#blackmail for ts

[wri0thesley]

legally binding - neuvillette x reader (8.4k)

monsieur neuvillette will ensure that he finds your brother not guilty at trial. for a price.

cw: not sfw, minors dni. DARK CONTENT. extremely dubious consent/non-consent. clothed neuvillette, naked reader. cunnilingus, threats of caning, blackmail, fingering, piv sex, coming inside. neuvillette refers to reader as "little one". reader is afab and is described using language such as 'breasts' and 'cunt'.

“If the terms of our arrangement are not agreeable to you,” the honorary Iudex says to you, his gloved hands steepled before him as he sits calmly behind his desk, “you do, of course, have the right to say ‘no’ at any time. I shan’t hold it against you. It merely means that the particulars of our little entente need not be fulfilled on my end, either.” 

You press your lips together as frustration and anger war within you. You would like to explode at him; you would like to pull the books lining his office walls down and use them as projectiles to hit him straight in his infuriatingly calm and peaceful face. 

That he has the nerve to keep talking to you like this - his voice perfectly even, almost calm, his tone soothing and bordering on paternal (like you’re a little child who he’s telling the ways of the world to), when his proffered ‘agreement’ is so heinous . . .

“You’re utterly abhorrent,” you seethe to him, but the Iudex does not react to being called such a thing - merely tilts his head to one side.

“So you’ve said,” he agrees mildly. “But it does not change your position, does it?”

He is right in that. You stand there awkwardly for one moment more, debating if this is really the hill you are willing to die on; if you are indeed ready to trade away your dignity for the price of your brother’s freedom.

He seems to take pity on your floundering. 

“You agreed to this,” he reminds you, his tone unerringly gentle and patient. “But it does not mean you have to go through with it. I will keep the terms of our pact, my dear, as long as you uphold your own - but I will not hold it against you if you decide you are not . . . brave enough to follow through.”

You wince despite yourself at the deliberate emphasis of the word. You know that this is not bravery; you know, too, that what Monsieur Neuvillette is asking you to do is nothing short of corruption of the highest order. 

And too you know that the only person ranked higher than him you could conceivably go to is Lady Furina herself. 

“I’m sure that a guilty verdict for your brother would not be so bad,” Monsieur Neuvillette continues, and despite the mild tone he uses he must know that he is hitting you exactly where it hurts. “Incarceration is not the be-all and end-all, nowadays - why, many enjoy the Fortress so much they choose not to leave even once their sentence has been finished--”

“Don’t,” you squeak out, and Neuvillette stops speaking. You take a slow breath to steady yourself, and when your voice comes out this time it sounds far more certain than before. You’re proud of yourself, even, for the way that it quavers for only an instant at the end of your next sentence. “I’ll follow through on our agreement.”

“Lovely,” Neuvillette lowers his chin so that it rests atop of the steeple of his gloved fingertips. “I’m glad that you understand the position we’re both in. Well, then, shall we begin?”

You give him a jerky little nod, and he smiles at you like an Archon receiving a prayer of benediction. You stand there awkwardly for a moment more, before Neuvillette lets out a soft chuckle.

“Oh, you poor thing,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. “You really haven’t done any of this before, have you? Let me make it easier for you. Why don’t you disrobe and show me what you have on under your clothing, hmm?” 

You take a slow, calming breath. This is not so bad; you had known you would have to take off your clothes for this bargain. You suppose, if you had been a different kind of person, you might even have felt a thrill at the thought that it would be Monsieur Neuvillette who would be the first man to see you bared - but instead, there is just a cold thumping terror as you work at the buttons and catches of your outfit. 

You are dressed smartly but not prettily. You have never had much time for the fripperies that many Fontaine citizens prefer to indulge in - and especially for your meetings as a desperate petitioner with the Iudex, you had thought sombre was the way to go. This has carried through even to your undergarments - the chemise you wear is plain, without even a trimming of lace. Your brassiere is equally simple, as are the plain cotton bloomers that hide your most intimate place from his inquisitive eyes. 

You swallow as your thumb and forefingers fasten about the hem of your chemise - and then, thinking it better to rip off the bandage from the wound rather than pussyfoot about it, you pull it off and drop it in an unruly pile with the rest of your outer clothes by the Iudex’s desk. 

He sits there in silence for a moment that seems to stretch out for an hour.

“Not much for decoration, hmm?” He asks, after what seems like forever. You shift there awkwardly from foot to foot. You have never been looked at before like this by a man - and though you do not want him to find you attractive, the idea that he’s disappointed in what’s before him is equally horrible. He chuckles softly beneath your breath at the expression that must flit across your face. “Ah, please don’t mistake me as unappreciative. There is very little as lovely as simplicity, I find.” Your cheeks heat. “On that note - I think we ought to lose this layer too. Let me see you as nature intended, my dear.” 

You had thought that once the first layer of your clothing had been stripped, it would get easier, but you find now that it is much the opposite. Your hands tremble as you reach behind you for the clasp of your brassiere. It is cool in his office, but a bead of sweat rolls down the nape of your neck and sets your palm sticky and wet, and it takes you three attempts to unclip. 

You have never been shy before - you had certainly not been shy when you had barrelled up to the Iudex in public and demanded an audience with him, much to the distaste of all around him - but this is enough to make you feel awkward. 

The fabric falls away from the swell of your chest, and Monsieur Neuvillette makes a pleased little noise almost like a purr in the back of his throat.

“Ah,” he says. “Very nice. The underwear too, if you please.” 

Your nipples stiffen in the cool air of his office, the buds puckering and hardening under the twin problems of the temperature and Neuvillette’s stare. It is even harder to convince yourself to hook your thumbs into your underwear, but eventually your body agrees to your demands and you find yourself rolling the plain cotton down past your thighs and your knees and down to your ankles--

You fuss for a moment, putting them with the rest of your clothes, if only to delay the inevitable for a moment longer - that time when you will have to stand and display yourself in your full nakedness for the Iudex. But there is only so long you can conceivably push his patience, and sooner than you like you straighten your spine and try and jut your chin out and pretend that there isn’t a wash of humiliation drowning you as you wait for his next pronouncement. 

You’re surprised when he stands, leaving his cane leaning against his desk, and strides towards you with purpose writ clear in his eyes. Surprised enough that a soft, startled noise falls from your mouth as he reaches for you, and suddenly his gloved hands are palming the weight of your breasts. He lets out a slow, measured breath as his fingertips dig into the soft flesh there. You squeak again as his thumbs brush over the hard nubs of your nipples, and this time he laughs.

“Don’t be so surprised,” he murmurs. “Our agreement involved touching, did it not?”

“I-it involved more than touching,” you whisper, as poisonously as you can manage - but his thumbs are still slowly swirling about your nipples and the sensation of it is making you feel dizzy, little electric shocks of surprise zapping through your synapses. 

“Mm,” Neuvillette agrees. “But I am not so much of a villain that I would simply have my way with you without ensuring you were properly prepared, my dear.” 

You don’t know if this is worse, actually. If he had chosen the latter option, perhaps it would have been easier to close your eyes and grit your teeth and pretend to be somewhere else. But the way he is looking at you, the way he is touching you . . . those things make it far more difficult to separate what is going on from yourself. 

“I’m going to kiss you,” Neuvillette says to you - and you almost protest, until you remember the terms of the agreement once more. 

(“You will give yourself to me intimately,” Neuvillette had said. “I will have my fill of your body, and in return I will find your brother not guilty in court. Is this agreeable to you, little one?”

You had wanted to scream and shout and spit. It was certainly not agreeable to you; Neuvillette was a corrupt pervert, taking advantage of his position. How many other desperate petitioners had done this for him? 

“Oh,” Neuvillette had said, when you’d been unable to stop yourself biting out the last thing. “None at all. I’ve never been quite so intrigued by any of them or wanted to have any of them bent over my desk quite so much. I suppose that makes you special - and isn’t that nice?”)

You feel at his mercy like this, bare in his office, when he hasn’t so much as taken off his gloves - and indeed, the cool silk of those gloves against your heated cheek as he pulls you up into a kiss reminds you of who exactly has the power. He sighs softly into your mouth, teeth nipping at your lower lip. They’re sharp, and you gasp in surprise and win a low growl from Neuvillette himself. His kiss is wet and messy, and he seems almost disappointed when he pulls back from you with his eyes half-lidded. 

“Mm,” he says, “How many others have kissed you like that, little one?”

You press your lips together in a show of defiance, and he chuckles.

“As I thought,” he murmurs, lowering his head again - this time, the kiss he gives you is pressed to the top of your cheekbone. Slowly, carefully, peppered down your jawline. “Ah, don’t worry - you did perfectly well.”

You let out a noise of wordless disbelief and embarrassment that he could tell, which is quickly cut off when he tugs at your earlobe with his teeth instead. It is his canines that are sharp; you give a hot intake of breath at the scratch of them on your sensitive lobe that in turn makes him shudder. 

You hate the shivery feeling of pleasure that the bite sends zipping down your spine; a heat that settles firmly between your thighs, that mixes with the pounding of your heart. 

“Give in,” Neuvillette says softly. “You have no choice if you want me to uphold my word; you may as well enjoy it. I have no wish to be cruel to you, little one. If you like it too, so much the better.”

“I--I won’t--”

Your voice is reedy; it wobbles and shakes in the air. Both you and Neuvillette know that it is a stubborn and hopeless task, when his kisses and his tugging at your nipples and his soft nipping bites against your most vulnerable parts have already made a slick drip between your thighs you do not want to admit to. 

“A pity.” Neuvillette pulls back, and your body misses him - you find yourself making a soft noise of displeasure as his weight moves from in front of you and beside you, before he goes to stand beside his desk and takes his cane back into his hands, leaning on it almost casually. “Come here, little one. Bend over my desk.”

You flounder there, unsure now if you really are willing to go through with things the way that you had agreed to. Your throat feels dry. Disrobing had all been very well, letting him touch your chest had all been very well, but . . .

He taps his cane gently on the ground and makes a soft chiding noise with his tongue. 

“Come now, little one,” he murmurs, his voice perfectly agreeable. “It’s not so large a thing, is it? For the price of your brother’s reputation?”

You shake your head and take a slow, nervous step towards his desk - a large, terrifying presence in the room. How many people has he held the fates of in his hand as he sat here in the Palais Mermonia and read their files?

The reminder that you are indeed in the Palais Mermonia - that only down a hallway is a whole group of gestionnaires utterly unknowing of what their honourable Iudex is doing with the young citizen he has an appointment with - makes your heart beat faster, nervousness rise up in your throat like a tidal wave. One foot in front of the other.

You wish the walk to his desk was shorter at the same time as you wish that you would never make it to the end. 

It is not to be. Your bare hip bumps against the desk’s edge and you let out a slow, steadying breath. 

“That’s it,” Neuvillette says agreeably, and his cane taps on the ground as he comes to stand behind you. “Brace yourself on the table now; palms down. I’m not going to hurt you. Bend over and show me what I shall have the pleasure of conquering, hmm?”

You burn with humiliation as you do exactly what he asks; place your hot palms down directly upon the table and bend at the waist. Neuvillette sighs as if he’s terribly pleased with what he’s seeing. You start as you feel a gentle nudge against your bare ankle, and you realise that he’s touching you with his cane.

“Spread these apart a bit further,” he murmurs, and you comply despite the way you feel utterly debased by the treatment. “Ah. Very nice. Lovely, in fact.”

If you have one thing to be grateful for, it is that he does not mention what you both know; you are wet. The way he had touched and palmed at your chest, the kisses . . . you can feel the beads of slick on your inner thighs, the dampness of the folds of your cunt. The position he has put you in means, too, that you can feel the cool air on your exposed clit - the little button swollen and standing to attention. 

Neuvillette’s gloved hand gently comes to rest upon the back of your thigh. Slowly, slowly, he maps a path over your bared skin; the round curve of your ass where it’s presented to him, down and--

A hiccup of surprise escapes you and you almost rock back into him, but manage to stop yourself at the last moment, as those silken gloved fingers brush feather-light over the soft mound of your cunt. He does not press down yet; merely lets himself get accustomed to the shape of you. Your hips cant forward against your will as his fingertip brushes against the sensitive bud of your clit, a whimpering gasp falling from your lips. 

You have never been touched by anyone before - and the fact it is Monsieur Neuvillette doing it, under these circumstances--

You squeeze your eyes closed, willing yourself not to cry. You are grateful at least that he cannot see you; in fact, he seems rather preoccupied now, those long silken fingers spreading the plump lips of your labia further apart so that he can see your entrance.

“My,” he says, a smile apparent in his voice. “We’re going to have to do rather a lot of preparation, aren’t we? Sweet little thing, you look tight as a vice.” 

“I don’t . . .” You don’t understand quite what he means by preparation, but the soft rustle of his clothing still sets your teeth on edge. You’d known that he would disrobe too, of course you had, but it somehow all seems to be happening so quickly--

A strangled gasp escapes you.

The rustling was not him disrobing. Instead, he has knelt down - and his mouth is hot when he presses it to the sensitive places on the backs of your knees, his tongue wet as he trails it up the back of your thighs.

“Th-this isn’t what we agreed!” You say, panicked, as his mouth inches ever closer to the place between your thighs. Despite the heat of his tongue, the puffs of breath that escape him with his dry little laugh are cool. 

“Isn’t it, little one?” He murmurs, in between the wet kisses; you keen softly as he digs teeth into sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, fangs sending confused shockwaves of both pain and pleasure directly to your sex. “Let me see . . . Did I not use the terms ‘have my fill’? Why, little one - whyever did you think that would begin and end with my cock?” 

It’s too intimate. You have to be too present for it all, and the tears that have been threatening to spill out do so at the same time as his tongue oh-so-gently prods against your folds in interest. If Neuvillette notices that you’re crying, he doesn’t say anything - and you are grateful for that, as he presses his mouth fully against your cunt with a horrifically wanton wet noise and you realise that you are crying in no small part because his mouth against your heated core feels good. 

He merely mouths against you for a moment, his tongue delicate as it travels across your folds and drinks in your wetness. You shudder as he finds your clit, and his tongue flicks against it playfully. Despite what he had said about not having done this to any other desperate citizens, the way he works his mouth against you belies that he has at least some experience--

You know absolutely nothing about the Iudex’s private life, much like the rest of Fontaine. 

He pulls back from you to murmur against your thigh.

“You’re so wet, little one. It’s very charming. I think I shall use my mouth on you until you are glad to have the desk to keep you standing. It would be a hard-hearted creature indeed who would not want to feel you come on his face, under his tongue--”

You whimper out some kind of horribly embarrassing noise, as he returns hungrily to his former task; he licks at you and suckles at you like a man starved, and your body reacts with hot little shivers and shudders and jolts of pleasure. You make an attempt to curtail the pleasure - try to tell your body that it ought not to be enjoying this - but pure animal instinct wins out, and you are bent double over the desk whimpering helplessly, tilting your ass up to give him more room, and grinding your cunt into Neuvillette’s face despite all of it.

Neuvillette does not seem to mind at all. He groans into you instead, using the flat of his tongue to stroke as much of your cunt as possible, to work through your folds and suckle on your clit until your entire body feels aflame with strange new feelings. Every so often, he teases his tongue over your entrance, the tip circling the ring of muscle - but he does not push into it yet. 

His grip on your thighs is iron-tight. You don’t know when he let go of his cane, but both hands dig into the soft pudge of your inner thighs now, keeping you spread for him despite how the twists of pleasure make you want to squeeze your thighs together. 

You don’t know how you’re still breathing, as Neuvillette’s tongue continues to lay claim to you. You can feel your inner muscles clenching around nothing; slick accumulating around your entrance, just begging for something to be inside of you (though, in truth, you’ve never had anything more than your own finger and even then had felt hot and unsure of it). He growls, tongue flicking out against your clit in a rhythmic drumming that makes you whine.

“O-oh,” you manage, through the lump in your throat. “Archons--”

He gives your inner thigh a warning pinch, just enough to make you stutter, as he pulls his soaking wet mouth away from you and murmurs;

“No, little one. No archons here. Remember who it is, who's here with you.”

You are almost tempted to throw his own words back into his face; to tell him that you’d made no such bargain that you had to acknowledge that he was there. That, according to the legalities of the agreement you’d both made, you only had to let him use your body - not your voice, not your head, not your heart. But the lack of his mouth on you now feels like a peculiar kind of torture. You want him to stop. You want him to carry on. The whimper falls out of your mouth to a groaning purr of satisfaction from Neuvillette himself;

“M-monsieur--”

“That’s better.”

His mouth is back on you, hungrily working his tongue between your folds. Hungrily suckling and stroking and working you over until you feel hot and boneless, trembling on the edge of something - your entire body is a taut string, pulled to the point of snapping. Your cunt is wet and messy with drool and fluid and slick, sliding down your thighs - you cannot see Monsieur Neuvillette, but you’d wager that his cheeks are wet and shiny with the same, if only due to the utter eagerness he was still displaying. 

It’s too much. 

With a whine and pitiful jerk of your hips, you feel yourself slide down into some dark abyss; the thread that’s been threatening to snap finally does exactly as it was always going to do, and a wash of shameful pleasure crashes over you like a stormy sea. Neuvillette lets out a pleased groan as you feel yourself let another gush of arousal out, hungrily drinking you in with lewd, wet noises that have your face as hot as any Natlan springs. 

He carries on using his tongue on you; licking, sucking, lapping like a man parched for water - just to the point where your over-sensitive body begins to complain that you are still too raw for such hunger, and then he pulls his mouth off of you. You stay there, bent double over his table, wheezing softly as you hear him dust off his clothes and the click of his reclaimed cane as he comes around to the other side of the desk so that he can look you in the eye. 

He really hasn’t disrobed at all. 

It’s a callback to the power imbalance between you both; a reminder that, no matter what, you are entirely at Neuvillette’s mercy. You are glad, at least, that he has a reputation for being honourable in his agreements - you have only the very vaguest flutter of a fear that giving him your body will be for naught and he will go back on his word. Everybody knows that the Chief Justice values that same standard he is entitled to embody. 

“You were crying,” he says, leaning forward and cupping his hand about your cheek, a thumb sliding over the apple of your cheek. “It suits you. I’ve never quite understood this human urge not to cry - you look terribly pretty with those diamonds on your cheeks.”

He leans in closer and closer, closing his eyes - and you go stock-still as he kisses the tears from your cheeks and pulls back, licking his lips as if he is savouring the taste of something special. 

“I-is that all?” You ask, a hopeful tone to your voice - but Neuvillette simply smiles at you kindly, as if you’re silly for even asking. 

“Of course not, little one,” he murmurs. “That was merely a precursor to the main event, to ensure you’re . . . sufficiently ready. As I have already said; I am no villain, and I have no desire to hurt you physically. I want to ensure your body is primed to accept me, for the sake of both of our pleasure. And it was pleasurable, wasn’t it?” 

You press your lips together, hot shame rising up your neck.

“No need to get shy,” he says to you, that soft, kind smile not leaving his face. “By the way you were grinding against my face, and how prettily you came for me . . . Mm, I’d wager you enjoyed it very much. But it’s alright if you are not ready to admit it; your body doesn’t lie, sweet one, and I know it will accept my fingers and my cock far more readily than you’d like it to.”

. . . You had enjoyed it. You had felt that pleasure that he was so willing to give to you, and the thought that you were actually deriving some enjoyment from this thing that was supposed to merely be about procuring assistance for your brother . . . You don’t quite know how to feel, as Neuvillette presses a paternal kiss to your forehead and you hear the slow click of his footsteps as he returns to the other side of the desk, where your nakedness and your readiness for him are far more pronounced.

“You really are quite lovely, you know,” he murmurs, letting his gloved fingers slide down the arch of your back, from the nape of your neck and down your spine. “Ordinarily, I’m not too fond of ostentation - but ah, you . . . You could benefit from a little more ornamentation.”

A palm, cupping your ass - giving it a slow, considering squeeze, almost too hard to be painful but not quite. 

“This, for example,” he murmurs, “would be lovely with some discipline. Imagine; how pretty you would be with welts from my cane.”

“Monsieur Neuvillette--!” It comes out in a panicked little gasp, but Neuvillette merely chuckles.

“Now, now, little one - settle down. As sweet as it would be - I am still aware of the legal terms of our arrangement. I won’t force you to give me any extra - and whilst caning you would be terribly satisfying for me . . . it doesn’t count as satiating my desire in that legal sense that is so important to us both.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding. Somewhere inside of you, your heart pounds at the thought of letting him do as he wishes with you - but you squash it down, holding to the comforting lie that you are getting absolutely nothing out of the arrangement you had made with Neuvillette. 

His hand curves over your ass and slips between your thighs.

“A-aren’t you even going to take your gloves off?” You seethe at him, through clenched teeth, as a fingertip slides between the plump lips of your sex once more, to find the wet mess that he had left there earlier. 

“I fear it would be most unprofessional of me to undress in my office,” he says, and you hear the smile in his voice. “Forgive me, little one. I think I will stay as entirely clothed as I am able.”

His tone does not broker any argument, and you bite your tongue as he - slowly, maddeningly slowly - slides his finger through the valley of your cunt, approaching your clit with a near-torturous pace. Your breath stutters in your chest as his silk-gloved finger finally brushes over the delicate nub, and he increases his pressure from feather-light to something firmer as he begins to make slow, small circles on the pleasure point.

Your hips don’t know whether to shy away from the certainty of his manipulations or to lean into them, so you do the only thing you can think of and let loose a soft whine into the charged air of his office. 

After he has played with your swollen clit for a few more agonising moments, his fingers drag back through the soaking wet valley to toy with your entrance. You feel yourself flex as he comes near, as if your cunt is begging him to finally put something inside of you - and though he gives a soft chuckle, he does not tease you any further.

“I’m going to put a finger inside of you now,” he murmurs - again, you are not sure if it would be worse if he had not told you. With this knowledge, you have just enough time to catch your breath before he slides his finger into you with one quick movement.

It punches the air out of you. If you had not been bent over the desk already, you’re sure you would have lost your footing - but as it is, Neuvillette goes about opening you up with a kind of determined certainty. The finger inside of you gives a few lone pumps, working your tight insides open - you are wet and pliable enough that it does not hurt near as much as you had thought it would. 

“Good,” Neuvillette murmurs, “Are you ready for me to add another?”

Again, you want to whimper and scream and bite - but as he continues to pump his finger in and out of you, you realise with that same shame that the feeling of him inside of you is good and could only be improved if he filled you more thoroughly.

“Yes, please,” you whisper, your throat dry - and you are rewarded with another low murmur of praise, and the feel of a finger joining the first at your entrance. You take another steady breath, but you do not need to; two fingers fit inside of you with only the barest modicum of resistance, your body silky wet and tight and welcoming. The silk of his gloves rubs against your inner walls curiously, making you feel utterly dizzy with sensation. 

There is a purpose to this that there hadn’t seemed to be when he was using his mouth on you. When he was using his mouth, though he had said it was in order to make the final result easier on you both, you had gotten the distinct impression he had rather enjoyed the process - the sucking, the wet noises, the lewd sound of his tongue against your soaking cunt. But here, Neuvillette crooks his fingers inside of you and pumps them in and out and scissors them slightly in a way that leaves no doubt that he is ensuring you will be able to take something even bigger and wider than his fingers when we have done. 

He still does it all with a trademark thoroughness; he rests his other hand on the small of your back to keep you still as those digits plunge in and out of you. You dread to think how soaked through with your slick his gloves will be when he is done--

But he does not use his fingers upon you to completion. 

You feel it building up inside of you with the way he curls them just so, rubbing against a spongy spot inside of you that makes your thighs tremble - but he doesn’t follow through on the promise that begins to build, dizzying, between your legs. 

He pulls out his fingers with a slick pop and a wet clicking noise, giving your cunt a gentle pat on his way out.

“There, my dear,” he says. “It will still be a tight fit, of course . . . but I should cause you no undue pain. And, if I may be so bold, little one - I’m absolutely certain you’ll feel exquisite.”

This time, there is no question that the rustling noise you hear behind you is him partly undressing; that the soft pop is the sound of buttons being freed from the confines of his placket. He lets out a pleased sigh - you assume at the feel of his hand on his own cock. 

“I’ve been longing to touch you,” he murmurs, as he slots himself between your hips. “I had to prepare you, naturally - oh, but little one, I’ve been hard since the moment you walked all trembling and righteous into my office.” 

“D-do you say that to all of the poor hopeful people who come into your office hoping you’ll grant them justice, Monsieur?” You manage, and he chuckles. His hips fit neatly in between your own spread thighs, and you feel the heavy, silky, hot weight of something as it slaps against the meat of your inner thigh and leaves a sticky wet trail upon the skin there. His cock. His pre-come, on you--

“As I’ve said before, little one,” he murmurs, and he readjusts himself and you hiss yourself as his cock presses softly against the pudge of your outer lips. He doesn’t move it yet; merely lets it rest there, letting you get used to the size of him and the knowledge that he is going to put it inside you. “I have never been so intrigued by any of them to want to. But you . . . ah, this human quality of resilience! You’re utterly darling. There’s even still fire in you now, when I have you naked and at my mercy. Tell me, little one . . . what would you do if I went back on our agreement now and still fucked you?”

You half rear up, and the way your body moves has his cock nudging at your clit, against you - you find yourself half-enveloping the thick shaft of his cock with your labia. It makes you breathless that it doesn’t even come close to disappearing inside you; indeed, the stretch of it reminds you of just how big he is.

“You wouldn’t!” You say, a tone of petulant fury edging your words - Neuvillette makes a hum of agreement even as his gloved hands travel up, over the curve of your hips and then your waist, until he is cupping the weight of your breasts in them and your nipples are once more trapped between the silken pinch of of his thumbs.

“You’re right,” he says, calmly. “I value justice too much for that - but oh, you’re quite something when you’re full of moral fury, aren’t you? Justice . . . a funny thing, isn’t it? One might say that having you right here, in my office, naked and hot and wet and exactly where I want you is a just reward for my years of service, wouldn’t they?”

You don’t respond, and he chuckles; nips a bite into the sensitive part of your throat where the curve of shoulder and neck meet that sends another electric zip down your spine.

“I’m going to put it inside of you now,” he says, still as calm as a placid lake. “And then I’m going to fuck you, little one. Are you quite ready?”

He tilts his hips forward as an urge for you to do the same; to lower yourself back down over the desk. You hiss as his cock slips and slides between the folds of your cunt, but it is nothing compared to how it feels when he pulls back and the wet head of his cock nudges almost impatiently against your entrance. He does not let go of where he is still pinching and rolling at the buds of your nipples, sending light-headed little thrills right down to between your legs - your sex clenching at the emptiness, missing his fingers.

“As ready as I think I’ll be, Monsieur,” you manage, hoping the title comes out as barbed as you want it to - but then he is pressing inside of you, his cock opening you up, and you bump against the table and go utterly blank of thought at the sensation of being claimed.

It feels like all of the air inside of you deflates as Neuvillette pushes himself into you. He had been correct on one count - he had prepared you well enough that there is only a light sting, the feeling that is to be expected when something large fits itself into a tight hole. You wheeze over his desk, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, as he seems to keep pushing and pushing and pushing--

You don’t think you’ll possibly take all of him, and then he stops and you feel his pelvis pressing against your ass, and you realise he is fully inside of you now.

“There,” even Neuvillette sounds a touch breathless. “Didn’t you do well, little one? Are you ready for me to begin moving?”

His only answer from you is a huff, as he pinches your nipples again and you feel yourself clench around the cock buried inside of you. He laughs softly, and with a wet drag you feel him pull out of you - and then drive back inside again with a wet pap, the sound indecently loud in the quiet office. Neuvillette had already established when he had made it clear he expected you to fulfil this arrangement in his work chambers that the walls were thick enough no gestionnaires would come running no matter what, but you still have a vision of it happening.

Some poor underpaid Palais Mermonia worker, coming in to ask the Honourable Chief Justice some question or another, only to find him bent over a shivering whining citizen, naked on his desk. The thought of someone seeing you, at such a powerful man’s mercy--

You clench around Neuvillette again, whining softly into the polished wood of the desk, your body wanting to welcome his cock inside and keep it for yourself. It feels so good - you can barely stand knowing how right and full and warm you feel, how you know that if Neuvillette stopped fucking you that you would have no choice but to beg him to carry on and let you come. 

“Good,” he murmurs, as he finds himself a rhythm that makes you quake. Every drag of his hips sets your body aflame, every twitch of his cock makes you huff and whimper. You’re moaning, you realise, as if you are somewhere very far away. “There now, little one - doesn’t that feel good?”

You don’t reply, but you do not need to. The sound of him fucking in and out of you - the wet sticky slap of his cock as his hips bounce against your spread thighs, the obscene feeling of your own arousal drooling out of you, and the noises that keep escaping your mouth unbidden all do that for you. Your body does not even try to push him out; merely pull him in tighter. 

He stops pinching your nipple with one hand, dragging it back down the curve of your body to curl around your thigh, sneaking between you and the wooden drawers of his desk - and you keen a high-pitched little noise as instead of your nipple, he roughly pinches at your clit instead.

The sensation of that silken fabric, sodden already with your slick, and the mean little pinch pushes you over a precipice that you didn’t realise you’d been hovering on. You cry out this time, a moan that you feel certain that everyone in the whole building must hear - but that doesn’t matter, as you spasm helplessly on Neuvillette’s cock and you give him your second orgasm of the night. 

He fucks you through it, even as you feel your cunt flex and flutter around him. You feel dizzy, panting, whining - but Neuvillette’s thrusts have more purpose now, and a low groan that sounds almost inhuman comes out of him as you weakly try and push your body back at him to hurry it along. 

“I’ll come when I’m ready,” he practically growls, and you whine as his teeth fasten into the meat of your shoulder so that he is utterly bent over you - the rasp of his silken clothes against you, fine fabrics and adornments. The satiny brush of his hair over your heated skin. “And you will take every drop, little one - as you agreed to do--”

You nod helplessly, and he groans - and then his cock is twitching inside of you wildly, and he’s biting at you again and huffing and groaning and the plunge of his hips seems to hit deeper inside of you with every thrust.

You had never imagined the Chief Justice like this in all of your life, but there is something animal to him now; some latent kind of primal instinct you had never realised that the kind, fatherly Monsieur Neuvillette possessed. You know now he is not as kind as you had once supposed, but it is still something else entirely to see him and feel him fuck you like a man possessed.

He snaps, his hips wildly gyrating into you, slapping against your ass so hard you fear you will bruise - and then you feel his cock jump and he comes inside of you, thick ropes of his release shooting directly into your insides and coating you, viscous and full of him.

He gives another almost animalistic growl against your skin, letting his cock judder and shoot out a few final spurts of his own seed - and then, there is a brief moment of quiet. You can hear yourself and your own shuddering breaths, your heart pounding in your ears - and then, the slick, wet noise of him pulling out of you. He catches hold of his own breath, and when he speaks again his voice is smooth and kind as ever as if nothing more has transpired here than a meeting of minds.

“Marvellous, little one. You did so terribly well. Of course,” Neuvillette murmurs against your ear, his breath a cool brush against your heated skin. There’s the faintest scent of saltwater in it; you shiver despite yourself. “You do realise that the final decision does not lie with me, do you not?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” You’re too breathless to speak, still - laid out across Monsieur Neuvillette’s desk, on display like the most wanton of creatures. You can still feel his come rolling down your thighs, spilling out of you with every pant of your breath - you were so utterly filled and claimed by him that you fancy you can feel his come inside of you even now, in thick ropes and dripping pearls. 

“Well,” Neuvillette moves away, and you  turn your head, cheek cold on the desk, to watch as he re-fastens the placket of his trousers, the tails of his coat swishing about him. You remain utterly debased; your clothes still in a haphazard pile to the side of his desk. You do not yet think your trembling legs could even hold you up, and you have no choice but to let Neuvillette continue to drink in the sight of you akimbo over his office furniture. “Surely you understand it is the Oratrice who will make the final decision, my dear?”

Your heart beats double time in your chest. Your breath comes out in a panicked little gasp, and you rear up before you’re quite ready for it, staggering towards him to clutch at his lapels.

“But it always sides with you,” you say to him, hating that your voice rises in pitch pathetically. “You’re always in agreement--”

“Yes,” Neuvillette agrees with a low hum, and you hate him as one of his thumbs gently comes up to caress your cheek like a lover. “It will be greatly novel for Lady Furina to witness the disagreement, I’m sure. Still - the Oratrice does have the final word, as it always has.”

“But you promised!” You don’t care about dignity now, as you feel the hot splash of tears across your cheeks. Neuvillette takes in a shuddering breath, far too reminiscent of the noise he’d made when he’d pressed himself inside of you. His thumb slides under a tear now, to catch it upon the pad; you watch in mute agonies as he lifts it to his mouth and his tongue flicks out to taste you.

“Really, my dear,” Neuvillette says, with a sigh of satisfaction. “I thought you were better educated than this; you were so very charmingly certain when you first came to see me after accosting me in public. All of those carefully laid out little plans and charts as to why your criminal brother couldn’t possibly have committed the felony that everybody knows he did--”

“But you agreed!” You’re desperate now. He hums again, and one of his arms settles around your waist, keeping you pinned against him. “You said you would find him not guilty! You said he’d be freed!”

“I said one of those things,” he corrects you - and then he sees that you’re very much hovering on the edge of hysteria, and he sighs. “You poor little creature. When I asked you if you were certain and that you’d thought everything through properly . . . you hadn’t really, had you?”

“I . . . I thought . . .” You sniffle desperately, trying to grasp onto the threads of your righteous anger as the cool sting of foresight settles over you once more. Monsieur Neuvillette is correct; he promised that he would find your brother not guilty, and you had taken it for granted that the ruling of the mighty Iudex would be enough to see your brother free.

Not a word about the Oratrice had passed his lips.  

You’re shaking. It is only Monsieur Neuvillette’s arm around your waist that stops you from falling to the ground. You fear if that grounding limb left, you would drop to your knees and hug at his legs and rub your sobbing face against his knee and beg. The fact that you had . . . that you’d given yourself to him, and he must have known that he could not truly give what you were asking for . . .

“And what then?” You whisper, your throat dry. Neuvillette makes a considering noise in the back of his throat; a throaty hum. A hand gently scoops your chin up to force you to look him in the eyes.

Neuvillette’s eyes are blue-grey-violet, boring down into you. There is something ancient and terrifying that lies behind them, but as they look into your own they seem to almost flash possessive. 

“I happen to know the administrator of the Fortress of Meropide,” he says, after a long moment. “Of course, I’m sure you understand that it is not the most . . . welcoming of places. Your brother’s confinement will lack creature comforts. But . . . it doesn’t have to be quite so dreary.”

Against your will, hope rises like a soft flame in your chest. 

“You would do that?” You ask the Iudex. “Make sure that he’s . . . that it’s not so bad?”

“You misunderstand,” Neuvillette tells you, with a small smile. “I have fulfilled my end of our agreement now. I will find your brother not guilty. Legally, there’s nothing else that you need of me.”

“I could tell someone--” You start to say, but Neuvillette only lets out a soft little huff of laughter.

“Poor thing,” he says, “do you truly believe that anybody would take your word - the sibling of some no-good criminal, desperate to save him - over mine? You must understand that I have, as Iudex, a long history of doing only the best for Fontaine.” He lets go of your waist, and you are thankful that you manage to keep your balance even as he turns and sweeps away towards his desk. “I am also aware that I’m the subject of some . . . romantic fantasy, in the hearts of the ever-theatrical people of our homeland.” He seats himself in the great chair behind his desk, and looks back up at you with that damnable smile playing around his lips - small enough you could not call it mocking, soft enough you could argue it was an attempt at sympathy. “Why would I give that up, just to tumble some know-nothing worth-nothing young upstart in my office?”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times in speechless anger, before that cool foresight settles over you once more.

Because he’s right.

Why would he? Why would anyone believe you? 

“. . . How can I ask for your aid again?” You manage to grit out, through clenched teeth.

“You could fill out a form from the Palais Mermonia,” he says, rifling through the paperwork on his desk as if you have already left the room. “Talk to one of the gestionnaires about aid for those incarcerated, once your brother has officially been sentenced. The working time for a response is currently . . .” He tilts his head to the side again, as if thinking. “Ah, yes. Only a year and six months. I’m sure nothing untoward could befall your poor brother in that time--”

“Monsieur,” you step towards him imploringly. “Please--”

You remember your nakedness only when Neuvillette looks up from his desk and lets his eyes critically sweep you again. Your nipples, stiff and sore from his pinching fingers. Your thighs, wet with his release and your own slick. The bite marks from his fangs that litter your bared skin. 

His eyes narrow; the face of a man taking in something that already belongs to him. A dragon considering his latest addition to the hoard. 

You realise exactly what he is going to ask you for, in return for his continued aid, before he opens his mouth. 

“Well,” he says, with a small smile upon his generous mouth. It is a mouth many would describe as kind; at this moment in time, you cannot think of it as anything other than dangerous. “You did such a good job of convincing me to aid you today . . . why, we could make these little meetings more regular, don’t you think?”

You swallow thickly. 

The Fortress of Meropide. Under the sea, with no sunlight, for who knows how long. Who knows where he would sleep, or what he would eat, or what other comforts would be denied to him in his imprisonment? 

“Yes, Monsieur,” you whisper, your throat bone dry. 

“Excellent,” he smiles at you in clear dismissal. You feel . . . used. Cheated. Hollow. Utterly owned and laid claim to and conquered, your spirit deadened inside as you look at the corrupt official you had once held in such high regard. “Next week, then. Wear something prettier, please. I’m partial to blue. Now - you don’t mind, do you? I have cases to review.”

[okidkwhatimdoing]

[alarrytale]

Hello, I mean no disrespect but where did you see that Troy tried to blackmail Louis? Was it on Twitter? Thansk x

Hi, anon!

It's okay! We who were here when it happened don't always remember that some fans weren't here to see it, and we write things like people should know what we're all talking about. Sorry about that.

So basically during some months in 2015 Troy gave several interviews to the Mirror where he expressed the wish to end the feud with Louis.

ETA; forgot this part lol. Louis hated it;

It obviously didn’t work, and then "a source" went to the Mirror and said the following:

"Troy has always wanted to repair that relationship – but if Louis isn't prepared to do so, he’s told a few friends he has something which would really throw a grenade into things.

"He sees it as his final shot at getting Louis’s attention, and he's said he will drop the bombshell it if he feels it’s the only option he's got left, even though it would come as a massive shock.

"He knows it could cause another big rift within the family but is ­starting to feel he has nothing left to lose."

And then Mark Tomlinson got involved and that was also covered by the Mirror.

And then Troy went to the Mirror again whining about Mark wanting to pay him a visit and fans giving him death threats...

Mind you, this was right after the bg announcement as well...

[glacierruler]

D&D AU

Ao3

Masterpost | Next Chapter

Content Warnings: Mentions of Fantasy Racism, Mentions of Assassination/Murder, Mentions of Blackmailing, Thievery

Please reblog my writing!

All rolls will be listed at the end of the chapter, and is notated as rolls

Taglist: @cutebisexualmess @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat

The Adventure Begins

Six adventurers, fates intertwined beyond belief, are in the same town. Only two of them have met, having known each other since birth. Other than that, these wanderers have no idea of the existence of the others. Yet, they must meet. They will meet. For they are important to how the kingdom of Schelendor changes, whether it be for the better or the worse, only their choices will tell.

Their journey to the city of Haolewyn is something personal to each of them, Virgil; an urchin who learned to survive on the streets is searching for a dear friend who kept him alive, Roman and Remus; two brothers who ran from their village after an incident that the former refuses to speak about while the latter making a pact with a deity to get revenge, Janus; a criminal who lives in a city further west travelling to see what he can exploit from the nobles there who have something to hide, Patton; on a journey to try to bring peace between the nobles who are on the verge of a war over whose town Haolewyn’s is, and Logan; he is researching magic and how it works to connect to his research on how sorcerer’s magic works. None of them realize just how important they are, but they soon will.

However, they are currently in separate parts of the city, most of them attempting to find the information they need and find a place to rest before nightfall. Remus and Roman however, are currently at the tavern that employed Remus.

Remus’s job was to make and mix the drinks, he also helped out at the distillery a few miles away when needed. Roman entertained the guests at the tavern most nights, although one could find him almost anywhere in the city. As usual, Roman’s performance was astounding the crowd, giving them all something to stare at. Only one heckler could be heard above the noise, only one who had the right to make fun of him.

“Your voice could use a drink or two!” His brother cackled. Rolling his eyes, Roman launched into his story of the night. Another tale of heroes defeating dragons terrorizing crowds, when the doors slammed open. Eyes tore from Roman momentarily to stare and glare at the newcomer who had interrupted the story.

The newcomer of course was Logan, of course. He hadn’t meant to slam open the doors, however that did not stop the patrons of the bar from judging this newcomer with suspicions high, Logan suspecting it due to his orcish heritage, that is until he noticed that the performer was a tiefling. Perhaps this section of the town was different, which was a thought that brought a certain comfort to him. Roman was entranced, as most travellers avoid this bar. Especially those who have something to study, yet he was very aware of the glares heading this individual’s way and gave him a wink before turning to continue the story. Logan was utterly confused as to what the wink meant, but went over to the bar area to find where to request a room for the night. As this had been the cheapest place available, and Logan had not acquired nearly as much funding as his peers, a cheaper place would allow him to save his gold for something of more importance. Still Logan couldn't help but be entranced by the story the tiefling who had winked at him was telling. It was of a grand adventure to slay a dragon in the town of Aqin. It made no logical sense, and usually Logan is one to scoff at stories like that. But for some reason he couldn't this time and he did not understand why. However, unknown to him as it was, it wasn't because of something completely intangible. As long as one believes in fate that is. The reason Logan was so entranced was because of his intertwined destiny with the bard on stage. Remus on the other hand was having the time of his life looking at the wizard who had joined the tavern, especially the books he was reading.

“You a fan of magic?”

Logan looked up, surprised that someone was willingly talking to him as he was almost always avoided.

“Ah… yes! I am currently doing some sanctioned research.”

“Oooh how fancy! Why'd you want the government involved?”

“If I am to be completely honest, I would lack the funding required to conduct this research on my own. Other than the necessary expenditures it is of my professional opinion that I am capable of coordinating the required research independently.”

“Interesting, whatcha wanna learn about magic for? Becoming a wizard? Trying to curse someone as a one off thing?” Remus leaned towards Logan, watching as the taller halforc’s eyes widened a bit.

“Ah, I’m already a wizard. Apologies, I am not in my official robes currently. It was of my opinion that I’d be more agreeable in common clothes.” Logan startled, intrigued at the way the bartender cackled a bit.

“You and my brother would get along well then! Both of you people pleasers to the core!”

“Might I inquire as to who your brother may be?”

“Roman is currently performing! He’s the storyteller! I’m Remus! What d’you go by?”

“My moniker is Logan.”

The two kept chatting for a bit, Logan ecstatic to talk about the research he’d been looking into and completely forgetting about asking for a room. That is until someone else came in.

Janus entered the tavern, having travelled all day to get to Haolewyn. While he was anxious to get started on the blackmail case, he’d mess up horribly if he didn’t get a proper night’s rest.

“Bartender,” he said, addressing Remus who was preoccupied with talking to Logan. “May I ask where I can get a room?”

Logan startled a bit at the sudden voice, turning to look over to where Janus had just entered.

“Yep! What’s your room for? Got someone else coming too?” The eyebrow wiggle confused Logan, as he knew it was meant to mean something yet the connotation of it eluded him. He watched as the newcomer sighed, clearly exasperated at the question.

“If you must know, I require a place to rest. Nothing exciting I’m afraid.”

“Aww. Maybe next time! Here’s your key, we do clean the rooms after each patron leaves, but we do not take any responsibility for any leftover mess! It’s 2 silver a day to stay here!”

“Apologies to interrupt, however this has reminded me that a room would be necessary for me as well.”

“Here’s your key too!” Remus sang, tossing both of them keys. Cackling when the newcomer didn’t seem to catch it.

Just a moment later, Roman’s story ended. And with roaring applause, he made his way over to his brother. Passing a tip jar around for those in the tavern to give him some extra copper (and if he was lucky silver) for such a stunning performance. Watching him talking not only with the halforc from earlier, but the yuan-ti as well, he elected to introduce himself.

“Greetings weary travellers, I am Roman. The main entertainer for this wonderful establishment! I see you’ve met my brother Remus already.”

“Salutations I am Logan. And indeed, it has been delightful conversing with your brother.”

As all three of them turned to look at the fourth companion, it became certainly clear that something about the conversation made them uncomfortable. All of them going through what might have offended the humanoid still unknown to them. Unbeknownst to them, it was just the subject of dropping his name that made him uncomfortable.

Eventually the silence became unbearable for the fourth, and he introduced himself.

“You may call me Deceit.” His voice as smooth as possible, Janus watched the other three process what he had said. If they were smart, they wouldn’t say anything about it.

Turns out, the one named Roman seemed to have a deathwish.

“Oh, so you’re too special to just give out your name? What are you, a government officer?”

“Oooh, are you the officer funding Logan’s research,” Remus chimed in and Janus couldn’t help but slightly wish the assassin he knew was nearby. Sadly they weren’t as this assassin avoids this city for some unknown reason. Which is a very fortunate thing in this case, as if Janus were to have them murdered he would be interrupting fate, and fate is not a thing to be messed with.

Rubbing his temples attempting to avoid his oncoming headache, Janus sighed. “I’m not a government agent—”

“Something a government agent would say.” Roman interrupted quickly.

“I am just not fond of handing my name out to strangers.”

“Like a government agent!” Remus cackled, both twins high fiving each other as Janus looked like he wanted nothing more than to murder someone.

“If it is any consolation Deceit, I highly doubt you have the capability to be in such an esteemed position.”

For some reason, that annoyed Janus even more. Especially since it got Remus cackling even more and Roman snickering at him.

“Ooh yeah, he’s too short!”

“Remus, you can’t be mean to humanoids smaller than you! That’s mean.”

“I was not aware that there was a height requirement to be a government agent.”

However, before Janus could be humiliated even more, the tavern doors opened again. And a rather small, Shadar-kai elf walked in, a glare etched into his face.

The tavern’s mood seemed to sour a bit when they saw Virgil, but he didn’t care. He had enough to not sleep on the streets here, and so he wouldn’t. And why should he be nice when as far as he was aware his friend had disappeared from this city without a trace. What good could come from a city like this. Although where he was from wasn’t any better, at least he had others that he could rely on there.

“Why the long face my friend?” Roman asked, attempting to figure out what was going on with this newcomer who looked a few missteps away from murder.

“I’m looking for a room, not an interrogation,” the elf growled at the tiefling.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that wanting guests to be happy and content qualified as an interrogation!” Roman sneered back, not enjoying the mood the other brought with him.

“And making fun of me for not divulging my name counts as keeping your patrons happy?”

Roman wrinkled his nose at that, clearly upset that he was getting told off by two different humanoids that he had just met. Thankfully for both Virgil and Janus he did back off, however he did continue to glare at them for a bit. Remus looked between both Deceit and the newcomer, before opening his mouth.

“Apologies but we’re out of rooms for the night. You’re new friendo here just got the last one, you can share if you want!”

“Why in Phythmia would I share with him!” Janus hissed out, feeling completely out of his depth when it came to the tavern owner and his brother.

“I need a room,” Virgil growled, narrowing his eyes at the other, “and I personally don’t care how I get it.”

“What do you mean by th—”

Virgil stormed off, fists tight, and Janus was left stunned as to what had happened with the shadar kai. What none of the four who were left there seemed to notice was that one key thing was missing. At least for a few minutes anyways, as when Janus went to look at his hand, he noticed the disappearance of an important item if he were truly to stay the night; the words of the elf ringing in his ears.

“Something wrong Deceit?” Remus asked, curious as to what had soured the yuan-ti’s already lemony expression.

“That elf stole my key,” he growled in response to the bartender, about to go off on a rant before Remus interrupted him.

“Oooh yeah, that’s gotta suck. Too bad you already paid for the room. We don’t do refunds here!”

“Oh of course not, why would you! Is there anything I could do to get a room at this point?”

“Nope!”

“Of course not.” Janus sighed, scanning the room for any sign of the thief right before someone more interesting caught his eye.

A cleric had just entered the tavern, one that was well dressed too. Patton, was his name, not that Janus knew. His autumn nature was kind and alluring despite how uncomfortable he seemed to be in this environment. Clearly he was knew to this scene, considering his dress and his expression. Nervous as he was, Patton strolled over to the bartender anyways.

“Hi I’m Patton. Do you know of anyone with the name of Gallan?”

Rolls:

Roman: Performance: Roll: 16 Modifier: +8 Total: 24 (performance at the tavern) Logan: Insight: Roll: 10 Modifier: +3 Total:13 (Contested with Remus's persuasion check to see if he trusts him to tell about the research) Remus: Persuasion: Roll: 8 Modifier: +8 Total: 16 (Contested with Logan's insight check to convince the wizard to divulge information Virgil: Intimidation: Roll: 3 Modifier: +7 Total: 10 (Contested with Roman’s Insight roll to keep the bard from questioning him) Roman: Insight: Roll: 3 Modifier: +2 Total: 5 Remus: Deception: Roll: 14 Modifier: +5 Total: 19 (To Decieve Virgil and Janus that there are no more rooms and it’s Janus’s fault.) Virgil: Insight: Roll: Nat 1 (No modifier, just fails) (To see if he believes Remus about the rooms or not) Janus: Insight: Roll: 3 Modifier: +5 Total: 8 (To see if he believes Remus about the rooms or not) Virgil: Sleight of Hand: Roll: 17 Modifier: +5 Total: 22 (To steal Janus’s room key, contested with Janus’s perception. Usually passive, but considering the situation, Janus gets a roll) Janus: Perception: Roll: 14 Modifier: +2 Total: 16 (Contested with Virgil’s sleight of hand check in order to see if he notices his room key being stolen.) Remus: Deception: Roll: 19 Modifier: +5 Total: 24 (Contested with Janus’s insight. Lying yet again to Janus about there being no rooms left) Janus: Insight: Roll: 2 Modifier: +5 Total: 7 (Contested with Remus’ deception to see if there really is no way to get a room.)

[knific]

my favorite thing ever is taking knife ships (crackships are even better) and replacing knife with trophy

[sunaluv]

'IS SHE TAKEN?'

in which someone asks your man if you're single

feat: ran, gojo

RAN

the club setting was filled with more excitement tonight. don't get it twisted, any club or event hosted by the haitanis was guaranteed to be the event of the day, good vibes, hot people, and lots of money to be made. but when one of the brothers was actually present at the club? something about their aura seemed to bring out the vibes in people.

ran's hooded gaze watched adoringly at you across the club, the setting bringing nostalgia to the first time you met. ever the social butterfly you were, accepting another phone number from one of the girlfriends you made tonight. the other members of the roundtable looked at one another, wondering if the haitani brother was even present.

"no wonder you're so distracted, boss," the man next to him nudged him with his elbow, to which ran side-eyed him. "she's a looker, d'ya think she's single?"

your boyfriend appeared neutral as he let the guy ramble on about how hot you were, and what he would do to you given the chance. he missed the harsh roll of ran's eyes. if he didn't know you were spoken for, he would make sure this guy knew by the end of the night.

as if on queue, you waved bye to your new friends and started to make your way to the table. eyes followed your figure as you passed, but that was to be expected when the prettiest girl at the club walked past.

"hey, sweetheart," his soft lips pressed against the crown of your head. "you alright?"

"i'm good! a little tired though," you let out a deep sigh, melting into his arms. "these heels have been killing me..."

wordlessly, his large hands had your ankles in his lap, undoing the buckles on your heels and rubbing tender circles into the irritated skin.

he smirked at the relieved sigh that left your lips. "my buddy here has something to ask you, sweets."

the man next to you seemed to go silent since your arrival at the table, the consequences of his actions just hitting. a deep breath followed by a gulp as he wiped his damp hands against his slacks. he almost flinched when your hooded, yet dominating gaze met his own eyes, but after remembering who and where he was, he gained his composure almost as quickly as it left.

"nah 'ts nothin'," he waved his hand. "just a passing thought, is all..."

others both around the roundtable and those dancing near it tried not to make it obvious that they were watching the exchange going down. they found themselves pitying a character who would not deserve it, under different circumstances. but, as discussed, the haitani aura seems to throw things off of balance.

if he didn't want to talk, ran would do it for him. "he wants to know if your single, claims he could give you a lay better than your man could,"

your eyes left the man, instead looking over your boyfriends face in silent communication.

'you and i both know he can't'

'...i know, my love, just humor me every once in a while?'

'you're such a character sometimes, haitani'

'you love it though'

eyes darted between you, awaiting your response, thus his sentence in anticipation. he didn't know what telepathic language you were communicating in, but he was glad to not hear his fate get discussed right in front of him.

"i'm very flattered, but i have a boyfriend, sorry." your response was dry towards him, but the gaze you held with ran was anything but.

catching wind of what was about to happen, you excused yourself from the table, leaving a kiss on the corner of rans mouth, whispering a 'be good' in his ear before leaving.

whatever happened after your departure was not your business, after all.

GOJO

"hey man," a hand belonging to an unfamiliar man clasped on satorus shoulder. "do you know if the girl you came here with has a boyfriend?"

you had dragged your boyfriend to one of your friend's parties, much to his dismay. he's sworn off drinking after geto's blackmail folder started getting a bit thick, meaning there was nothing fun to do other than socialise, but he didn't want to after people flocked to him for the wrong reasons.

so now he was maybe the only sober one in this lively scene, which leads to the current events.

he spoke your name for clarity. "uhh, I'm not sure. you can go ask her if you want. ill even put in a good word for you."

has this man been a fraction more sober, he would've questioned why the blindfolded man's smile was so wide, or why he was so willing to help, but alas, this was a party and alcohol was supplied.

"thanks, dude! you're such a lifesaver."

satoru almost felt bad for the guy. he was practically buzzing whilst traversing through the sweaty bodies in search of you. he felt bad until he remembered how bored he was before this happened, he has to put himself first sometimes.

after a couple stumbles, reroutes and a rest break, they had finally found you in your angelic beauty, laughing with a group of girls he didn't know.

he thought it was quite cute how the guy seemed to become more shy at the sight of you, and satoru couldn't blame him. had he been someone more normal, he would act the same in your presence.

one of the girls caught sight of the pair by the entry and gestured you towards them. your face softened slightly at the sight of your six-foot-something boyfriend and his... friend?

"hey toru," you smiled, before looking at the other man. "who’s this?"

satoru said nothing, slapping the guy a little too harshly on the back before stepping back. the floor was his.

"hey," he breathed out, before introducing himself. "i saw you come in with your friend earlier, and just wanted to know if you were seeing anyone?"

your heart rate picked up, but not for the reason the guy was hoping. why was gojo like this? did he enjoy seeing you suffer?

he obviously did as when you looked over your shoulder to the said man, he gave you a big, encouraging grin with both thumbs up. the audacity.

he had thrown you to the wolves and left you to fend for yourself.

"uhm..." you breathed, trying not to shatter the poor guy's heart. "i have a boyfriend, unfortunately. sorry."

"what do you mean, unfortunately!" satoru mocked you from behind the guy. "I'm a total catch, right?" he turned to the guy. "right??"

though delayed, the guy had finally come to the realisation he had been punked by the man who egged him on the whole time. his face burst into a deep shade of red, apologising profusely before rushing back into the crowd.

"you're such an ass, gojo."

"the last name huh?" he scratched the back of his neck. "I'm in for it arent i?"

[novankenn]

Double Barreled MFK

(A/N - I've seen these around, and I enjoy reading them. Check out @arc-misadventures and Master Posts of Posts V and V.V for some really interesting and entertaining combinations. This is inspired by their collection of much better written posts.)

Jaune Arc and Coco Adel were seated on the edge of Beacon's fountain, examining and discussing the various apparel that was being worn by Beacon Academy's "Hottest Huntress/Huntsman" poll.

For reasons unbeknownst to them they were neither on the list, nor had they been allowed to participate in the judging.

Nora: Jaune-Jaune!

Jaune: (Without looking up from his Coco's scroll) No.

Nora: But...

Jaune: (Looks up at Nora) I'm not...

Coco: Is she doing MFK with you again?

Jaune: Probably... (Looks at Nora) No... definitely.

Nora: Please? Last one... I promise!

Jaune: You said that the last time, and the time before that, and the time before that, and...

Nora: Okay. Sheesh beating a dead-horse there Fearless Leader.

Coco: Who were the choices?

Jaune: Coco?

Coco: Don't look at me like that. I'm curious on who she was going to try and temp you with.

Jaune: You know she's only going to try and rope you into this frustration if you pry.

Coco: I'm still curious. Who are the choices?

Nora: Yeah! Okay... Mr Arc. Ms Adel... Marry Fuck Kill...

Jaune: I never agr...

Coco: Shush!

Nora: Bachelorette number one! Fearless Leader's one and only partner, the mascot of Pumpkin Pete's... Pyrrha Nikos!

Pyrrha: Hi?

Jaune: What is she blackmailing you with... this time?

Pyrrha: Nothing?

Jaune: Nora?

Nora: Bachelorette number two! She is the fantasy MILF for tens of thousands! Her origins are shadowed in Mystery... the Tarnished Spartan!

TS!Pyrrha: Ah... hello?

Coco: OMG!

Jaune: How?

TS!Pyrrha: Nora asked me?

Jaune: But...

Nora: Jaune-Jaune... I. Have. My. Ways.

Jaune: But...

Nora: Don't. Question. Just. Accept. Understood?

Jaune: ...

Coco: Can I ask?

Nora: No.

Coco: Okay then.

Nora: And finally Bachelor number one...

Jaune / Coco: KILL!

Nora: Huh? But? I didn't get to...

Jaune: You said bachelor. That means it's a guy. I'm not into guys. Kill.

Coco: I'm not either. Kill.

Nora: Should have seen that one coming. Oh well. Jaune?

Jaune: I'd fuck the Tarnished Spartan and Marry Pyrrha.

Nora / TS!Pyrrha / Pyrrha: Why!?!

Jaune: (Sighs) The Tarnished Spartan... has always been a fantasy and I'd like to see if what I dreamt up matches reality, but in the end I want to have a family and live out my life with the one person here who has lifted me up and given me everything of themselves. So I'd marry Pyrrha.

Pyrrha: YES! I'll call my mom and get the preparations started!

Jaune: Huh?

Coco: Looks like you're off the market! Congratulations!

Nora: Okay, so... Coco... who are you going to Marry, and who are you going to Fuck?

Coco: I'm not a homewrecker so I'd have to get my brother from another mother's permission to give his waifu the time of her life at her Hen Party, and then I'd marry the Tarnished Spartan... preferably at the same ceremony as the man who would be my best man! Besides, as much fun as Nikos looks like she'll be... I want someone a little more mature.

TS!Pyrrha: I accept!

Coco: YES!

Nora: So... hmmmm....

Jaune: Nora?

Nora: So you both want to fuck the other's would-be wife. Sounds like you both are into partner swapping! NICE!

Jaune: I am n...

Coco: I'm game if you are.

Jaune: What???

Coco: Ladies, what say you? You up for some consensual fun before the nuptials?

Pyrrha and TS!Pyrrha look at each other...

Pyrrha/ TS!Pyrrha: YES!

Jaune: WHAT???

(A/N 2 - The third choices was Pyrros Nikos a character from @arc-misadventures' Swap Au which can be found here IV. A very talented writer with some awesome ideas/stories. If you haven't give them a look.)

[fillinforlater]

A mommy eunbi breeding fic, but a long one cause she wouldn’t just want to stop at just one, heheheheheh.

Eleven to One: Fulfilling Filling

Male Reader x Kang Hyewon, Kwon Eunbi

Length: 4922 words

Tags: rough sex, daddy kink, mommy kink, liquor play, threats and blackmail attempts, angry sex, dom/sub dynamic, master/slave play, pussy eating, curses and degradation, bend over, doggy, standing sex, denial to breed, slave!Hyewon, breeding kink, breed Eunbi, creampie, multiple orgasm, fucked silly, sex while sitting, riding, reverse cowgirl, tit play, tit sucking, ass eating, threesome, finger licking, Mommy!Eunbi

TW: rough sex, degradation, heavy dom/sub dynamics, impregnation

Inspiration: BREED EUNBI

Credit: @sooyadelicacies for co-writing. Good job, as always.

(A/N: 14 months since @dreamcatchers-husband dropped the request. Sorry for the long wait. I think three loads are enough for her?)

"Congratulations, Mr. Co-CEO."

Hyewon raises her champagne filled glass for a toast. Two glasses clink amongst delighted chatter, laughs, and general sounds of celebration. You return a kind smile before sending the expensive liquor down your throat in a swirl. You notice that Hyewon watches you intently in her professional, dark blue blazer. Suddenly, her hand is on your back and she pulls herself closer. A bit handsy for such a public setting, you think.

"And thank you for the filling, Daddy," Hyewon whispers, her ruby lips in a striking smirk.

"You're welcome, Mrs. Co-CEO," you respond and secretly graze her belly. It's a bit brazen, given that you are still in front of many employees and lawyers who helped to make this insane merger possible. They can feel the money already pouring in, especially because the conglomerate of your company and Hyewons is not a monopoly under korean law—

Your phone rings. Eunbi's number pops up on screen.

"Excuse me for a moment, I must take this call. Cheers everyone! Please enjoy yourselves."

You step out for a moment and answer the phone with a curious hum.

"Eunbi? What's up?"

"I know it, all of it."

Eunbi’s voice is demanding, yet something soft and fragile makes her seem like she can't hold herself back. Time for you to figure out why she is so on fire.

"You know what? I think I never told you the details of how to restructure two companies for a fitting merger," you chuckle and imagine Eunbi rolling her eyes, her fingers trembling as she tightly clenches her phone.

"Stop that bullshit right now. I know that you filled her."

You were stunned and moved further away and into a private room. 

"Eunbi, let me explain..." 

"Save it. How could you do this to Yujin?" she says upset. You're smarter than that. This blame game is something you’re quite familiar with. Ignore the Yujin stuff for a minute and decipher Eunbi’s tone. 

"You're not mad about that… you're upset because you’re not the first, right?”

"D-don't flatter yourself, asshole," Eunbi quickly shouts. You hit the spot, now it's time to poke her until she falters.

"You're lying to yourself, Eunbi. They all call you the M-word, but you're not the one becoming an actual mother,” you counter, quickly slipping back into CEO mode. You know how to turn this on her. 

"IZ*ONE… your precious IZ*ONE-girls. You miss them all, don't you? You miss not having a group around you. Sure you've done well enough as a soloist, and you have a dog who is always on your side. But let’s be honest, who doesn't? 

“No, it's not the same, is it? Because it doesn’t matter; it can never change the fact that Yujin, Minju, Hyewon, Chaewon—they aren't really your children."

Still no response from her, just the continuous heavy breathing from the other side of the speaker. Now you're really poking an angry bull that is ready to pierce you with its horns. But you're not scared of horns or bulls. Otherwise you would not be atop the food chain right now.

"A Mommy with no children, ts, don't make me laugh. You act concerned for Yujin, but it's just a front. Face it, Eunbi: with or without IZ*ONE, you're not even close to being a Mommy."

You might be right, but Eunbi wasn't a leader for nothing. She is still fearless, willing to fight back even as you wrestle her down in your heated exchange.

"My place or I am spilling everything to Yujin. I know you haven't told her yet. If you aren't here in the next 20 minutes, you can kiss your merger goodbye."

"Do you think that makes me scared," you respond coldly, "You can't force me to do anything. If you want to be a real Mommy, you gotta take a different approach."

Eunbi was backed in a corner and bested. She wasn’t even bluffing, but if you weren't afraid of the affair with Hyewon and the somewhat questionable merger becoming public, she had nothing on you. No final tricks up her sleeve, nothing she could use to get what she wants. Unless, her approach should have been different from the start.

"Baby,.please… Mommy needs you." 

Her tone becomes soft, motherly, and needy. Much more to your liking.

"Mommy needs me, aw~" you mock her tone yet won't hesitate in giving her what she so desires. "Mommy is going to get me. But it's on my terms. Frankly, I have something better to do right now. Wait for me till the end of the week, maybe I'll be free then."

Eunbi whines at the other end of the line. Inaudible phrases and sounds of disagreement come through the speaker but they are not even touching the surface of your resolve. You'll stay and celebrate.

You focus your mind on the task—or someone at hand. You need to celebrate the merger properly. Go back into the office room and gain everyone's attention by clearing your throat.

"I hate to cut things short, but we'll continue the celebrations later tonight at dinner. Miss Kang and I need to discuss some next steps going forward; if you could all give us the room," you say smoothly, a professional, genuine seeming smile on your lips.

Hyewon looks puzzled for a second, but after exchanging a couple of glances with her, she adds even smoother than you did:

"I already rented a hotel further down the street with a banquet and excellent wine. We'll follow after you, just make sure to leave something for us."

No further complaints, men and women in suits leave the office and their chatter fades away quickly. You lock the door behind them and Hyewon pushes a button instantly blackening out the windows to the room.

You look at Hyewon with lust. She is carrying your child, she has become fully bound to you, an unbreakable connection that glues companies together, but also a slave to her Master

"Hyewon, I need to fucking pound you in my office,” you emphasize and step in front of her.

"Yes, Daddy," Hyewon moans and drops her dress pants as she bends over, "Fuck your slut on your table. Make sure she is your breeding cow."

With a hand on her back you press Hyewon's upper body onto the stacks of paper and certificates. A half-filled glass with champagne tumbles to the floor, the other is saved by Hyewon who gasps at your fingers kneading her bare ass.

You admire the sight, feel the softness of her ass. It belongs to you. Firm, smooth, you can’t help but stick your face on it in wanton desire. Further below is the slit that you so clearly marked with repetitive, rough thrusts and cream filling. Before you do it again, you need a taste.

"I'm hungry. Daddy shouldn't go hungry, right?" 

You don't give Hyewon time to respond as you already access her holes and take a swipe of her pussy with your tongue. It's incredible that she is still this tight, her walls pressing down on your tongue as you take your licking session deeper for a minute. After hours and hours of breeding sessions over the last month, your big cock stretched Hyewon out good, but her insides are still godly tight.

Even better: it’s all yours.

You probably fucked Hyewon ten times more than you did Yujin over the last couple of weeks. Luckily you don't have to concern yourself with this now. Yujin is still occupied with shooting new episodes for her group. There is no reservation, neither in your mind or your heart thus you give Hyewon a firm smack and nibble on her clit.

"Daddy, fuck! Keep eating me, I am just a whore for you and your hunger. Oh shit, Master, give me more, please!"

"You're just a slut for your Master," you confirm her eager statement. You lips place kisses on where her pussy lips are exceptionally sensitive, and her clit is subject to constant teasing of your wet tongue. Your fingers dig into her pillowy ass, another tiny puzzle piece to make Hyewon cum.

"Master, fuck! Your tongue is so good, your mouth, I don't de-deserve this!

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm—"

You growl. Tug on her hair as you get up. Her face winces near yours, your fingers drag over her labia, but it’s purposefully restrained and not enough to push her over the edge.

"You're right, you don't. Why the fuck am I exhausting my energy in your pleasure? Doesn't Master's pleasure take priority? Whose pleasure is the only one that matters?"

Spit in her face. Hyewon's mouth barely produces a real word in between her never ending output of mewls and whines. You rub your spit over her cheeks and then to her mouth.

"M-Master..."

"Good whore," you say dryly, threatening without a threat. Reach for the not-broken glass and guide it to Hyewon's lips. "Open up."

The remaining champagne falls down Hyewon's throat as you force her head back to the point she can look up at you. She struggles with the punch of the liquor and its fizziness, yet you still reward her by drooling on her face.

"Really good whore."

"Thank you, Master."

Arms wrap around Hyewon's body, you squeeze her waist and chest tightly, fingers delicately placed on her throat. Eyes still locked, you firmly press your erection against Hyewon's butt, two layers of designer fabric between leaving her squirm in need and in pleasure.

"You want this, huh?" you growl, fingers ridding Hyewon of her proper breath.

"Y-yes, Master."

She struggles to keep eye contact, her nostrils widen and narrow rapidly in search of air. Spit on her again, unamused. Poor thing, it's not even her fault that Eunbi decided to be such a blackmailing bitch tonight. But this is what Hyewon signed up for. Literally.

"I'll give it to you, but first—"

You pull out your phone and let Hyewon breathe again. Open the camera and press it in her hand, before pressing on her throat again. 

"Film yourself. Tell your dear leader what you think of her being so greedy, needy, and bitchy about being bred. Do you think Eunbi deserves to be filled like you?"

"Master… a recording? Wh-what if someone finds it? I…" Hyewon hesitates, something you despised; disobedience, fear, caution.

"Do you think Eunbi will expose you?” you growl in fury. “Do you trust her this little? Even worse, why do you disobey me?"

Another spit in her face. The saliva on her face makes the celebratory make up run down her features from all sides in falls of pink, red and black. To say that she is a mess would be an understatement. Hyewon looks down right filthy.

"Why do you still disobey me, your Master? You’ve been bred, now show me your gratitude!" 

You roar and rip her outfit. You don't care about messing up your extravagant ten thousand dollar carpet, taking another glass of champagne and pouring it down her body. The need to suck her not yet filled, but still great tits overcomes you.

"Master, I'm sorry! I'll do as you say, ah!"

Bite her nipple, before more of the liquor touches your tongue. These things never come easy. It's always a struggle, the taming, then keeping them down. You’ve been through this enough times with her, with Yujin. Hopefully your future endeavors will be more relaxed, or else you have to change your strategy.

"Then fucking do it, or I'll never fuck you again. My God, I thought we got over this."

Hyewon's entire arm shakes as she tries to focus the phone's camera on her. In the meantime, your mouth moves down to her belly button and you suck all around it. Now Hyewon has not only her moaning, drooling, tearfilled face on video, but also her pink areolae and hard nipples atop voluptuous breasts.

You wait for the right moment as Hyewon struggles to keep her arm stable to record the message for her Unnie. She doesn’t deserve any easy out to finish this mission, so you strike at her pussy once more. Savor the juices on your fingers, before you plunge them into her. 

"Eunbi… I've been b-bred, by Master a-and…" 

Lick.

"Ah, I-I... Hng!"

Lick again and Hyewon almost drops the phone. You'd shout at her for the disobedience, but this is actually amusing.

"Go on."

"I-I... I'm his de-devout breeding cow and—ah, fuck!"

You begin to roughly suck at her clit. Hyewon starts to cry and wail in pleasure. Rouge, spit, tears and sweat make her face the penultimate canvas of messiness. Only needs some streaks of white on it.

"He-he is the best!" Hyewon screams out as you imagine finishing on her face to make it the perfect masterpiece to hang in a museum, "How d-dare you be a b-b-bitch to him, ah, how dare you— fuck, Master, I'm going to c-cum!"

"Don't, or you'll regret it!" You stop your tongue movement and only knead Hyewon thighs in a slow, annoyingly unsatisfying pattern.

"U-Unnie, you have n-no right to be bred. You're not a cow, and not a Mo-Mommy! Ah, fuck!"

Two fingers scissor their way into Hyewon's core and spread her pink walls with no regard to their natural width. The woman tumbles and almost falls to the ground, the dress pants still wrapped around her ankles. You catch her with a strong hand and slowly bend her over again.

"I think this message will do. Now send!”

Press her back down to emphasize your words, as if the rod poking her core isn’t enough.

“Your Master will rail you in this office, on every fucking surface. You're my little sex slut slave, aren't you? Dirty bitch!" 

"Y-Yes, Master, I'm so-sorry for being so–"

You pin Hyewon harder to the desk hard and your quickly freed, painfully hard shaft glides into this familiar cavern full of warmth, eager to milk you dry. Her walls are ready, but Hyewon's mind is not. Fuck it, fuck her. Your pelvis hits Hyewon's ass with such force, it sounds like you're whipping it. 

"Ma-Master, I—" Hyewon screams, her mind spinning out of reach for her to produce anymore words. It's all in vain, she is back to being the breeding cow, but this time her Master really treats her just like an object, a—

"Shut up, slave! Just moan, cry, whimper and make yourself useful with your body!"

You lift up one of Hyewon's legs and place it onto the desk. At this angle, each time you shove your cock into her, the entire wooden structure shakes and cracks. Pens and lamps rain down from the surface, your fucking is an unstoppable earthquake to these tiny objects.

Hyewon's juice becomes creamy, her voice a tad bit hoarse after countless screams. The orgasms you fuck into her soft pink hole make her seem more like an engaging fleshlight than a serious business woman. Press said fleshlight against a wall, her solid nubs thus feel the cold surface. Hyewon tenses up, her cunt grips but it can’t stop you. Spear her open and reach deeper thanks to the new standing position. Leave marks of your teeth on her shoulder.

As you continue to hammer into Hyewon, making her cry and scream profanities, someone decides to hammer the door. With wide open eyes of lust and rage you stare at the booming metal. The person on the other side does not show signs of stopping, another wave of hard knocks. What if someone heard you? Did you underestimate Hyewon's voice and the repetitive slaps of skin on skin? 

Or is it what you are hoping for?

"Come on in, Eunbi."

You smirk and Hyewon's eyes widen. You know that she hates being seen like this, especially by her beloved Unnie. Fortuna is ever in your favor. An equally abashed, angry, nervous and embarrassed woman pushes open the door. Before Hyewon can scream at the sight of her friend, you firmly shut her mouth with a palm. 

"Do you mind closing the door?" you say with a smug grin at an out of breath Eunbi. It looks like she doesn't want to comply, so you have to take different measures.

Grab Hyewon's waist, dig your fingers deep into the skin to form red marks, and turn her towards Eunbi. She wants to free herself but her struggle urges you to fuck into her again. Hyewon's resolve drops immediately and she cums almost instantaneously.

"N-no, U-Unnie, don't look, ah!"

"You better look at her, Eunbi! This could be you, but I bet you think you're better than this breeding cow. I don't see it. You lie to yourself, to me, and now you hesitate. Reminds me more of this bitch than a Mommy Mommy."

You're shouting stops as do your thrusts. Hyewon goes limp in your grasp and you let her drop to the floor like a disregarded sex toy. She searches for air, but more importantly, your cum. This time, you did not fill her pussy. There is nothing she can push back with her slutty digits.

"Ma-Master, please."

"You had enough already. I bred you constantly for an entire month. I bet you're pregnant already. Now, don't forget your fucking place, slave."

Hyewon looks down in shame. 

"Yes Master..." 

You focus all your attention on Eunbi now. She is where things get interesting, where your feelings and imaginations go wild. Sex toys and brats are great, but this older woman has a vastly different aura.

"Well,” you gently say, “what a time to come barging into my office. What is it that you want?"

"I want... I want..."

Eunbi stands in place, her feet unstable. She is swaying from side to side, unable to keep eye contact with you. She can't stand to look at Hyewon, but she is also unable to look away from the mess that you made her friend.

"Say it out loud, or I'm gone," you say with sigh, the tone of your voice more annoyed than threatening. "I'm getting soft at such hesitance."

"I want... you t-to breed me."

You smirk and sit down on your deluxe couch. This is usually the part where you make them drop to their knees and beg for your cock. They make compromises and say things they wouldn't have if you didn’t make them addicted to your cock. At least it worked like that with Hyewon, but Eunbi is so different. She already gains confidence, her steps more stable, her features soft, her body motherly.

"Baby,” she simply whispers and you're already in her spell, “Mommy wants you bad. Mommy wants to be filled, to be bred and to bear your children. 

“Won't you let Mommy be your slut?" she adds seductively.

"Ts, are you really a Mommy? I think you need me to do this," you slyly respond and put your hands on Eunbi's waist. You falsely assumed her approach had ended and that her resolve would crumble, but she quickly reaches for your shoulders, trapping you underneath her perfect frame.

"I know you want to cum in Mommy's pussy, I know you want to pump children into me. And I also know that you want Mommy to be a slut. But you have to ask me before you get it. Understood?"

You don't respond to her. To see what she will do next is just too intriguing to pass off. Like a tense, sexual thriller, you don’t want to know the end yet. 

“Don’t you want to make me a real Mommy? Say it, ask for it. My body is right here.”

"I don't have to ask for anything,” you say nonchalantly. “You're already here. In fact, maybe I'll breed all IZ*ONE girls before you. Hyewon, give Master a kiss."

Eunbi rolls her eyes and breaks eye contact to stare Hyewon down.

"Hye, don't listen to him. He has nothing on you and he definitely has nothing on me."

To your delight however, Hyewon does not hesitate this time. She gets off the floor, her knees still soft like warm butter from the rough pounding you gave her, and wobbles to the couch. She kneels next to you on the couch and takes your hand to kiss it carefully. Eunbi mewls in shock.

"Nothing on you, I see," you hum with a smirk. "Eunbi, if you're going to be a part of this I can't have you thinking that you can oppose me like this. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't smitten by you, but a good mother bearing my children needs to know her place in my domestic bliss."

With Eunbi's eyes in shock and awe, you put two fingers into Hyewon's mouth and make her slobber all over them. You watch her watch the woman become soft, weak like an inexperienced virgin. A virgin whose need to be bred excels all her other desires and logical needs. Will Eunbi go down the same way as Hyewon?

"You want to be their Mommy?" you suddenly whisper into Eunbi's ear as Hyewon willingly chokes on your fingers.

"Y-yes, of course." 

"Then admit it: you don't need to oppose me, to trump me, right?"

"Y-yes."

"Good."

Her fate seems sealed. Just another toy in your repertoire, with huge tits and the desire to have cum inside her cunt all the time. You’re almost disappointed, but Eunbi’s final ace puts everything upside down.

"If-if you breed mommy,” she slowly says, “I'll bring you Chaewon."

Hyewon is too engrossed by her Master to be shocked. Did you hear that correctly? Eunbi, the mother hen, protector of her IZ*ONE children, would serve Chaewon up on a platter to you?

"I don’t know if you have met her yet, but Chaewon definitely does not like you and people like you. The way you are, you cannot reach her, trust me. But I swear, I’ll do everything to make her yours. Chaewon can be headstrong, but she's a good girl—and now you can be a good boy for mommy, right?”

Her spell leaves you stunned for a second. New information is being presented to you like this. On top of it, a very questionable deal, the kind of deal you only strike in a dark room, no eyes to see, no ears to pry. Eunbi is something else.

"Chaewon, can she really be turned?" you ask, with the last shreds of doubt and retrieve your wet digits from Hyewon's lips.

"Am I their Mommy, or not?"

"I think you are, Mommy."

"Then come and breed Mommy."

You take a deep breath and watch Eunbi slowly open her blouse to free her bra covered bosom. The enormous breasts bounce as she continues to undress herself. Your need gets the better of you. 

"Mommy," you whine. It’s the same cry from your first meeting. You’re the boy again, humble and small to no one but Kwon fucking Eunbi who smiles victoriously. She is the winner of this square off, yet still presents a feast before you as if you were the one who won.

"Mommy, please..."

"Open wide~" Eunbi giggles and presses her bare breasts into your face. Blinded by the massiveness of her tits and too engaged in sucking and licking them, you don't notice Eunbi ridding herself of her pants until something damp rests on the head of your shaft.

"Good to see that you still like them. I know that the other girls have nice boobs as well.

"But none compare to Mommy's. Isn't that right, hm~?"

You're inclined to agree with her but not only her tits, also her wet panties rubbing over your semi-hard shaft leave you speechless. Eunbi continues her sweet hums. 

"Baby, you're so powerful, so aggressive and calculating…but that can be a lot, right? So you'll be good, relax and let Mommy take care of you.”

She disconnects her tits from your face to see you nod, greedy and needy for more of her soft pillows, but equally desperate to pierce her open and watch her wring you dry. 

"Don't hold back," Eunbi moans and pulls her panties to the side. "Relax and cum, cum many times in Mommy's pussy."

"Fuck, Mommy!"

"Ma-Master," Hyewon whines from the side, but Eunbi puts a finger on her lips.

"I know you're needy, Hye, but this—" 

Eunbi sinks on your cock, her pussy suddenly filled with what she was craving for for hours. She throws her head back and shouts the rest of her sentence skyward.

"—is for me, for my children."

"Oh fuck, Mommy," you exclaim, but Eunbi shushes you like she did with Hyewon.

"That's right baby, fuck Mommy hard. Fill me up as much as you want. Oh baby, once I'm pregnant, my boobs will get even bigger and they will swell with milk. Would you like that baby? To suck on Mommy's tits and drink my milk? I know you want it so you need to make sure I'm pregnant, breed me, breed Mommy!”

Your hips get a mind of their own. They’re thrusting up, without rhythm, but Eunbi adjusts her rhythm of bouncing on you to make her pussy suck you in with no disconnection. Meanwhile your lips search for her large nipples and the pink areola around it. You begin to bite it, suck it, imagining the milk coming out already. 

"I can feel you trembling, fuck, baby," Eunbi says and holds onto your shoulders for stability. "Cum in me, make me cum, but please cum, oh fuck!"

Eunbi wets the couch in a sudden, messy orgasm. Her squirts of warm juice make you lose control. That fucking thing, control, always in your grasp. But with Mommy, you lose it for a sweet, sweet moment. You pump your fertile batter into Eunbi and temporarily join her in deep moans.

"More, more!" Eunbi screams and continues to bounce.

"Mo-Mommy, Master," Hyewon whines, three fingers deeply penetrating her cunt.

"Baby girl~" Eunbi moans and reaches for Hyewon's hair. "Go lick Mommy's ass. I know you like that, filthy slut."

Hyewon's already red cheeks begin to burn. She is too embarrassed to look at you, probably hoping you forget what Eunbi just said. But you will make sure to remember this and try it on her soon. She gets on her knees behind Eunbi's ass and the Mommy immediately begins to groan in satisfaction. 

"Fuck, you're even tighter, Mommy," you groan in a mix of pain and bliss, the actions of Hyewon’s tongue immediately showing results.

"Her tongue is amazing, almost the best," Eunbi moans happily, her head still thrown back. You reach for her breasts, fondling the soft flesh to make your impending softness go away.

"How long until you get hard again, baby?"

"Different question Mommy: when will I get soft?" you respond with finesse and thrust upwards. "I think I can easily go for another round.”

"Then cum!" Eunbi shouts and pulls you into hug while fucking you with unmatched speed. The ripple of her thighs mirrors the ripples of your cock as you lose the ability to control your own orgasm. Let it go, it's an unrivaled feeling, as if a billion fireworks exploded in the most primal part of your brain. Eunbi made you skip the phases of overstimulation and recovery with her insane body. All features, inside or outside, are made to make you breed her.

"Mommy, Mommy, fuck, you're so tight!"

"Give me everything, e-every drop!"

She milks you, her hips still not stopping to pump as you dump more of your seed into her.  From in between your legs, you hear a faint disappointed sigh. Hyewon, her tongue still deep in Eunbi's ass, is unfilled, while her Unnie goes for another load. 

"You feel so good," Eunbi groans, eyes closed, fingers deep in Hyewon's hair to keep her steady. "I'm going to get pregnant, fuck yes!"

You shouldn't be able to do anything anymore. At this point, the limit of what a man can do should be reached. Countless of loads in Hyewon over the course of weeks, first her pussy, now Eunbis. It does not seem to stop, Mommy does not want to stop. Through heat and climax she fucks you silly.

Suck on her titties. That could have been an order from her, maybe it was, but you do it either way anyway. The numb tips of your fingers try to hold onto Eunbi's waist but she is too fast. You slip over her hips and onto the couch, unable to push her off if you want to.

"I know you can give me more, more cum, more children," Eunbi pants and pulls out your dazed head from her garden of melons to give you a sloppy kiss with too much tongue and too little oxygen. Her cunt gives you a final squeeze before your body raises the white flag.

"Mommy, I can't, I'm gonna—"

In a surprising twist, your balls hit Hyewon's chin as she sneakily went away from eating Eunbi's ass to licking tiny white droplets from the barely leaking slit. You got to hold on to this memory of your sack crazing her face as well. The excuse and the way you will punish her were neatly presented to you tonight.

But as you flood Eunbi's womb and sent her to motherly heaven with a perfectly timed, loud orgasm, who gives a shit if slaves defy masters and if Mommies break masters. Breed—the rest comes later.

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

I want TS to make a cameo and so Richie gets her to sign an autograph and take a selfie for Eva. I want Cousin to fangirl hard at TS and TS to love it and tell him "Awww you're soooo cute!". I want Carm to get the footage of that whole sequence on his phone and then try to blackmail Richie. I want Cousin to tell him: YOU KNOW WHAT?! IDC! DO WHATEVER YOU WANT WITH THAT VIDEO, I LOVE HER AND OWN IT, UNLIKE YOU! And then I want Carmy to crawl under a rock and die bc he knows exactly what Richie meant.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

These are the BSD ocs I drew a while back in these posts here, here, and here. I'm finally going to introduce them - they are both named for famous haiku poets (two of the 4 Ts!).

Takajo Mitsuhashi

Ability: Fern Hell/Shida Jigoku - A passive ability with an active component. Passively, she has a connection to what may or may not be a kind of life force - she can sense the presence of every individual, making her near impossible to sneak up on. Throttling the connection between person and life force either denotes a strange effect on their ability, or can shut down their life functions and kill them.

Age: 17

Birth Date: January 24th

Height: 162 cm

Weight: 116 lb

Blood Type: AB

Likes: Abstract art, meditation, cicadas

Dislikes: Restrictions, too much noise

Additional notes: Unused to feeling strong emotions, but is far from expressionless in intonation - she tends to be polite yet laid back and mildly cocky, especially when poking holes at authority/She was formerly an assassin/She also has the capacity to barely feel any pain and keep moving, even from deep injuries. This is not an ability. It's implied she trained to be able to do this./Becomes fascinated by Yosano and regularly observes her and her choices/Cannot understand why Takako doesn't think she's cool and then feels frustrated that this upsets her.

Takako Hashimoto

Ability: The Red Thread/Beniito - Allows the creation of a thin red thread, which, when connected with an object or person, acts as a rope to allow her to pull objects closer or drag them. Connections to people sometimes involve her gaining flashes of their emotional state and core desires.

Age: 16

Birth Date: January 15th

Height: 166 cm

Weight: 130 lb

Blood Type: B

Likes: Snow, yubari melon, dancing

Dislikes: Loneliness, feeling left behind

Additional notes: Born to comfortable wealth but has since given that up for unknown reasons/Sociable and empathetic but rarely talks about herself/Has an unfortunate tendency to throw herself into danger without thinking it through, much to Takajo's frustration/Tends to fangirl over people she thinks are cool, like Agent Hisajo/Thinks Takajo is one of the coolest people she's met but pretends she doesn't think so out of embarrassment of admitting that. This leads to childish spats.

They are part of a story involving Takajo attempting to find a powerful ability user-made artifact. Takako is the only one who can locate it, and therefore, they strike a deal to work together. They conflict with an offshoot of the Special Division, which essentially blackmails the girls into helping them find it and store it securely - but both girls are in agreement that the artifact needs to be destroyed (the one thing they do reliably agree on).

Though at first they are only working together out of a shared goal, they eventually come to care about one another deeply.

...ok. Running off now byeee

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

ArShi TS: Open Secret [2/3]

Word Count: ~2000 words

Prompt by @ruminationsofaraven​

What if all the secrets are revealed during the Holi segment? Can you write about the dynamic shift in the characters and how this would affect the Raizada parivaar in this phase of their lives.

Read part 1

Shyam had intended to color Khushi all along. If only Arnav hadn’t come in between… but for how long? What if the next time Arnav wasn’t around? Then? 

The thought sobered Payal up more than the lemon pickles. Them hiding Shyam’s true colors was a mistake. That man had no intention of changing, his disgust on Khushi being married was evident and so was his desperation to get to Khushi one way or the other.

Oh what had they done! For Payal’s marriage they had all put Khushi’s safety at stake. What if Khushi wasn’t married into the family, what if he had blackmailed Khushi to ensure the safety of Payal’s marriage? 

Khushi’s marriage, more of an elopement, was a blessing in disguise because Payal’s marriage to Akash had just been the leverage Shyam could have used against the Guptas. Especially Khushi.

No, Akash had to know the truth. 

Payal composed herself and head to her bedroom to find a stony faced Akash, a devastated Nani and an enraged Manohar. 

What was going on? 

– – – – – – – – – – –

“What is going on!” Manohar yelled, quieting Manorama with his rare rage as the rest of the family flinched in the living room. Shyam sweated profusely, Khushi blinked in confusion and Arnav was just sobering up. 

“Mama ji-” Shyam began but Manohar stopped him in his place with a look. 

What the hell… 

Anjali sat next to Khushi, holding her hand tightly. Khushi’s attention was diverted to the quivering pregnant woman. 

“Bitwa, please calm down. Anjali bitiya-” Nani began, trying to reign in her son’s temper. Anjali was expecting and she was of faint heart. God forbid if she followed her mother’s footsteps then Devyani would have no will to live at all. 

“How long has this been going on?” Akash asked Shyam, his anger barely in check. When Shyam feigned innocence, Akash rolled his eyes and took Khushi’s phone from Mama ji. 

“Di, I’m really sorry. But you should read the texts that your husband sends out to your sister in law.” Arnav stood up, realizing Akash had figured out what he had. He grabbed the phone from Akash’s hands, stopping him from handing it over to Anjali.

Anjali wouldn’t be able to bear the truth. 

“Akash, leave it.” Arnav warned. Akash froze, Arnav knew. 

“Bhai… how can I leave it? The whole house has a right to know, especially Di-” Shyam paled at the conflict between the cousins. Shit. They knew. But how much? And what perspective? 

If Akash thought what Arnav thought, then Khushi and Payal would be kicked out from the house and everything would work in his favor. 

But Anjali looked strangely calm. Perhaps she wouldn’t believe her cousins. Shyam formulated a plan, he would beg for forgiveness and talk about the way Khushi came onto him. That’s how the Gupta sisters are. Payal grabbed Akash at the first chance and when Khushi couldn’t get Arnav, she and her family latched onto the very married Shyam. 

This would make perfect sense. 

And Garima would never speak to the family - he knew it by her fear of Payal’s broken wedding! 

Anjali stood up and grabbed the phone from her brothers, reading aloud the text message from Shyam. 

“Dear Khushi ji, it’s time to bury the hatchet at this wonderful festival, isn’t it? I miss you, and I still love you. Trust me, Rani Saheba means nothing to me. Yours, Shyam” Anjali’s voice shook. Khushi panicked, disgusted at the text message. She should’ve never given the man another chance. Rather, she should have buried him alive the minute she had got to know the truth. 

He wouldn’t stop. He never would. It was her biggest mistake to have kept it quiet for the sake of Payal’s marriage. But speaking of Payal, where was she? 

Arnav yanked Khushi by the arms, his eyes bloodshot in rage. 

“How dare you-”

“Chote!” Anjali pulled Khushi away from Arnav’s grip - which left bruises on Khushi’s arms, as always. 

“Di?” Arnav asked in disbelief. 

“This is a lie…” She pointed to the text, “or half of the truth. We don’t know everything. I’m sure there’s a misunderstanding.” Anjali begged her brother. 

Oh Anjali and her false hopes.

“Exactly Rani Saheba, this is not what you think it is.” Shyam, finally, opened his mouth. The whole family glared at him except Anjali. Phew, that meant his lottery ticket still believed in him. 

“No Di, I know her. She’s a disgusting gold digger woman with no character-” Khushi stared at Arnav in disbelief. That is what he thought about her? Is that why he married her? But what about their heartbeats? How was he able to give her so much happiness and so much pain at once? The ground slipped beyond her feet as vicious, vile words spilled out of Arnav’s mouth. 

“Bhai-”, “Bitwa-” Akash and Manohar tried to stop Arnav but in fail. 

“ENOUGH!” Payal screamed, her family in tow. 

This was worse than she had imagined. Akash, Manohar and Devyani gave her a chance to tell the truth and she rushed home to bring back Garima and Madhumati to corroborate their version of events. But all they walked into was Khushi’s character assassination. 

How did this happen? It was Shyam who sinned, correct? 

“You’re happy hiding the truth na Amma?” Payal accused Garima, tears pricking her eyes. Madhumati on the hand just stormed off into the living room, her blood pressure rising through the roof. 

Shyam remained quiet, the situation was incredibly volatile and he needed to assess everyone’s tonality before he could give a fitting reply to save his place. But his demeanor slipped looking at Madhumati raging like a bull towards him. 

She paused, switching glares between him and Arnav. Interesting, who would she hit first? By the looks of it… Arnav was the target. 

Instead she grabbed Khushi’s wrist and pulled her away. 

“What are you doing?” Devyani asked. 

“Well this house does not respect my niece, so I’m taking her away from here.” Madhumati announced, pulling a frozen Khushi along.

“Respectwa? Hello hi bye bye, since when have we started respecting these kind of women?” Manorama sneered. 

“Enough!” Payal snapped, tearfully she looked at Akash, “Akash, when I thought you, Papa ji and Dadi ji gave me a chance to bring my family along I thought you were giving the truth a chance. But I see you’ve all already laid judgment - especially jethji.” Arnav frowned. 

“There is no other truth, Payal,” Arnav warned her, holding his sister tight. 

“How do you know that Arnav?” Arnav stiffened as Anjali’s soft, yet firm voice broke through the tension. 

“How do you know everything?” Anjali whispered.

“Exactly saale sahab-” Shyam agreed, “No one’s talking to you Shyam ji,” Anjali said, freezing Shyam. What did that mean? Did Anjali know the truth? How? 

“All you have is Shyam ji telling he loves Khushi, what do you know about what she feels?” Anjali questioned. Arnav balked at his sister’s calm questioning. Where was the anger? Where was the rage? This was her life!

“I’ve not seen anyone ask Khushi what the truth is.” Anjali left Arnav and held Khushi. Madhumati let her go, stunned that out of all people to show rationality it was Anjali. 

“What is the truth Khushi ji, tell me? You’ve already tried telling me once, haina?” Khushi finally broke out of her thoughts, staring at Anjali in confusion. 

Anjali smiled amidst her tears, holding Khushi’s cheeks gingerly, “It’s ok, this time I wouldn’t pretend to fear for my husband’s life.” The whole house fell quiet as Khushi broke into sobs, hugging the other woman tightly. 

– – – – – – – – – –

Anjali had laughed at everyone when they learned Khushi’s fiance was Shyam too. But the laughter quickly faded when she saw the ring on Khushi’s hand to be exceedingly similar to Shyam’s taste and the engagement ring he had selected for Anjali. 

Or when Motilal met Anjali again, laughing how Shyam was buying two rings for Anjali - he must be making up for a crime! 

Anjali’s suspicions solidified when the day she formally introduced Shyam and Khushi, Khushi’s engagement broke and she had come over the next day, tearfully trying to tell her the truth.

She thought all was well with Shyam paying attention to her, Arnav and Khushi’s growing attraction to each other, and Shyam’s joy over her safety when she returned from the accident. 

But one look at Holi and she knew her husband hadn’t stopped chasing Khushi, in fact he had only grown bolder, more dangerous. 

– – – – – – 

The house was quiet as Khushi was done with her version of events - from Lucknow to Delhi. 

“She’s lying!” Shyam cried, but this time Madhumati held his wrist in a menacing grip to let this man escape. 

“Lying? We have the whole of Lakshminagar to confirm your dalliance in our house!” Payal seethed. Garima closed her eyes, the errors of her judgment clear.  

“Hello hi bye bye, actions so down yet voice so louds?” Manorama scoffed at Shyam. Unbelievable! Any emotion, any tears, anything she felt for her beloved damaad disappeared in an instant. Manohar consoled the distraught Devyani but Manorama sought strength from Anjali’s strength. 

If her darling niece didn’t break down from the truth - she would not either. She slipped away from the crowd, calling her police contacts to file an FIR for everything Shyam had done. Attempted bigamy to stalking, siphoning funds off Anjali’s account to continuous harassment of Khushi.

Someone over here had to be practical.

“If you had only asked me,” Khushi asked Arnav, distraught that he hadn’t even liked her enough to ask. Not even asked. He had simply believed the worst of her in the blink of an eye. 

And even if he had believed the truth, did he think he had no right to yell at her? To demand her side of the story? To demand justifications for what all they felt? 

“So everyone knew some part of the truth anyways?” Akash laughed bitterly, settling on the sofa. Arnav could not respond, his heart soaring at the thought that Khushi was innocent but his mind calculating the damage of his actions. 

“And nobody, nobody told me.” Akash sighed. Payal reached out to him, attempting to hold his hand but he shrugged it off.

“You know Payal, I understand Bhai not telling me because if I heard only his version of events I might have not been able to marry you. I get it that he tried to preserve our family as much as he could. I understand Di not telling me because she herself was not sure if what she suspected was true or not. But you? Your family? You all literally did not tell me the truth just so you could marry me?” Akash was hurt, that despite all of his mother’s warnings that the Guptas would like to secure this marriage - a part of her was right. 

“Nahi Bitwa, Payal already had a broken marriage-” Garima began but Akash raised his hand, unable to hear anything else. 

“I know she had, and to be honest I’d understand if you had hidden that from me. But a truth concerning my sister’s wellbeing? I mean don’t tell me you all actually thought Di would be happy with Shyam-” Akash questioned the Guptas, their shame faces telling everything. 

Shyam, meanwhile, had nothing apart from silence to offer. The family spoke as if he didn’t exist, and pretended to not see when the police picked him up and carried him off to jail. This was the heights?! His yells to Anjali, curses to the Raizadas and threats to the Guptas only helped the police further to lock him up. Manorama only bid him a happy bye bye from the doorway. 

“I’m sorry Di,” Khushi whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. Anjali had not left Khushi’s side at all. She had played complicit to Khushi’s harassment. 

“It’s ok, you’re young. People make mistakes,” Anjali paused and looked at a stricken Arnav, “don’t they?” 

Arnav swayed on his feet, collapsing by Anjali and unable to meet Khushi’s eyes. 

What had he done? 

“You are right Akash. My family acted purely out of selfishness for my marriage to happen. As such I have violated the sanctity of truth of our marriage.” Payal whispered, wiping her tears away. 

“Hence, the only way to repair this, is for me to walk out of your life.”

A/N: Finally I've updated this! Last part left! Let me know how you think this would transpire???

[wednesday-if-it-was-tuesday]

We need a BatFam karaoke night.

Oracle: The mics are in 👍

Dick: Come on, we have to do Mamma Mia. You cannot tell me to not to ABBA.

Jason: ABBA can wait, me and Dami are doing Shake it off.

Dami: I did not agree to that.

Steph: Ok, wait I gotta get Swiftie blackmail on babybat.

Cass: (signing) I - TS - love - never shame

*Bruce coming back with like 10 Shirley Temples.

Everyone: I STAY OUT TOO LATE... GOT NOTHING IN MY BRAIN...

[buckingseason]

Obligatory Pinned post!

We decided to not make individual blogs for every single alter beceause that would take FOREVVERRR so here's our collective blog. You can call us collectively Buck, or individual alter tags work.

People participating here arent even CLOSE to our total, we're a polyfragmented DID system. Bodily 28, collectively a trans man and we use he/him for the most part but some alters might use others/have other genders. Generally bisexual generally switches.

We are TAKEN but happy to character RP and make friends, we dont send pics or sext.

Kinks here will include: CNC, stalking, freeuse, breeding, monsterfucking, weapons, pain, bondage, petplay, dehumanization, blackmail, sensory deprivation, intox including forced, somno, and more.

Not into: scat/piss/vom, incest/fauxcest, raceplay, ageplay, ddlg and variants

Active alters under the cut! Not everyone will be listed obviously, just whoever actively wants to post. If a post isn't tagged, assume its collective.

Arc (he/it)- Enjoyer of blackmail, stalking, kidnapping, impregnation, and more. More likely to post from the "main" blog we interact from, @voyeursfavourite Nonhuman in a slightly divine way.

J (he/it)- enjoyer of violence, blood, snuff and more! also has an individual blog at @capnbloodfreak. Pain enjoyer for ever and ever.

JJ (he/it)- Knifeplay enjoyer, sexually objectum, with his own blog at @biomechanicalslut. arguably more attracted to things than people, and also considers himself a thing.

B (he/him) - Likes gunplay, probably the most out of all of us. The guy who bit the bullet and made this damn thing.

TS (it/its)- Nonhuman, nonperson, enjoyer of dressing up pretty and being played with like a toy. Also enjoyer of beating the hell out of its partners.

R-(he/him)- Into CNC as the bottom exclusively, blackmail, and looooves praise. Blatantly nonhuman.

O (she/her) - Violent girl and probably a murderer. NOT into hard cnc as dom, but intox is fine. Coming around to theoretical CNC as the sub.

FM (he/it)- Dead guy into obsessive love and stalking, as well as somno and body worship.

K (he/him)- autoandrophila, hand and glove kink, #1 sad bear enjoyer of all time.

Ra (she/her) - medical, gore, monsterfucker and more. Prone to drug her partners "for science".

Six (he/him) - Way more tame than the bulk of the others so far, REPRESSED AS HELL! It takes him a lot of nerves or being destructively horny to post anything that's anything extensive. seems to be into hucow stuff, lactation and hypnosis, and openly is into sciencefet, breeding on either end of the deal, and has a praise kink. MONSTERFUCKER, and toying with the idea of snuff but he literally won't admit it.

Kon (he/him) - Enjoyer of swords, beating the shit out of each other, and bugs. Gunplay is a win, and he WILL stick his dick in brain matter given the opportunity. Holds the option that a bar fight is sex.

[hcfiles]

HE GIVES A F**K AND DOESN'T CARE!!! That's the message he has been trying to send with this shenanigan. What did you expect? He's a Hollywood famous actor used to having sl*ts around him all the time, a Hollywood escort, used to escorting to boost his image.

That's no different from Pr****tion. Dignity only comes before fame when in front of cameras, with staged plots and fake dates to hide immoral deals he accepts by free will behind cameras. That's what this PR circus is about: HE DOESN'T CARE!!!

And he's more aligned with his promiscuous PR than you want to believe and accept. He even got physical in front of cameras and announced a fake paternity with the redneck, playing the complete idiot, just to send the message HE DOESN'T CARE!!!

He might have not known Natalie was a promiscuous. But, knowing made no difference, for he was willing to jeopardize his integrity for this PR stunt, to boost his image while giving people a f**k. These past years have been for one only reason: So he could send the message HE DOESN'T CARE!!!

So, how can you believe he's being forced to do it? Why do you care for his integrity and reputation when he's willingly into it? Why do you care for trying to find him excuses, such as the stupid idea Natalie is a bitch and he is her blackmailed victim, by taking the accountability from him? HE DOESN'T CARE!!!

The more they try to discredit the ones exposing the situation as it is, especially by saying they are jealous exes obsessed with him (which can describe @exposing_henrycavill, who really seemed convincing), the more they make these "suppositions" credible. Because, HE DOESNT CARE!!!

[agentnico]

Carry-On (2024) review

I absolutely adore users’ reactions on Letterboxd. Here’s one for this movie by user ‘matthacunda’ - “TS-motherfuckin'-A. They handle shit. That's what they do. Consider this situation fuckin’ handled.” Love that.

Plot: A mysterious traveler blackmails a young TSA agent into letting a dangerous package slip through security and onto a Christmas Day flight.Some directors should be left to doing what they do best. Jaume Collet-Serra has made a living off establishing himself as a bonafide auteur of better than they have any right to be suspense thrillers about decent people (majority of the times played by Liam Neeson with a particular set of skills) trapped in compromising positions. Yet in recent years he has been offered the big pay-checks from major studios to direct big Hollywood blockbusters the likes of Jungle Cruise and Black Adam, and they ended up not that good. Look, those movies are the kind of forgettable Hollywood content that could be made by literally anyone, and as such leave directors to await their chance for a streamer to then give them another chance, and then they can go back to basics and make a name for themselves again. In cometh Netflix, a pioneer of endless algorithmic content, who have allowed Serra to make another silly action thriller, now involving airports and planes again, which is great, as his best in my eyes is still Non-Stop - that movie was a whopper! But how does Carry-On hold up against it?

There’s something really fun about setting a dumb action flick during the holiday season. Die Hard is prime example of this, using the holidays as a backdrop for pointless violence and action. Carry-On plays up to this genre, even if it is a tad predictable. I do wish it leaned more into the Christmas vibe, as aside from a couple of festive song cues (the film opens with Springsteen’s “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” as we pan down the winter sky, and a notable car crash/fight sequence is accompanied by “Last Christmas”) there wasn’t actually that much Christmas fluff to this, unlike the trailers promised. Furthermore, there was a lack of action for an action film. Don’t get me wrong, when the action happens Serra brings his signature style, with the aforementioned car fight in particular being a visually popping and exciting piece, evoking the opening of the first Deadpool movie. But otherwise this is mostly Bateman’s terrorist monologuing in Everton’s early for most of the runtime, which did become a tad repetitive and made the pacing a bit slow.

That being said, Jason Bateman as the baddie really is the best part of this film. For those surprised that Bateman can play a genuinely intimidating and unnerving villain instead of his regular awkward mess characters, you evidently haven’t seen his work in the Ozark series, and more notably the thriller The Gift, that really makes you re-assess Jason Bateman as am actor. The guy plays evil well. His calculated menace provides the perfect foil to Egerton’s everyman hero, creating a dynamic that keeps viewers guessing about his true motives. Bateman is both relatable and terrifying, with his banter throughout much of the film adding a mix of unease and levity. Taron Egerton is fine, however aside from those two the other cast performances leave much to be desired. Sofia Carson especially provides a bland performance as Egerton’s pregnant wife (which by the way her pregnancy being her only character trait), as she delivers all her dialogue in such monotone and lifeless fashion that one wonders if she’s talking to a tree. She lacks any kind of chemistry with Egerton, and in fact I was shipping Egerton more with Bateman.

Carry-On is enjoyable and fits right at home in Netflix infinite library of content. You’ll get a kick out of Bateman’s evil doings, as well as the unrealistic silly happenstances that occur within the narrative, but aside from that this is the type of movie that will be long forgotten after the holiday season is over. That being said, for Christmas 2024 this is a perfectly fine and entertaining enough palette cleanser for a year that has overall being a misfire for cinema.

Overall score: 5/10

[jewishbarbies]

The thing about TS and whole masters is that she thought she was above everyone else who has to buy their masters. I used to buy the whole "Scooter stole her music" but then it came out (yet pushed back my media) that she was offered the masters like everyone else but she denied it. Then decided to make a big stink about it and just was horrible. My cousin works in music and says she is just as much of a snake and deserved that title so much. TS basically blackmails people into not speaking up about her horrible behavior because she knows she has the power of media/Swifites on her side.