the future mother of his children, trying to love him felt like a cyanide for you. You wanted your husband, not some Satoru Gojo oozing with knowledge and power. You wanted to look him in the eye, not just his back which you barely get a glimpse of at the crack of dawn as he occupies the sad side of the bed under a separate duvet. In earlier stages of this marriage, there was no curtain separating you and your husband’s side of the bed but after a month of utter silence and stealing glances, the first thing he installed was a curtain in the shared canopy bed. If he needed some privacy he could easily ask you to shift into another room but he bothered to talk one of those clan servants to install a fucking curtain as if the silence was not enough of a gulf in between you two.

Sometimes you thought that he was cheating on you but you always pushed it under the rug telling yourself, “You’re the wife of Satoru Gojo. No one can take that from you unless you walk out of this marriage. Not your father. Not that marriage broker —”

— Not even Gojo Satoru himself because he only married you to silence those nosy elders of his clan who pretend to be oh-so-worried for him. You were not foreign to that concept, after all, you are wrapped in the same shroud for all your life.

“You’re the wife of Gojo Satoru . . .No one . . .”

“You’re the wife of Gojo Satoru . . .”

“You’re the wife . . .”

“You’re . . .”

But the thought of getting his dick sucked by some other woman or man, or him putting his dick into someone — it filled you with too much anger to sleep in bed that night. For the first time, you miss home because there you are free to go anywhere even at night.

Satoru came home early that night, which was odd for his schedule, and was greeted with an empty bed after a long while. The sky is yet to be cracked open by sunlight. It is still too dark to be wandering around. Where could his wife have been gone to at this hour? He takes a spoonful of strawberry ice cream from the giant tub he held in his other hand before starting to look for you. But where should he look first? He does not know anything except the fact that he had put veils in different places of his house just to keep this house free of low-energy cursed spirits. Those veils sure did their job well but sometimes they would keep out non-sorcerers, people like you. His heart rejoices at the thought that he has to look for you in places only he is aware of, which means this is going to take a little less time, and he will find you much faster. Come to think of it, he has not been in the library section for a while but it is still as spotless as the first day he came here. Have you been visiting? Man! That sure worries him.

The pink layer of the tub has come down to half along with its skin being wet while the spoon is still experiencing the fierce appetite that Satoru had for anything sweet. He stands at the entrance of a long hallway before checking, thinking that this is the last place he has to look for but could it be possible that you were embarrassed enough to go back to your home?

Ahh…ahhh!

The spoon hits the wooden floor with a dull clatter as a wretched realization comes crashing down through his veins. Have you been cheating on him all this time? In his house? With some lowly servant ? Well, that sure makes it easier to end this sham of a marriage. He opens the door of a certain archive room as swiftly as possible trying to minimize the sound of his presence, making sure he does not shock you awake from your rendezvous. He is determined to catch you red-handed but when he opens the door he witnesses something that could have knocked the lights off his brain if he were not one of the greatest sorcerers of his time. The sight was not something of a fair appetite for ordinary people yet you sat by the marble slab of the giant window, with one of your arms nuked under your sapphire jinbei in between your legs as your skin glowed under that pale moonlight as if diamonds and pearls were embedded on your skin.

You were sweating, arching your body, moaning and all your husband could do was watch in awe. Your free hand travels from the bottom of your cleavage and up to the apex of your nape as you turn your head opening your eyes for a brief moment. You see the world so blurred that it spikes your approaching high, but as you open your eyes for the second time your high is gone like it never existed. Your husband, Gojo Satoru stood before you like an ivory statue of certain abandoned ruined cathedrals. The dress covers most of your body so a wave of relief washes over him despite realizing how dangerous the spot you chose . . .to . . .umh. . . pleasure yourself .

How long? How long was he watching you ? You shift your body to face him, and your hand slowly emerges from the warmth between your thighs. Satoru tries to ignore but traces of your arousal and his yearning are flourishing like fluorescence on your fingers as it rests on your thigh. You watch him gulp. Suddenly, Gojo Satoru is out of words. Teacher to his students of Jujutsu High, the strongest sorcerer, Nanami’s certified yapper is suddenly out of words. The slight slice of your boobs visible through your robe does not help either in the coherency of his thoughts. He had plans. He had plans to walk out of this marriage without being tainted as a “cheater” because the jujutsu society is so fucked up that they will not stop until they found this particular person that had made this marriage impossible to work on so that you, the wife, had to walk out it and dear God, they certainly are not fond of obstructions.

“What a nice place you chose to—” he finally looks away to keep the tub of semi-molten room-temperature strawberry ice cream on some bookshelf but before he could shift back his gaze on you again you were gone like a storm. The sound of your footsteps echoed in his ear till it stopped before he heard the click of a door. He does not understand if you are just too dumb or too brave to act the way you are acting right now. He follows you as a grunt of dismissal escapes from his chest. As he stands in front of the bathroom door he drowns yet again in utmost disbelief. He can still hear your shrill gasp of pleasure and he is not liking how his cock is responsive to it. At first, he hesitates to touch himself but the faint sound of your moans, the wet squelching sounds of your fingers moving in and out of your damp folds despite the door of the bathroom being locked buzzes in his ears like bees out in the hunt of honey.

Satoru gave up . You hear a thud as you continue to finger yourself knowing full well that your husband must have followed you all the way here after witnessing you in such a state. Indeed, you could have been accused of cheating on him without him checking the door and it would have been much worse. He sits against the bathroom door unfurling the black ribbon with a swish to take his cock out of his baggy white pants. The tip is already leaking. His cock is throbbing in his palm as he encapsulates his fingers around it, moving his fingers up and down slowly. On the other side of the door, as you could finally feel the pinnacle of your high you heard a soft groan; a pain, that seemed familiar, was palpable underneath that shrill cry of pleasure. Still when your fingers touched the part inside you that almost felt like unknotting something from inside you, at the basal of your navel Satoru’s hand moved faster to chase the similar high that had started to bubble in his body under the influence of your ripples of pleasure. You heard your husband moan as tears rolled down your cheeks when you closed your eyes feeling the knot finally unwinding.

Perhaps, both of you came simultaneously. Perhaps not, because you immediately opened the door after you had calmed from your high, only to be greeted with Satoru sitting right at the opposite wall of the bathroom door, legs folded in L-manner so that he could keep his hand over his knee. His cock is still visible through his white pants and it is still so hard. One of your eyebrows raises in silent reply . Satoru notices that. He looks at you and then looks away. You extend your hand towards his face, gaining his stern azure pair of eyes shining against whatever dim light the crack of the bathroom door could allow. There was no sign of resistance in him so as your palm touched his cheeks, you waited and gave him time to protest. yet none ever followed, instead, he surrendered to your touch, and your fingers curled under his chin as you ran your thumb over his lips. Satoru coiled against your touch imbibing as much as he could like a tide being high enough to touch the moon . . .a familiar voice shocked both of you awake.

“Lady Gojo. . .”

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mostlysignssomeportents · 29 days ago

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Shifting $677m from the banks to the people, every year, forever

I'll be in TUCSON, AZ from November 8-10: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

"Switching costs" are one of the great underappreciated evils in our world: the more it costs you to change from one product or service to another, the worse the vendor, provider, or service you're using today can treat you without risking your business.

Businesses set out to keep switching costs as high as possible. Literally. Mark Zuckerberg's capos send him memos chortling about how Facebook's new photos feature will punish anyone who leaves for a rival service with the loss of all their family photos – meaning Zuck can torment those users for profit and they'll still stick around so long as the abuse is less bad than the loss of all their cherished memories:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

It's often hard to quantify switching costs. We can tell when they're high, say, if your landlord ties your internet service to your lease (splitting the profits with a shitty ISP that overcharges and underdelivers), the switching cost of getting a new internet provider is the cost of moving house. We can tell when they're low, too: you can switch from one podcatcher program to another just by exporting your list of subscriptions from the old one and importing it into the new one:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/16/keep-it-really-simple-stupid/#read-receipts-are-you-kidding-me-seriously-fuck-that-noise

But sometimes, economists can get a rough idea of the dollar value of high switching costs. For example, a group of economists working for the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau calculated that the hassle of changing banks is costing Americans at least $677m per year (see page 526):

https://files.consumerfinance.gov/f/documents/cfpb_personal-financial-data-rights-final-rule_2024-10.pdf

The CFPB economists used a very conservative methodology, so the number is likely higher, but let's stick with that figure for now. The switching costs of changing banks – determining which bank has the best deal for you, then transfering over your account histories, cards, payees, and automated bill payments – are costing everyday Americans more than half a billion dollars, every year.

Now, the CFPB wasn't gathering this data just to make you mad. They wanted to do something about all this money – to find a way to lower switching costs, and, in so doing, transfer all that money from bank shareholders and executives to the American public.

And that's just what they did. A newly finalized Personal Financial Data Rights rule will allow you to authorize third parties – other banks, comparison shopping sites, brokers, anyone who offers you a better deal, or help you find one – to request your account data from your bank. Your bank will be required to provide that data.

I loved this rule when they first proposed it:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/10/getting-things-done/#deliverism

And I like the final rule even better. They've really nailed this one, even down to the fine-grained details where interop wonks like me get very deep into the weeds. For example, a thorny problem with interop rules like this one is "who gets to decide how the interoperability works?" Where will the data-formats come from? How will we know they're fit for purpose?

This is a super-hard problem. If we put the monopolies whose power we're trying to undermine in charge of this, they can easily cheat by delivering data in uselessly obfuscated formats. For example, when I used California's privacy law to force Mailchimp to provide list of all the mailing lists I've been signed up for without my permission, they sent me thousands of folders containing more than 5,900 spreadsheets listing their internal serial numbers for the lists I'm on, with no way to find out what these lists are called or how to get off of them:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/22/degoogled/#kafka-as-a-service

So if we're not going to let the companies decide on data formats, who should be in charge of this? One possibility is to require the use of a standard, but again, which standard? We can ask a standards body to make a new standard, which they're often very good at, but not when the stakes are high like this. Standards bodies are very weak institutions that large companies are very good at capturing:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/30/weak-institutions/

Here's how the CFPB solved this: they listed out the characteristics of a good standards body, listed out the data types that the standard would have to encompass, and then told banks that so long as they used a standard from a good standards body that covered all the data-types, they'd be in the clear.

Once the rule is in effect, you'll be able to go to a comparison shopping site and authorize it to go to your bank for your transaction history, and then tell you which bank – out of all the banks in America – will pay you the most for your deposits and charge you the least for your debts. Then, after you open a new account, you can authorize the new bank to go back to your old bank and get all your data: payees, scheduled payments, payment history, all of it. Switching banks will be as easy as switching mobile phone carriers – just a few clicks and a few minutes' work to get your old number working on a phone with a new provider.

This will save Americans at least $677 million, every year. Which is to say, it will cost the banks at least $670 million every year.

Naturally, America's largest banks are suing to block the rule:

https://www.americanbanker.com/news/cfpbs-open-banking-rule-faces-suit-from-bank-policy-institute

Of course, the banks claim that they're only suing to protect you, and the $677m annual transfer from their investors to the public has nothing to do with it. The banks claim to be worried about bank-fraud, which is a real thing that we should be worried about. They say that an interoperability rule could make it easier for scammers to get at your data and even transfer your account to a sleazy fly-by-night operation without your consent. This is also true!

It is obviously true that a bad interop rule would be bad. But it doesn't follow that every interop rule is bad, or that it's impossible to make a good one. The CFPB has made a very good one.

For starters, you can't just authorize anyone to get your data. Eligible third parties have to meet stringent criteria and vetting. These third parties are only allowed to ask for the narrowest slice of your data needed to perform the task you've set for them. They aren't allowed to use that data for anything else, and as soon as they've finished, they must delete your data. You can also revoke their access to your data at any time, for any reason, with one click – none of this "call a customer service rep and wait on hold" nonsense.

What's more, if your bank has any doubts about a request for your data, they are empowered to (temporarily) refuse to provide it, until they confirm with you that everything is on the up-and-up.

I wrote about the lawsuit this week for @[email protected]'s Deeplinks blog:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/10/no-matter-what-bank-says-its-your-money-your-data-and-your-choice

In that article, I point out the tedious, obvious ruses of securitywashing and privacywashing, where a company insists that its most abusive, exploitative, invasive conduct can't be challenged because that would expose their customers to security and privacy risks. This is such bullshit.

It's bullshit when printer companies say they can't let you use third party ink – for your own good:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2024/01/hp-ceo-blocking-third-party-ink-from-printers-fights-viruses/

It's bullshit when car companies say they can't let you use third party mechanics – for your own good:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/03/rip-david-graeber/#rolling-surveillance-platforms

It's bullshit when Apple says they can't let you use third party app stores – for your own good:

https://www.eff.org/document/letter-bruce-schneier-senate-judiciary-regarding-app-store-security

It's bullshit when Facebook says you can't independently monitor the paid disinformation in your feed – for your own good:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/05/comprehensive-sex-ed/#quis-custodiet-ipsos-zuck

And it's bullshit when the banks say you can't change to a bank that charges you less, and pays you more – for your own good.

CFPB boss Rohit Chopra is part of a cohort of Biden enforcers who've hit upon a devastatingly effective tactic for fighting corporate power: they read the law and found out what they're allowed to do, and then did it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/23/getting-stuff-done/#praxis

The CFPB was created in 2010 with the passage of the Consumer Financial Protection Act, which specifically empowers the CFPB to make this kind of data-sharing rule. Back when the CFPA was in Congress, the banks howled about this rule, whining that they were being forced to share their data with their competitors.

But your account data isn't your bank's data. It's your data. And the CFPB is gonna let you have it, and they're gonna save you and your fellow Americans at least $677m/year – forever.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/01/bankshot/#personal-financial-data-rights

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probablyasocialecologist · 1 year ago

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"But Weber’s argument was carefully grounded in history. Price controls, she argued, had been an essential element of the U.S. mobilization strategy during the Second World War. And there were several striking similarities between the economy of the nineteen-forties and that of the present day, including very high consumer demand for goods, record corporate profits, and production bottlenecks in important areas. Back then, the Office of Price Administration simply prohibited companies from raising prices above certain levels. Violators could be sued, or worse. In 1944, Montgomery Ward, the department-store chain, refused to accept the terms of a collective-bargaining agreement—a cap on the price of labor—brokered by the government. President Roosevelt ordered the National Guard to seize the business and remove Sewell Avery, its chairman, from its headquarters." (source)

#can you imagine #neoliberalism #price controls

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phoward89 · 7 months ago

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Based on this ask

Obsessed!Coriolanus Snow x Innocent!Reader, Obsessed!Crassus Snow x Innocent!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Cussing, obsession, older man/younger woman, father & son both want the same girl, reader is just too sweet for this world and has no idea that the men in the Snow family are toxic...

Masterlist

Part 1:

You've known Coriolanus Snow and his family ever since you were a little girl. When the war started, you were about 5, and Crassus, Coriolanus' father, helped you, your mother, and your brother get smuggled into the Capitol as a favor to your father, a Colonel who served under him in District 12 while he was a General; the Commander.

Sadly your father, Colonel Javanis Halvir, didn't survive the war. Tragically, Coriolanus' mother died during the first bombing strike on Capitol City. She died in the birthing bed, weeks before she was due, because the bombing had triggered off her labor. Coriolanus' little sister died too. Was stillborn.

But since your families knew one another and lived in the same building they huddled together during the war. Your mother wasn't too thrilled about having to receive help from Grandma’am Snow and a seedy neighbor that owned a nightclub, but she dealt with it in order to survive and protect her children: you and your older brother.

General Crassus Snow barely made it out of the war alive. He was nearly killed in the woods outside of 12. But, alas, he survived and returned home to Capitol City, Panem a war hero. He also came back with a heavily lined pocket although District 13 was destroyed and that's where all of his assets, factories, and science labs were located.

Your mother told you and your brother that Crassus was a cold, cunning, calculating man and that she's positive that he somehow brokered a deal to get paid for the loss of his assets.

What nobody knows, except for the higher powers that be of course, is that Crassus still has his factories and labs in District 13. They're nuclear weapons factories and, since 13 went underground as an independent nation via a hush hush backroom midnight deal between the leader of 13 and Panem's President Ravenstill, a deal that went into effect before the Districts surrender and the signing of the Treaty of Treason. Crassus is a black market arms dealer. He sells his nucs to neighboring countries. Countries that include Canada (yes, they never changed their name after the wars and natural disasters that drastically changed the geography of the world) and a small coalition of old world Eastern European countries that survived the rising sea levels that had eradicated some island countries and shoreline countries of old world Europe.

Crassus Snow takes a lot of out of town business trips to broker illegal arms deals between the underground District 13 and the countries that he's constructed alliances with. General Crassus Snow had no loyalties to Panem any more; his only loyalties were to himself and his family. He also had a sliver of a sense of honor when it came to his old comrade’s family and felt the need to watch over your family: the Halvir family.

But after being shot by rebels, left for dead in the woods, and barely being able to survive long enough to trek back to the PK Base D-12’s hospital, General Crassus Snow truly lost faith in the country that he was supposed to serve proudly. But did he ever truly have faith in Panem as a country since he was in the woods, sneaking like a thief in the night, to get to District 13 to check his assets and his alliances there?

Snow lands on top; Crassus was playing both sides of the war to ensure that his family came out winners. And then when his contacts in District 13 told him of the deal between the President and the Commander of 13, well…General Snow's career as an arms dealer was born.

It paid well and kept the Snow family living high off the hog. Crassus also supported your family with his endless money, much to your mother's dismay.

Your mother couldn't stand Crassus, out on a polite face for Grandma'am Snow, felt sorry for Tigris, and cringed with how you and Coriolanus were the best of friends.

And you remained best friends with Coriolanus Snow as the two of you grew up side by side. You always viewed the friendship as platonic, but a teenaged Coriolanus viewed it as more. He developed a crush on you that quickly turned into a dark, possessive obsession.

But Coriolanus was certain that what he felt for you was love.

And when it came to his father, who he was the spitting image of with the same tall, sinewy build, platinum blonde curls, striking icy blue eyes, chiseled jawline, and prominent nose, well…Crassus Snow had an obsession with you as well. But his obsession was rooted in a darker place than his son's.

The esteemed war here General Crassus Snow has a sick obsession with you because you favor your mother. And, well, when Crassus was a young grunt in 12, serving in the Peacekeepers under his father Xanthos who was the Commander of 12 at that time, he fell for your mother, but she didn't reciprocate his feelings. Instead she fell in love with his friend, Javanis Halvir. Thus the reason you and your older brother were born to Colonel Halvir and Mrs. Halvir.

Feeling jilted and betrayed by the object of his affection and obsession not loving him back, Crassus became a cold, cruel, cold, calculating, and cunning man. He put on his charming smile and wooed a young, pretty, naive girl from Capitol City. Demeter: Coriolanus’ mother.

But he never got over your mother, despite her hating him as the years went on. So you looking just like her once you hit your teenage years has Crassus falling down the rabbit hole into dark obsessive head spaces.

So, unknown to you, your platonic relationships with the men in the Snow family are anything, but that in their eyes. And they don't even know that the other has an obsession with you.

You know what they say…like father, like son.

It's mid-May of your senior year at the Academy and you're so ready for the school year to end. You can't wait for graduation and for summer break. You also can't wait for the opportunity to spend your summer break hanging out with your best friend, Coryo.

Coriolanus Snow.

But you call him Coryo. Always have, always will.

But in the meantime you spend your weekends at the Snow penthouse; you also go home with him after school a couple of days during the week- much to your mother's dismay.

And this afternoon’s one of those days where you go home with Coryo after school.

“You're staying for dinner tonight, darling. The cook’s making your absolute favorite and I'd hate for you to miss out on it.” Coryo told you on the elevator ride up to the 12th floor of your Corso building.

The elevator had been broken for a few years, but after General Snow slapped some money at the apartment building association maintenance fixed the elevator and Grandma'am Snow was able to leave the penthouse and go out into the world with the help of a can instead of being kept locked up inside like a recluse.

“I hope you didn't ask the cook to make my favorite meal just to get me to stay for dinner.”

“Of course not. They plan the menu, not me.” Coryo tells you, a lopsided lipped smile on his face.

What neither of you knew was that Coryo's father, Crassus, and told (more so demanded) that the cook make your favorite meal. He knew that you'd be easier to sway to eat dinner with him and his family if the smell of your favorite dish was wafting in the air as you hung out with his son in his room.

And that was something Crassus was going to be putting a stop to. He can't have you spending so much time alone in Coriolanus' bedroom. What if the two of you start to become curious about- things…

Ugh, Crassus can't imagine you with his son. He thinks Coriolanus is a sassy, whinny, bratty, weakling of an heir. Too bad he couldn't toughen that boy up; too bad he's too much like his mother. Has too much good in him, can be easily pushed and pulled by a pretty face and the promise of love.

Crassus would prefer it if Coriolanus was more like him. More cold, more cunning, more calculated, and didn't wear his feelings on his damn sleeves.

Anyways…

The elevator stops and the doors ding open, revealing the hallway of the 12th floor. A floor that was solely inhabited by the mighty Snow family. They had the upper level penthouse that took the entire floor. It was quite impressive. You love it, but your mother hates it.

And talk about your mother…

“I know you want me to stay for dinner, Coryo, but I really shouldn't. My mother's been getting on me lately about how much time I spend up here with you.” You tell the boy with the light golden curls as the two of you exit the elevator.

“Your mother needs to take a chill pill. You're my girl, darling. It's completely normal to be spending all of your free time up here.” Coryo tells you while leading you over to the front door of his penthouse, palm of his hand resting lazily on the small of your back.

“I know, Coryo, but my mother hates that we're besties and she wants me to meet new people.”

“Meet new people?” Coryo scoffed, brows furrowed in disdain, as he opened the door to his place. “There's nobody new in Capitol City our age to meet, darling. Not unless you go to the mission in the slums by the rail station and start introducing yourself to those District immigrants that conned their way into our grand Capitol.” The cerulean eyes boy told you while ushering you into his penthouse and down the entrance hallway.

Coriolanus was personally offended by your mother. How dare she tell you to meet new people? You belong to him. You're his girl.

HIS GIRL!

HIS!

Coriolanus was good at schooling his features, considering he's been doing it his entire life to keep from letting his father know how bad his harsh and hateful words affected him, so you didn't catch onto how upset he was with your mother. No, you thought he was fine. As cool as a cucumber as he led you past the kitchen, where the cook was starting on dinner, and into the main room of the penthouse to acknowledge Grandma’am, who's always sitting in her favorite chair watching her soaps on CapitolTV during this time of the late afternoon.

“Oh, Coriolanus, you're home and I see you brought Y/N over to visit with you.” Grandma'am Snow, who was dressed to the nines in her jeweled turbin, silk tunic, extravagant jeweled brooch, and long strand of pearls. She was the epitome of Old Guard aristocratic lady of fineries and class.

“Yes, Grandma'am I'm home and my darling’s staying for dinner tonight.” Coriolanus smiles at his grandmother.

Coryo silently nudges you forward to give Grandma'am a hug while greeting her. It's something you've done you years and he doesn't want you to stop doing it either since his Grandma’am adores you.

If only Grandma'am could persuade his father that you're a good match for him. The old lady gets it, why can't his father get it? You and Coriolanus belong together; make quite the pair.

But if the platinum haired boy with a halo of curls on his head only knew that he wasn't the only one obsessed and lusting after you- well…

“Good afternoon, Grandma'am. It's so good to see you.” You smile sweetly, hugging the regal old woman that you've come to love and think of as your own grandmother over the years.

“It's also so good to see you too, my dear.” Grandma'am replies, patting your back as she reciprocates the hug. “Has our Coriolanus asked you to the prom yet?” She inquired, as a way to push you and her grandson together, your hug broke apart.

“Not officially, but we have an understanding that we'll be going together since we go to all of the galas, balls, and dances together.” You tell Grandma’am while returning to Coryo's side.

Coryo’s fiddling with the strap of his satchel, that's currently across his chest, as he awaits Grandma'am’s reply. Or, a lecture aimed at him to properly ask you. A lecture she's been giving him daily since the beginning of the month.

And sure as shit, Coriolanus gets his prom lecture.

Grandma'am looks at her grandson, who's his father's spitting image, and firmly tell him, “Coriolanus, properly ask her. You're a Snow and as a Snow doesn't assume things, but makes them happen.” Cutting her eyes at her only grandchild, she orders in a grandmotherly way, “Now, properly as her as your prom date before somebody else tries to snatch her up from you.”

You felt a bit awkward. Grandma'am’s lecture was something you felt she should've given Coryo in private, not while you're by his side. It wasn't meant for your ears, or at least you don't think it was.

Coriolanus’ lips draw taunt into a tight line as he tells his grandmother, “Yes, Grandma'am.” He half nods at her before turning to you. Giving you a smile that shows too many teeth, like a wolf baring its fangs before its prey, he takes your hands in his and asks, “Y/N, my darling rose, will you do me the honor of going to prom with me?”

It felt more like a marriage proposal than a promposal. Aren't promposals supposed to be fun and exciting with songs, dances, and glittery handmade poster boards? Not so serious. Right?

Right?

You're already going to prom with Coryo, but since you've been out on the spot with a promposal you have to formally accept. All thanks to Grandma'am.

“Of course I'll go to prom with you, Coryo.” You answered your best friend, causing his icy eyes to sparkle with joy.

It all felt so surreal. A bit heavy too. Honestly, it felt like you were agreeing to give your best friend your hand in marriage right in front of his regal grandmother then agreeing to go to prom.

Unknown to you, you accepting Coryo's proposal was, in fact, you agreeing to a future marriage to him in the delusional minds of both Coriolanus and Grandma’am.

Mhm…

You just signed your freedom away by saying yes to prom and you don't even know it, all because you view your relationship as platonic. Too bad the platinum blonde boy with baby blue eyes and his sophisticated grandma view the relationship as something more.

Coryo's father, Crassus, also views your relationship with his son as platonic. But that's for an entirely different reason; one that would make you gasp from shock if you knew.

After making Grandma’am Snow the happiest lady alive in Capitol City by accepting Coryo's proposal, you went to his bedroom to do homework with him. And when your class assignments were done, you two just laid on his bed while listening to music.

It was a new album that Coryo had to get the neighbor, Pluribus Bell, to smuggle to him because Crassus refused to give his son the money for the album. In fact the former General turned Minister of National Security, and black market arms dealer, hates the music you and his son listens to. Crassus is more of a classical music and soft jazz type, so he hates the poetic lyrics and the vibe of the beats of the alternative indie and pop you and Coryo enjoy so much.

The album was on its second playback while you cuddled into Coryo's side. His large, but lanky frame always made you feel so safe. So protected. And, your best friend's lanky, he does have solid muscles under his skin.

Having you tucked into his side while lying on his bed listening to the new album that an artist the both of you loves just dropped is like being in heaven for Coriolanus. Growing up the platinum blonde boy with a head full of soft curls and striking baby blue eyes always had you by his side. You're his one constant. No matter what, you're always there for him.

It's what makes Coryo crave you like Dean Casca Highbottom craves his morphling fix every 15 minutes. You always being there for him, being by his side for better or worse during your childhood friendship, is what caused him to grow obsessively in love with you.

But the problem is, in his delusional mind, Coriolanus thinks that you're in love with him too. All because of how you're always letting him cuddle you, hug you, and touch you. Letting him call you darling while you often call him ‘my Coryo' while talking about him to others also has him thinking that your feelings for him mirrors the ones he has for you.

You and Coryo are talking about small things, silly things really, whenever the bedroom door opens with a loud band followed by the deep bellowing of Crassus Snow. “Why're you two alone in here listening to this trash?”

“She's not a trashy singer, father. She's one of the best.” Coriolanus retorted, causing his imposing and stern father to fill his icy eyes at him. “Y/N and I were doing homework and decided to listen to some music afterwards.” Your best friend added in, to answer his father's stupid question about why you're in his room.

“General Snow, if me being alone in Coryo's room with him gets him in trouble with you then I'm sorry; I'll just go.” You apologized to the Snow patriarch while making to pull away from Coryo and sit up.

But your best friend wouldn't let you leave his side. No. Actually, his hold around you tightened.

And that made Crassus pissed. His sniveling brat of a son didn't deserve you. You deserved a real man to care for you; to guide you on your journey of womanhood.

Crassus felt that he's the Snow for you. The only man that can mold you into the perfect Capitolite lady you're meant to be. And when he successfully gets rid of old President Ravenstill and wins the next presidential election, well, he plans on making you his wife and his First Lady.

Whether you like it or not.

With a devious smirk painting his lips, the middle-aged man with slicked back platinum blonde hair and cold, hard, bitter icy eyes tells you, “Please, call me Crassus. After all, petal, with as much time as you spend here you're practically a part of the family.”

General Snow's remark went right over your head. You just nodded and simply said, “Okay.”

You honestly didn't think anything of it. If General Snow wanted you to call him Crassus because of all the time you spent around his son, Coriolanus, then so be it.

But Coryo knew that his father had just become, as fucked up as it sounds, his romantic rival for you. As soon as he heard him call you petal he knew, oh he just knew, that his father's lusting after you.

Coriolanus is his father's son after all. Despite being told time and time again by Crassus that he's too much like his mother, too soft and eager for affection- for love. But what Crassus didn't grasp was that Coriolanus didn't just have his father's looks, but his dark tendencies for obsession and over ‘loving’ his intended lover.

And the son just knew that his father was head over heels obsessed with you because, in fact, he was too. Coriolanus saw the way his father looked at you, as if you're a piece of meat ready to be carved and served, and it disgusts him. You belong to the younger Snow, not the older one.

Giving Crassus a cutting look with his icy eyes, Coriolanus announced in a smug baritone, “Father, my darling rose is going to prom with me as my date.” And then he twisted the knife in his father's black, soulless heart by adding in the three simple but damning words of, “As my girl.”

Crassus’ face turned to stone. Of course, you'd agree to go to prom with Coriolanus. The former general's seething with jealousy. He wants you, why does his son get to take you to prom? Ugh, why can't you just go to prom with a group of girls? Go stag, like single girls do. But no…

NO!

You just have to go to prom with Coriolanus. And as his girl too!

Crassus' blood is boiling in his veins. Hearing Coriolanus reveal that he’s made you his girl and is taking you to prom makes him want to tear his son apart limb by limb.

Well, he needs to nip that in the bud.

Perhaps he'll talk to his old, estranged friend Dean Casca Highbottom about being a chaperone at the prom. That way he can keep an eye on you, socialize with you, and keep you from spending the night dancing with his son.

Dancing at prom can lead to other things in hotel rooms after prom. Things that Crassus certainly doesn't want you doing with Coriolanus.

Although Crassus is having an internal meltdown, his appearance stays stern and calm. “I'll make sure your mother has enough money to take you dress shopping.” The middle-aged platinum blonde man assured you.

Cocking his head to the side, Crassus flashes you a savvy smile before looking at his son and giving him a look that rivaled that of Medusa herself. “This door stays open while you two are in here. Only one of you can be on the bed and the other must be at the desk.” Crassus instructed in a stern, authoritarian baritone. “And turn off this music. It's giving me a headache.” He adds in an ordering snap before pivoting on his heel and matching off.

Shaking his head, Coriolanus darkly chuckled, “My father's so pathetic. Having a crush on you.”

“He doesn't have a crush on me, Coryo.” You’re quick to tell your beat friend, writing off his remark as you break your contact with him by sitting up. “He's your father and he's old enough to be mine.” You remind Coryo while making to get off the bed.

Coryo stops you by reaching out and wrapping his hand around your arm. “Just stay on the bed with me. Father’ll never know.” He tells you as you look at him, worrying your lip. But after a few moments, you slowly nod your head and take up your spot nestled into his side once again. “And trust me, from the way he was looking at you, my father likes you.”

“I don't think he does, but if you say so…” You sigh, letting your sentence hang in the air.

But Coryo's right, his father does like you. He likes you a little too much. Just like how his son, your best friend, likes you a little too much.

The million dollar ticket is who’ll snag you up and make you theirs? That's a question only the ancient gods of old know and they're not sharing the answer until the time's right. But until then, father and son will be competing for your heart. A heart that you can only give to one Snow.

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speaknow-sw · 1 month ago

Text

𝒦𝐼𝒩𝒦𝒯𝒪𝐵𝐸𝑅 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦

17/10/2024, Prompt : Incest, Daddy Kink, Orgasm Denial, Breeding kink, Threesome with Clayton Beresford & William Beeman

A/N : mdni, incest, daddy kink, slight orgasm denial, slight breeding kink, threesome.

Third fic yay ! This one is hella long and scrumptious as fuck. Don’t search the logic. Anyway enjoyy !

𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝓁𝒶𝒹𝓎 : 𝒶 𝑔𝓊𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒷𝓎 𝐵𝑒𝑒𝓂𝒶𝓃 & 𝐵𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒻𝑜𝓇𝒹

You step out of the sleek black car, feeling the crisp autumn air brush against your skin as you glance up at the towering glass skyscraper. Clayton Beresford, your fiancé, stands beside you, his presence calm yet commanding. With his sharp suit tailored to perfection and his eyes glinting with confidence, he’s every bit the billionaire CEO the world knows him to be. But to you, he's just Clay—the man who makes your heart race with every smile.

As you both make your way through the lobby, the gleaming marble floors echoing beneath your heels, you can't help but feel a sense of nostalgia. It’s been years since you last visited your father’s office. William Beeman, the legendary stock-broker and CEO, is known for his financial empire, but to you, he’s always been "Daddy," even with all the business aura surrounding him.

Clayton places a reassuring hand at the small of your back as the elevator doors slide open. "Ready?" he asks, his deep voice smooth and steady, a stark contrast to the nervous flutter in your chest.

You nod, offering him a small smile. "As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s see if my dad still as intimidating as I remember."

The elevator ride is swift, the numbers flashing by until it reaches the top floor, where the empire your father built waits. As the doors part, you're greeted by the familiar scent of polished wood and leather. William Beeman's office is a blend of power and legacy, the walls lined with shelves of finance books and framed photographs of world leaders he’s shaken hands with.

Your father looks up from his desk, his expression unreadable at first. Then, a slow smile spreads across his face as he stands to greet you both. “Ah, finally. The future Mr. and Mrs. Beresford.” His voice carries the same authority that’s made him a titan in the industry, but there’s a softness reserved just for you.

You step forward, your pulse quickening as you prepare to introduce Clay to the man who’s shaped your life in more ways than you can count. « Hi, daddy » you smiled brightly, hugging him.

Will's arms wrap around you in a tight embrace, pulling you close against his firm chest. You can feel the warmth of his body seeping through his crisp dress shirt, and smell the faint hint of his cologne - a spicy, masculine scent that always reminds you of home.

"My baby girl," he murmurs into your hair, his large hand stroking the length of your back. "I've missed you. How have you been, sweetheart?"

He pulls back slightly to look at you, his intense blue eyes searching your face. There's a hint of concern etched in the lines around them, and you know it's because of the accident that left you hospitalized.

"You’ll always be a little Beeman…" he whispered affectionately. "Are you feeling better? I hope that Clay here has been taking good care of you." His gaze shifts to your fiancé, a hint of challenge in his expression. "Because if he hasn't, well... let's just say I won't hesitate to teach him a thing or two about how a real man treats a lady."

His tone is light, almost teasing, but there's an underlying current of protectiveness that sends a shiver down your spine. Even after all these years, your daddy's love can be both comforting and intimidating.

Clay steps forward, his presence filling the space between you and your father. He extends his hand to Will, his grip firm and confident.

"Mr. Beeman, it's an honor to finally meet you. I'm Clayton Beresford, your daughter's fiancé. And yes, sir, I've been taking excellent care of her. She's my priority, always."

His gaze locks with Will's, a silent challenge passing between them. Clay's not one to back down easily, and it's clear he's not about to let anyone, not even his future father-in-law, push him around.

"I've heard so much about you, sir. Your reputation precedes you. I look forward to learning from your wisdom and experience." There's a hint of respect in Clay's voice, but also a subtle assertion of his own status and accomplishments.

You smiled but stayed in your father’s arms « He’s so sweet daddy… like you » You wiggled your hips.

Will's eyes darken as he feels you wiggle in his arms, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He tightens his hold on you, one hand sliding lower to rest on your hip.

"Is that so, baby girl?" he purrs, his voice low and husky. "Well, I'm glad to hear Clay is treating you right. But remember, no matter how sweet he is, he'll never be able to love you the way I do."

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "And don't think I haven't noticed the way you're pressing yourself against me, little minx. Your daddy knows exactly what you need."

Will's hand on your hip squeezes gently, a silent reminder of the connection between you. Even in front of your fiancé, he's not afraid to show his possessive side.

He pulls back slightly, his gaze shifting to Clay. "I hope you know what you're getting into, son. My little girl is precious, and I expect you to treat her like a princess. Because if you don't..." He trails off, leaving the threat hanging in the air.

Clay's jaw clenches slightly at Will's words, a flicker of irritation crossing his features before he schools his expression into a neutral mask. He takes a step closer to you both, his presence a stark reminder of his own strength and authority.

"Mr. Beeman," he says, his voice calm but firm, "I assure you, I have every intention of treating your daughter like the treasure she is. My love for her is unwavering, and I would never dream of hurting her."

He reaches out, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he turns your face towards him. "She's my world, and I'll spend every day of our lives proving that to her... and to you, sir."

There's a challenge in Clay's eyes as he looks at Will, a silent message that says he's not about to be intimidated. He may respect your father, but he's not afraid to stand his ground when it comes to you.

You pouted and brushed your fingers slightly against your dad crotch.

Will's eyes widen slightly at your bold actions, surprise and excitement dancing in their depths. He doesn't stop you, instead, he shifts his hips slightly, allowing you better access to his crotch. His voice is low and husky as he speaks.

"Baby girl, what's gotten into you today? Trying to stir things up, huh?" He chuckles softly, the sound deep and resonant. "Let's see how long Clay can keep his cool while you're playing with Daddy."

Will's hand rests on your thigh, his touch light but possessive. He turns his attention to Clay, a knowing smirk on his face.

"I see you're quite the gentleman, Clay. But I wonder, how long will that last when my little minx starts getting frisky?"

His gaze is challenging, daring Clay to rise to the occasion. Will's not backing down, and it's clear he's enjoying the tension that's building in the room.

Clay's eyes narrow slightly as he watches you play with Will's crotch. A muscle twitches in his jaw, betraying his annoyance, but his voice remains steady when he speaks.

"Darling, perhaps we should keep things civil," he says, his tone gentle but firm. "Your father and I have just met, and I'm sure he wouldn't want us to be too... forward in his office."

He turns to Will, his expression unyielding. "Mr. Beeman, I understand your desire to protect your daughter, but I assure you, my intentions are pure. I only want what's best for your daughter, and that includes maintaining a respectful relationship with her family."

Despite his words, Clay's hand tightens slightly around yours, a silent reminder of his claim on you. He's not about to let your father provocations go unchallenged, but he's also not going to stoop to the same level.

"Now, why don't we focus on getting to know each other better, without any unnecessary distractions?" He suggests, his gaze never leaving your dad’s one.

The sight of you spread out before them, your legs parted invitingly, is enough to break the last of their resistance. With a low growl, your dad descends upon you, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss.

At the same time, Clay positions himself between your legs, his fingers trailing teasingly along your inner thighs. He leans in, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin as he whispers, "You're so beautiful, baby. We're going to make you feel so good."

Will's hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and dip with a hunger that sets your skin ablaze. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate flesh as he goes.

Clay, meanwhile, is focused on bringing you pleasure. He parts your folds with his fingers, his touch gentle but insistent as he explores your most intimate places. He groans at the wetness he finds there, a testament to your desire.

Will continues his assault on your senses, his lips blazing a trail of fire down your body until he reaches your breasts. He takes one hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue as his hand massages the other.

The dual sensations of your dad’s mouth on your breasts and Clay's fingers between your legs are almost too much to bear. You arch your back, pushing yourself further into their touch, desperate for more.

Clay, sensing your need, begins to thrust his fingers inside you, his pace steady and deep. He curls his fingers just right, hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

Will, not wanting to be left out, moves lower, his tongue replacing Clay's fingers as he laps at your dripping core. He moans against you, the vibrations adding to your pleasure.

Together, they work in tandem, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. The sounds of your combined moans and the wet, obscene noises of Will's mouth on you fill the room, creating a symphony of lust.

Your moans and the way your body writhes beneath their touch spur Will and Clay on, driving them to new heights of passion. They continue their relentless assault on your senses, determined to bring you to the peak of pleasure.

Will, his face glistening with your juices, looks up at you with a wicked grin. He increases the pressure of his tongue, alternating between long, slow licks and rapid flicks against your sensitive clit. His eyes never leave yours, watching the ecstasy play out across your face.

Your fiancé, his fingers still buried deep inside you, leans down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth. He tugs gently, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. His free hand comes up to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck, which he proceeds to lavish with kisses and bites.

The combined sensations are overwhelming, and you can feel your body beginning to tense as your orgasm approaches. Will senses it too, and he doubles his efforts, his tongue working furiously against your most sensitive spot.

Your fiancé presses a third finger inside you, stretching and filling you in a way that feels so incredibly good. He matches the rhythm of his fingers with the movement of his mouth on your nipple, creating a delicious friction that sends shockwaves through your body.

As you teeter on the brink of ecstasy, they both seem to sense the impending explosion. They redouble their efforts, their touches becoming more urgent and demanding. Will's tongue circles your clit, while Clay's fingers piston in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot inside with unerring accuracy.

With a final cry, you come undone, your body convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure washes over you. Will and Clay continue their ministrations, prolonging your orgasm and drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

Clay's breath hitches as you turn around and take him into your mouth, your skilled tongue swirling around the head of his cock. He tangles his fingers in your hair, guiding you deeper onto his shaft. "Oh, fuck, doll. Your mouth feels incredible," he groans, his hips rocking forward to meet your movements.

Will, not wanting to be left out, moves behind you, his hands gripping your hips as he positions himself at your entrance. He rubs the tip of his cock against your slick folds, coating himself in your juices. "You're so wet, baby girl. I can't wait to feel you wrapped around me."

With a single, powerful thrust, Will sheaths himself inside you, stretching and filling you in a way that makes you moan around Clay's cock. The dual sensations of being filled from both ends are overwhelming, and you can't help but push back against Will, wanting more.

Clay, meanwhile, is lost in the sensation of your warm, wet mouth. He fights the urge to thrust into your throat, instead allowing you to set the pace. His grip on your hair tightens as he guides you, encouraging you to take him deeper. "That's it, baby. Take all of me."

Your dad, sensing your desire, grins wickedly. "Oh, baby girl, you want Daddy and Clay to breed this sweet little pussy of yours? To pump you full of our seed and make sure everyone knows who you belong to ? I was waiting for a grandchild but who knows ? It could be your sibling ?" He grinned menacingly.

Clay, nodding in agreement, leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. "We'll fill you up so good, doll. Pump you full of our cum until it's dripping down your thighs. Everyone will know that you're ours… but I’ll be the one to knock you up."

As you continue to bob up and down on Clay's shaft, Will establishes a steady rhythm, his hips slapping against yours with each powerful thrust. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, mixing with the moans and grunts of the three of you as you lose yourselves in the throes of passion.

Will leans over your back, his chest pressed against your shoulders as he reaches around to play with your clit. His fingers circle the sensitive nub, adding to the intense pleasure coursing through your body. "You like that, don't you, sweetheart? Having both of us inside you, filling you up?"

Clay, feeling your walls tighten around your dad’s cock, recognizes the signs of your impending orgasm. He pulls your head back, forcing you to release his cock, and captures your lips in a searing kiss. "Let go, baby. Come for us," *he commands, his voice rough with lust.

Suddenly you felt yourself being pulled off Clay’s cock and bounced furiously on Daddy’s one.

As Will pulls you off Clay's cock and bounces you furiously on his own, you can't help but let out a loud moan. The sudden change in position and the relentless pace of Will's thrusts send shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge.

Clay, not wanting to be left out, moves in front of you, his cock bobbing mere inches from your face. He wraps his hand around the base, guiding it towards your mouth. "Open up, baby. Let me feel those pretty lips again."

You eagerly comply, taking your fiancé’s cock into your mouth once more. The taste of him mixed with your own juices is intoxicating, and you find yourself craving more. You suck and lick, your tongue swirling around the shaft as you bob your head up and down.

Will, feeling your walls tightening around him, knows that you're close. He leans over your back, his teeth sinking into the flesh of your shoulder as he continues to pound into you, chasing your orgasm. "That's it, baby girl. Come for Daddy. Let me feel you come undone."

The combined sensations of Will's cock hitting that perfect spot inside you and Clay's thick shaft filling your mouth are too much to bear. With a muffled cry, you reach your peak, your body shaking and convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure washes over you.

As you come down from your high, Will and Clay continue to move, their own releases approaching. Will's thrusts become more erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chases his own orgasm. "Fuck, baby girl, I'm going to come. Are you ready for Daddy's load?"

Clay, feeling your throat constrict around his cock, grabs your hair and holds you in place as he thrusts into your mouth. His body tenses, and with a low groan, he releases himself inside you, his hot seed spilling down your throat.

A few moments later, Will reaches his own climax, his hips stuttering as he empties himself deep inside you.

As they switch places, you feel a momentary emptiness before Clay is sliding into you from behind, his cock replacing Will's. He groans at the feeling of your tight heat enveloping him, and he starts to move, his thrusts deep and powerful.

Meanwhile, your father moves in front of you, his cock, still hard and ready, brushing against your cheek. He cups your face, guiding you to take him into your mouth once more. "That's it, baby girl. Suck Daddy's cock while that little fucker fills you up."

You eagerly comply, your lips wrapping around Will's shaft as Clay pounds into you from behind. The new position allows you to take Will deeper, and you relax your throat, letting him slide all the way in.

Clay, his hands gripping your hips, sets a brutal pace, his thrusts rocking your entire body. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing with your muffled moans around Will's cock and the grunts and groans of the two men.

Will, his eyes locked on yours, watches as you take him deep, reveling in the sight of you so thoroughly debauched. He rocks his hips, fucking your face with shallow thrusts, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each movement. "Fuck, baby, your mouth feels so good. You're such a good girl for Daddy."

You chocked on his gigantic cock, tears running down. « Daddy… » you moaned around his shaft.

The sight of you choking on his cock, tears streaming down your face as you moan around him, only serves to drive Will wild. He grips your hair tightly, holding you in place as he continues to fuck your face. "That's right, baby girl. Take Daddy's cock. You look so beautiful like this, all choked up and desperate for my attention."

Clay, noticing the tears, slows his pace slightly, his thrusts becoming more deliberate and controlled. He leans over your back, pressing his chest against yours as he whispers in your ear, "You okay, baby? Do you need a break?"

Despite the tears and the choking, you shake your head, your eyes locked on Will's. The love and devotion you feel for him, along with the intense pleasure coursing through your body, keeps you going. You want to please him, to show him how much you adore him.

Will, sensing your determination, nods approvingly. "Good girl. You're doing so well. Daddy's proud of you."

He continues to thrust into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each movement. The combination of pain and pleasure is overwhelming, and you can feel another orgasm building within you.

Clay, feeling your walls tightening around him, picks up the pace once more, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. He reaches around to play with your clit, his fingers rubbing in quick, firm circles, pushing you closer to the edge. "Come again, baby. It’ll be good."

The dual sensations of Will's cock in your mouth and Clay's fingers on your clit are too much to resist. With a muffled cry around Will's shaft, you come undone, your body shaking and convulsing as another powerful orgasm rips through you.

As you ride out the aftershocks of your second climax, stars in the eyes, Will and Clay continue to move, their own releases approaching. Will's thrusts become more erratic, his grip on your hair tightening as he chases his own orgasm.

As your body trembles with the intensity of the pleasure, Will and Clay sense your impending orgasm. They want to prolong your ecstasy, to keep you on the edge for as long as possible. In a show of dominance, they tighten their grip on you, preventing you from reaching that final peak.

Your father pulls out of your mouth, his cock glistening with your saliva. He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth and tangling with yours. At the same time, Clay slows his thrusts, his hips undulating in a slow, sensual rhythm that teases rather than satisfies.

You whimper into the kiss, your body begging for release, but Will and Clay remain relentless. They continue their ministrations, keeping you in a state of constant arousal without allowing you to climax.

Breaking the kiss, Will looks down at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Not yet, baby girl. Daddy wants to feel you come undone when he's deep inside you. Can you hold on for me a little longer?"

Clay, echoing his sentiments, whispers in your ear, "We want to feel you shatter, sweetheart. Give us just a little more time, and then you can let go."

They resume their movements, Will's cock sliding back into your mouth while Clay picks up the pace once more, his thrusts growing more forceful and deliberate. The dual stimulation is almost unbearable, and you can feel your orgasm building again, even stronger than before.

As you struggle to maintain control, Will and Clay continue to push you higher, their hands roaming your body, pinching and squeezing your sensitive flesh. They're determined to drive you to the brink, to make you beg for release before they finally grant it to you.

« Daddy please….Clay… I n-need to….please please… » you begged, crying shakily. Your desperate pleas and the sight of your tears are enough to sway Will and Clay. They've pushed you to the limit, and they can see the desperation in your eyes. It's clear that you need release, and they're not determined to give it to you.

Will pulls out of your mouth, his cock slick with your saliva. He cups your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb. "Shh, baby girl. Daddy's here. We're not going to let you come now, I promise."

Clay, his thrusts becoming more erratic, nods in agreement. "That's it, doll. Don’t you dare let go. If you come there’s going to have a punishment, baby." He slapped you butt cheek earning a cry.

You sobbed, trembling « Please…please…I’m a good girl….i can have it…please… »

Will slides back into your mouth, his cock gliding effortlessly past your lips. At the same time, Clay's thrusts become more forceful, each one driving deep into your core and hitting that perfect spot inside you. "That's it, baby girl," Will encourages, his voice strained with his own impending orgasm. "Take Daddy's cock again. Let go and come for us."

Clay, his fingers digging into your hips, picks up the pace even more, his thrusts becoming almost violent in their intensity. "Come on, doll. Let it happen. Show us what a good girl you are."

The combined sensations of your father’s cock in your mouth and your fiancé’s thrusts pounding into you finally push you over the edge. With a muffled cry around Will's shaft, you come undone, your body convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure washes over you.

The feeling of your walls clamping down around him is too much for Clay, and with a guttural groan, he releases himself inside you, his hot seed filling your depths. Will, feeling your throat constrict around him, follows suit, his own release pulsing down your throat. He pulled away and tapped his fat cock against your cheek, laughing.

As the three of you ride out the aftershocks of your shared climax, they collapse on top of you, their bodies covering yours in a warm embrace. They pepper your face and neck with soft kisses, praising you for being such a good girl and taking everything they had to offer. « This is how a real man treat a lady, Beresford. » your Dad patted his back.

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multifandomfix · 2 months ago

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Imagine Anthony coming home from a business trip to find that you’re expecting.

Anthony’s hand lingered on the door handle, a rare smile tugging at his lips. He had been gone far too long. Business had kept him away, but thoughts of you had kept him grounded. Every letter you sent, every word you wrote, he cherished them more than any deal he could broker.

As he stepped inside, the familiar scent of home wrapped around him like a warm embrace. He found you in the sitting room, curled up by the window with a book, a soft glow in your eyes when you saw him. But something else caught his attention, the slight roundness of your belly, something new, something that made his heart nearly stop.

"My love?" Anthony crossed the room in long strides, dropping his bags without a second thought. His hand hovered over your stomach, eyes searching yours for confirmation.

You smiled, your hand resting gently over his. "Yes, Anthony. We're expecting."

For a moment, he said nothing, his breath catching in his throat as the reality sank in. His child. Another member of his large and loving family was on the way.

Then, with a sudden burst of joy, he swept you into his arms, careful not to squeeze you too tightly. He held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, because to him, you were.

"Why didn’t you tell me sooner? In one of your letters,” he asked, though his voice held only awe rather than any reproach.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you whispered, your fingers brushing his cheek.

Anthony kissed you, soft but fervent, then sat you back on the chair from whence he picked you up and he dropped to his knees, pressing his lips to your belly. “Hello in there,” he murmured, his voice full of wonder. “I can’t wait to meet you.”

In the days that followed, Anthony became a man on a mission, pampering you in ways you had never imagined. Each day, new gifts would arrive, the softest silks, rare teas, fresh flowers to brighten your room. He wouldn’t allow you to lift a finger, insisting that you rest while he handled everything.

“When you’re carrying my heir, you shouldn’t have to worry about a thing,” he’d say, though the tender look in his eyes suggested it was more than duty driving his actions. It was love, an overwhelming love for you and the life you were creating together.

He’d come home with all sorts of trinkets, paintings for the nursery, books on parenthood, even a small rocking chair he’d found at a market. And every night, as you lay in bed, his hand would rest protectively on your stomach, whispering promises to both you and your child.

“I’ll always take care of you,” he vowed. “Both of you.”

For @bigbluegiants

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @trexsuit, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure, @og-kxsh-420

Anthony Bridgerton: @retvenkos, @ladyrooster39, @riveranddoctorsong123, @theamazingworldofcarol, @esposamultifandom, @elorasfandomsandocs, @littlsstuff, @freyathehuntress, @m-rae23, @floresferae, @glossyseraphim, @edit-me-prettyplease, @hayleythecannibal, @foxherder, @astrogrande, @mayfieldss, @404-its-alr

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #request #send requests #requests open

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strangebiology · 1 year ago

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youtube

John Oliver just did an episode on body donation, which was very well-reported as usual.

It cites some older news including this amazing series on body brokers by Reuters. Some thoughts on anonymity being an issue:

It is shocking that there is no regulation on what it means to donate your body to "science," although, I'm not sure exactly who can say what that definition is or should be. Also, plenty of people would be happy to have their bodies used in a museum, but you CAN'T, because body donations are shuffled around and anonymized. We wouldn't have any issue with consent if we let people who WANT to be on display be on display.

When I read The Red Market, an amazing book about the trade in human body parts, it really highlighted the issues with mandated anonymity. WHY does a deceased heart, kidney, or blood donor need to be anonymous? That policy has led to horrific abuse of donors all over the world (egregious examples are given in China and India), living and dead, and the recipients have no idea because of that mandate. Mandated anonymity is a shield against regulation, public understanding, and accountability.

I wonder if people believe in anonymizing things because they think that makes the death not real. I've noticed people selling all sorts of human and animal remains with no description as to where they came from, and no one asks, and no one complains. I understand; sometimes some information is lost to time, or a business owner maybe can't take the time to verify the exact origins of things. Fine.

But take for example all these human fetuses for sale on Facebook. I'm not here to argue about that, although it's odd, and I understand both sides of the controversy regarding selling them. When I saw those posts, no one bats an eye.

Then when someone offered to sell her own aborted fetus (context: this person went in for an abortion but was told the fetus was dead anyway) people freaked out. In the same group where they're buying the fetuses of strangers. So...it's only ok to sell body parts when the person whose body it came from did not consent? That's our standard?

The same goes for animal body parts. "Hey, buy these dead rats!" Fine and dandy. "Buy these dead rats! Here is some context about their lives and/or deaths--" Disgusting! How dare you! Those were living things!

Death is disgusting and horrifying and I'm NOT saying that everyone has to think about it all the time or look at dead bodies or even understand it. What I am saying is that when we complain about transparency and enact policies that make it impossible to actually understand who these body parts are coming from, or to track them, that breeds an industry where abuse of consent is hard to avoid.

Lastly, the end of the Last Week Tonight show showed what happens when you let donors be known. It's beautiful.

#human remains law #human remains #dead people #death #human skeletons #Youtube

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justiceforvillains · 4 months ago

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Lee Minho had made a name for himself as the best hitman in the business. But only a few people knew that he was also an information broker, willing to do anything asked of him for the right price. And now his target was finding information on a rival company of his client.

The only way to get it was through the CEO's only child, Y/N, whom everyone knew worked for her father and talked a lot. People also knew that she knew all the company's secrets, as she had worked closely with her father.

With your reputation as a sheltered and spoiled rich brat, kidnapping was out of the question. You were daddy's precious girl, so you had security and bodyguards surrounding you at all times. He thought about blackmailing you, finding something you didn't want your father to know to make you tell him everything.

However, he soon found out that there was no dirt on you. You seemed like the perfect daddy's girl – all innocent and unaware of the dark world.

So, he decided to take a different approach. From what he found out from spying on you, you were lonely, always complaining to your friends that you wished to have a boyfriend.

And surprisingly, it was like butter melting on toast. You fell for his sweet talk and gentle voice, and you found yourself getting caught up in his charm. You were so sheltered that you didn't suspect a thing – not when he started asking about your work, not when he asked about your father, and not when he asked about the upcoming projects your company was working on. You told him about everything excitedly, with sparkling trusting doe eyes.

Rambunctious about this being the first project you're planning completely alone, as finally your father trusts you enough to be in charge of things.

Minho got everything he needed – and in more detail than he thought he would. And as he stood over your sleeping form, gun pressed to your head, gaze cold and devoted form any expression, You weren't the cold-hearted brat they thought you were. He remembered the times you cried when you saw a stray cat limping and insisted on taking it to a vet; or when you helped a maid's son in need and made sure she wouldn't find out who donated money for his surgery.

His face softened. Remembering your first kiss – how cute you looked blushing with a soft smile – telling him it was your first, that HE was your first...

This wasn't right; he always killed people who deserved it – people who wouldn't think twice about stepping on someone else to reach their own greedy goals.

As he gazed down at you, he couldn't help but get into bed with you; you always had trouble sleeping soundly and asked him to cuddle with you until you fell asleep.

He saw the way you moved in your sleep, wrapping your arms around his middle and rubbing your face against his chest – a habit he would always tease you for calling you "his kitten."

A soft sigh escaped his lips, and a gentle smile spread across his face.

He lowered the gun, letting out a sigh of exhaustion. Yeah... maybe he was wrong about you. Maybe you were more than just a brat born with a golden spoon.

As he looked down at you, feeling a pang of guilt. You were more than just a target; you were his woman now.

as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, moving your hair behind your ears to look at your pretty face better

Minho realized that his mission had just taken an unexpected turn.

And for once in his life he knew he could never complete this mission

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

✦ Masterlist ✦

#lee know #lee know fluff #stray kids imagines #mafia stray kids #stray kids #stray kids minho #stray kids lee minho #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #lee minho fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #skz imagines #lee know soft thoughts #lee know soft hours #Cute innocent reader

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forexregulationinquiry · 1 year ago

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Best Forex Broker in World Regulated Legal 2024

Discover the best Forex brokers in the world for 2024 with forex regulation inquiry, certified forex brokers and legal trading platforms. Navigate the dynamic financial markets with confidence, backed by these reputable brokers that prioritize security, transparency, and cutting-edge technology. Elevate your trading experience with the most trusted names in the industry.

#stock broker #forex broker #forex market news #forex market #online forex market #forexregulationinqury #forex trading #online forex trading #stock market #business #best forex broker in the world

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dark-romance-yan · 4 months ago

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Make Me Forget

Yandere Jiyan-First Time meeting since you broke up.

A/N; This is just a one-shot of Jiyan from Wuthering Waves as a yandere. I'm in a writing mood so plz send requests if you'd like. Info about requests n stuff are on the pinned post in my profile.

Warnings; It's basically just pure smut about half way into it, p in v intercourse, slight choking(?), dirty talk, coercion, afab reader, UNEDITED

Wordcount; 6,800+

You and Jiyan broke up about two years ago, well, you broke up with him. He wasn't willing to let you go, fought endlessly to convince you to stay with him, promised you that he would change his possessive and overly protective nature. But he never did, he couldn't, not with how dangerous the world is. You had to stay home where it was safe, stay within the city of Jinzhou, not to step a foot outside the walls. He'd always make the excuse that it's far too dangerous for you to leave despite your arguments of how you can take care of yourself. You just wanted to explore but he wouldn't let you. And it's not like he could go out with you very often due to how busy he is with his duties as General of the Midnight Rangers. So you made the decision to end the relationship with him, moved out of your shared home while he was out on a mission and left a sincere letter for him on his desk.

During the first couple of months, Jiyan pleaded for you to come back home to him, to be his again, but you refused. He'd write love letters to you whenever he had a moment to spare but you never wrote back, never gave him the time of day anymore. So he let you go, or at least that's what you thought when the letters stopped. Within the past two years, Jiyan had been keeping tabs on you, gaining information from a certain information broker he's acquainted with. Anyone you dated mysteriously disappeared or passed away.

At present, you're sitting on fallen log outside the city walls of Jinzhou gazing at nothing in particular as you try to cope with the deep pain of losing your boyfriend due to a tacet discord attack a week ago. You don't even know how it could have happened, the guards had cleared the area he was exploring but a tacet discord happened to appear out of thin air and killed him. It had to be a coincidence this was the third time this happened to someone you were dating, right?

For the past two years you've felt nothing but pain and loss, only having brief moments of happiness but it's all snatched away when someone close to you vanishes from your life suddenly. Is this karma for something you did in your past?

Before you could continue with your thoughts, there is a deep and low growl behind you. Slowly turning to look behind you, there is a wolf tacet discord behind you, growling as it charges to attack you. You close your eyes and raise your arms to brace yourself for the impact but it never comes. Instead you're greeted with a familiar voice that you haven't heard in so long. "Are you alright?" You peak out from behind your arms to see Jiyan rubbing his shoulder and the fading tacet discord behind him. Sighing, you drop your arms back to your sides, trying to not act amused to see him meanwhile inside your heart flutters in a way it hasn't in a long time. "Yeah, I'm fine." You mutter, tearing your gaze away from him. Truthfully, you're not fine. You were terrified that you were about to meet the same fate as your previous partners, and Jiyan seemed to notice your fear as your body trembles and your shaking hands clench into fists.

He reaches out his hand and gently places it on your shoulder, trying to comfort you while acting friendly as he sits beside you on the log. He is about to speak but you beat him to it in an effort to act strong, making him shut his mouth. "What are you doing here?" You ask in a harsher tone than you intended, but you couldn't control it with all the emotional turmoil you're in. Jiyan stares at you for a moment with a raised brow, surprised by the harsh and stand offish treatment with him. He should be the one treating you like that after you left him with no explanation and broke his heart. But he gave you grace, knowing exactly why you're upset, he's the cause of it after all. He clears his throat, moving his hand off your shoulder and you felt colder. "Well I was on my way to the city to rest for a of couple days before I leave for another mission until I heard the TD and someone in danger. I didn't realize it was you I was saving at first." He spoke, only telling mostly the truth, knowing fully well it was you. He could spot you from miles away, even sense your presence. "What are you doing here? I can see that something is haunting you, darl-...I mean, Y/n." He cleared his throat as he corrected himself to using your real name instead of the one he used during your relationship. Deep down you ached to hear him call you that again. "It's nothing...well, it's not nothing. It's just.." You struggle to find the words, fighting with yourself on whether to confide in him. But you didn't have anyone else to help you through your pain, the aching pain that never seemed to end.

You let out a shaky breath as you cross your arms over your chest as if hugging yourself. Then you feel the familiar warmth of his hand on your shoulder, his thumb gently caressing your skin. "I know I'm not the best person to open up to, being that I'm your ex and we didn't end on the best of terms but, Y/n, I'm always here for you and I want you to be happy. You can tell me anything." He reassures, you peer up at him for a few moments, your eyes searching his for any sign of deceit but even if there is one you wouldn't care at this point. Your eyes fill with tears that threaten to spill at any moment with just being given the chance to vent your feelings, quickly turning your gaze to stare down at your lap. Sniffling, you finally speak in a croaky voice, "My...My boyfriend died last week. I just can't believe he's gone." His heart aches as he hears the pain in your voice, all over a death of a boy who isn't even worthy of breathing the same air as you.

But he can't help but feel victorious, you're finally opening up to him, finally talking to him again. His plan that he's put so delicately together is finally unfolding and working in his favor. "Oh, Y/n..." He coos in a soothing tone as his thumb strokes your shoulder, a subtle gesture to comfort with a dark intent to assert himself back into your life. "That's tragic, how heartbreaking. I am so sorry for your loss." He adds as if he's not the one who indirectly caused your pain, waiting for a moment to gauge your reaction, only seeing you nod as you lean into his touch on your shoulder. He takes a chance to move closer, his leg subtly brushing against yours in an attempt to re-establish that intimate connection with you. "But just know, you have me to turn to. I'll always be here for you." Hearing the words you longed to hear from someone to help you cope from your pain, you struggle with your emotions.

Feeling overwhelmed by the mixture of emotions that have been building up within you, you turn and nuzzle your face into his chest as you finally let your tears slid down your cheeks, sobbing quietly. He wraps his arms around you gently, holding you close as he strokes your hair. He hopes you don't hear his heart racing against his chest, all of his own pain of the past two years melting away as he holds you in his arms again. His hand caress your back soothingly as he speaks in a soft, reassuring tone. "Shh, it's okay Y/n. I'm here for you." He wants to make it clear to you that he is the only stable person in your life, the only one who can comfort you, hold you, love you. He's finally re-establishing an emotional connection to you. "Let it out, darling. I've missed this so much." He holds you tightly, his grip comforting but firm as you sob into his chest. He hates to see you so upset but the relief of feeling you in his arms again over riding any of the heart wrenching emotions.

After a few long moments pass and your sobs come to a stop, he pulls back slightly to gaze into your eyes, his own glistening with longing and concern. He lightly brushes a strand of hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear. "I've changed, Y/n. I'm not the same guy who hurt you in the past. I want to prove that to you. Please, Y/n, let me take care of you now." He speaks with sincerity, but carry an underlying obsession, struggling to hide his obsession for you. You sniffle as you gaze up at him, his hands moving to gently cup you cheeks while his thumbs wipe away any remaining tears. "Jiyan..." You start in a weak voice, your heart aching for his love but it just didn't feel right. "I'm not ready for a relationship again, not after what just happened." You watch his reaction carefully, but he just gazes at you with loving, understanding eyes as he nods slowly. "Of course, Y/n. I don't expect anything from you, just consider my presence as a gesture of support." His hand finds yours, squeezing it gently as a sign of reassurance while his underlying intention is to reestablish their intimate connection. He has an insatiable desire to win you back, he's just waiting for the right moment as he's reentering your life under the guise of support.

He stands, offering his hand to help you stand up which you accept. "We should get back to the city before it gets dark, I'll take you back home. But only if you want me to." He speaks in a gentle tone, meanwhile there's a hidden meaning that implies you're his to take care of and protect. You give him a small sad smile, nodding as you place your hand in his and stand. "Sure, I don't really want to be here anymore." You reply as you let him lead the way back to the city. The walk back to the city is quiet, yet comfortable.

Once you enter the city again, the streetlights shine above the two of you as stars fill the night sky, reminding Jiyan of the many strolls you two shared when you were together. His hand brushes against yours, taking the opportunity to hold your hand in his gently, his thumb caressing over your knuckles. You can't stop the small smile that tugs at your lips, reminiscing their sweet and tender moments they've shared. "I've missed this. Just the two of us, together like this." Jiyan breaks the silence, his head tilting to look down at her with a loving smile. You almost smiled back as you gazed up at him, but hesitate as you remind yourself of the aching pain in your heart after losing your partner. "Jiyan.." You sigh his name, as if scolding him as you turn your gaze away from him, looking anywhere but him. "Please don't say things like that. Not now." You mutter as a mixture of emotions swirl through her chest while you pull your hand away from his.

He looks at you with a wounded expression, his hand hanging in the air for a moment before retreating back. "You're right, I apologize. I forgot myself for a moment there." He speaks with a contrite tone, a frustration starting to brew deep within him as you're still wasting your emotions on that pathetic boy. "It's just...being close to you again feels so natural. Like it hasn't even been two years, no time has passed." He downplays his obsession to gain your trust and love again. The two of you approach your front door to your home, Jiyan stays a couple steps behind you to give you space. You unlock your door but hesitate to step inside of your dark, quiet and lonely home. You turn to look at him with a small smile as you nod towards your open door, your mouth moving before you could even process what you were saying. "Do you want to come inside? I...I don't really want to be alone right now." He is ecstatic. You need him right now and even voiced it to him. He's finally breaking down your defenses by providing you with comfort and support.

"Of course, I'd never leave you alone again if that's what you wished." His tone is gentle and concerned, yet also carries an unspoken implication that he's the only one who can truly understand and support you. He watches your movements intently as you step inside and begin removing your jacket. He can't help but notice how your blouse clings to your curves, the fabric seeming to glow in the dim light of the entryway. His eyes linger on the swell of your breasts and the slender line of your waist, his throat constricting with desire. He shifts his gaze to admire your home, not wanting to be caught ogling you, but his cheeks are flushed. "Can I help with anything?" He's is concerned, but there's an undercurrent of hunger beneath the words. He wants nothing more than to worship your beautiful body, to remind you of all the pleasure he can provide. He imagines peeling that blouse off you slowly, revealing the familiar body underneath, too caught up in his own imagination to notice you disappear into the kitchen.

Finally, he notices you again when you hold up a wine bottle as you pear out from the corner of the kitchen. "You can help me finish this bottle of wine." You speak up with a dull cheerful tone, coming off as more awkward and shy. His eyes light up as you offer him the wine, a smile spreading across his face. He takes the bottle from you, his fingers lightly brushing against yours as he does. The subtle contact sends a jolt of electricity through you. "I'd love to join you in a glass... or two." His tone is playful, but underneath lies a hunger to be closer to you, to recapture the intimacy you once shared. He pours two glasses, handing one to you as he leans against the counter across from you. His thigh accidentally brushes against yours as he does, and he makes no move to pull away, savoring the contact. "So tell me, how have you been? Really been? I know it's been tough losing... him." He says the name carefully, not wanting to upset you, but also subtly asserting that he's the one who truly understands your pain.

You take a sip of your wine, a sharp pain in you heart as he mentions your recently deceased boyfriend. You exhale, staring down at the red liquid in your glass. "Honestly, I don't know how I feel. Sometimes, it hurts to even breathe, and other times, I...I just don't feel anything." You answer, your voice cracking. You stay silent for a moment before tilting your head back slightly as you drink the rest of the wine in your glass, attempting to drown the pain. "But I don't really want to talk about that right now...Um, how have you been? How's work?" You ask as you fill your glass again with more wine, momentarily glancing at him with a half smile. Feeling a wave a heat, you pull your hair out of it's ponytail. He watches as you let your hair down, the sudden movement releasing a cascade of hair that frame your face perfectly. His heart races at the sight, remembering all the times he used to run his fingers through your hair, the way the soft strands would fall against your skin. He feels an intense urge to do the same now, to recapture that intimacy, that control over your beauty. "Work has been...steady. Nothing exciting to report." He replies, barely paying attention to his own life at the moment. His focus is entirely on you, on rekindling the connection you two once had. "But enough about me. You look lovely with your hair down, Y/n." He says sincerely, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. He notices the way the wine has slightly flushed your cheeks, making your skin glow, and he imagines all the other intoxicating ways he could make you lose yourself in pleasure. "Perhaps I can help you forget about your pain, just for a little while. If you'll let me." His voice is a low, husky purr, filled with longing and a subtle undercurrent of possessiveness.

You stare at him with an intense gaze, your eyes trailing over his fit figure with a growing desire from his suggestion. But you snap yourself out of your daze, forcing yourself to look away as you shake your head. "Jiyan, we both know where that will lead..." You mumble, even though you wanted to forget your pain, to lose yourself in him like you did all those years ago, but it didn't feel right. "I'm not really ready for that right now." You add, staring down at the wine as you take another sip. He feels a sting from your rejection, but quickly pushes it aside. He's not going to let a little thing like resistance stand in his way. "Darling..." He says softly, gently taking your chin in his hand. His thumb strokes your jawline, a feather-light caress meant to comfort, yet also subtly assert his dominance. "You don't have to make any decisions now. Just let me hold you. Let me take care of you." His tone is a soothing balm, promising safety and intimacy, but also carrying an underlying current of insistence. He wants to hold you, to have his body pressed against yours, to feel your warmth and scent and know that you're his again. "I know it's been tough...but you don't have to face it alone. I'm here for you." He says the words you've been aching to hear from someone for so long. You confuse comfort with desire, your eyes staring up to his with uncertainty. "I don't know..." You whisper, your gaze flicking from his eyes to his lips, your own wine stained lips parting. His free hand gently guides your hand to lower the glass onto the counter as he sees the moment of weakness, the way your lips part ever so slightly as you struggle with yourself. He knows he has you right where he wants you. "Shhh...it's okay, my love." His tone is soft, soothing as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "Let me hold you. Let me take care of you. Just for tonight." His words are a gentle persuasion, an insistence that's hard to resist when you're in this vulnerable state. He's offering you comfort and affection, but also a chance to belong to him again, to let him have control over you and your well-being. "Please, Y/n. I need to hold you." He whispers the plea, his breath hot against your skin. He's not giving you a choice, not really, not when you've stepped into his delicately laid trap so willingly.

Your hands lightly grip his shirt as you feels his hot breath against your skin while your breathing turns uneven, your tipsy state working against you to make you more desperate. "Just for tonight." You repeat his words in a whisper. His grip on your chin tightens ever so slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He knows he's got you, that your pain and sorrow are making you desperate for any distraction, any source of pleasure. And he's more than happy to provide it, to reclaim ownership over your body and desires. "Just for tonight..." He echoes softly, his lips still brushing against your ear. He slowly lowers his head, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of your neck. He kisses you softly, gently, but with a subtle possessiveness, as if staking claim to you once again. "I've missed this...missed you. Please, let me make you feel good again. Let me show you how much I care." His words are a seductive promise, a guarantee of pleasure and intimacy if only you'll submit to him again. His lips trail lower, teasing the top of your blouse as he breathes hot against your skin. “I can make all the pain go away, Y/n. Just let me in." He whispers the temptation, his hand sliding down to grab your hips and pull you against him, your soft curves molding to his fit frame, a faint familiarity both of you desired to reignite.

Without saying another word, you move one of your hands up to cup his cheek, pulling his head up to meet yours, your eyes meeting for a split second before closing as you close the gap between your lips. He returns the kiss with a hunger that's been building for months, no, years. His tongue invades your mouth, claiming you, reminding you of all the times he's tasted you before. He feasts on your mouth, drinking in the sweetness of your lips, the damp heat of your breath. His hands roam over your body, grasping and kneading the soft flesh, reacquainting himself with every curve and dip. Your hand presses to the back of his neck, slowly sliding up to tangle your fingers in his long blue hair while your other hand lightly grips the fabric of his shirt over his chest. He growls low in his throat, the sound vibrates against your lips, a primal claim of possession. "Mine..." He mouths the word against your lips, his eyes dark with desire and obsession, a promise of all the ways he'll reclaim you tonight. "Every inch of you belongs to me."

You freeze momentarily, blood running cold as his words remind you of the reason you broke up with him in the first place. You let out a shaky breath, slowly pulling back from the kiss as you hesitate and he sees it, the glimmer of doubt in your eyes as you remember the reasons you left him. His fingers tighten in your hair, his grip just short of painful. He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "I know I fucked up before, Y/n. But I'm different now. I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy." His words are a honey-coated lie, a promise meant to soothe and reassure. "I just want to make you feel good again. Want to be the only one to touch you, to pleasure you. I'll show you how much I care..." His voice drops to a whisper, the words dripping with sensual promise. His hands slide lower, grasping at your ass, pulling you against him once more. He's going to remind you of all the ways he can pleasure you, of how he's the only one who truly understands your body and its needs. "Please, darling...let me make you feel good...You know I'll take good care of you. That I'll make you feel better than you have in months. Maybe years." His words are a seductive promise, a lure meant to entice you into surrendering to your desires, into submitting to him again and its working. His hand slides up your back, his fingers finding the nape of your neck, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin as your eyes stare into his while you battle with yourself.

But the way golden his eyes stare into yours with longing and temptation, you could no longer find the strength in yourself to deny him. "Jiyan, please make me forget the past two years." You whisper. The corners of his lips curl into smile, you've finally surrendered yourself into him again. His grip on your neck tightens, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin in a possessive caress. He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "Anything for you, Y/n. Tonight, you forget about everything...and remember how good we are together." His voice is a husky purr, filled with promise and intent. His hands slide down your body, grasping at your waist as he pulls you against him. He's going to make you forget about any other pathetic man or woman that ever dared to call themselves your partner since he's been yours. "No more thinking, Y/n. Only feeling.” You only nodded to his words, your eyes closing as you focused solely on feeling his hands caressing over your body. His hands slide up your body, grasping at your breasts, his fingers teasing the sensitive nipples through the fabric of your blouse. "Do you remember how I used to touch you, Y/n? How I could make you scream my name?" His voice is a husky whisper, filled with dark memories and twisted desire. A shaky breath entwined with a moan slips past your lips, as you gaze up at him with a half lidded eyes while you whisper, "Yes, but you should remind me." Your words were like a subtle beg for him, a dark smile spreading across his face, your desperation and surrender clear in the force of your words.

"Anything for you, Y/n. Anything you need, I'll provide." His voice is a seductive promise, a vow meant to soothe and reassure. But beneath the smooth words lies a twisted intent, a promise that he'll take what he wants, no matter how you might later regret it. "I'll make you feel so good, baby. Gonna fuck you 'til you forget your own name." He growls the words, a feral promise that speaks to the obsessions burning in his veins. "Gonna show you what you've been missing. What you need." His hands slide down your body, grasping at the hem of your skirt. With a rough tug, he sends the fabric flying, exposing your bare legs and panties to his hungry gaze. "No more clothes, Y/n. I want to see all of you.”

You pull at your own blouse, tugging it off quickly not caring if it ripped at the seems. You tug at his shirt, a silent plea for him to take it off so you can see his body again, to see if anything has changed about him. "Yes, please make me forget about it all. I only want to feel you." You whisper in desperation, leading him to your bedroom, now standing in front of your bed with him while your hands still tug insistently at his shirt. He feels your desperation, sees the plea in your eyes. His hands move to his shirt, pulling it off over his head in one swift motion. His body is a canvas of lean muscle, his skin tanned and smooth. But for the scars, they've grown in a noticeable number and they'd seemed fairly recent with the pink hue to them. You wouldn't know the violence that simmers beneath his surface but he has grown reckless and aggressive in his battles since you left him. "I'll make you forget, Y/n. I'll make you remember only the pleasure I can provide." He takes your hand, pulling you down onto the bed with him. His body covers yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He's claiming you, reclaiming you, making you remember the power he holds over you. "No more thinking, Y/n. Only feeling." He repeats softly as his lips crash against yours, hungry and demanding. His tongue invades your mouth, claiming you, reminding you of all the times he's tasted you before. He feasts on your lips, drinking in the sweetness of your mouth, the damp heat of your breath. "I've broken you into pieces, my love. And now I'm going to put you back together again...my way.” He confesses against your lips but you don't even seem to comprehend a word that comes out of his mouth as your tongue glides across his in a dance of desperation from both partners. Your hands slide up and down his chest, massaging and feeling his toned abdomen to reacquaint yourself with it, noticing the slight changes that occurred during the years you've been apart.

He feels your tongue, tastes the sweetness of your mouth, the desperate heat of your breath. His hands roam your body, grasping and kneading the soft flesh, reacquainting himself with every curve and dip. He pulls away from the kiss, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "You've missed this, haven't you Y/n? Missed my touch?" His voice is a seductive purr but beneath the smooth words lies a subtle edge, a hint of possessiveness and control. "I've missed you too, darling. More than you know." His hands slide lower, grasping at your thighs, pushing your skirt up around your hips. His fingers dance along the lace of your panties, teasing the sensitive fabric. "Let me show you how much I've missed you. Let me remind you of all the ways I can pleasure you.” You let out shaky breaths as he pulls away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips as you look up at him with a flustered look. "Yes, I've missed you, so much. Should've never broken up.." You lift your hips up off the bed slightly to help him slide off your panties. He tosses the damp cloth aside, his gaze devouring the sight of your naked sex. "You haven't regretted it, Y/n. Not really." His voice is a silky snake, smooth and inviting, yet coiled with danger and intent. He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "But don't worry, baby. I'll make you forget all about your regrets. I'll remind you of why you loved me in the first place." His hand spreads you open, exposing your wet, eager flesh to his hungry gaze. His finger circles your clit, teasing the sensitive bud. "I'll show you how much I've missed you. How much I love you." He dips his finger deeper, swirling the tip of his finger in your slick folds, gathering your arousal. You let out a whiny moan, sending him an impatient glare that looked more desperate by the second. "Damn it, Jiyan...please stop teasing me already." You speaks in a whinier voice than intended, your legs spreading a little wider, desperate to be utterly suffocated by pleasure.

He sees your desperation, hears the plea in your voice. "Oh, I'm going to tease you, Y/n. I'm going to torture you with pleasure until you can't think straight." His finger continues its wicked dance, circling and teasing, dipping and swirling. He's stoking the flames of your desire, building you up only to deny you release. "I'm going to make you beg, baby. Beg for my cock, for me to fill you up." He leans down to brush his lips against yours with every word he spoke. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. You'll only be able to accept the pleasure I give you." You couldn't think straight anymore, only focusing on the way his fingers continue to tease your pussy. You're nothing but a whiny and moaning mess, your cheeks pink and eyes half lidded as your gaze flicks from his hand between your legs to his face repeatedly. "Oh fuck...please, Jiyan. Please I need you inside me." You whine softly, his teasing driving you crazy. He sees your desperation, hears the plea in your voice, you could even feel his lips curl into a wicked smile. "Not yet, Y/n. I'm not done playing with you yet." His fingers continues its wicked dance, circling and teasing, dipping and swirling. "You need to beg for it, baby. Beg me to fuck you." He whispers against your lips "Tell me how badly you need my cock. How much you crave it." He slides two of his fingers inside you but just barley, moving the digits in a scissoring motion to prepare you.

Any walls you once had up for him broke down as he kept teasing you, building up your arousal but never giving you release. "Jiyan...fuck...please fuck me. Please fill me up with your cock." You beg, your eyes staring into his with a pathetic desperate look on your face. "Please stretch me and fill me, no one has ever compared to you. I miss your cock so much." You plead in a whiny tone, any shame you once had is gone. He sees your desperation, hears the pathetic plea in your voice. A dark smile spreads across his face. "Oh, my love...you want my cock so badly, don't you?" His fingers pause their movements momentarily, his hand pulling back from you and you think that he's finally giving you what you desire. "I can give you that, Y/n. I can fill you up with my big, hard cock." He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "But you have to promise me one thing..." His hand slides up your body only to wrap around your throat. His grip is firm, possessive, a threat underlying the words. "You have to promise me that you'll never leave me again. That you'll be mine, completely, forever." His other hand fists in your hair, forcing your eyes to meet his. He's demanding your surrender, your complete and utter submission. "Do that, and I'll give you the pleasure you crave. I'll fuck you so hard, you won't be able to walk straight for a week."

Your eyes widened, your heart beating faster as your eyes met his during the intense moment. Even with the slight fear, you didn't hesitate to answer, his suffocating warmth better than your cold painful life. "Yes, I..I promise. I'll never leave you again, I'll be yours. Forever." You promised, a shaky breath following your words. A chill runs down his spine and his heart beats faster as he hears the words of promise that he set out to hear the moment you left him. "Good girl, Y/n. You won't regret this." His hand loosens around your throat, sliding down to lace with your fingers. He brings your joined hands to his lips, kissing them soundly as his eyes gaze into yours. "Now, are you ready for me, my love?" His other hand reaches over to grab his pants, pulling out his massive erection. It's thick and long, pulsing with need. "I'm going to fuck you so good, baby. Gonna make you scream my name." He positions himself between your legs, the head of his cock notching against your slick entrance, eliciting a gasp from you. The feeling is familiar, something you thought about often late at night whenever any of your latest boyfriends couldn't please you. Your hands grip his shoulders, preparing for what's to come, your pussy wet and welcoming his cock. "Oh...yes, Jiyan." You mutter softly, your gaze focusing on the space between their bodies and the way his hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he begins to push inside. "That's it, baby. Take my cock. Let me fill you up." He throbs inside you, his thickness stretching you in all the right ways. He's claiming you, reclaiming you. "You're so tight, Y/n. So wet and slick for me." He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "I'm going to fuck you good, baby. Gonna make you forget about everything, everyone else." He begins to thrust, pulling almost entirely out of your pussy before slamming back inside, making you nearly choke on a gasp from the impactful feeling and squeak out a high pitched moan. . But you throw your head back, back arching and nails dig into his shoulders. "Oh fuck, Jiyan...oh yes." You moan out, your pussy clenching around his cock as he stretches your soft walls.

"That's it, baby. Moan for me. Let me hear how much you love my cock." He thrusts inside you, brutal and possessive. "You're mine, Y/n. Completely. Forever." His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he fucks you hard and fast. His cock throbs, a demand for your total surrender. "Give in to me, baby. Give up everything else for me. I'm the only one who matters now." His words are a seductive promise, a lure meant to draw you deeper into his web of desire. Your nails dig into his back creating a long line of scratch marks to his shoulders, a hiss escaping his lips from the slight pain. Your eyes squeeze shut from all the pleasure, your lips staying parted as your moans seem endless, if it wasn't clear you've surrendered to him, it is now. "Gonna make you mine in every way, Y/n. Gonna ruin you for anyone else." His hands leave your hips, sliding up your body to wrap around your throat and grip your hair. He forces your eyes to meet his, demanding your complete focus. "Look at me, Y/n. Tell me you're mine." He squeezes your throat gently, just enough to remind you of his strength and control. Your breath hitches, your eyes focusing back up onto his face again, his eyes boring into yours. The feeling of being so controlled by him only intensified your pleasure. "I'm yours." You answer quickly in a desperate tone, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel close.

He feels your submission, sees the desire in your eyes. "Good girl, Y/n. You're so close, aren't you? So close to coming apart for me." He continues to fuck you with fasts thrusts, the tip of his cock hitting that spot inside of you that made you see stars that no one else could reach. "Let it happen, baby. Let yourself go. I want to feel you shake and scream for me." His hand tightens around your throat slightly, just enough to add pressure and intensity to your building orgasm. "Cum for me, Y/n. Cum hard. Cum all over my cock.” Your nails dig deeper into the skin of his back, leaving deep red marks as you moan out his name, your pussy fluttering and squeezing around his cock as you came. He feels your orgasm, sees the ecstasy on your face and he his lips curl into a slight smile. "That's it, baby. Cum for me. I love watching you fall apart." He continues to thrust inside you, his cock throbbing with each motion. He's savoring your pleasure, prolonging your ecstasy. "You're so beautiful when you cum for me, Y/n. So fucking beautiful." He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'm going to fuck you through another one, baby. Gonna make you forget your own name." His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he pistons in and out of your spent pussy.

Your lips part with a whiny moan as he continues to thrust into you, not letting you have a moment to breathe after your orgasm. "Oh fuck...Jiyan, I cant.." You whine out softly as your eyes squeeze shut, your body twitching from the overstimulation but he doesn't stop. One of his hands lift off your hips and grabs one of your hands, intertwining your fingers while he tilts his head to press sweet little kisses down your neck. "Yes, you can, my love. You can take so much more." He speaks so softly while he thrusts his cock faster into your pussy, groaning as you squeeze around him. "You're so fucking tight, Y/n. So wet and slick for me." His hand slides down, his fingers finding your clit. He rubs the sensitive nub in circular motions and in time with his thrusts. "Cum for me again, darling." He whispers softly and as your body writhes in pleasure beneath him. He grunts, feeling the familiar squeeze and pulse of your pussy as you came, his eyes lighting up with such intense love and desire, so pleased to finally have you a mess in his arms once again. And he finally comes undone soon after you, tucking his head in the crook of your neck as he bites down on your soft skin to muffle his moan as he came deep inside of you. Both of you lay still like that for a few moments, panting lightly to catch your breath.

He seems to recover quicker than you, slowly pulling out his cock, making you shiver from the feeling of being so empty again. You thought he was done, opening your eyes to gaze up at him with a sweet smile but that quickly fades as you notice he's grabbing your legs, lifting them up onto his shoulders and he aligns himself with your entrance. He grins down at you, chuckling softly. "You didn't think we were done, did you? Oh, my sweet darling, we have two years to make up for."

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pixelnrd · 9 months ago

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In Memory of River Eli

Rest in Peace River, heir to the 1980s of the Langston Legacy.

River lived a life of many changes and lessons. He was raised as a free range child in a hippy commune, but fell for the allures of the capitalist world and defied his parents beliefs. He had a successful career as a stock broker and built what appeared from the outside to be a perfect suburban life for his family but ultimately failed at his first marriage and burnt out in a spectacular midlife crisis. He finally discovered himself abroad and turned his life around when he reconnected to nature and his true self, and found love in his second marriage.

I enjoyed telling River's story in all its complexity. Though River suffered with his divorce, he came out on top in the end. His story serves as a look into the falacy that you can have it all - wife, kids, job, house, money - in a world that is modernising and changing. There were lessons in his own upbringing that he forgot in his pursuit of success, but which in the end were the key to making him a happier person.

In his lifetime River maximised his Programming and Logic skills, completed his aspiration of Computer Whiz and reached the top of the Business career.

River is survived by his wife, Yumi, his children Dustin, Heather and Nori and his grandson Cody.

#sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 historical #ts4 historical #ts4 legacy #sims 4 legacy #the langston legacy #river lenowski

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robfinancialtip · 10 months ago

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youtube

🗽🌍Raja Iqdeimat, a successful pastry firm owner, describes her story. Born in Abu Dhabi, she grew up in several places, including Libya, Lebanon, Jordan, and Kuwait before moving to Turkey, California, and finally New York. Despite her parents' lack of education, she was the first member of her family to pursue higher education and succeed. She credits her parents for instilling entrepreneurial skills and determination in her despite their lack of formal schooling.

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦🌱Growing up as the youngest member of a large family of nine, Raja felt unusual, but she believed that each family had a unique person who contributed in different ways. Despite lacking a formal education, she describes how her father was a successful businessman who inspired her to pursue her aspirations. Raja's mother, though uneducated, was hardworking and concerned about her family's well-being, imparting in Raja a strong work ethic and tenacity.

😔💼Growing up in different places and seeking a profession in finance was filled with personal losses and difficulties. Despite working as a brokerage manager in Jordan for seven years, dealing derivatives, equities, and bonds, she felt great loneliness following the deaths of her parents when she moved to the United States as a single mother without a broker's license. When the mass layoff in 2008, she was unemployed for six to seven months in California, struggling to support herself and her kid. Realizing that California's emphasis on the film industry did not fit with her career goals, she boldly moved to New York, where she swiftly obtained a job at an insurance firm and began rebuilding her life.

🏙️🎉While working at a New York bank in 2018, her manager questioned her capacity to buy a Manhattan apartment, which proved critical. This distrust motivated Raja to pursue entrepreneurship and independence. Despite difficulties and misgivings, she bravely launched her own business, motivated by her passion for entrepreneurship and need for autonomy. This marked the beginning of Délice Macarons, her venture into the world of cooking pastry, and her journey toward self-reliance and success.

🚀🧁Raja, a dessert shop owner in New Jersey, faced challenges during the COVID-19 pandemic. Despite lacking retail expertise, she managed everything from decoration to recruitment, relying on her entrepreneurial flair. She and her chef friend opened their first physical store in Cranford, New Jersey, in January 2020. Despite financial constraints, they shifted their business strategy to focus on fundamental products like bread. Raja's resilience and ability to transform adversity into opportunity remained evident.

🌟🗣️Raja's message encourages listeners, emphasizing the value of endurance, adaptation, and believing in oneself. Despite various barriers, including financial difficulties and the enormous task of beginning a business in a new nation, she stayed determined to succeed, demonstrating that anything is possible with devotion and hard work. Raja's path demonstrates the importance of taking risks, pursuing passion, and never giving up on one's goals. Her tale resonates with individuals who want to overcome obstacles and succeed on their terms. Raja highlights the importance of perseverance, hard work, and financial acumen. She promotes confidence in oneself and pursuing one's goals, emphasizing that hard work combined with passion may lead to success in any activity.

#Youtube

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 2 years ago

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Hangman Master List

Back to Main Master List

Multi-Part Stories

THE DANGER ZONE MASTERLIST >

Left at the Altar Part 2 [*] Part 3 Epilogue [*] - Fem!Reader (Ex-Girlfriend!Reader)

CW: Suggestive/Implied Sexual Content (Part 2 and Epilogue), Angst, Exes, Pregnancy and Kids (Epilogue only)

Summary: When you get left at the altar, a familiar face swoops in to save the day.

COMPLETED

Sequel: Stay Away from the Altar

What is L-O-V-E? Part 2 Part 3 - Bradshaw!Fem!OC (Lena) (Ex-Wife!OC)

Summary: Lena Bradshaw (formerly Seresin) struggles once again to keep the peace between her ex-husband Jake and her older brother Bradley for her son's sake. And the uranium facility mission only seems to heighten the stakes of it all.

DISCONTINUED

Prologue To Be a Man Part 2 Part 3 - Wife!OC (Sophie)

CW: Secret Marriage; Non-Traditional Family Dynamics; Marriage of Convenience; Type 1 Diabetes

Summary: Hangman is married. And it’s no one else’s business.

PART 4 COMING SOON

Blood in the Water - Cain!OC (Alina)

CW: Arranged & Political Marriage; Post-Apocalypse AU with a Medieval Feel; Blatant Sexism; Abuse from Family Members

Summary: In a post-apocalyptic world, the livable landscape is carved up by warlords. After a long war with the Dagger Clan, the Cain Empire has been defeated, but peace cannot be brokered without a sacrifice. Hangman assumes that a marriage is that sacrifice. Cain thinks that Hangman’s death is a better trade.

DISCONTINUED

Never Have I Ever Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 - Civilian Contractor! Female! Reader (Dove)

CW: Not Necessarily Healthy Decisions/Coping Mechanisms; Shy! Reader; Slow Burn; Coworkers to Friends to Lovers; Excessive Pining

Summary: Dove is tired of being stereotyped as the nice, quiet girl who's so innocent it hurts. So, who does she call to help her? Hangman.

PART 4 COMING SOON

One Shots

Wedding Day - Fem!Reader

Summary: Hangman falls in love with his wife all over again when he sees her in her wedding dress for the first time.

I'll Carry You - Fem!Reader (Wife!Reader)

Summary: Hangman and his wife attend a naval ball. When her shoes give her blisters, Hangman ensures that she gets back to the car comfortably.

Lunch Break [*] - Fem!Reader (Wife!Reader)

CW: Suggestive Situations/Content

Summary: Jake and his wife are going through a dry spell. Luckily, his secretary Linda is the best wingwoman in all of Miramar.

A Morning Work Out - Fem!Reader (Wife!Reader)

CW: Implied Sexual Content

Summary: Jake goes through his normal morning routine with his son and wife.

Beach Day - Fem!Reader (Wife!Reader)

CW: Referenced Sexual Innuedos/Situations

Summary: Jake and his wife enjoy a beach day with their three kids.

Stay Away from the Altar - Wife!Reader; Fem!Seresin!OC / Male!Bradshaw!OC

CW: (Over)protective Dad!Hangman; Angst; Fighting; Rebellious Teenagers; Crying; References to Previous Pregnancy Scares

Summary: Jake isn't ready to accept that his daughter is growing up. And he's definitely not ready to accept that his daughter seems to have fallen for Rooster's spawn.

A Little Tag-a-Long - Female!Reader (Peach)

Summary: Hangman is excited to finally take out Peach, the woman that he's been in love with for months now. Except Peach gets called into babysitting duty right before their date.

A Happy Fourth - Wife!Reader

CW: Implied Sexual Content; Outdoor Shower

Summary: You and Hangman enjoy your Fourth of July together.

Three Four, That’s the Magic Number - Wife!Reader

CW: (Unplanned) Pregnancy; (Failed) Vasectomies; Threats of Kicks to the Balls

Summary: You thought that three kids was it. But apparently your husband, Hangman, didn't have as successful of a vasectomy as you initially thought.

The Love Game - Fem!Reader (Glitch)

CW: Unrequited Love; Angst; Emotional Angst; One-Sided Relationship; ‘He’s in Love with Someone Else’ Trope

Summary: Glitch has been in love with Hangman for years but he’s getting married to another woman.

A.N. Multiple Pairings: Hangman/Glitch; Hangman/Fem!OC; Glitch /Mystery Dagger

Gray - Fem!Reader

CW: Jake’s Sad; Showering Together; Half-Naked Cuddling

Summary: You try to cheer your boyfriend Hangman up.

Little Seresin - Wife!Reader

Summary: You surprise your husband by putting your daughter in an opposing team's jersey.

#tgm masterlist #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun masterlist #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x oc #k’s masterlist

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engeorged · 1 year ago

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The Influencer : Milo

Words by @engeorged

Illustrations by @badoobers

Find the rest of my stories here

Milo was drifting in life. Now I’m his late twenties he hadn’t really found a purpose in life or a job that lasted for more than 6 months. He was more athletic than smart, but popular and always surrounded by people. He would do pretty much anything to gets a laugh. Setting fire to his farts was his specialty, guaranteed to bring the house down. Once nearly literally when he set fire to the curtains.

Never good enough to be captain but always good enough to be picked first for most things. He excelled in rugby due to his size and build. One thing he was head and shoulders above the rest at. Towering above most of this peers, by the time puberty have finished with him he was 6’6 and built like a house. He had broad shoulders with a physique to match. Thick arms and legs and an ass you might assume was some sort of joke prosthetic. Real country corn fed type with dirty blonde hair and usually some combination of darker facial hair.

When all his friends went off to university, he stayed behind to care for his father who was dying of a rather short lived and aggressive illness. This took him to a fairly dark and lonely place as he hit his twenties. He expected all his old friends to start drifting back to the town they grew up in but most were high flyers and weren’t interested in coming back to that small life. Ever the optimist Milo set about trying to find himself a career. He would try most things once. Hospitality didn’t really suit his bulking frame, knocking stuff over regularly with one of his large limbs. Being the size he was didn’t really suit nipping between tables either. Retail bored him and he rarely lasted a few weeks. Ballon modelling, catering, tree surgery, manual labour all came and went. Nothing really stuck. His life was spent between jobs crashing on sofas and living in his parents basement when that wasn’t an option.

His latest idea was to try and make it as a social media influencer. He was funny enough and decent looking enough to at least have a go but nothing he made seemed to go viral. There were a few times he thought he’d cracked it but his views never made it past the high hundreds. He was currently living above a pizza place in a shitty flat share and supporting himself with three jobs. Dog walking, delivering pizza flyers and a few days looking after some rich guys house whilst he was off round the world. Milo was coming to the sad realisation that he was just like every other washed up jock struggling to hold his shit together.

It was Friday evening and his employer Mr Gordon was away again. This time brokering a merger in Singapore or Shanghai or Seoul, something like that anyway. Milo was sat next to the pool drinking a beer, daydreaming of the day he would have his own house like this. He was in a bit of a funk and a little bit buzzed with the several beers he had downed on his empty stomach. As he brooded on his life he started a bit of a downward spiral. Eventually coming to the conclusion that he’d had enough. The influencer thing was dumb. Influencers were all ball sacks anyway, he wasn’t about that life.

Out of the blue last week he’d had a DM from a friend he’d not seen for years. Will had gotten married straight from college, as his cheerleader girlfriend got pregnant and Milo hadn’t really heard from him since. Apparently he now had a successful business in construction or logistics and after they were chatting he said he had a few entry level jobs going if he was interested. Milo had closed down the message at that point, but right now it was starting to look promising. The pay was ok and he would be trained on the job. Even if it meant a lifetime of desk work, maybe that kind of stability was just what he needed? As usual he couldn’t find his phone so he searched round for it and eventually found it in the footwell of his batteries pickup. Unlocking the screen, he began to go through and delete his five instagram accounts then his twitter handles. He’d leave Facebook as no one bothered with that any more anyway. However, as he opened his TikTok app he noticed a notification at the bottom of the screen. Opening it, his eyes widened, as he saw what was in the message. One of his videos in the last day had actually finally gone and done it. He’d gone viral. Quickly he scrolled through the notifications to work out which video it was and to his surprise it was a mukbang video he’d done a few weeks ago. He’d bought two kfc family buckets and had ploughed through them in half an hour. Chugging the soda at the end and showing everyone his swollen belly. It was a bit of a low point afterwards and he nearly deleted it as it made him feel a bit vulnerable. He was so glad he left it up there as now this might be his ticket to fame.

The video had amassed over 200,000 likes in just over 24 hours. Scrolling through the comments, there were people from all over the world commenting on how amazing the video was and how good he looked. Milo was a little surprised at how many thirsty comments on there. People commenting on how hot the video was and how hot it was to see his bloated belly at the end. They seemed to be impressed at how much he ate as well. He remembered at the time feeling a bit sick but he was a big guy. He was always capable to eating big. He was known for it with his three brothers who would always get a bit competitive over family meals. Especially at Christmas time when they would take bets on who could eat the most. Milo was pretty much the undefeated champion, even now his eldest brother Tom had gotten super fat.

There were hundreds of comments asking for more and demanding a live stream. Taking a moment to think, he came to the slow realisation that he was in a huge mansion with permission to eat anything he wanted. Mr Gordon wouldn’t even notice if he cleared the fridge which was always well stocked. He had already consumed a good dozen beers which was giving him a decent amount of Dutch courage. Dizzy with beer and ambition he hit the live button and headed to the kitchen. Several thoughts rushed through his head whilst he waited. The watcher count stayed at zero for 5 whole minutes. The adrenaline began to wear off and he started feeling embarrassed. Maybe he’d jumped the gun. Maybe he wasn’t destined for internet fame. Maybe the video going viral meant nothing. Just the victim of an algorithm. Then suddenly with a ping the counter went up to one. The lone watcher was typing . . .

🥵

Never had a single emoji made Milo feel so great. A few seconds later, a second ping happened, followed by a third. People were coming. Soon the watcher number began to rise and with an intake of breath Milo began talking. Moving round kitchen he showed the watchers what was in the fridge The beer and wine store was pretty stocked, so that was always an option but the general consensus was that they wanted him to eat not drink. Opening the double doors of the huge fridge revealed a world of options. Someone in the comments even asked him if he could eat the whole lot. To which he laughed and said ‘Maybe!’

In the end it was decided by the group, that he was to eat a load of leftovers from some party Mr Gordon had had a few days before. As soon as Milo started to pull the tubs out of the fridge he began to regret suggesting it. There was a lot of food. Two large tubs, a platter of entrees and a good two thirds of a huge chocolate and caramel cake covered in thick double cream. As he laid it all out on the Italian marble worktop he propped his phone up against the fancy fruit bowl. The watchers were up to 800 and still rising. Adrenaline pumping, Milo started stuffing his face. The comments were rolling in thick and fast. Too fast for him to read but as they rushed past he could see the people were loving it. Lots of little images were pinging up and AR lenses people started to be applying to him, making him look like a cowboy and then an alien and then a cute fluffy teddy bear which everyone agreed made him look adorable with.

As he shovelled in the rich canapés, he could feel his stomach begin to tighten. He wondered whether or not to say anything but the second he did the watcher went crazy for it! So he continued describing to the watchers everything that was happening to him, lifting his T-shirt to show them his slight curve as his thick abs began to rise. There were numbers and emojis flying all over his screen and he had no idea what any of them were but he was obviously smashing it. This gave him some momentum to plough through. The entire platter of entrees were now firmly inside his now gently curved stomach. As he finished the tray he lifted his shirt and showed everyone again, jokingly slamming the tray upside down on the counter.

Over the next hour he ate like he had never eaten before. The first run containing a selection of nibbles, including some of the best duck bao buns he’d ever seen. Every one was decorated to look like a cute little animal which the crowd watching especially enjoyed. After those he stated I inhaling some mini sliders and pulled pork blinis. He began to slow down a little as the tub began to empty and so, needing a little break, he stood and pulled his shirt completely off revealing his now substantially distended stomach. The comments were turning slightly feral as people were lapping it up this slab of a man, stuffing himself silly. Giving him instructions to rub it or push it out. There were a few weird vaguely sexual suggestions which he put out of his head for now. There was time to process that later. However, on the whole everyone was loving his engorged stomach. Who knew this was the thing would turn him into an influencer?

In the flurry of messages, one user was beginning to stand out. The messages he sent were in bold and a mustard yellow colour which made them stand out. Pausing the chat so he could try and read them, they came from user @fulltank87, who seemed to be offering some advice. The guy advised Milo to head to the fridge and grab a bottle of soda and chug it as fast as he could without belching and hold it for as long as he could whilst leaning to the right. He ran to the fridge and slowed down as his fullness hit him. Grabbing a 2 litre bottle of coke he lined up the shot and got ready. @fulltank87 gave one more instruction to push a straw into the neck of the bottle and push the end down the side. This came back to Milo as a cheap way of doing a beer bong. Rummaging through the cupboards he finally found a plastic straw and popped it inside the neck. Getting back into position so the audience could get the best view, he lifted the bottle to his lips and threw it back. The coke pushed down his throat fast nearly causing him to cough and choke but he managed to push through. Closing his eyes he concentrated on the heavy flow of the coke surging down into his already swollen gut. He had a way of relaxing his throat so he didn’t need to swallow which came back to him from his rugby party days. From the side the viewers got a perfect view of his thick adams apple bobbing up and down with the liquid and if you looked carefully you could see his stomach inching out a little further.

Toward the end the coldness of the cokeand the bubbles were hurting the back of his throat and he nearly had to stop, but he knew he could make it. With a loud roar he finished the whole thing and immediately felt sick. Remembering the suggestion, he leant to the right and tried to hold it but he could feel bubbles rushing up his nose. With another almighty roar he let out the biggest burp he had ever done. He could literally feel his belly going down as the gas escaped.

Instead of turning people off, this seemed to be the highlight of the live. Approval was pouring in from the now people watching, which now had reached 1k. The adoration and attention he was receiving, along with and the stretch provided by the coke gave him the momentum to keep going. Pulling open the second tub he found a whole load of chicken wings which were his all time favourite. There must have been at least thirty of them. He teased the load to the watching crowd who responded with more of the same reaction. Looking down at his stomach he was a little scared. He wasn’t this big when he did the kfc mukbang video. He’d seen his belly like this before at family gatherings but looking at how much food was left he would definitely be pushing his limit.

Milo decided to tell the live stream exactly how he was feeling, hoping it would endear him to people. He showed them how swollen stomach was, running his hand across is distended bulge. He was feeling an awful lot of pressure just under his ribs which he half remembered was where his stomach was. Obviously, tips and comments poured in from that point. People telling him how to eat, what angle to eat at, the speed at which he should eat them. Overwhelmed, he found a way to filter just @fulltank87’s comments, who was calmly explaining to him how he just needed to simply keep a fast pace up and rhythmically start eating. So Milo did just that. He got into a rhythm of breaking the wing and stripping the meat off with his teeth and sucking the succulent flesh off of it. Whilst he chewed it and swallowed, he prepped the next wing. Ignoring the pressure building up inside him he ploughed through and within 15 minutes the tub was empty. Standing again he proudly displayed his swollen belly. It was now much more pronounced. Making his long torso, oval as it swelled. Giving time for some audience interaction would be a good move to let him have a little breather. Rubbing his furry stomach and arching his back for emphasis he showed off the results of his feasting.

Milo was beginning to feel as if he wasn’t able to eat any more when he glanced at the watchers. He was up to 1.2k which was insane. He needed to finish this for the people watching. Plus, if he could finish this challenge he could definitely build a whole career out of this. The only thing left in the counter was the large cake. The only way he was doing this was to totally ignore the uncomfortable feeling of his belly pushing against the counter. This was possible. The end was in sight. And that end was 4000 calories of rich cake. Spurred on by the encouragements, Milo found the largest spoon he could find and stood up for this final lap. There was nothing for it but to undo the top button on his shorts which popped satisfyingly. He felt his stomach relax as it filled the space vacated. This also had the unfortunate impact of sliding his zipper all the way down. Panicking, he checked his phone screen and thankfully today was not a day when he had chosen to go commando.

Determined to finish this he hefted a large spoon full of the cake and pushed it into his mouth. The cake was unbelievable. The cake was light and fluffy with bitter dark chocolate ganache through it. The sweet salted caramel sauce filled his tastebuds with electricity. All offset but the light but heavy whipped cream. The cake was perfection. Pushing on he crammed more and more of the cake into his mouth, cream and chocolate smeared all over his face. He was beginning to loose himself in the tastes that were filling his brain, almost numb to the building swell of his stomach. The viewers going wild in the comments. Urging him to finish his challenge. Milo had an almost out of body experience where he was watching himself eat on his phone. On the screen, his stomach was comically distended, curving up from the gaping v of his fly. His neatly trimmed stomach hair covered in grease from the food on his hands as he had rubbed his distended gut. In a dream-like state he watched himself finish the cake. The whole thing now concealed inside his hugely bloated stomach. Comments and congratulations from all the watchers were streaming in as he stood face on to the camera breathing heavily. Belching under his breath he assured them he would be back and leant forward and turned the live stream off.

The silence in the kitchen was deafening. The only sounds he could hear were the faint gurgle of his stomach digesting the huge quantity of food and his own heart, beating in his ears.

Looking down his normally flat stomach was arched out from his body. He felt utterly packed full. He just about managed to make it to the shower where he stripped off and got in underneath the rainfall setting. The warm water soothing his massively swollen dome of a gut. He couldn’t even really move. He just allowed the soothing water to wash off the evidence gluttony. As he stood there with his eyes closed his thoughts turned to what he might do next.

Find Part Two here

#gainer fiction #belly expansion #gay gainer #stuffing #belly fiction #gainer stories #male gaining #stuffing art #gainer story #gainer artwork

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kaethefangal · 5 months ago

Text

Tim had quit his life as Red Robin. When he was younger he was so proud to be Robin, so happy that he got the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to fight by Batman’s side. Everyone thought he was destined to do great things, and honestly so did he. He would’ve never dreamed of leaving Batman’s side. That was until he found out about Jason.

Finding out that Jason died made him hang up the cape. He couldn’t bear to carry on a mantle that wasn’t his. He knew Dick willingly quit, leaving the Robin position vacant. But Jason hadn’t willingly died, and Tim could never feel comfortable in that suit knowing it belonged to a dead kid. The second robin was great, and Tim could never live up to him, and he didn’t want to. He didn’t deserve to. A few years after he quit being Robin, he resurfaced as Red Robin. Because once you lived life as a bat you could never go back, not really. It was a perpetual struggle of constantly looking over his shoulder, constantly wondering if the woman staring at him was planning something or was just admiring his clothes.

As of now, Tim acted as an information broker. He worked with the entire Justice League and all heroes/vigilantes, including Jason. When they’d first met Tim was bleeding out on a rooftop after he’d won a fight as Red Robin but had taken substantial physical damage. He’d been expecting a punch in the face for replacing him or at least some kind of anger or resentment. Tim was surprised when the man’s first words to him were ‘Rough night?’ and even more surprised when Jason patched him up and sent him on his way. He’d only worked with Red Hood three times when he found out the man smoked weed. ‘I thought Red Hood was against drugs?’ Tim had asked him as he watched the man light a blunt. ‘Red Hood is against selling drugs to kids. I look like a kid to you?’ Jason asked with a raised eyebrow. Tim had just shook his head and turned back to the screen that was in front of him.

Tim was focused on his current case, his brows furrowed in concentration as he went over a file that the Titans needed from him when he heard those familiar three knocks at his window. He turned his head to find Jason standing on his balcony, his helmet on. Tim stood up to let him in because at this point they’d worked together enough to be considered friends. It’d started out with only interacting for crucial cases, but they grew on each other. Tim enjoyed Jason’s laid-back but still about-business attitude and in turn, Jason savored Tim’s non-judgemental and sarcastic personality. They complimented each other well, after all, albeit in different senses and categories, they were both emotional and social wrecks. Tim was a social recluse because he didn’t know how to understand complex human emotions and Jason was anti-social because he didn’t care about human emotions.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked as he lifted the window. Jason landed inside silently, which was ironic in comparison to his imposing build.

“Nothing. Just need these scanned,” Jason pulled a case holding 5 vials of green liquid from his jacket.

“Got it. What are they?” Tim asked, taking them from Jason and placing them in the chemistry analyzer that sat at his workstation. He sat in his chair, facing away from the man behind him, which was a huge show of trust in itself.

“No idea. Grabbed ‘em off some dealer I caught on the street today,” Jason replied.

“Is said dealer still with us?” Tim asked curiously. Personally, Tim didn’t kill. He couldn’t handle knowing he’d taken a life. Though he didn’t care much about Jason’s killings it still made him feel better knowing Jason was becoming less violent and more understanding.

“With us meaning..?” Jason asked with a hint of amusement in the robotic edge that his helmet put on his voice.

“In the world of the living,” Tim put out bluntly.

“Yes. In the hospital, but alive,” Jason said, taking off his mask.

“Doesn’t it get hot inside that thing?” Tim asked, turning around to face Jason.

“Better than being dead,” Jason shrugged, taking a seat on Tim’s bed.

“You’re never gonna let that one go, are you?” Tim chuckled.

“Would you?” Jason shot back lightning-quick.

“Fair point,” Tim conceded. The chemical analyzer dinged, catching his attention. “Looks like a drug called Viper,”

“Damnit, I should have killed him,” Jason scoffed.

“Bruce wouldn’t like that,” Tim said for nothing else but a reaction.

“Since when do I care about what Bruce likes?” Jason looked at him incredulously through his domino.

“Fair point, go ahead, kill the man,” Tim waved a hand dismissively towards the window.

“And you wouldn’t have a problem with that?” Jason asked in disbelief.

Tim fixed him with the look he always gave Jason when he asked a dumb question. “Viper is a deadly poison, and he was selling it. I’m not saying he deserves it, but he deserves it,”

“So you’d help me?” Jason asked with a small grin.

“Why would I help you kill a man?”

“I meant help me find out where he got it from and shut the operation down,”

Tim knew the answer was yes, and had to stop himself from shouting it. He pretended to think about it for a few seconds before shrugging. “Sure, sounds fun,”

Jason’s grin grew and Tim couldn’t help but smile too.

“I’ll swing by again tomorrow,” Jason said, standing. It was then that Tim noticed Jason piling all his weight onto his right leg.

“What’s wrong with your leg?” Tim questioned.

“Nothing. My leg is fine,” Jason replied. He began walking towards the window again but Tim noticed the slight limp he moved with.

“Okay,” Tim sighed, kicking Jason in his left knee.

“Fuck!” Jason shouted, falling to the ground.

“Thought there was nothing wrong with your leg?”

“I said my leg, not my knee,”

“Your knee is a part of your leg,” Tim called, making his way to the first aid kit he kept in his bathroom. He inwardly chuckled at how Jason attempted to hide his injury from Tim.

He bent down, opened his cabinet, and looked for the shiny white box with the red plus sign on it.

He returned almost as quickly as he left to find Jason lying on his bed.

“Either the pants come off or you roll them up,” Tim said as he sat the first aid kit on his bed and opened it.

“Roll it,”

“I’m not your maid,” Tim scoffed. The smile on his face betrayed how he wanted to sound but he didn’t mind much. “Not my doctor either but here we are,” Jason countered smoothly. Tim always enjoyed his and Jason’s banter, not that he’d ever tell the other man that.

Tim stared at him unimpressed. Jason scoffed and pulled his left pant leg up. Underneath it was a deep gash that was poorly stitched up. Blood leaked out of the stitch and it looked infected, yellow pus seeping out around the edges.

“This is one of the worst stitch jobs I’ve ever seen,” Tim said. He got on his knees and began cleaning the stitch with anti-septic.

“In Roy’s defense, his hand was injured too,”

“You should’ve told someone, this is dangerous,”

Jason huffed out a laugh. “That’s an occupational hazard baby bird,”

“Stop calling me that,”

***

Tim watched Jason jump out of his window, the man leaving with a shout of, “I’ll get you some new sheets!”

Tim hadn’t noticed the blood-soaked sheets on his bed until after Jason was already gone. Tim could do nothing but sigh and begin getting ready for bed. He walked into his bathroom, taking in his appearance. His eye bags were still dark, and his face was still on the grey edge of pale. His eyes were tired, almost lifeless. He was beginning to see his skin clinging to his bone, a telltale sign that he hadn’t been eating. He sighed and looked away.

He brushed his teeth and washed his face almost robotically, avoiding locking eyes with himself in the mirror at all costs.

He replaced his sheets and got into bed, letting his mind take the wheel.

Viper.

They were already aware of the effects of the drug, it slowly melted away calcium that the bones needed and left it’s victims with dust in place of bones, killing them slowly and painfully. It allowed for a small period of inhuman strength, which was unbelievably dangerous. Solomon Grundy was a prime example of why people out of their minds should not be given super strength. He only hoped they could shut the operation down before Viper spread too much.

***

“Plan?” Tim asked warily. Jason had come crashing into his room with a look of pure rage on his face a few moments earlier. He’d explained to Tim that there was a new variant in Viper that allowed the victims to live longer and made them susceptible to suggestion. Tim didn’t like drugs that made people susceptible to suggestion. Jason had his theories on what the drug trafficking rings could use it for, who they could sell it to, and none of them were good. The way Jason paced as he spoke made Tim worry that he’d jump into action without a plan.

“My plan is to track down the piece of shit that started this and paint the wall with his brain,” Jason spat.

“Jay as of now you and I are the only ones on this. If you die who will help the victims?” Tim questioned in an attempt to be the voice of reason.

Jason stopped pacing to think, at least that’s what Tim assumed, he couldn’t tell much from the helmet.

“Fine. What’s the plan?”

“Where’d you find the dealer last night?” Tim asked, turning to his computer.

“Corner of fifth and Eagleside,”

“There’s a warehouse not too far from there. I say we check it out, and if it’s a hit, follow it,”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Then we look somewhere else. The drug hasn’t hit the streets hard yet or else Bruce would know. We need to stop it before its next shipment,”

“Right. I’ll-”

Tim’s police radio went off, and he whipped his head towards the noise on his desk. ‘Hostage situation at Gotham Bank, calling all units,’

Tim turned his head back to Jason, who’s figure had just leaped out of his window. Tim could do nothing but sigh and run a hand down his face. He really hoped this wouldn’t get them killed.

#one of my jaytim works that deserves way more hits than it has #but im definitely not finishing it #at least no time soon #jaytim #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #timothy drake #batfamily #batfam #batcest #idk if jaytim counts as batcest #it probably does #idk tagging it anyway

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