#corporate rock still sucks

[king-ludwig-ii]

in work drama updates: the person who outed me is the same person who’s been ratting people out to our supervisor.

This one guy joked about not working out his full two weeks bc he was so excited to leave so they went to management and told them that he straight up said he wasn’t going to show up on his last day so they sent him home half a week early.

Another coworker told them she was in the final round interviews for another job and they also went to management and they ended up firing her the same day

[drgnflyteabox]

red ochre [1]

series masterlist part one -> minium || part two -> woad and weld

> summary: you become the unlikely treasure of two vikings who raid your convent looking for gold > tags/warnings: religious themes (DLDR), minor suicidal ideation, mention of viking raids (slavery, violence, death), kidnapping, threats, dubcon bathing + touching, mean simon (ish), established goap, reader is underfed and beaten in the convent (corporal punishment), difficult travel, some food description

Near the coast the wind scratches at you when it blows, full of sand and salt.

Once, you'd imagined this as your calling; committed to asceticism, married to God, serving under the abbess. Enclosed, you find yourself stifled more than devoted, pressing your face to the stone barrier that blocks the convent from the outside world.

Isolation, never being quite full, the slow and steady stripping of your identity. This is your life - hollowed out, like meat sucked from a crab, cracked open and used and hollow.

You couldn't have predicted Christ to be such an inconsiderate husband.

"Girl!" the voice is the crack of a whip in empty air. You don't jump, but the hair on your body raises, the welts on your thighs sting.

"Yes, mother?" you put your chin down to your chest, turning, pressing your back to the wall. Demure, submissive, utterly devoid of fight. And still, her grip finds you hard as iron and rough as the rock you'd just been touching, pulling you hard enough to make your shoulder ache back toward the heavy wood doors of the dormitory.

"You shirk your duties again, child? Leave your sisters to pick up your slack?" you didn't mean to, truly. It's only that you ache so deeply you're afraid you might never recover from the feeling.

"Please forgive me, mother, I lost track of time," you murmur. Your uniform is damp from the spray outside, and you relish in the scent and feel of it. Freedom, that's what it is. "Allow me to make up for-"

"Hush!" spit touches your cheek. You don't wipe it away. "You'll finish the tapestry tonight. No matter how long it takes you."

Desperately, you wish for God to strike you down. If you're there, father. You close your eyes. Please, please kill me now.

He doesn't listen, and the abbess pushes you to supper.

Dark bread, boiled turnips, fish and wine. Average, filling, but you'd hoped for more of the crumbly white cheese from yesterdays supper.

You know not to complain. And truly, you are grateful. With your family, it had been gruel upon gruel, often bear, and rarely flavour. Salt kisses your tongue now, and the wine makes your sore muscles relax.

The monks have it harder; you'd visited them once as a girl with your father to pray, but there was still labour to be done here. Cooking was often your job, as was doing the washing and the tilling for the vegetable garden.

Today sister Colette had assigned you weaving so that you wouldn't be out of practice. The muscles in your back and fingers ached from it already, and dread made your stomach sour to the food you ate at the thought of more work.

Mealtimes were quiet, as required. The other women eat mousily, looking down at their plates and pulling their food apart into small little bites, trying to make it last. Obedience, poverty. How silly it was now that you'd dreamed of this.

"Sister?" a whisper, next to you. Margaret was almost a friend, too pious to really confide in but so kind it was impossible to ignore her. "What were you doing?"

"I felt compelled," you shrug, lips oily from the fish. "I felt confined."

"Oh sister," Margaret pushes her bottom lip out, dark eyebrows pulling up. "You should never feel confined here."

You knew, and yet you did. It was like living in a stone coffin. All the work felt pointless since your heart had strayed from God. Even now, touching Margaret's elbow to comfort her in her worry for you, you're sick to death of even clearing plates.

There was one secret they hadn't found. None of the sisters, not even the abbess, had found your secret booklet.

Paper was more valuable than gold since the church needed so much to copy and produce texts. The writing room at the very top of the convent, where you were so seldomly asked, was full of it and guarded by lock and key.

Over months, you'd scrounged, stealing enough to make a booklet. In it, you felt sustained. Free. Titillated, sometimes, when your hand found its way beneath your soft worn blanket under your shift and you drew indecent drawings of men coming to save you. Of the farmboys from your village.

They were nothing like real art, not so detailed, but they lit inside you a spark of life. Without them, you'd be snuffed out.

Candles line the hallway toward the workroom, where you'll likely spend the rest of the night. It's near the very entrance of the convent, so that visitors may see the sisters hard at work and find reason to donate.

Really, it's a temptation. Those massive doors, ready to open and let you free.

But what could you do, really? If God were a kind man and Christ a good husband, they'd turn you into a horse so that you might run, might feel your hooves beating the earth and the coarse air on your skin.

Regrettably human, you sit to work on the tapestry. Curse the abbess and let the holy father hear your thoughts. This is worse than hell, you think. Your fingers cramp and the chair is hard, flat wood. It's made to be uncomfortable on purpose, everything is. After you finish you only have a thin mattress to look forward to, even thoughts of drawing hunky carpenters doesn't draw you out of the misery that is embroidery in the dark.

Is this string strong enough to hold you, should you hang yourself? You're being dramatic, but you feel you've earned the right.

Footsteps walk down the hall towards you. They're sure, heavy. Maybe sister Catharine, tall and splendid, is coming to release you from torment?

"Hello," you say jovially. Please be sister Catharine.

"Look what we've got here, Ghost," it's a male voice. You freeze. The accent is unfamiliar. Had you missed the visit of a monk, an abbot, a priest? "Darlin' little lass, all by herself."

Shivers overtake you. It hurts to straighten from your hunched position, but you have to do it to see properly.

You come face to face with a skull, towering over you from the doorway.

A scream builds, filling your chest, hanging off the tip of your tongue.

Stopped only by the glint of candlelight against a blade, and the quickness of the another man reaching you.

You shake, all sound stuck in your throat, feeling arms as strong as petrified wood circle your arms and pull you toward the door. The pressure, the scrape of rock against your feet, it's unreal and barely registered against the terror that builds when you look to your left and see the skull, sewn into cloth, with the soft clank of bones hanging from his waist.

His eyes find yours, dead and mellow in the eyesockets, piercing through you. Blood rushes through your ears, deafening you, until you leave the room and reality sets in.

Devils, come to sack the convent.

Who will likely kill you and all your sisters. Even the abbess, with her punishment cane and severe face, doesn't deserve that.

You shriek, finding your voice, twisting like a cat in a bag. Their hands tighten against you, growling orders at you to be still, girl.

It's then that you hear the cries, the crashes. Sounds of chaos, a cacophony of harsh voices and the search of the convent. Some of the women weep, some pray, you scream.

"Hey!" Skull snaps, shaking you hard. "Behave and we won't kill you." You comprehend that, but the animal urge to struggle for your life still has a grip on you.

The other man twists towards you, lips snarling. "Ye want to die, then? I'm not opposed to slitting ye open throat to cunt, if that's what ye prefer."

You still, sag, mouth turning downwards in misery. Sweat sticks to your skin, from fear and exertion.

"Good girl," Skull says.

The nuns have been crowded back into the dining room, cowed and cowering, trembling lambs against the storm of awful armoured men ravaging the sanctity of the space.

Some have already found gold, crosses and busts of saints and reliquaries. The abbess weeps to see the bust of Mother Mary, thrown so roughly to the ground that baby Jesus snaps off.

You watch it all happening, eyes wide, shaking despite yourself. Adrenaline makes your legs cramp in their position, curled, back to back with another sister.

"Cap," a younger man runs up, hands full with an ornate chest. "What'cha think of this one?"

"Lookit this one," the man from earlier is giddy, slapping the young one on the back. He holds St Augustine, gilded in gold and jewels. "Not too shabby, eh, Gaz?"

"Not too shabby at all," Gaz grins back at him, turning towards the third man.

"Good job, boys," he says. He's mustached, tall, steadier and calmer than the rest. A leader, clearly.

It smells of smoke, or blood, but you can't see anyone bleeding.

Maybe that's their natural scent, violence clinging to them cloying like they'd bathed in it before coming.

"Soap," Gaz calls. He's run through the library, tossing shelves to the ground, taking one or two books. Walked through the dormitories, throwing open the chests at the ends of each bed. "Take a look at this one!"

A little booklet. Your booklet, tiny in the hand of the devil.

Anxiety crawls up your spine. There's no way they'd know it was yours, but you're still afraid of another kind of raiding, should they discover your sin.

The men laugh, looking with hungry eyes, glinting, mouths stretched and wet.

Look at the ground, be quiet, be still. You want to survive, you want to draw again and feel the air against your skin. You're scared of these men, huge and muscled as they are.

They wear furs, leather, clinking chainmail, wrapped shoes. Weapons hang by their sides and are clutched firmly in hands, though no nuns nor abbesses have been harmed.

Yet.

"Gold ain't the only treasure, eh?" Soap looks down at you while others use pillowcases for bags, stuffing their bounty inside with loud clangs.

His foot nudges your thigh, and you shift away as much as possible, still looking away, still scared.

Skull comes back. Soap calls him over and calls him Ghost, so you switch the name in your head.

Ghost is big, but he glides through the air.

"See that, Ghost?" Soap nudges him, the way he nudged you. Eyes crazed.

"Mm," Ghost grunts. He hasn't looted, not like the others. Just walked through the halls and gathered one or two other stray nuns shuddering in various corners. "You want 'er?"

You blanch, breath leaving you.

"Can we?" He looks back at you and leans down, thick fingers finding your chin, tilting your face up. "Pretty little hen, so scared, aren't ye?"

"Take 'er."

With Ghosts permission, Soap moves his fingers from your face to the meat of your arms, dragging you up, using your stupor to help him.

"Dinnae worry, hen, we'll take good care of ye," it's not reassuring. You think you feel your knees hitting each other from the force of your shaking. "Awe, don't cry."

Two rivers have sprouted form your eyes, tracking searing hot salt down your cheeks, hands twisting in your habit.

The men regroup. You were right about the mustached man being a leader, and learn his name is Price. He commands them like any armyman you've ever seen, clearly holds a lot of authority.

You're the only nun that's a part of the spoils.

The only one tied with coarse rope around the wrists, chafing, tossed between Soap and Gaz through the convent until you reach those big wooden doors.

Those doors you'd dreamed about opening, those doors that you dread opening now.

"Keep walking," Gaz says. He's mellower than the others, but you'd be a fool to underestimate him.

Or ask him for help.

Reality hasn't set. You're in purgatory, stumbling across the wet grass in just wool socks, growing wetter by the minute from mist and dew. The men hoot and cheer and clank their gold, throwing fists and weapons in the air.

A bloodless victory, unless they change their mind and decide to kill you.

Soap jumps, accidentally pulling you forward in a jerk that brings you to your knees. The tears come back, and the pebbles nearing the beach digging into your knees makes you sob.

"Careful!" Ghost barks. Behind you, he reaches under your armpits and helps you up. His hands are still rough, but he lets go of you quickly to yank the rope out of Soaps hands. It doesn't help that it's still near-pitch outside, not yet morning, hard to see.

"Ach," he rubs a hand behind his head, watching you cry and walk like a deadwoman. "Got a little over-excited, darlin. Forgive me."

"I'll be better to ye, don't worry," he falls in beside you, using a knuckle to brush away your tears.

When you reach the beach, you see a few boats, supplies, but that's all. No camp, nowhere to sleep. Did they jump straight from the boats, marching up the hill to the convent to pillage?

God, they're so big. Warriors. Why just you?

"Right," Price calls them to attention. You're stuck next to Ghost, sniffling, shivering a little, praying mentally for the first time in a long time. Dear God, please help me, please strike these men dead and let me run back up the hill.

You miss what Price says, whispering under your breath with your eyes closed and palms together until Ghost puts his hand on your shoulder and pushes you forward again.

"Walk, then get on the boat," his voice is a growl.

"Dinnae worry," Soap chips in. "We brought meat."

They did - dried fish hangs like your laundry across each boats. The gold is loaded alongside you, stuffed to one side, and you're left trying to avoid the men tossing things in your direction.

Ghost ties your wrists to a wooden loop on the side of the boat.

It was built for this. For prisoners, slaves, taken in conquest.

"Ready?"

"Ready!"

Price shouts, the men answer. It's loud, a cacophony of voices and waves and the scrape of the boat against the sand.

You're going, going, gone. Floating. Adrift. Tied to the side of a viking ship with nothing but your thick, woolen habit and woolen socks. At least they provide some warmth, the air colder over the water.

Eyes look you up and down, not just from the two that took you. Gaz smiles to himself and punches Soap in the thigh, then they play wrestle.

You wonder what will happen to you- are you being taken as a slave? A prize?

The positive side to your time spend as a nun is that you know how to work, and you know that if something awful happens, you could find a way to meet God early and put yourself down.

Blood rushes in your ears again.

You register from somewhere outside of yourself that you're panicking again, caught wanting to run and having nowhere to do it. Tied down.

A hand touches your nape, and you turn with wild eyes and desperation all over your face to Ghost.

"Take a breath," he says, low enough that only you hear it, firm and commanding. "In and out, girl. Do it."

You do, if only to save yourself passing out. In and out, in and out, you breathe.

"That's it," he leans down, brown eyes finding yours. The skull is bleached yellow, old, but you try to ignore it. "You're alright."

"No I'm not," you shock the both of you by speaking, voice high and wavering. "I'm not, you're going to kill me or worse-"

"You think we'd take you just to kill you?"

"You're a heathen, aren't you?" you gasp again, wiping your face on the fabric of your sleeves. "Sister Catharine says heathens sacrifice virgins. Please don't."

He startles you by laughing, a ragged thing ripped from his chest.

"Not gonna sacrifice you, lamb," his hand squeeze your nape, his thumb rubbing the edge of your jaw where he can reach. "Gonna be a long journey, you'd better settle now."

It's hell. You were mistaken before, and you'd do anything now to go back to embroidery. You'd let the abbess cane you bloody, you'd kneel and pray with the passion of Christ himself if it meant you could come off the boat.

The boat, the men. The godforsaken fish, too-salty, not much better than the biscuits Soap insists on feeding you by hand.

"Your hands are tied, pretty lamb, how are ye gonna feed yourself?" He breaks it up, wiping crumbs from your cheeks.

You hope Ghost will step in, but he doesn't. He watches, a specter, still wearing that mask on his face. You wonder if it's because of you, or if he's just like that. Private, hidden. Intimidating.

"Open wide," Soap seems fond of holding your face, squishing your cheeks and puckering your lips. He's extra zealous since catching a sea-bird, keen on making you taste it.

The thought makes your stomach roil, despite being sick of the fish and biscuits. You turn your face, trying to avoid him, whimpering when he squeezes a little too hard.

"Come on, hen," he leans closer. "Fresh meat is good, no?"

"Johnny", Ghost saves you again, finally. Pulls on Johnny's shirt until he's sitting back on his heels. "Let her be."

"Awe, just wanna giv'er my catch, Si," if a heathenish, kidnapping devil could whine and pout like a child, it would look like this.

Horrific, is what it is. You tuck your face into your elbow and close your eyes.

You've been doing that most of the journey, closing your eyes and breathing deeply like Ghost taught you. Or Simon, what you've heard Johnny calling him.

Dread sneaks in every once in a while, wakes you up from fitful sleeps or seizes your ability to speak. Nobody else has spoken to you, not even Gaz who keeps glancing at you. Nobody but Simon and Johnny.

"Here," Simon says. You look up.

In his hand, an apple. Your eyes go wide, prickling, and you look even further up to him.

His eyes reveal nothing. Brown, flat.

"For me?" you ask.

"You see me offering it to anyone else?" from the corner of your eye, Soap is staring at you, smiling.

"I can have it?" an apple. You could dance. Days and days of travel after living in the same town and then the same convent to taken by force on a boar. An apple.

"Take it before I give it to Johnny," he grunts.

Suddenly, you feel a kinship with Eve.

Seasickness luckily doesn't affect you, and the melancholy is kept at bay by the apple. You think of it when you think you can't take anymore, remembering it's sweetness.

Simon becomes the safest person, and often if you feel scared your eyes find him.

When a minor storm rocks the boat, pelting rain, waves beating against the front, you tuck yourself close to his side and let Johnny take your hands into his.

Too easy to lean into them, to accept Johnny wiping your face gently with a cloth and eat fresh fish from Simons fingers. You're exhausted, and Simon doesn't push.

He just remains steadfast against chaos, even when Johnny fights with another one of the men and he has to pull them apart by their shirts.

"Si'down!" he barks, the loudest you've ever heard him. It makes you flinch, hiding again, until he sits heavily down beside you and you scoot as close as possible again.

"Not the smartest, are you?" he looks down. That hurts. You're just scared, is all. "Doesn't matter who's there, you'd cling right to them, wouldn't you?"

No, you want to say. But you just hide your face in your arms and cry again. You want to tell him the apple was special, that you know nobody else has one or got one, but you don't.

Your heart beats hard against your ribcage, that dread coming back again, feeling heavy and small under the weight of your predicament and his judgment.

"He didnae mean it," Johnny croons. He strokes your hair away from your face, thumbs finding your tense brows and smoothing them out. "We know you're a good girl. S'why we took ye."

You sniffle. The rocking of the boat has become both maddening and soothing.

You wonder when this journey will end.

Your clothes are stiff with salt, wetted and dried and re-wetted. Your skin itches, wrists burning, welts unhealed from before when the abbess has caught you sneaking mead.

She had accused you of indulgence, of trying to get drunk. Truthfully, you'd just liked the taste of honey and missed it.

Nuns didn't eat honey, at least not there. Cheese and wine were already over the top, God forbid anyone ate anything sweet. That's why you loved the apple, had held each bite long on your tongue, letting the sugars sit there a moment to savor them.

"Hey," someone nudges you, bringing you out of your half-sleep. Easier to be less conscious, less aware, trying not to feel your anguish and your physical pain. "Come on, get up. We're here."

"Hmm?" You're so tired, hissing and whimpering when your wrists are jostled.

Untied. They're being untired. Your head lifts too quickly, making you dizzy. Gaz is squatting in front of you, holding your leash.

"You awake?" he squints, tilting his head. "You look rough, sorry 'bout that. You good to stand?"

Too many questions. You're forced to lean on him heavily to try to stand. He's as solid as the others, just leaner. Kinder, honestly, as he mostly carries you off the longboat.

Muscles like a new foal, you take a seat on the soft wet sand and slump onto a crate. It's a struggle to walk on solid ground.

Men move around you, dumping and lifting and talking. Less excited than the last time they were on the beach, but there's still a buzz aflutter.

"Can I bring'er up?" Johnny is looking at you, his hand on Simon's forearm. Their affection is the quiet kind, something you only noticed the last couple days of the journey. Small touches, murmurs.

"Go ahead," Simon touches him back, moving towards Price when Johnny comes towards you.

"Awe, lamb," he coos, hauling you up with an arm around his shoulder. His other arm goes to hold your waist, squeezing. "Dinnae worry, I'll get ye in a bath soon 'nough."

He's not lying - after a painful, difficult walk, you make it to a wooden cabin. Looking around, there are a few of similar make, a little town.

"Go on in then, sweet hen," he pushes you just enough for you to shuffle your feet in the door.

Modest wooden furniture greets you, a one-room house with a large bed, fireplace, and table. The rest is beyond you once you spot the tub.

"Sit, let me get it ready for ye."

You nearly fall asleep, or maybe you do, because when you open your eyes Johnny has steaming water filled to halfway in the tub, wooden slats fragrant. He's crumbling a dried flower in as well, humming to himself.

"Alright, s'ready," he helps you up again. Modesty is forgotten, you're too tired and weary to care when he slips the woolen habit off and leaves you in a plain shift, finally untying your wrists. "Pretty girl." He says it under his breath, like he can't help it.

The water is better than the apple. You hiss when it touches your wounds, your sore muscles.

You're tired to your marrow, could weep about it, eyes still opening and closing. Around you, Johnny searches through various bags and chests until he finds a bar of soap.

The soap is better than the water.

"Feels good?" he whispers, dipping his hands in and lathering up. How he's up and about, you have no idea. Even his hands near your bare breasts don't phase you - that's how wiped you are.

"S'good," you mumble. "Thought I ws'gonna die."

"We wouldn't've let that happen, sweet girl. Too precious, our treasure," a kiss, on your shoulder. He rubs the soap on your skin, your arms and down to your fingers, washing them each one by one.

"N'ver want to do that again," and then, because you forget he's your captor. "Please."

The attention is soft, patient. The soap washes away salt and dirt and sweat, even tears when he wipes your face with a rag. This is a second baptism, a better one, with gentle hands massaging your scalp and the barest brush against your nipples.

"Sit up," he pushes you forward, rinses your hair, washes your back while you're there.

The rag swipes over your cunt when he gets there, once, twice, eyes boring into you. Your exhaustion mutes the squeeze of anxiety in your chest, closing your eyes to avoid his gaze.

"Right, all done," he helps you back out and into a long, thin shift.

The bed is soft, so soft, covered in furs and actually stuffed enough to cradle your body. You sink into it immediately, just barely registering the door opening again.

"She asleep?" It's Simon, carrying luggage.

"Aye," Johnny says. You hear them kiss, wondering if they think you're asleep. "Anything else?"

"No," he's gruff, to-the-point. Drops bags in the corner with a clank and a chest by the door with a thud. "She give you trouble?"

"Sweet as a lamb, our girl," he sounds proud.

You open your eyes, one last attempt at self-preservation, and see them looking down at you.

Simon swipes a thumb over your cheek, under your eye, still wearing the skull.

"It's alright, go to sleep," he murmurs. Johnny leans his head on Simons shoulder. "Perfect girl, knew we did good takin' you."

[daydreams-after-dark]

After Hours

Felix; personal assistant | You; Corporate Boss |

You're a corporate boss, he is your personal assistant. You're his boss by day, but after hours his soft dom side gets you weak.

18+ fanfic // (soft dom) Felix + sub reader // vaginal fingering // oral sex (f rec) // toys // handcuffs // vaginal sex// orgasms // declaration of love // sex where someone might see // boss/subordinate relationship

Approx 1.9k words

The moon illuminates your high rise office just enough that you don’t need any additional lighting. Felix can still see everything as he presses the front of your naked body against the glass window of behind your desk. The glass is cold against your skin making you shudder.

“A little cold is it, boss?” your assistant, Felix says. There is a kindness in his voice even though he is whispering. You can feel his hot breath on your exposed neck. He retreats back for a moment and your not sure where he’s gone.

But then you feel him push against the back of your body. He’s naked. You can feel his hard erection against the back of your ass. 

Yes, you both liked to play risky games with each other after hours, happily wandering around naked and "sensually fucking", as Felix likes to call it.

“God Felix you’re so hard.” you gasp as he rubs the head of his cock through your lips, guiding it with one hand. His other hand caresses your ass, sliding it up to follow the curve of your back, and eventually tangling his fingers in your hair.

“It’s all because of you, you know?” He smirks against your neck, and tips your head back to expose more of your skin. "I've wanted you all day." 

A small squeak escapes your lips when he bites your neck hard, but still playfully. 

“Spread your legs a little for me, gorgeous.” He instructs. As always you oblige, stepping your feet apart to allow Felix access your entrance. How can you refuse your Felix. You may be his boss, but the boy makes you melt.

You’re expecting to feel the tip of his glorious dick prodding against you, but Felix is playful and full of unexpected surprises. Instead, he lets go of his cock and snakes his hand between your legs to find your clit.

You let out a long moan as he sucks on your pulse and applies pressure between you legs.

“You’re so wet for me.” He notes.

You lean back against Felix’s strong body and your head rests on his shoulder. He removes the hand in your hair, snaking around to squeeze your breasts. You’re chest is heaving, as you whimper at Felix’s touch. You close your eyes, losing yourself to the sensations. Felix’s hand makes it’s way down your stomach and down between your legs. With two fingers he spreads your lips apart, exposing your clitoris, and allowing the fingers of his other hand more access to deliver concentrated pressure.

“Fuck.” You cry out. You start to writhe against him, whimpering his name over and over as your climax builds. Felix slides his fingers from your clit to your entrance now, pushing two fingers into your pussy. His other hand now taking over working on your clit.

“You look so stunning right now. Like this.” Felix says in awe. 

You can feel the pressure building between your legs, and you start to rock your hips again Felix’s hand. His fingers slide so easily in and out of you. The slick, wet noises from your pussy accompanied with your low moans and sweet whimpers is sending Felix crazy. “I think you’re about to come on my fingers any minute now.” He said. “Can I put another one in?” He said closing his eyes and pressing his lips to your shoulder. 

“Mmm hmm.” You muttered, lost in the pleasure.

Felix pushed a third finger into you making you gasp at the stretch. “Yes yes yes… like that.. yes.” you cry. 

You are held against him, secure and safe, as Felix directs his fingers into your g-spot. He becomes absolutely relentless, not easing up for a moment as you squirm against him. 

“I can feel you’re so close… just let go, love…I’ve got you.” He whispers in your ear.

The pressure inside you explodes, and your legs shake as your orgasm crashes over you. “Yes that’s it…love… good girl… let go. Let go.” He bit his lip as he watches your legs give way, and he wraps an arm around your waist to hold you up. 

Felix doesn’t even let you recover from your orgasm before he’s spun you around, lifting you up and pressing you against the glass. You wrap your legs around his waist and he pushes his cock inside you with a groan.

“Felix… you’re hitting me so deep”. You protest. 

“Oh my God am I hurting you?” He stops and looks at you with concern, but you shake your head. “It’s fucking incredible.” You pant. 

His mouth attacks yours, biting and tugging your lip, then kissing and nibbling your neck. His breathy moans letting you know how much you’re driving him crazy. 

“Arms up.” He says gruffly. You do as he says, raising your arm above your head, and he uses one of his hands to pin your arms against the glass. His other hand supports your ass while he fucks you slow and deep. 

All you can hear is yours and Felix’s heavy, laboured breathing and your wet pussy as his cock moves in and out of you.

Eventually, Felix peels you off the glass and carries you over to your desk, laying you down and thrusting into you a few times before pulling out entirely.

“Felix,” you whined “where are you going?” You close your eyes, your neediness overwhelming you. 

“It’s okay. I’m still here.” His face appears over yours and he kisses you deeply. “I’ve got a surprise… something I want to try. If that’s okay.” He smiles brightly.

You smile back and push a strand of hair out of his face. “Okay.” You say, and he scurries off and switches on a lamp. Then he is back a moment later dangling a pair of black fluffy handcuffs and grinning deviously.

“I want to restrain you.” His grin turns into a cheeky smirk, making your heart melt. 

“Fuck, Felix. Have you had these hiding in your desk drawer all day. You're so bad.” You squint at him.

Felix raises and eyebrow “Yes? And I've been imagining this all day.” He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

“Legs up.” He suddenly demands. A rush of excitement courses through you and you fold your legs up towards your chest.

“Wrists around the back of your thighs, love.” He instructs you to hook your legs over your forearms, and to hold your arms around your thighs. Your feet dangle up around your ears.

“That’s it.” He says as he handcuffs your wrists, securing you in just the way he wants you.

“One more surprise.” Felix then holds up a butt plug with a black fluffy tail attached. “Can you wear this for me?” He asks with a feigned shyness. “I think you’ll look adorable with this in your pretty hole.” His naughty words are arousing you immensely and you nod your head “Yes, Felix… please… I’ll wear that for you. Can you help me put it in?” You coo.

Felix tries his best to hide his eagerness and it makes you bite your lip to try and hide your stupid grin.

You feel the cold metal against your vagina entrance, as Felix gathers your wetness to use as lubricant. “I’m feeling a little impatient,” he meets your eye, “so you’re going to have to take it in one go for me?” He decides. 

You feel a burning stretch as Felix pushes the plug into you in a slow but continuous motion.

You cry out. It hurts for a moment but then the stretch feels incredible. 

Felix stands back and admires you. “Such a pretty little kitty.” He smirks satisfied with his idea.

Then his head disappears and you feel his wet tongue lick a stripe up from your entrance to your  clit.

“Felix! Please just… I need your cock…” you toss your head around in frustration, all you want is for him to be inside you again.

“You want my cock, do you baby?” Felix tries to taunt you, but he’s lining himself up with you in a heartbeat, and sinking back into you.

“God you’re extra tight with that in your ass.” He chokes.

You desperately need to see his face so you try to move your legs slightly to one side as you tilt your neck to look around your legs.

You watch Felix as he watches himself moving in and out of you. His pace is steady. He might have been impatient to be back inside of you, but now he’s where he wants to be he doesn’t want it to end.

He feels so big. He’s pushing into you further than you thought was possible. The stretch feeling more intense too, thanks to the plug up your ass. You were slowly falling apart.

“Please, please… faster.” You whine desperately. 

Felix catches your eyes and smiles. “I’m not in a hurry, sweet-pea”. He’s so cute, but frustrating.

He doesn’t change his pace, just continues the long, slow thrusts, keeping you on the precipice of your second orgasm.

He keeps you there, right on the edge for a good five minutes, until you are sobbing and begging him to take you over. Felix is loving it. You’re so wet for him, responding just the way he likes. The way the tears are running down your cheeks, the way your eyes are unfocused, the way you crying his name. He fucking loves it. And then he’s ready for you to come. A finger lands on your clitoris and his hips snap faster, harder, giving you that friction you need. “That’s it beautiful. Come on my cock.” 

Your orgasm makes you scream, the release the most intense you’ve ever felt before. Your legs shake and your walls clench causing Felix to let out a long growl as he comes inside of you. Your still pulsing around him as his breath slows back to a normal rate.

He pulls out and removes the plug, then releases you from the handcuffs.

“Felix!” You sob as he holds you close. You feel safe in his arms. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He soothes. "You did so good, boss babe." he chuckles.

You take your time dressing, kiss each other goodbye. "See you tomorrow, Felix. Don't forget you have a performance review tomorrow." you remind him and head off in the direction of your car.

"Oh, I thought we just had the performance review?" he calls after you.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @kangnina @itshannjisung @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @newhope8 @weareapackofstrays @queen-in-the-shadows @queenmea604

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 2/18/2025

much like phil, i feel like i cannot quite ever get physically comfy this week. something is always not quite right.

listening: god save the queens by vienna vienna

reading: love's harvest by peggy j herring

watching: cinderella

playing: pokemon

making: return of the baby blanket

listening

im going to start out a little bit mean and say that this self-described glimmer rock song, God Save The Queens by Vienna Vienna, really shone in the ten-second social media clips i saw of its live version. the actual studio version sucks so much. and even the full version of the live version, i want it to me slightly different but in a way i cannot articulate. i am excited to see if other people start covering this in fun ways and maybe it'll be the rare song where i like the cover much more than the original.

I saw a man out in Hollywood He carried a sign that said he hated me I said, "Please, get in line" He stopped to ask me a question He said, "Do you know Christ?" I told him, "Maybe I do, does she work the nights?" He said, "No, I mean Jesus" I said, "That guy was tight But I'm not living in a city built upon your lies" He tried to save me, but somebody already did last night They said their name was Alex, baby, and they showed me the light

like here's the studio version. give us nothing i guess??? i think if you are going to sell merch with GOD SAVE THE F*GS censored out maybe you should say that in the studio version of your song. this is probably a label decision but i want this song to be about 15% less corporate sponsor of a pride parade than it is. i feel like this song got heavily edited from a first draft and i would have liked to hear that probably much angrier first draft. hell of a hook though.

-

reading

this gay and/or lesbian romance and/or erotica project is turning into a little bit of a slog, so with the gentle encouragement of @sybilius going "what if you read good books you enjoyed?" going forward we are going to try a novel of dubious quality from my shelf and an acclaimed queer novel from history in the hopes that one of them will be tolerable. so next week we have the dubious pairing of a mob girlfriend in WITSEC romantic thriller from my shelf, and Fried Green Tomatoes At The Whistle Stop Cafe has just come off hold.

last week's assigned book was Heart on Fire, which was supposed to be even!! better!!! than Naiad Press's previous bestseller Curious Wine by Katherine V Forrest. so of course we had to detour to Curious Wine, which had a very short hold time.

reader, i did not finish this book. seven (7!) different women are introduced in the first chapter with almost no physical or clothing descriptions. they are all extremely mean to each other in the way older women who are dissatisfied with their life often sabotage all their relationships. i didn't have it in me to make a cheat card for myself with who the fuck each woman was, bc i expected somewhat lighter going in a contemporary romance with no extra genres tacked on top.

i am glad i did not continue bc while reading reviews everyone mentioned the Graphic On-Page Sexual Assault??? and this is still somehow every older lesbian's favorite book??? truly the times have changed.

Deep in the heart of France's majestic wine country, the sun drenched hills and lush vineyards of the Jeton family estate seem like the perfect setting for a passionate affaire de Coeur. But the life of workaholic winemaster, Nicole Jeton, is anything but romantic. From one harvest to the next, she runs the world-renowned winery, cares for her invalid father, and bails her no-good brother out of trouble—never stopping long enough to consider her own needs and desires. Until she meets the lovely Camille Cartier...

thank you girls. Love's Harvest by Peggy J Herring is one of the books acquired by Bella when they bought out part of Naiad Press. originally published in 1997, this 156p book was reprinted in 2007 with no additional changes or author's notes. it is the same quality as all the Bella reprints: a kind of terrible to hold perfect-bound softcover. i am beginning to suspect i simply do not vibe with the naiad and/or bella publishing market. i may not be their intended reader. im not really sure who their intended reader is, except maybe the 1997/2007 version of people who patiently comb through self-published kindle ebooks? what is the point of having a physical press and an editor if you can't make the line breaks and the quotation marks correct?

i couldn't find out much about Herring except that she died last summer and was part of her own tuesdaypost endeavor:

To further enhance communication within the women's community, [WomanSpace San Antonio] newsletter staff initiated a regular event known as Tuesday Night for discussing topics affecting women's lives. Topics ranging from real estate law to rape/incest were prepared for each Tuesday session. As ties to related community resources and events increased, the Tuesday Night events were superseded in 1995 by other events and meetings for the lesbian and gay community.

i did not like this book. such a wild amount of somewhat disjointed events take place during this novel and i really wish it was good. there is a for-real ghost, her great aunt killed by her grandfather and everyone just kind of shrugged about it??? that can dramatically interact with physical objects and STOPS A MURDER??? people are so calm about this ghost as a daily fact of life when there is exorcist level shit going on in the foreground. nicole has to cancel one of their weekend getaways bc the ghost is simply too on one and she can't figure out how to explain the ghost to camille, a presumably more normal outsider who presumably did not grow up with a ghost. the ghost is not the focal point of this book but it is by far the most interesting thing in the book.

this book felt like a barely fleshed outline. they go here. they do this. they see that. here is a great example of a section where i would have loved more elaboration in literally every sentence. the build up to this call and the call itself could have been a full chapter instead of half a page.

the least amount of dialogue i have maybe ever read in a book, and even fewer thoughts or feelings or interiority. the sex scenes read like stage direction. which is crazy bc they start fucking on page 42 and keep fucking every time they meet. they do NOT waste any time which was really refreshing. if only it was hot.

things mostly seem to happen to vineyard owner nicole— taking care of her dad (who dies quite early in the book) and the vineyard, her brother randomly shows up instead of her summoning him back to get some emotional closure (he doesn’t even show up for their father’s funeral), her gay bestie summons camille back after the third act breakup instead of nicole doing any emotional work and reaching out herself. everyone has at maximum one thing going on at a time that is neatly wrapped up before the next thing happens.

i think the 3.3 on goodreads is overly kind, but people seem to really love her other books so what do i know. maybe all these books ended up at the thrift bc their original owner was unlucky enough to somehow pick the worst book from each author and had to unload them.

-

watching

Cinderella (1950, dir. Geronimi, Jackson, and Luske) was on in the background while i was wrangling my bestie's children. probably the least scary (if you are not quite six or not quite two) disney princess movie. the bubble sequence makes me insane in a good way. i think this sort of thing is so easily replicated digitally that it looks unimpressive in 2025 but this shit is 75 years old!!! we were nineteen years away from landing on the fucking moon with a computer outpaced by my current microwave!!!

-

playing

having a real brain time with pokemon. i was gently bullied into playing the app two weeks ago by my best friend's husband after trying and failing multiple times to get into the actual video games, but after getting the 45 wins i needed to get the fanciest current event emblem i went ok great! i won pokemon! i am done with pokemon! and have sort of mentally checked it off in my head. anyway i loved my murkrow/toxicroak combo. loved to flip a coin. loved my darkness deck apparently.

the deck autobuild feature is really great bc i am able to basically hold my own while knowing nothing about pokemon other that what ive culturally osmosed. im assuming this is a pretty fun app if you like this sort of thing and your brain chemicals are balanced without outside assistance.

-

making

the baby i started this mint green baby blanket for is about to turn two in a couple weeks. better late than absolutely never i guess. my original notes called for 10 repeats but i think we're going to up that to 12, just finished the ninth repeat.

[sxfterhearts]

with and without you: a supportive bf!keeho headcannon

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ non-idol!keeho x non-idol!reader ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

♡ genre/warnings: fluff!! reader finds it challenging to navigate a certain social situation (aka: university classmates' reunion), especially without her supportive and understanding boyfriend, keeho. but tldr, she manages just fine on her own :)

♡ word count: 1,836 words

//

after three long, boring hours, your seminar finally came to an end. as you walked out the door, you felt the fatigue set deep into your bones. that, plus the fact that you stayed up last night to finish an assignment, meant you wanted nothing more than to just go home and sleep.

but you knew you couldnt – you and keeho already agreed months in advance to attend your friend’s pre-wedding dinner tonight. and shoot - you checked your phone and realised you were running late

just then, keeho’s notifications popped up. he told you that he was still held up at work (something about waiting for approval from his boss), and will be around half an hour late. the plan was initially to meet up first and head over together, but it seemed like he had to meet you there instead.

you felt yourself shrivel up at the thought of arriving and having to face all those people alone, without keeho – your boyfriend; your rock. but you bit your lip and sucked it up because work was work, and he had no choice

keeho could sense you were apprehensive, but reassured you that he would try to get there as soon as he could, and as always, that he loved you.

you and keeho had been dating for around four years now. you first met at your classes in uni, and went from being friends, to study buddies, to best friends, and naturally, to lovers. the two of you were three years out of school, and stuck together through thick and thin – first jobs, first moves, first promotions, and everything in between.

earlier in the year, you decided to go back to grad school. that meant moving from your hometown to the big smoke - new york. and of course, keeho came with you, easily finding a corporate job in the financial centre of the world

it was hard adjusting though, if you were being truly honest. the big city was filled with people, yet you often felt yourself feeling more alone than ever before.

luckily, you had keeho right by your side. he was there for you when you struggled through early classes and late nights; he was there to cook and make sure you ate your meals on time during exam season, and he was even there to wipe away your tears when you faced hurdles completing your research. keeho, truly, a supportive bf we stan!!!

anyways - point is. you missed your close friends and family back home

but you were lowkey dreading this dinner. having to answer questions like “how are you” and “what are you doing for work or school” repeatedly seemed a bit overwhelming. the dinner was a mini-reunion of some uni classmates - a group of around ten who all took the same classes as you and keeho and mostly stuck together to study, do assignments, practice for interviews, help each other with applications etc.

it wasn’t like you weren’t close, it’s just… you definitely weren’t besties, and let’s just say you weren’t the most social person in the room

keeho was the opposite. your boyfriend was a social butterfly; a classic extrovert. always able to blend into any social setting and talk to anyone about any topic under the sky

you however, took awhile to warm up to people, and even then, you found yourself craving your alone time more than anything. keeho liked to tease you and said you have a small social battery – you just ran out of charge quicker than others (and there’s nothing wrong with that, he’d always remind you)

but with this particular friend group, you always had the sneaking suspicion that they were only keeping you around because you were the nerd; the smart friend. the one everyone wanted to pair up with in a group assignment because they knew you would hard carry the team. the one who everyone approached for study notes in the hopes of performing as well as you did in the finals. the one everyone was jealous of… the one who got used and subsequently thrown away

that was probably why you haven’t spoken to any of them in years, with the exception of keeho ofc, and the bride-to-be, yoonhee

before you knew it, you arrived at the restaurant. yoonhee was always a big fan of italian food, so it was no surprise that she picked one of the finest italian eateries in new york for the dinner

despite your obvious personality differences, yoonhee was one of the only girls in the friend group who actually took the time to get to know you. she was outgoing and outspoken like the other girls, but also had a hardworking, studious side that came out during important events like interviews or exams. she wasn’t a big fan of drinking (like you) and usually accompanied you on the sodas or lemonades at drinking events. importantly, she also shared similar hobbies to you. in particular, she loved reading, and the two of you used to exchange book recommendations in between classes and visited bookshops together

you were genuinely happy that your friend was tying the knot, but as you stood in front of the door, you had to take a few deep breaths to calm your nerves (you tried to hype yourself up: dont be a chicken, y/n! these are just your old classmates. you will be fine)

pushing open the doors, you gave the waiter your name and followed them into the crowded restaurant. the smell of woodfired pizzas and sizzling garlic invaded your senses as they led you towards the back of the restaurant where the group congregated

immediately, yoonhee spotted you and let out an excited squeal. “y/n!!!!” she ran forward to engulf you in a warm hug. “i’m so glad you made it!”

you couldn’t help the smile that worked its way on your lips. her energy was always infectious. “it’s great to see you too, and congratulations!” you replied sincerely, returning her hug. when the two of you pulled away, you handed her your present. “from me and keeho.”

“ooohhhh!” she said teasingly, “you and keeho? you’re still going steady, then?” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, before accepting your gift. “thank you for this, you didn’t have to.”

you shook your head, “yeah, it’s nothing big. but we hope you’ll like it.” 

“let’s go say hi to the others! you haven’t seen them in awhile, right? oh! and i’ve got to re-introduce you to my fiance!!!!”

you let your friend lead you to the larger group, and thanks to her, you felt yourself ease into the group’s conversation. whilst you still missed having keeho by your side, yoonhee did a great job at helping you navigate social situations, just like when you were back in uni

the food and conversation flowed continuously, and you found yourself actually enjoying yourself. who would’ve thought? you almost forgot why or what you were so concerned about earlier today

and as the current conversation about astronomical rent prices and how impossible it was to live affordably in new york eventually died down, one of them turned to you and asked, “so, y/n. you came alone? are you and keeho…” he trailed off, unsure of how to phrase his question

“intak!” his best friend, jongseob, hissed as he elbowed him in the ribs. 

“actually-” yoonhee began on your behalf,

but you answered, “actually, he’s late. work’s been really busy, so he had to stay back a bit. he should be here soon though.” you replied, with even more confidence than you initially expected. both your answer and your tone left the group pleasantly surprised. this was not the same y/n they knew from university, clearly.

“you’re still together!” another guy, theo, cheered from the edge of the table. theo always liked to claim that he played matchmaker and introduced the two of you, back in the day. “what can i say, i really am the best cupid in the matchmaking business.”

“so, when are you guys getting married?” yoonhee asked with a sly smile. “it’s been, what? four years? surely you’ve talked about it.”

“well actually, we –”

“guys!!!” a familiar voice yelled from behind you, stealing everyone’s attention. keeho sure knew how to make an entrance. “it’s been too long, boys!”

after five minutes of hugging everyone at the table and exchanging pleasantries, keeho finally circled around to you and yoonhee. he took his seat next to you, instinctively resting a warm hand on your waist, and turned to yoonhee, “congratulations! did y/n pass you the gift? you’re gonna love it - we’re the best at gift-giving.”

yoonhee laughed in response. “youre talking it up way too much, yoon keeho. it seems like you haven’t changed at all. and thank you, she did! i can’t wait to open it.”

keeho shook hands with yoonhee’s fiance and exchanged small talk about work, as they were both in the same field. you watched silently as they talked, happy to take the backseat and just listen in, as you usually did with keeho by your side

when the conversation reached a lull, keeho felt your eyes on him, and squeezed your waist in response. “hey.” he said in a low voice, for your ears only. the two of you faced each other and smiled, escaping to your own world. “sorry i was late, it’s been a really busy day.”

“it’s okay…” you trailed off, eyes wandering around the table as you finally realised, “it wasn’t that bad.”

keeho chuckled, “see? you did it. i could tell you were nervous on the phone, but you did it. i’m proud of you.” he leaned forward slightly to press his lips against your hair, as a reward.

“i had help. yoonhee’s great.” you replied sheepishly, eyes downcast as you felt shy 

“yeah but coming to a social gathering after a long day of classes and having to actually interact and talk to people? that’s all you, baby.” keeho countered, wanting to give you credit for your efforts. to many, it didnt seem like a big deal. but he knew you. it’s not easy for you to feel comfortable in these situations, especially when you were alone, or tired. he understood that you needed to recharge by being on your own, and that being around people for too long could be draining.

“i suppose…”

keeho hummed in response, “also,” he tilted your chin so you would look up at him. “i missed you.” he smiled sweetly before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

“yah! yoon keeho! y/n! pda is not allowed here! geez, go get a room!” theo teased, causing the table to erupt in laughter

you felt the tips of your ears light up, but it seemed like keeho had other plans. he pulled your chair even closer to him with one hand and shoved the middle finger up with the other; all whilst gliding his lips smoothly against yours

[hellhoundmaggie]

The (purely hypothetical) film adaptation of Stardew Valley should be about Shane fixing up the farm.

Hear me out.

The star can't be the Farmer. I know, I love the Farmer too, she's me, they're you, but it can't be them. Their in-game characterization is just too weak: it has to be, so that you can read the personality you want for the Farmer into them as you play. But you know who is strongly characterized? Who already has a powerful arc that takes him from the depths of despair to the heights of joy and, finally, to a place of growth and lasting change? That's right, our favorite substance abuser, Shane StardewValley. But how to get him involved?

First, we cut the Farmer out of the story almost entirely. We gotta keep them from doing things that would take away our chosen protagonist's agency, and the best way to do that is by not letting them come to the Valley. So the farm still lies abandoned after Grandpa's death, the Farmer is still slaving away in the Joja cubicles. That's fine, Shane's gonna handle it.

So we give him an inciting incident. Shane's still miserable in his soul-sucking retail job, still grieving the loss of his gridball glory and the deaths of Jas' parents, still drinking his life away. But in this version of the story, he's the one who wanders into the ruins of the Community Center. He's just looking for a quiet place to drink away from the judging eyes of the town, but instead he discovers our favorite apple-ly squatters. Seeking answers about his bizarre encounter, he goes to the Wizard, gains the ability to speak with the Junimos, and receives their mission to restore the Community Center.

Shane's skeptical at first. He doesn't believe someone so weak, so pathetic, could possibly do everything the Juminos are asking. But the abandoned farm, just to the north of his house, calls to him. What would it hurt to grow a couple of Parsnips there? It's not like anybody is using it. So he starts building the area out in his free time. He fishes and mines and forages and fights, just like the Farmer would were they there. He gets Robin to build a coop for Charlie and his other beloved chickens, then a barn, then other buildings. He seeks advice and aid from the other townsfolk, building friendships with each of them (and giving each one a chance to show their character). His new hobby leaves him less time for the Saloon, so he drinks much less. As he makes more money from his farm produce, he picks up fewer and fewer shifts at Joja. He's invested in the work he's doing, which he finds far more rewarding and meaningful than stacking boxes all day. He feels strong, that he can take on anything the Valley throws at him. Sometimes he's even happy.

But then comes Morris. Irked that Shane isn't acting like a loyal worker anymore, he investigates his erstwhile employee. When he learns that Shane is farming land that doesn't belong to him, he springs his trap. Out come Joja's lawyers, claiming that the farm really belongs to the corporation. Armed with expensive suits, legal jargon, and reams of official-looking documents, they bulldoze Shane. They'll be generous, they say. As long as Shane cedes the property to them, they won't sue him into the ground. Shane's devastated. The one thing that is giving his life purpose, Joja is taking from him. And he isn't strong enough to stop them.

So here's where Shane's rock-bottom moment happens. Just as in the game, he's overwhelmed with despair, gets drunker than he's been in his life, and contemplates ending it all on the cliffs. But instead of the Farmer stumbling across him, the townsfolk find him. He's their friend and a vital part of their lives now, so when they notice he was missing, they organize a search party. Guided by the Junimos, they quickly discover Shane and carry him to the Clinic together. Because Shane wasn't getting his strength from the farmland, not really. He got it from the life of purpose, connection, and love he was building for himself. A life that improves so many other's lives. That was Shane's true strength all along.

And hey, guess what? Mayor Lewis remembers that Grandpa talked about leaving the farm to their grandchild, and tracks down the true owner -- the Farmer! And it turns out they asked their dear old friend Shane (wink wink, nudge nudge) to fix up their family farm for them. Their claim to the land revealed for the sham it always was, Morris and the Joja lawyers retreat to lick their wounds, and the Farmer comes to the Valley to claim their birthright. Of course, they are happy to keep their dear friend Shane on as a farmhand, where he can continue with all the good work he does for the townsfolk. The Farmer arrives on the very day the Juminos fully restore the Community Center, and everyone celebrates the Farmer's homecoming. But more than that, they celebrate the man who brought the town together: Shane. The End.

[buzzkillers]

WHITE HOUSE DOWN

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Black!Reader

Summary: You and Hobie fuck after he kills the President of the United States: Norman Osborne.

Tags|Warnings: Happy 4th of July (sarcastic), public oral sex, cum facials, enemies to enemies that fuck, exhibitionism, bratty reader, graphic violence, bad British slang, UNEDITED

WC:4k

In under an hour Fascism, Capitalism and President Norman Osborne died in the same way: pathetically and in a roaring beat of gunfire and raging anarchy.

It was so punk metal that Hobie reckoned he could've cried. 

Maybe even let out a blood curdling scream before he joined his mates in celebration; in a fight that continued to roar beyond the thick walls of this stupid building. Of the world's now fallen symbol of false freedom, colonization and white supremacy.

All of it was dead now anyway, all of it was gone. So yeah Hobie reckoned he should’ve cried; maybe he even was crying but he was too pent up on adrenaline and rock and roll to notice. Who fucking knew. Who fucking cared? 

What mattered was that Osborne’s head was detached, that his guitar was covered in guts and brain and enough idiocratic bullshit that it had clattered to the floor. 

His weapon stained against the fancy White House carpet. He didn’t mind though, it added to the decor. You didn’t seem to give a shit either. For you, blood still stained your locs and your lips stayed wrapped around his cock.

And well Hobie didn't follow rules. They were barely a suggestion in his radar. Yet apart of him knew this was off kilter, even for him. Even for Spider Punk. 

Spider Punk, the not-hero and the now killer who instead of killing capitalist and fighting corporate drones was here. Here with black nails that dug into your back and wicks that kissed the skin of your cheek. 

It felt good. 

This reward, you told him as you guided him towards the pigs desk. Your hands already at the buckle of his jeans before you looked up at him; eyes hazy and murderously dark. 

It reminded him of foggy London nights, of polluted air and days where he gasped for his inhaler. Something that tried to be something else. It made Hobe feel triumphant, out of breath.

And yet this was ‘His reward.’ You growled again as if this was normal and you weren't you but something different, something new.

At that, Hobie couldn’t help but laugh. It was a pretty comedy after all, a neat joke as your palm— shaking and slick with sweat wrapped itself around his cock and your knees dug into the floor. The blood stained floor. 

He inhaled sharply, either from the adrenaline or the genuine need to breathe before his smile slipped into something wide, dangerous. You shot a glare at him. 

"Something funny?" You mouthed, as if your eyes weren't muggy, as if there wasn't a revolution going on a wall away. Hobie of course simply looked down at you, his own eyes liquid dark, but alight with adrenaline and fire and everything that made a corporate pig like Osborne underestimate him. 

“Fuck yeah,” he rolled his hips up.

"Everything's a bit funny right now, love" 

Below him, you only scoffed as if what he said wasn’t sick given the circumstances. 

As if this was simply another one of those nights; those long nights where this would be your signal to leave. To keep your distance from Hobie Brown, the Spider Punk with too much venom on his tongue and righteous anger in his every word. But you didn’t, you simply looked at him, calculative, nervous. 

Around them, the war raged on and the sounds of corporate drones getting their ass beat made the floors vibrate. None of them aware of their leader's demise before his team crushed them into dust. Below him you sighed, that gleam still in your eyes. (murky puddles and polluted skylines.)

"Of course you'd make this hard," 

"Can't just let me suck you off and shut up huh, SP?" You muttered, and you see Hobie would respond. There was always an excuse to be barked, a word to be said. But music still thrummed through his veins, the air was singing (screaming) and you were here. 

Not with Osborne. Not in a lab, cooped up but here. 

He smiled. "I'm not known for consistency," 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," you rolled your eyes, "I've heard the speech,” 

"can't be consistent, can't be bought, can't shut up,"

Shut up?

He licked his lips and tasted the metal, the blood. 'Im gettin��� tired of your mouth, boy.’ Osborne had sneered before Hobie broke his face in.

Yeah, he didn't listen to him either. He shrugged his shoulders. "Nah, I don't think so,"

You rolled your eyes. “Spider-”

“Aw, am I ruining your fantasy love?" You cut him a look.

“Catchin me off guard like this, you must’ve planned it, no?”

Your grimace deepened. Which was cute. Very cute. “So you’re just gonna keep talking?” 

“—I mean I'm not against you knowin' your onions and all that, but between you being stuck in your lab and arguing with us who knew you had the time,” he whispered, before your eyes went sharp and your nails dug into his thighs. A warning, that only made his cock hard and his hands crack the lip of the desk. Cute. He thought again.  

So bloody cute that he blinked and his heart raced like a drum, like a rip of his pick against his guitar. 

‘Lay on your back’ you said, ‘drop the guitar.’ and he did.

You had demanded it with a trained nonchalance. Completely unbothered as if he didn't hear the way your lungs sharply inhaled when his guitar separated Osborne's head from his spine. Cartilage, tendons and a thick spinal cord crushed into dust beneath his rebellion before you pounced on him.

You gave him that same look now and it was wicked hot. He couldn't deny it. A fun mix of cheekiness and nerves before you cocked your head and, “You know what, fine,”

In a blink, his back was shoved harder against the desk. His hands twisted into your locs, while your mouth wet, hot and slick like honey, like blood enveloped him, turned him inside out and made him want to curl over and actually cry. 

Not cause it felt good or spectacular or amazing but because it was you. Only cause it was you.

Below him you sucked him off like you had something to prove. Like it was a challenge. It would be a crime to look away. To not match rebellion with rebellion, your hatred with his faux indifference while your lips remained dry, your handwork sloppy and your rhythm off. It was honestly the worst blowjob he’s ever had. 

But you were enthusiastic and you looked up at him as if you expected more. Like Hobie was supposed to fall to his knees and thank you. Of course, a flicker of frustration came out when he gave you the opposite: a slick smile and his eyes wide in wonder.

"Leave it to you too give someone an angry blow job," He cocked his head, "Reckon you’re overthinkin’ it, love?” 

You choked in response. Your mouth off his cock and looking as if you were about to spit on the floor before you paused and Hobie watched you swallow instead. Something hot shot in his core.

“Never,” you sneered as if this was just another part of the battle, your own personal fight.  

Hobie just snickered, a gleam in his eyes even as you went still, embarrassment hot on your face. 

“Yeah that's what I guessed," he whispered, before gloved hands gripped your jaw. Tight and restrictive.

“Quick tip? You’re too rough with it love, let me guess didn’t watch enough videos?”  he teased, before he realized where exactly his dick was.

You gave him a sharp smile, "want to repeat that?" No, not particularly. He rolled his shoulders.

“Slow down,” 

“Where's the rush,” he teased before there was a thump and a scream and oh, he guess they've found the bloke's head. Took them long enough. 

If Hobie remembered how hard he kicked it correctly; The fuckers skull was three rooms away with thick walls and flimsy doors in each of them.

His smile turned giddy, "We all the time in the world," 

"Please tell me you're joking," and there it was again, that look.  That need for order and propriety. Hobie patted your cheek.

"What, getting nervous?" Your eyes shot to the door. To the distant footsteps that only got closer to the currently unlocked room. 

"Hobie,"

"Fine," he shot the hinges up with webbing. It wouldn't last. But you didn't need to know that.

"See? Good,"

Quickly, your shoulders relaxed; your nape warm beneath his hand, prickled and covered in sweat till he gripped it harder, guiding you down until your mouth was on him again. He shuddered. 

“Make it wet,” you looked confused, your eyebrows twitching before your mouth went agape and he felt it. 

Something hot and sticky that dripped down his cock. Your lips were now sheen, a messy mix of precum, sweat and everything that would never normally be in a pretty mouth like that. 

Of course, you still managed to glare at him. And yeah nah, he wasn't gonna think about why that made his mouth dry before he angled his hips up and up until the tip of him was at the rim of your lips; he took a deep breath. 

“Grip the desk for me,” 

You frowned again, harder if that was possible. And Hobie couldn't have that. 

"Wh--" in a blink he's already bullied his thumb passed plush lips and sharp teeth. Expertly, rubbing his painted nails against the soft flesh of your cheek until drool and spit slicked down his wrist and, 

"That's wicked," he whispered.

"You’re so fucking pretty like this," You shot him a look. Your eyes still shakingly looking towards the door. The soldiers have gotten louder, they've must've bursted pass the first room. But Hobie only sighed, unbothered

“Is this why you've been so nice to me lately? Been wanting to give me this," he rambled, his eyes back on yours before his smile melted into a smirk. The last thing Osborne ever saw, before his head rolled down the stairs. 

Now, the funny thing about trying to tell a punk what to do was that you shouldn't actually expect them to listen. Osborne learned that the hard way. But you weren’t like the rest of them. No matter what the team said about you turning your back on your upbringing for the cause. You weren’t like them. Clean and simple. 

It was written in the cracks of your face, in the corners of your eyes. That want for order that battled with the need to rebel and make things right. 

 It's probably why you continued to look at him like that; your eyes slitted, red and angry.

You hated it but you wanted it too. Which meant that it took no effort to grip your jaw, keeping it still as you moved to chop your teeth onto his thumb. Light work. 

But it was another thing to dodge the whistle of your studded fist and the gleam of spikes on your knuckles before they're webbed to the dead Pigs desk. You were smart not to try again. Still your face stayed twisted in anger. 

 Hobie couldn't help but laugh again, all sharp teeth and youthful indignation in his voice. 

“I'm not good with mixed signals love, you hate me, you don't, you want to give me a reward about a job well done and then whine about it,” 

“This is still a reward right?” he whispered, his voice deep and molten. It dragged you into a spell, made you nod.  “Good,”

"Now, why don't we start stickin’ to our words, yeah," you made no room to reply, just continued to look up at him with that fire in your eyes that reminded him of madness, of a man whose body could be found in various parts of this makeshift castle. For the first time, Hobies face went stern, his body hands suddenly on your nape gripping tight. 

"Yeah?" He repeated. 

That madness in your eyes only take a moment to flicker, a moment to wick and out before your face twisted again, "Yeah," 

"There we go," 

You made no room to stop him. As his prodded his cock against your lips again, against that slick heat, hellfire, glory, his reward that was found in the tightens of your throat. "Good," 

He gripped the back of your neck tighter. “There we go,” 

“Breathe through your nose,” Then you squeezed your eyes shut, prepared to choke, for Hobie to bruise your throat, for your jaw to ache while he used you like you prepared to use him. 

Then he hummed, like a thrum of his guitar, like the flutter of a hummingbird. It was your only warning before he brought you down, slow, sluggish. He made you feel the weight of him, the way it pressed against your tongue, expanded your throat. 

You couldn’t help it really, the way your eyes closed. The hazy sensation that made your vision blur. Hobie fucked your throat as if he had all the time in the world. As if a world leader wasn’t rotting in the next room. 

And this would be a great time to joke. For Hobie to make you regret bringing him here and not give the secrets to ruining him but nah, this was better. This was more satisfying. Worth the shock in your eyes as you tried to keep them open. Your cunt not so subtly grinding against his boot. 

“Don't look so surprised love” 

“Let me guess, you expected me to go hard?” he whispered, voice ragged.

“Wanted me to bruise your pretty throat?” He dragged himself out again. Withdrew his hips, until your lips were once again at the tip of him. A thick residue of spit left behind.

Good.

Perfect even.

But below him you struggled to remain composed. Your mind was a fog that thickened, and your ears roared with the music that was Hobie Brown. The sounds of his shockwaves still in the air. On a better day, you'd remain aloof. You'd look at hobie with bored eyes and tell him to do his worse.

Clearly, that day wasn't today.

Your eyes were still closed after all, and the taste of him still stained your throat. You wanted more. You wanted-

His hand tightened on your neck. 

“Now when did I say you could do that?”  You blinked up, teary eyed with more of Hobie’s cock in your mouth than he previously allowed.

Suddenly, your cheeks burned and Hobie watched embarrassment wash over you. Watched you drown in it, in an attempt to cover up the desperate move before you just sat there, unable to go forward, unable to move back.  “Cute,” 

And then he jerked forward, cock hitting your throat until tears brimmed in your eyes and well Hobie was only a man at the end of the day. He unwebbed you, “Use your hands wrap them around me,” 

Quickly, you complied. “Yeah love like that,"

You didn’t need further instruction. You continued the slow tempo he set. And for a moment, it stayed like that: you swallowing him with a sloppy mouth and tears in your eyes, your hands now slick with well, everything. Snot, spit and tears. 

He laughed again, a bit more choked up and bit more delirious as your tongue dragged against the undervein of his cock. Sharp pleasure blinded him, he felt like it was too much, not enough. Like his heart was gonna burst from the adrenaline, the heat. 

For a moment, he craved something on his lips too. Something just as hot and slick and you. He reckoned you'd like that. Want to shut him up with your thighs locked around his head and your cunt slick on his studded tongue. If you were gonna do this, you might as well do it right, do it in the worst way possible while Osborne's corpse rotted in the next room. 

Below him, you gripped him tighter. Suckled your lips at the head of him until he shuddered and groaned. His palms slicked in blood gripping right at your face. If he knew this would be the reaction to winning the war— he'd bring Osborne back to life himself. 

Let you watch him kill him again, again and again if it meant you looked at him like that. Like a drunkard, like the feeling he got when he strummed his guitar just right, just perfectly against his pick. Until you were like this: your lips, tight and harsh. Sucking him off as if it was another fight, your eyes red hot with anger and tears.

He was close.

He couldn’t even be embarrassed, if they knew what a pretty picture you made no regular bloke  would be either before he felt it. That liquid hot build up; like something molten that grew and morphed and dripped in his belly before his thighs trembled, his fist cracked the desk and you looked marvelous. 

He tried to draw away, cause he was proper and raised right but he couldn't get far. Not against someone who looked like they wanted to prove something. You started this for a reason after all. So of course, your hands pressed into his hips, kept him still. Fucking brat.

Before the room became an echo chamber of gasps and whines and— he lurched forward, hands on your shoulders, a sharp cry of your name. 

 The orgasm was just as violent as the murder. It ripped through him and rearranged his insides until it felt painful, overwhelming. Like he was stuck in his own shockwave, pulled at the seams, the points of musical notes at his ears. 

Then he whimpered, sharp and inaudible. But it made your eyes glitter all the same before you pulled off him with a satisfying grin as the violence in him transcended to a soft shudder. 

Both of you didn't talk for a minute. Just let everything settle. Until slowly the world trickled back in and Hobie watched half amused and half delirious as across your face, emotions flickered too fast for him to dissect. 

What he did know was that you were looking at him, at the floor and then randomly at the door. Oh yeah, the goons. He should focus on that, but you were still on your knees, looking pretty and fucked out and well Hobie couldn't help it. He suddenly had the taste for something sweet.

"Up, c’mon" 

You looked at him, leg kneeled. "Fuck you,” you coughed, throat dry. “Where do you think I was doing?"

He shook his head, and with little effort, he towered over you. You looked up at him, eyes wide, lips plush and the corner of your mouth twinkling with beads of white and shit, shit. Hobie did not wait for you to get up. 

In a blur of red white and blue, the two of you switched places. It was like carrying a stack of paper, a bag of groceries before you plopped into the desk; your eyes wide, legs spread and cunt wet through your trousers.

 "Hobie come on—"  

His thumb dug into the seam of your jeans, ripped them in two until you were cunt hit cold air. You dripped on the desk. "Don't be selfish,”

“I thought this was a reward,” And then hobie’s tongue was on you, desperate and hot. 

Studded fingers pressed into your hips, digging,digging and  "Hobie, what-”  Hobie pressed you further into the desk. 

His tongue was slick and sticky against your folds. The pleasure that was white and hot grinded you to a halt. Your brain morphed into mush. You weren't going to last. This, you can admit with a certainty as your thighs wrapped around hobie’s head anyway. 

You looked towards the door, but Hobie with his freakishly long arms gripped your jaw and forced your eyes back on him. Pay attention, they said. Until your eyes went wide, frantic; and your hips fought the battle of jerking away from Hobie and against him while he flicked your clit; his finger prodding against your entrance. 

It's almost embarrassing how fast you came.

Even worse how you tried to hide it. With teeth the bit into your wrist, and moans that you tried to choke down while your hips moved on him with a grind that only made it worst, made it last.

You grunted and swore, the flat palms of your hand slammed into the desk. Once twice and then Hobie got up, looked at you splayed out on Osbornes desk, jeans pooled to your knees, the hairs of your cunt glistening. 

"Good?”

With a gasp, you could only focus on the sound of the door as the screams of soldiers bulged against the doors frames. 

Your blood was pulsing but you couldn’t feel your throat. Couldn’t feel the scratches and bruises that later you won't be able to tell was from Hobie or from the fight. 

The wooden door bent beneath the weight of the army. Before eventually it popped and you threw the spider a smile. 

“Good,”

[prettyboypistol]

The Juice is Loose || Keatlejuice x M!Reader PART 2

Part 1- First Meeting

After Beetlejuice explained everything to you, it seemed pretty simple. This maniac wanted to terrorize humanity, but he couldn’t. The only solution? To get a mortal to say his name 3 times in a row, then he’d be corporeal enough to do whatever he wanted. You looked Beetlejuice up and down skeptically, but shrugged. He was a ghost, and what the hell did you know about ghosts, anyway?

“Okay so like, just the name three times and you’ll get out of my hair, right?” You asked as the hangover headache finally waned enough for you to comprehend speech without dying. 

“For the most part.” Beetlejuice nodded as he snapped and brought a newly-appeared cigarette to his mouth. “Hey, think about it, toots. You’d have the ghost with the most at your services because he owes you one.”

“How would I-”

“Say my name again, pretty simple.” He cut you off with a puff. The smoke seemed tinted a bluish-green, probably some ghastly tobacco. You had to admit, you were curious on how it tasted compared to the regular cigarettes you smoked. 

So, you got off your couch, walked to Beetlejuice, and stole the cigarette right from out of his mouth- only asking if he cared to share after you put the stick in your mouth. Beetlejuice stood there in awe that you would be so bold. Maybe it was confidence, maybe you just stopped caring about- JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE HELL WAS IN YOUR LUNGS?!

You shoved the cigarette back to Beetlejuice and coughed harder than you’ve ever coughed in your life. You were sure there were specks of blood that splattered on the hardwood living room floor from just how violently you hacked up the smoke.

“What the hell-” You managed to ask as you doubled over onto your hands and knees to continue ejecting the vile mess that was inside you. 

“Sorry, should I have warned you?” Beetlejuice asked sarcastically with a brief chuckle. “You got balls, spitfire, but these ain’t for breathers. I’m surprised you survived after the drag you took.”

When the urge to cough finally stopped, you gasped for air and swallowed against your dry mouth. That was gonna put you off your smokes for at least a week. As you stood up again, you couldn’t help but give Beetlejuice a glare that he didn’t really deserve. After all, you were the one who wanted to assert dominance over him by stealing his cig. That was strictly on you. 

The ghost put his hands up in mock surrender with a knowing smirk. “Still got your soul, breather?”

“Uh- probably?... Why.” you were immediately suspicious.

“These ain’t ordinary cancer sticks, babes. They suck the soul outta you- or suck where your soul should be, anyways. Gives a great buzz.”

“I’d bitch at you for not warning me, but I kinda asked for that.”

Anyway, as you eventually recovered from the soul-sucking, you just kind of… realized. You didn’t really care what Beetlejuice did if he was released, as long as it didn’t affect you. And if he did decide to piss you off, you could easily summon him and use your favor to make it better. It’s not like you went out of the house regularly anyway. You worked from home as a novella ghostwriter. 

“Fine, you know what? Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice-”

Beetlejuice’s eyes popped out of their sockets in shock. With a quick pop back in, he seemed genuinely overjoyed. He rocked from heel to toe on his feet excitedly as he listened to you say those sweet words.

“Beetlejuice. Now don’t-”

A flash of lightning appeared outside, ringing your eardrums as Beetlejuice cackled in glee. He rose up through the air and flexed his fingers, which were laced in pure power as he was released from his curse. With a fake exhilarating breath in, he stepped back down onto your floor and touched his mouth as he mouthed his own name. Then, he said it aloud, just as a whisper.

“Beetlejuice! Whooo! The Juice is loose!” Beetlejuice celebrated as he pulled you in close. You cringed at being so close to someone so… grimey, but there was no wriggling out of it now as Beetlejuice laid a grateful kiss right on your mouth before he released you and thundered away.

What… the fuck did you just unleash on the world?

Oh well, that was someone else’s problem.

Until it very much so wasn't.

[tyrannosaurus-trainwreck]

The one genuinely shocking thing about the UnitedHealthcare CEO getting his claims adjusted is how absolutely high on their own supply the mainstream media seems to be?

Like, yes, of course politicians are going to go on tv and slob on CEO knob to justify the corporate tax breaks, bail outs, and fine reductions. Doing these things is massively unpopular, so politicians have to justify their actions somehow, and it's still déclassé to just come out and say, "The company paid me $10,000 and took me to Ibiza for a week-long vacation in exchange for my vote to not investigate them for wiping an entire town off the map. Sorry, not sorry." It's a cynical bit of kabuki that's impossible to imagine them actually meaning.

And, yes, of course opinion pieces that companies have paid to run on sites and in papers are going to argue that the all-mighty Job Creators™ should be allowed to sneak into your houses and smother your children to death with their own pillows if they want. Their jobs are so stressful! So many people's livelihoods depend on them! It's the least we can do to let them hunt our pets for sport!

Like, these are PR flacks who honed their chops on internal releases trying to convince everyone that it's only fair for their Benevolent Overlords™ to get 10% of the peons' paychecks tithed directly into the CEO Handjob Fund because the CEO worked so hard to lay off 5% of the company instead of the mere 3% that The Market called for. They've probably literally written multiple spec pieces for corporate to keep on file just in case they get a CEO who wants to bring prima nocta back.

But pretty much every single news outlet has spent the last three days running headlines and breathless regular-ass articles acting like a human personification of needless suffering and greed was a beloved elected official unjustly killed for standing up to organized crime or some shit.

(lmao at the fucking Post calling something truly tasteless)

I mean, I know politicians get Really, Really Good Health Insurance and are internally flagged from hell to breakfast to keep them from getting fucked with by the blood-sucking ghouls in charge of the Deny Until You Die Department so that none of them get personally mad at any of these companies. But it seems like it would screw with NewsCorp Ltd's bottom line for everyone on their own payroll to be getting the same treatment.

Of course, it's entirely possible this stuff was all written by shoving facts and supposition into ChatGPT with 'act like it's a bad thing he's dead' as a prompt.

But it's interesting to get a look at the mentality behind 'let them eat cake' comments. Like, the balls it takes to scold people for being elated that a guy who made almost $50 million dollars ensuring not only that the sickest and most vulnerable among us died needless, painful deaths but that their families were bled dry trying to save them? Don't exist. They'd have their own measurable gravity wells. It's the sort of sentiment that only comes from a rock-solid belief that this isn't reeeeeeeally a problem.

[i-3at-s0ap]

I've been having some (scattered and unhelpful) thoughts about Nicky being transmasc and how that affects the Nick vs. Narcolas situation, and I thought I'd make a post abt it!

Senseless blabbering under the cut ⚠️

(for the purposes of this post, Nick is pre Meth bay and Glenn's son, Nicolas/Narcolas is post Meth bay and Jodie's son and Nicky is post demon-ification)

Ok! So, I headcanon Nick Close to be transmasc (whether binary or not isn't important rn). The real question is, Is Nicolas also transmasc?

Possibility 1) Nicolas is transmasc. Growing up Jodie's kid, he was exposed to queer people, yes, (I don't think Jodie is transphobic/homophobic or anything) but it would've definitely been a very sanitized, corporate, binary queerness. I think Nicolas would've realized he was trans at a very young age, Idolizing his dad and wishing he could be like him. Realizing he was trans kinda made that fiction seem more reasonable and attainable, so he wouldn't have pushed the feelings down. I think talking to his dad about this would've been a fairly "typical" coming out. Lots of "I love you no matter what" and "this is a big decision but I will support you". Support, but it was also a serious matter.

Nick on the other hand would've grown up with Glenn and (only while he was very young) Morgan. At least in my head, they would've both been pretty down with gender fuckery and playfulness around gender expression and identity. Like Nicolas, Nick would've also realized pretty young, given his parents exposing him to Queer culture and making sure he knew he could be whatever he wanted. When he came out it wasn't ceremonial or anything, and was met with a resounding "fuck yeah! Rock on man".

When Nicky was """created""" these memories coincided and heightened his awareness of the differences in his upbringing and also how he lives now. I'm sure there's some good potential for stories, angst and fics in there.

Possibility 2) Nicolas is a cisgender boy.

Nicolas grows up surrounded by men like his dad, masculine and, in his eyes, perfect. He is constantly trying to be like his dad, and feeling inadequate because of that. Alongside this impossible standard of manhood he is being raised in, he is also having to face the challenges and toxicity of cis boyhood.

As he becomes Nicky, the memories of the playfulness of being raised by Glenn and being trans are mixed with the experience of being surrounded by unachievable toxic masculinity of being Nicolas. Nicky has no idea if he counts as trans or not, being he technically has the body of a cis boy, (something Nick longed for.) He has a very complicated relationship to womanhood and being trans, while also having lived as a cis boy too. Let's face it, at least in my experience cisgender boys are taught to be transphobic, homophobic, racist, ableist and every terrible thing in the book. Although I doubt Nicolas was the worst, he still grew up in a "agree with these terrible 'jokes' or you're out" environment, one that is suffocating and hypnotic to be in. The cognitive dissonance and later guilt he would've experienced upon remembering his life as Nick, as a transmasc, would've been painful at best, downright excruciating at worst. (Kinda a really extreme version of the human experience of doing something wrong then regretting it later.)

In my personal experience, I spent the first 12 years of my life as a cisgender girl, and to be completely honest I had some fucked up opinions on neopronoun users, furries, alt people and people who are nowadays called 'cringe'. It fucking sucks looking back on that even though I've since come out as trans and bi (and am dating a neopronoun user!!!! Hi Leonardodicapriowo!!!!) I still (correctly) feel incredibly guilty about the things I thought and the things I said. (I'm fairly sure I wasn't vocal about my opinions and never really hurt anyone, but you can never know) I also feel like that concept could be explored really interestingly with Nicky.

Idk these thoughts have just been floating around in my head for a while and I thought I'd write em down somewhere!

[contentloadingandstuff]

Fluff Headcanons - Spooky gaming with the genshin characters!

A/N: The fluff version of the Halloween special, and a bit of a new format. I hope you enjoy!

C/W: Modern AU, swearing, game-typical violence.

Alhaitham

This year, Alhaitham wanted something less conventional. Something that would really engage his mind with interesting commentary about society and the world at large, but still retain some of that spooky vibe. 

Cruelty Squad easily caught his attention with its assaulting graphics and interesting premise. It clearly begged for attention, and he was willing to humor it. 

It was precisely what he was looking for, and what an answer it was. Alhaitham had no trouble adjusting to a more corporate mindset.

Alhaitham: The super AI emerges from an extremely pornographic ultra hyper suck and fuck…

Kaveh: Um… What? What are you talking about?

Alhaitham: You don't understand, Kaveh. Everything that surrounds us? It's Gorbino's Quest. The Gorbino's Quest... of life.

Ganyu

The poor little cinnamon roll isn't that much of a horror fan. Violence and death generally unsettles her, but Ganyu still wants to feel some of that holiday spirit. 

After a lengthy deliberation, Ganyu chose Little Nightmares. The graphics are quite pleasing to the eye, it is horror, but not so horrible and violent. At least that's what she heard.

Ganyu: Oh, look! It's a Nome, right? And it's offering me food… How nice of it! Um… Oh n-no! Why would you d-do that?!

Amber

The great outdoors with a horror theme? Count her in!

Amber made sure to avoid spoilers to have the full, unprecedented The Forest experience. The landscape is so serene and peaceful… The freedom of movement, the sounds of nature and the survival elements are so fun and relaxing!

True, there are some hostile people on the island, but they seem harmless enough.

Until the night falls…

Amber: Wait… What's that? That doesn't look human… Did it just birth out… Ew… Yikes! It's coming at me! 

Suffice to say, Amber stuck around until more or less the moment when you have to chop up bodies and make effigies out of the parts.

Beidou

Alcohol, hard rock and murdering demons with big guns is how Beidou plays on Halloween, so she'll gladly hop on Doom Eternal.

There's nothing better than impaling a snake demon's head with its own broken arm, right as the beat drops. 

Beidou: Life has enough undefeatable horrors. Let's just have some fun tonight!

Ningguang

The old ones are the good ones! Ningguang doesn't play a lot of video games, but she did like a few titles back in her younger days. 

On this special occasion, Ningguang got a box of her old possessions to dig through, and found the original Dungeon Keeper on CD. 

Everything is just as she remembered it was. 

Ningguang: Oh, these imps… They are the perfect workers, aren't they? They don't eat, sleep, need vacation, have a social life, and they work harder when you slap them. Ah, if only I had them as my subordinates…

Keqing: *narrows eyes*

Kokomi

Another fan of the retro side of games, Kokomi enjoys a good tactical challenge - developing the ability to conjure small scale plans is as important as improving the grand ones.

Her pick is Myth II: Soulblighter. It’s a brutal, unforgiving RTS with a distinctively dark atmosphere - just perfect for the season at hand.

Even when Halloween comes to a close, Kokomi will find it hard to drop the game. The insanity that is Legendary is quite addictive indeed…

Kokomi: You here… You here… And now the crescendo!

Game: “Move here move there…”

Game: “Catch!”

Game: *explosion*

Game: “Casualty.”

Kokomi: Oh. Change of plans, I guess…

Yae Miko

Upon hearing of the wonderful possibilities for tormenting the other party, Miko didn't hesitate to bring out the Mora for Dead By Daylight and all of its DLC. 

Though it was quite fun at first, the ugly nature of the game soon surfaced. As none of her friends were brave enough to delve into this swamp, she was forced to join up with random people, who frequently threw the games. 

Such a combination was enough to make even such an ancient and wise kitsune lose her absolute cool.

Ei: Why are you crouching behind that tree, Miko?

Miko: The killer has caught one of my teammates, and I will release them by ambushing them with a flashlight! 

Miko: Come on… Now! You didn't expect that, did y- What?? Lightborn?! Again?! Who even plays it nowadays?! Oh, you daft, blind motherf-

Ei: Miko!

Miko: Oh… Hm. Sorry. I got a little carried away. But that's sooo unfair, isn't it? Why would they add a perk that cancels a whole mechanic? I can't believeitthegameissokillersided…

Xiangling

Xiangling absolutely didn't look forward to Halloween, especially with Hu Tao around. She just can't take horror, at all, of any kind, ever. Especially jumpscares.

She still couldn't believe that she agreed to play a horror game, let alone one suggested by the director. The one and only Five Nights At Freddy's at that.

Much to Hu Tao's amusement, she didn't even make it past Night 1. Xiangling was thoroughly spooked, and after being jumpscared once she completely refused to keep playing. 

Seeing Xiangling so terrified made Guoba very upset, and Hu Tao quickly apologized to avoid being roasted by the angry god. 

Hu Tao: So he killed the kids, but then! Their souls escaped their robot prisons and made an old spring lock suit crush him to death! WoOoo~

Xiangling: Ah! Hu Tao! No more! 

Guoba: Nane na! Grr…

Hu Tao: Oh, don't fret little Guoba! I'm just joking!

Zhongli

Morax always had trouble catching up with the latest cultural and technological trends of the humans. Sure, he can use a computer more than well enough, but he finds third and first person video games confusing. The gameplay is most often too fast and rapidly changing for him to be up to speed with it, let alone enjoy it. 

Throughout all of his exponentially long life, nobody was as persistent in including him in the festivities as Hu Tao. She tried to convince Zhongli to play something horror-related, but he was assertive. So, the director decided to find a game that would suit his liking - an indie title. 

Her pick fell on Water Womb World - it's simple mechanically, is quite disturbing and has an interesting concept. 

Much to her surprise, Zhongli thoroughly enjoyed his fifteen minutes with the game, even if he didn't find it very scary.

Zhongli: Ah, I agree with the message of this title. The blind belief in deities can lead to fanaticism, which breeds regress rather than progress. I do think that a more healthy and critical approach to Rex Lapis' rule would be beneficial to our current day society. Especially that the age of gods draws to an end…

Hu Tao: Aiya! Do you have to turn everything into a lecture, Zhongli? You're not my grandpa, are you?

Hu Tao

An avid enjoyer of the spookfest, Hu Tao decided to pick something hitting closer to home this year - Mortuary Assistant.

The gameplay loop feels great! Just like in her line of work, just without the smell. She's having the time of her life preparing the corpse for burial. And hunting the demon. That's also quite cool!

Hu Tao: *hums while wheeling the corpse into the crematory* 

Game: "Are you sure?"

Hu Tao: Yup! I know your tricks more than well. Aiyaya, you could try something more interesting next round! Furnace time~

Game: *sounds of fire and demonic screaming*

Hu Tao: Toodle-oo~

Bennet, Noelle, Fischl, Razor

A few weeks before Halloween, Bennett mentioned a game night, since he couldn't be there in person. Noelle, diligent as ever, picked this up as a cue to start looking for something. 

Luckily for her, Phasmophobia was on a large and affordable discount, so after proposing the idea and organizing a money pool, they all got to proving the existence of ghosts.

Lisa lent Razor her personal computer for the night, on condition that she could take a little peek every now and then at their session without interrupting - and what an amusement it was, as none of them are especially acquainted with horror.

Noelle: "The ghost responds only to people who are alone." Somebody has to go in to talk to it… 

Razor: Razor won't go! Ghost scary!

Bennett: I would go, but with my luck, the ghost will eat me right away…

Fischl: Hmph! Although yes, I, Fischl, The Prinzessin Der Verurteilung and the founder of The Immernatchreich possess the courage to face demons and spawns of darkness alike, I…

Everyone: So you'll go then?

Amy: Um… N-no! You m-misunderstood!

Furina

The Great-And-Grand Archon of Fontaine played and saw every horror game and movie, and never once got scared. Or that's what she claims, at least.

That's why Focalors decided to prove her excellence with a true, dark challenge she could easily overcome, thus proving her gaming capabilities for all to see!

In hindsight, Darkest Dungeon wasn't the best of choices she could have made… It did amuse Monsieur Neuvilette, however. 

Neuvillette: I think you should retreat. Your heroes are close to dying. 

Furina: I appreciate your advice, my dear Iudex, but your worries are misplaced! My Crusader will deal a critical hit, thus ending the pig-man's miserable opposition, and granting us treasure galore! Watch and marvel at my skill!

Game: "A singular strike!"

Furina: Ahaha, see? I told you it would be fine~ Wait… It's not dead yet…?

Game: "Mortality - clarified in a single strike!"

Furina: Um…

Game: "There can be no hope in this hell, no hope at all…"

Game: "And now the true test - hold fast, or expire."

Game: "Those who cover injury find it in no short supply."

Game: "As life ebbs, terrible vistas of emptiness reveal themselves."

Furina: Ret- T-tactical withdrawal! 

Game: "Cornered, trapped, forced to fight on!"

Game: "This is no place for the weak, or the foolhardy."

Game: "More blood soaks the soil, feeding the evil therein."

Game: "Perched at the very precipice of oblivion."

Game: "More dust, more ashes, more disappointment."

Game: "Another life wasted in the pursuit of glory and gold."

Game: "Wounds to be tended. Lessons to be learned."

Neuvillette: Lady Furina, if only you had-

Furina: Silence.

Shenhe

Shenhe never gets scared. The most terrible of monsters or existential terrors are no match for her training and resolve, no matter how unexpected they might be. She might not get scared, but she can get startled, right?

Who else would pose that question but Hu Tao, the mistress of horrors herself? It was always her objective to get some sort of reaction out of the adepti disciple, no matter how insignificant and small it might be. Many things were attempted - scary movies, troubling situations, body horror, cosmic horror, existential horror… But none of them ever worked. Shenhe remained stalwart.

Out of desperation, Hu Tao was forced to reach for the ultimate weapon. The bane of those unprepared. The myth. The legend. The game.

The Scary Maze Game. 

After plugging in an old spare monitor, she invited Shenhe to “test her precision”, and stepped a few safe meters back. 

The monitor ended up skewered with her polearm, but Shenhe did yelp - much to her delight. 

Not all was fun and games though, as Hu Tao got the mother of all lectures from Cloud Retainer. Something about Shenhe’s red ropes breaking, but the director didn’t pay much attention, and just nodded along.

Hu Tao: Heya, Shenhe… You don’t mind the little scare I gave you back on Halloween night, do you…?

Shenhe: Oh? Well, as much as I was upset during the moment, I must admit it was quite… cathartic. I never experienced anything like that. I do not hold any grudge towards you. Actually… Thank you for that, director Hu Tao.

Hu Tao: Phew! And I was here thinking I’ll share the fate of that display!

🎃Happy Halloween!🎃

[planet-crait]

Dig a Little Deeper is up next!

Ohh presentations on what they want to be when they grow up. I don’t think we ever had those in school but Girl Scouts had stuff for that. Wait why does Dev look so annoyed?

Is he like annoyed that he doesn’t necessarily get a “choice” in what he gets to be and has his future decided for him? Am I reading too much into this? Also Dev he’s so short his wittle feet can’t even reach the ground!!

Aww Hazels rock collection is back in play. Oh geologist that’s so cute!

Skateboarding I saw for Winn, politics I didn’t think about but good for them!!! Yep Jasmine will be a singer or wants to be lolz. Ohh yeah cute Jasmine is comfortable asking Dev but it seems to be a sore spot for him. I don’t know he just seems annoyed? But also slipped up and said corporate takeover so hard to say. I also noticed Peri hasn’t been with Dev noticeably like Cosmo and Wanda are with Hazel. Is this a budget thing or just another sign Peri isn’t all that their for Dev?

Oh Hazel lolz. She thinks a cool rock will make her presentation better. I mean their are some pretty dang cool rocks though so she may be onto something there. (I have a piece of petrified wood which okay doesn’t technically fall under geology I uh think BUT ITS SO COOL).

Oh Cosmo, I love that you mishear things I feel this in my soul. Oh Cosmo he still thinks it’s a vacation lolz. Don’t worry I’m sure you’ll get to sunbathe eventually.

Aww Hazel thanking Cosmo and Wanda is so cute. Hazel you’re so sweet. Oh not out of this world. Oh Hazel lolz. Oh they just brought it to her not her to it okay that went better then I thought.

Oh Wanda oops maybe don’t reveal the end of the universe to a ten year old yeah? I adore Cosmo “talking” with his echo Cosmo you continue to be so dang cute.

Oh and the wands got stolen. Thats bad. How do you guys drop them and not immediately go after them? Guys?

Wait wait I thought Cosmo was the one who got buff in that one tv special? Eh girl power I guess? Space geologist lolz.

The signs continue to kill me lolz. 10/10 the very safe exit collapsing is just perfection love it.

The search montage is kind of hilarious and Cosmo listing on and on all the things Hazel will miss got a laugh out of me.

Hazel. Priorities girl.

How are vines growing in a cave? Over lava? I have questions. COSMO AND WANDA YOU CAN FLY?? Oh the show immediately called that out lolz. Aww they decided to carry Hazel safely lolz.

They accuse Hazel of stealing while stealing from Hazel? Really? Hazel knowing more about stuff than the rock monsters lolz.

How is Hazel showing her collection as she’s tied up and falling? They’re falling for a long time lolz, but it worked somehow?

Uh Hazel maybe don’t talk about the species that hasn’t been proven yet? Maybe?

Oh look Peri is here? And Dev isn’t listening to Hazels presentation? I thought they were friends?

To be fair Peri Hazel didn’t wish for the wands to be like that they were stolen lolz. Oof Dev and Peri still fighting that sucks.

I’m sorry I hyper focus on Dev but also he is my son and I want to hug him. Only one more episode til Operation Birthday Takeback someone hold me.

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

The Senator From Texas

Featuring Sen. Ted Cruz

I was now ready to start my plan of seducing the senator from Texas, Ted Cruz, an arrogant, married, hard-drinking former corporate attorney and political commentator. A so-called real “man’s man” who rarely passes up an opportunity to grandstand, to troll the left or deliver right-wing talking points. He’s also my boss, thirty plus years my senior and one of those family men I suspect with a hidden side that his bleach blonde wife and daughters know nothing about. A side that needs to be exposed. That’s where I come in, the trusted aide who can’t keep his eyes off the ever-present VPL in his trousers and who’ll give him the dirty sex his wife won’t/can’t.

Anyway, because some news about his re-election campaign came up that couldn't wait til morning, Ted was at my apartment. He still had on his suit, minus the tie slacks he had on earlier today. And of course he was still wearing his black ostrich “arguing boots.”

After a few minutes going over some paperwork, Ted noticed what I had playing on my laptop nearby. Some straight porn on mute with no plot, just fucking. I wanted the movie to get right to the point quickly. Ted was trying to ignore it, but obviously liked the movie and I noticed he was getting hard. I casually put my hand on his leg and he did not resist as moved down to Joe's crotch.

"What are you doing?" Ted asked as I slowly massaged his dick through his pants which was nice and hard from watching the movie.

"Just relax Ted. I'm not going to hurt you. Feels good doesn't it?"

"Yes but…" The senator's words were choked off by a lump in his throat.

I could tell he didn't know what to make of the situation as I unzipped his pants and took out his stiff cock.

"You like it, don't you Ted?" He didn't reply as he was too busy enjoying me jerking him off.

Making him stand up, I began to slowly lick the lightly dripping dick.

"Oh god, that's good."

I slowly undressed the senator. First, completely removing his pants and underwear. Of course I keeped his boots on. Then moving up, I removed his jacket. God! It was wonderful. I felt a surge of pure power flash through my body as I pulled his shirt off exposing his broad chest and belly. I smiled at his nipples. They were tiny like most straight men's. I found it amusing that his short thick circumcised dick was still rock hard.

"Damn you smell nice." I said as I bent down and took the beautiful head of his dick in my mouth.

He tried not to moan, but my cock sucking skills were too much for him. I deep throated his old cock and he let out a loud, deep moan, the first of many. I tongued the old man's dick shaft until he started moaning continuously.

Fearing that I was going to make him cum, I stopped and placed a wet kiss on Ted's lips. He started to pull away, but I grabbed him behind the head, held him and forced my tongue into the senator's resistant mouth. Slowly, in spite of himself, he started to respond. Weakly at first, but then as I emptied my soul into the kiss he response became almost passionate.

"Let's go to my bedroom.” I told him when I finally pulled my tongue out of his mouth.

As we broke our embrace, Ted was nervous and almost hyperventilating as I pointed him to my bedroom while I stared at his gorgeous body, almost overcome with lust. His ass cheeks were firm and melon shaped, inviting that I slapped his ass as he went past. As I stripped naked, I found it amusing that his short thick circumcised dick was rock hard as he sat down on the edge of bed waiting for me.

Pushing him back onto the bed, parted the senator's legs and started to suck his cock. He started moaning as I tongued and sucked his thick little dick. His moans were music to my ears. I wanted to make Ted scream and beg for more. He wanted him to come back for more again and again as I started licking his balls to see what he liked best. From there I lightly licked between his thighs as a teaser. Ted was squirming now and clutching the bed sheets to keep from screaming out loud.

“Oh, God! That was wonderful,” The senator said, when I stopped and lifted Ted's legs so I could get fully at his ass.

Pushing my mouth against the rose bud of his asshole, I forced my tongue inside his tight old asshole, he practically squealed with pleasure. He started arching his back and bucking when I began to twist and turn my tongue deep inside his asshole. And damn me if he wasn't reaching down and stroking my head as his dick jerked uncontrollably. I knew I was well on my way to completely subjugating the senator as it wouldn't be long before he was my sex slave. Now I thought it was time to completely win Ted over.

"Fuck me Ted. Fuck me just like you fuck your wife." I said as I crawled on the bed onto my stomach without waiting for him to respond.

Ted looked at me for a long moment as I could almost see the gears in his head, debating if he should take things further. But I guess he was being so worked up and the sight of my ass caused him to continue, pausing for a moment to pull a tube of KY from the nightstand. I tensely watched as Ted applied the lubricate to his cock with the expectation of getting fucked exciting me.

“You got a tight hole.” Ted told me as he rubbed some of the KY onto my asshole.

“Please take it easy with me.” I faux begged as Ted slowly mounted me.

I could tell he was suprised at how easily he slip in before he fucked in and out of my tube. Slowly at first but the tightness of my tube soon got to him and he stabbed his cock in and out of me at a furious pace.

"Damn, Ted that's good. I never felt anything so good. Keep going. Keep going." I said to feed the senator's ego.

I wanted him to think he was really good, although he was indeed better than most. I was trying his best to pump up Ted's ego, even though I was really enjoying the fucking that Ted was giving me.

"Let me up on my hands and knees so you can fuck me doggy style. My dick is rubbing against the bed. I might cum in this position." I said as I eased up to a position on my hands and knees as Ted continued to fuck my ass. Still slowly at first.

He pulled out till the head almost slipped out then thrust it smoothly back in, each entry into me made me catch my breath and made my chest tight. His rhythm began to pick up speed and he grunted with pleasure. I gasped out loud with each thrust into me as his grip tightened.

"Damn, your ass is tight and hot. I think I'm gonna cum. I can't hold back." Ted said, thrusting fully into me, digging his fingers into my hips and grunted holding himself deep in me.

He began spraying my insides with his hot cum.

"Yes… Give it to me. Give me your load. Damn, that's good!" I screamed as Ted blew his load up his ass.

As he lay on top of me and we started to relax, I was thinking now he was going to go into a big guilt trip. Not Ted Cruz, he seemed to want more. He seemed to want to extend our lovemaking and see what would happen next. Meanwhile, I was going over in my mind how I was going to hook Ted on fucking and sucking. I had already convinced him that he was the best fucker in town, now the next part was to get him in bed and fuck the cum out of him. Once that happened without him getting scared off he would then belong to me.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Now, being eternally curious, I just have to ask: what DO other monsters think is under my hood? -The River Person

Undertale Sans - He tried all his teenage years to pull the hood to see what's under, but it's like River Person always knows what he's doing. Sans thinks they're just a random eye, seeing everything. Not the weirdest thing he has seen though.

Undertale Papyrus - If Papyrus insists so much on doing all his trips on foot, it's because Sans once said to his five-years-old self that a terrible carnivore monster was hiding under that hood and was eating children who don't do their homework when they're alone. He didn't believe it, of course! But just to be sure, he decided to not take the ferry anymore. Like never. He doesn't want to know.

Undertale Toriel - She assumed over time it's just a very shy monster and respects that. Sure, they are odd and their predictions creep her out, but that would be just rude to ask what's under the hood.

Undertale Asgore - He's pretty sure that monster has been there since the war, so maybe a hiding boss monster who ignores themselves? He tried to get them to live in a house like everyone, but it never worked? Asgore decided not to question it anymore as time passed.

Undertale Undyne - She thinks it's some elaborated robot honestly. No one would do their job 24 hours a day without complaining once or... You know, leaving their boat. She tried several times to see what was under, but like Sans, she never had any chance. She wants to know so bad.

Undertale Alphys - Obviously, some villain stuck in the boat by a spell to prevent him from ever hurting anyone. It's like their redemption arc or something. Or maybe she's just watching a little too much anime, who knows.

Undertale Frisk - They always assumed it was Gaster, but then Gaster showed up and ruined their theory. So then they assumed it was Papyrus hiding because they're the same height, but one day Papyrus showed up to stop them from going on the ferry, so it's not that either. Frisk is still investigating.

Undertale Chara - They're corporeal for sure because Chara punched their guts once after they said they were going to die and that hurt them. Well, they died shortly after so that river person guy was right, but still. Chara hates their guts and doesn't want to know what's hiding there.

Undertale Mettaton - Like Alphys, he always assumed it was a robot created to lead him where he has to go, before realizing everyone can use it. Well, that sucks. He wrote an offensive movie about the river person just because he was angry. In it, he said River Person is a very mysterious charismatic robot that somehow looks exactly like him. Then the robot turns out to be a master ninja in disguise for some reason. Not all movies can be good.

Undertale Gaster - He always assumed the hood was the monster and that there was nothing under it. I mean, there are rock monsters, blanket monsters, and even mouth monsters, why not hood monsters?

Undertale Grillby - He thinks that's an elemental monster of darkness. That would explain why they're here for so long and why they're looking invisible. It's just odd he doesn't feel it as he's supposed to being an elemental monster himself.

Undertale Muffet - Clearly not enough money for her own taste.

Undertale Burgerpants - He thinks the monster is the boat, since it seems alive, and that River Person is just some disguise because the boat monster thinks it's weird just being a boat for a living. He understands. Everyone calls him the burger guy :(

Undertale Flowey - He doesn't know but he never could kill the guy, so he assumed it's a ghost? Maybe the first River Person died and their spirit has been haunting the boat since? He wishes he could destroy them to dissect them.

Undertale Gerson - He thinks that's a random guy working the day and sleepwalking the night, and that's why they're in their boat all day and night. And somehow as old as Asgore for some reason. Maybe some exiled member of the royal family they punished this way.

[dalekofchaos]

What I want to see in Heel Cena run

Things I need to happen for Cena's heel run

Cena needs to rap his own theme or Travis Scott needs to do it(why the fuck else was he there.) No Def Rebel bullshit, and have Cena go scorched earth for this new theme. Cena revealed in an interview with Chris Van Vliet that back in 2012 there were plans to turn him heel, matched with new attire, entrance music, and more, and this is exactly what we want from a heel Cena in 2025. The leaked version of that supposed music is brilliant, and it would be such a fresh take on Cena’s presentation in WWE. Reverting to heel music did wonders for The Rock’s ‘Final Boss’ character last year, and it can be the same for Cena too.

Different attire. Additionally, new elements such as a different attire, perhaps no longer sporting the jorts, cap, and t-shirt, would really shake things up for Cena in his final year in WWE

New catchprahses "Can you see me now?" "Bury everyone and leave" "Just give up" "Fear my name"

His first promo has to start out with "Can you see me now?" then go complete and utter scorched earth on the fans. "You people have been booing me. Telling me I sucked. That I can't wrestle and I'm nothing but a corporate sellout. Fuck each and every one of you. I did it for the gold. I did it for the money and I did it for Hollywood. I sold my soul to The Rock, I did it for the gold and it is what's BEST FOR BUSINESS" For those make a wish kids, you are the only ones I hold dear. The rest of you, see this"

Hospitalize R-Truth. R-Truth is Cena's biggest fan and he should come out still believing this man is good. He comes out thinking Cena made a mistake and Cody must've done something wrong. "John please you're my childhood hero" and Cena just buries him. "Truth, you're 6 years older than me. Stop acting like a child and grow up" He proceeds to dress him down and then hits repeated FUs and chokes him out.

Reign of doom. John Cena should undoubtedly win a record 17th world title in 2025. Although one final underdog run as a babyface would’ve been nice, this new heel turn has brought about the desire from fans to see him as a heel world champion for the first time ever. Cena having his very own reign of terror, “burying” babyfaces on purpose, cheating, and using heel tactics to keep hold of the gold and to try and keep himself on top would be fascinating to witness, and likely very entertaining too. Whether it be defeating Cody Rhodes at WrestleMania 41 or else winning a title slightly later down the line, we want to see him as a heel champ.

The third man. Cena beats Cody for the title and as both Cena and Rock are just beating the ever loving shit out of Cody. CM Punk comes out and when we all think he's there to help him. Punk does what he promised Cody, he stabs him in the front. CM Punk is the third man and shakes hands with Cena and most importantly, he sells his soul and shakes hands with Dwayne. And hey. Maybe Punk cashes in his favor after Jey wins. Punk squashes Jey and Punk gets his main event wish and we close Wrestlemania with both Cena and Punk raising the titles....with Rock raising his title because Dwayne doesn't wanna feel left out lol

Heel faction. If my pitch for a third man does not happen. We should get a Cena centric faction -Cena -Carmelo Hayes -Bronson Reed -Chad Gable -Austin Theory Or alternatively we have Cena teaming with old friends -Orton -Sheamus -The Miz -AJ Styles -CM Punk

THE BREAKFAST CLUB RUNS WILD!(you're only gonna get this if you follow OTRSCentral) Cena buries everyone. Not only that, but Randy Orton joins him and buries KO and Jey Uso. With Dwayne as the manager. Then CM Punk joins him, followed by Sheamus, Charlotte and the New Day. IT'S BREAKFAST CLUB BUSINESS BABY! And they bury the entire roster and hold all the gold. Cena and Orton trade titles until we get Cena vs Orton to break the fake world champion record at Wrestlemania 42! BREAKFAST CLUBMANIA IS RUNNING WILD!

And this goes on until Wrestlemania 42 where RANDY ORTON and Cena FINALLY wrestles at Wrestlemania where both men fight to break 17. THIS TIME IT COUNTS BABY!!!....or Cody can beat him, I guess 🙄

[rottentoto]

saw your blog in the sheamus tag and i really like that you post long considered thoughts!! i really like your drew post about being a corporate champ; it is an alternative thought to what you wrote about damming up his feelings because i have a different reading of drew to you, but drew's history of always working with the people who have power has happened his whole career (even outside wwe!) and even now, he still tries to get in with those in power (sucking up to adam pearce and even seth as a referee) but when it fails he moves somewhere else where there's more leniency. i also don't want drew to have any part in a rock story but i like your thoughts on it and cody + drew's parallel careers!! also your post on drew and sheamus being unbalanced too; i will comment on it there but it is also something i have been thinking about and im happy someone also notices it!!

Hello and thank you for messaging me! Actually, the point you made about Drew's history of working with people with power is right. He mostly has been like that. There's just another phrase in my head (I think it was coming from some counselor) that says "Personality is not just coming from their nature. It's also their survival tactics" and I often think about it. (Yes, I'm someone who tends to see things in twisted ways. It doesn't work well most of the times, but sometimes it provides new perspectives) About the unbalanced relationship between Drew and Sheamus, I'm actually surprised a bit to know that the idea is not so common. I mean, Drew has been saying Sheamus is his only best friend while Sheamus has several different teammates and can make friends with good amount of roster. (And I occasionally wonder what Wade is thinking about this, because as far as I remember, these three are the best friends) Anyway, I'm also glad to see someone else seeing that!