#terror fan club | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months ago

Text

Leveraged buyouts are not like mortgages

I'm coming to DEFCON! On FRIDAY (Aug 9), I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On SATURDAY (Aug 10), I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

Here's an open secret: the confusing jargon of finance is not the product of some inherent complexity that requires a whole new vocabulary. Rather, finance-talk is all obfuscation, because if we called finance tactics by their plain-language names, it would be obvious that the sector exists to defraud the public and loot the real economy.

Take "leveraged buyout," a polite name for stealing a whole goddamned company:

Identify a company that owns valuable assets that are required for its continued operation, such as the real-estate occupied by its outlets, or even its lines of credit with suppliers;

Approach lenders (usually banks) and ask for money to buy the company, offering the company itself (which you don't own!) as collateral on the loan;

Offer some of those loaned funds to shareholders of the company and convince a key block of those shareholders (for example, executives with large stock grants, or speculators who've acquired large positions in the company, or people who've inherited shares from early investors but are disengaged from the operation of the firm) to demand that the company be sold to the looters;

Call a vote on selling the company at the promised price, counting on the fact that many investors will not participate in that vote (for example, the big index funds like Vanguard almost never vote on motions like this), which means that a minority of shareholders can force the sale;

Once you own the company, start to strip-mine its assets: sell its real-estate, start stiffing suppliers, fire masses of workers, all in the name of "repaying the debts" that you took on to buy the company.

This process has its own euphemistic jargon, for example, "rightsizing" for layoffs, or "introducing efficiencies" for stiffing suppliers or selling key assets and leasing them back. The looters – usually organized as private equity funds or hedge funds – will extract all the liquid capital – and give it to themselves as a "special dividend." Increasingly, there's also a "divi recap," which is a euphemism for borrowing even more money backed by the company's assets and then handing it to the private equity fund:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/17/divi-recaps/#graebers-ghost

If you're a Sopranos fan, this will all sound familiar, because when the (comparatively honest) mafia does this to a business, it's called a "bust-out":

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bust_Out

The mafia destroys businesses on a onesy-twosey, retail scale; but private equity and hedge funds do their plunder wholesale.

It's how they killed Red Lobster:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/23/spineless/#invertebrates

And it's what they did to hospitals:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/28/5000-bats/#charnel-house

It's what happened to nursing homes, Armark, private prisons, funeral homes, pet groomers, nursing homes, Toys R Us, The Olive Garden and Pet Smart:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farben

It's what happened to the housing co-ops of Cooper Village, Texas energy giant TXU, Old Country Buffet, Harrah's and Caesar's:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/14/billionaire-class-solidarity/#club-deals

And it's what's slated to happen to 2.9m Boomer-owned US businesses employing 32m people, whose owners are nearing retirement:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/16/schumpeterian-terrorism/#deliberately-broken

Now, you can't demolish that much of the US productive economy without attracting some negative attention, so the looter spin-machine has perfected some talking points to hand-wave away the criticism that borrowing money using something you don't own as collateral in order to buy it and wreck it is obviously a dishonest (and potentially criminal) destructive practice.

The most common one is that borrowing money against an asset you don't own is just like getting a mortgage. This is such a badly flawed analogy that it is really a testament to the efficacy of the baffle-em-with-bullshit gambit to convince us all that we're too stupid to understand how finance works.

Sure: if I put an offer on your house, I will go to my credit union and ask the for a mortgage that uses your house as collateral. But the difference here is that you own your house, and the only way I can buy it – the only way I can actually get that mortgage – is if you agree to sell it to me.

Owner-occupied homes typically have uncomplicated ownership structures. Typically, they're owned by an individual or a couple. Sometimes they're the property of an estate that's divided up among multiple heirs, whose relationship is mediated by a will and a probate court. Title can be contested through a divorce, where disputes are settled by a divorce court. At the outer edge of complexity, you get things like polycules or lifelong roommates who've formed an LLC s they can own a house among several parties, but the LLC will have bylaws, and typically all those co-owners will be fully engaged in any sale process.

Leveraged buyouts don't target companies with simple ownership structures. They depend on firms whose equity is split among many parties, some of whom will be utterly disengaged from the firm's daily operations – say, the kids of an early employee who got a big stock grant but left before the company grew up. The looter needs to convince a few of these "owners" to force a vote on the acquisition, and then rely on the idea that many of the other shareholders will simply abstain from a vote. Asset managers are ubiquitous absentee owners who own large stakes in literally every major firm in the economy. The big funds – Vanguard, Blackrock, State Street – "buy the whole market" (a big share in every top-capitalized firm on a given stock exchange) and then seek to deliver returns equal to the overall performance of the market. If the market goes up by 5%, the index funds need to grow by 5%. If the market goes down by 5%, then so do those funds. The managers of those funds are trying to match the performance of the market, not improve on it (by voting on corporate governance decisions, say), or to beat it (by only buying stocks of companies they judge to be good bets):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/17/shareholder-socialism/#asset-manager-capitalism

Your family home is nothing like one of these companies. It doesn't have a bunch of minority shareholders who can force a vote, or a large block of disengaged "owners" who won't show up when that vote is called. There isn't a class of senior managers – Chief Kitchen Officer! – who have been granted large blocks of options that let them have a say in whether you will become homeless.

Now, there are homes that fit this description, and they're a fucking disaster. These are the "heirs property" homes, generally owned by the Black descendants of enslaved people who were given the proverbial 40 acres and a mule. Many prosperous majority Black settlements in the American South are composed of these kinds of lots.

Given the historical context – illiterate ex-slaves getting property as reparations or as reward for fighting with the Union Army – the titles for these lands are often muddy, with informal transfers from parents to kids sorted out with handshakes and not memorialized by hiring lawyers to update the deeds. This has created an irresistible opportunity for a certain kind of scammer, who will pull the deeds, hire genealogists to map the family trees of the original owners, and locate distant descendants with homeopathically small claims on the property. These descendants don't even know they own these claims, don't even know about these ancestors, and when they're offered a few thousand bucks for their claim, they naturally take it.

Now, armed with a claim on the property, the heirs property scammers force an auction of it, keeping the process under wraps until the last instant. If they're really lucky, they're the only bidder and they can buy the entire property for pennies on the dollar and then evict the family that has lived on it since Reconstruction. Sometimes, the family will get wind of the scam and show up to bid against the scammer, but the scammer has deep capital reserves and can easily win the auction, with the same result:

https://www.propublica.org/series/dispossessed

A similar outrage has been playing out for years in Hawai'i, where indigenous familial claims on ancestral lands have been diffused through descendants who don't even know they're co-owner of a place where their distant cousins have lived since pre-colonial times. These descendants are offered small sums to part with their stakes, which allows the speculator to force a sale and kick the indigenous Hawai'ians off their family lands so they can be turned into condos or hotels. Mark Zuckerberg used this "quiet title and partition" scam to dispossess hundreds of Hawai'ian families:

https://archive.is/g1YZ4

Heirs property and quiet title and partition are a much better analogy to a leveraged buyout than a mortgage is, because they're ways of stealing something valuable from people who depend on it and maintain it, and smashing it and selling it off.

Strip away all the jargon, and private equity is just another scam, albeit one with pretensions to respectability. Its practitioners are ripoff artists. You know the notorious "carried interest loophole" that politicians periodically discover and decry? "Carried interest" has nothing to do with the interest on a loan. The "carried interest" rule dates back to 16th century sea-captains, and it refers to the "interest" they had in the cargo they "carried":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/29/writers-must-be-paid/#carried-interest

Private equity managers are like sea captains in exactly the same way that leveraged buyouts are like mortgages: not at all.

And it's not like private equity is good to its investors: scams like "continuation funds" allow PE looters to steal all the money they made from strip mining valuable companies, so they show no profits on paper when it comes time to pay their investors:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/20/continuation-fraud/#buyout-groups

Those investors are just as bamboozled as we are, which is why they keep giving more money to PE funds. Today, the "dry powder" (uninvested money) that PE holds has reached an all-time record high of $2.62 trillion – money from pension funds and rich people and sovereign wealth funds, stockpiled in anticipation of buying and destroying even more profitable, productive, useful businesses:

https://www.institutionalinvestor.com/article/2di1vzgjcmzovkcea8f0g/portfolio/private-equitys-dry-powder-mountain-reaches-record-height

The practices of PE are crooked as hell, and it's only the fact that they use euphemisms and deceptive analogies to home mortgages that keeps them from being shut down. The more we strip away the bullshit, the faster we'll be able to kill this cancer, and the more of the real economy we'll be able to preserve.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/05/rugged-individuals/#misleading-by-analogy

#pluralistic #leveraged buyouts #lbos #divi recaps #mortgages #weaponized shelter #debt #finance #private equity #pe #mego #bust outs #plunder #looting

423 notes · View notes

muntitled · 1 year ago

Note

more dom!hazel would be so appreciated if u can hehe 🫶🫶

+ another anon who asked for a cleaning bruises fic

𝐁𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐬 & 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 | 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐧

Hazel Callahan x fem!reader

Summary: "If I put my hands up your skirt right now, am I gonna find you wet?"

Warnings: Established Relationship, Hyper feminine!Reader, PJ as her own warning, Mentions of Bruises, Mentions of Violence, Cleaning Hazel's bruises, Domestic Fluff, Humor, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Smut (+18 Minors DNI), Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Fighting Kink?, Fingering, Dom!Hazel, Sub!Reader, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Overstimulation

Can be seen as a continuation of this fic but not strictly

Your afternoon had been almost perfect, with Hazel nestled between your open legs just a step lower on the school bleachers. Her head had been thrown back, with her curls running rampant against your skin and tickling your chest. You smoothed her hair down in vain intervals while she played with a loose string on the stitiching of your plaid skirt as she droned on and on about the unlikelihood of being enlisted as a bomb tech by the US Army.

"I don't really know where else I could use my particular set of expertise. What else could I do that won't ultimately lead me down the path of... you know, treason and terrorism?" You nod vaguely as Hazel continues her equal parts aloof and equal parts worrying rants. All while combining your fingers through her hair, "I mean, I just feel like World War III is probably upon us, you know-"

"Ugh, could you guys get a room?" You had been so enamored by Hazel's ranting that you failed to notice PJ at first. Her and Josie made their slow ascent on the bleachers until their shadows blocked your afternoon sun.

"Could you get a girlfriend?" The words had snipped off your tongue with harsh vexation as you instinctively cradled Hazel closer to your chest.

"Jesus-" Hazel had muttered, as she craned her neck up to stare at PJ and a disgruntled Josie, "Why are you trying to hijack my boob time?"

You had to reign in all murderous intentions as PJ grabbed hold of Hazel's forearms and forcibly dragged her up off the bleachers… out of your arms.

"You don't get boob time until we all get boob time. And need I remind you that you're going to be late for Fight Club," You heaved a very loud, very obnoxious sigh as you tilted your head backwards, letting the rays bounce off your pink sunglasses, "You guys should seriously get a room." Said PJ, "Stop giving the entire football team a show. Come on, you're setting us back like 69 years-"

Before PJ sunk her claws into Hazel completely, she bent down until her lips pressed against your cheek, and she whispered, "I'll see you back at my place, yeah?"

Your heart deflated at her confirmation that she was indeed leaving you for Fight Club, "Hazel..."

"Shh, shut up. Just say yes,"

But before you could wrack your brain for something coherent to say, PJ had already begun to make her descent off the bleachers, taking your girlfriend along with her.

You did not hate PJ, nor were you her biggest fan at the best of times. However, nights like tonight made your vexation grow to unimaginable heights simply because PJ is completely and utterly inescapable.

This evening, however, waiting for Hazel to get back from Figh Club, had been perfect. Etta James had been oozing through The Callahan's home speakers as you prepared the butternut soup- Hazel's favourite Post Fight Club recovery meal (although she hated admitting it, because she did not want to put you out of your way).

You are perfectly content, trapped in your web of make-believe as you prance around Hazel's kitchen, assembling your respective bowls needed for the soup. Mrs Callahan had let you in, as she always did after school, with a dismissive wave while she babbled into the receiver of her iPhone. Before she completely disappeared into the innards of her sprawling house, Mrs Callahan vaguely threw over her shoulder "Hazel is at her thing until 5 but I'm sure you've been made aware," and you were left in this great big labyrinth to entertain yourself.

Sex had been even more seldom, given that Hazel was rarely ever in any shape to commence any form of coitus due to the various bruises popping up in unlikely places. You wish you can safely tell yourself you despised seeing her bloody and battered state - that you gain absolutely nothing from Fight Club and that you most likely never will.

But you're staring dreamily into the pot of soup, and you're stirring and stirring, with your heart racing in anticipation of Hazel's inevitable return with her inevitable bruises smeared across her perfect little face.

You had not planned on cooking for anyone because seducing Hazel in her inevitably bloodied state was on the forefront of your mind, and Mrs Callahan had a very tempting bright pink apron hanging on the hook.

So perhaps you did do this all for her.

Perhaps you were waiting for her, to stride on through the foyer, nursing a streak of dried blood down her nose, eager to catch her reaction at seeing you so comfortable in her space while you rushed to swoop in and fawn over her.

This near perfect daydream might have actually manifested…

Were it not for PJ's loud and obnoxious voice bleeding into the kitchen from the foyer, accompanied by the heavy groan of the front door slamming shut. Your shoulders visibly sag as you empty the rest of the soup into your bowl just as the trio rounds the corner into the kitchen.

"Oh my God - soup!" PJ exclaimed rushing towards you with her gaze zeroed in on the bowl locked firmly in your hand. You had been so focused on keeping the bowl from PJ's incessant grabby hands that you failed to see the dazed, almost breathless look that sprinkled over Hazel's face who drifted slowly behind Josie despite this being her house.

Suddenly, every thought about the impending bruise she was facing due to not dodging a right hook earlier vanished from her mind like doves in the wind. Hazel's head was completely flooded with the image of you, in her kitchen, with your cute as fuck little skirt grazing just above your knee.

This almost did not feel real. Less than a month ago, no one barely blinked in her direction, but now...

So enamored was Hazel by your act of service, she nearly failed to catch PJ's innate need to flirt whenever you were in the vicinity.

"You look hot by the way," PJ had slyly said, still reaching for the bowl of steaming soup, which you only drew higher above your head.

"Sorry PJ, only people who make me cum get to eat my cooking."

"Is that an invitation?" She asked, leaning against the counter, "That sounded like an invitation."

Hazel cleared her throat, finally succeeding in having your eyes wash over her. "Can we probably not talk about you fucking my girlfriend, maybe, I think?" She said cooly, discarding her bag somewhere on the floor before making her up closer towards you. Her slouch was even more prominent and you swear the air in your lungs thinned as she brushed up beside you and muttered, "Hey,"

"Hey yourself." And Hazel's tummy instantly warmed as you discarded the bowl on the counter, turning to cup her cheeks in your hands as you observed her latest shiners acquired from Fight Club. Something sinister flashed through Hazel's mind as your big dark eyes scanned over her visage, eyeing the new bruise splotched across her eye and the horizontal laceration on her cheek.

"It doesn't hurt," She can barely find her words under the overwhelming feeling of your care and attention. Your scent is all encompassing, and before she ever allows for anymore of her arousal to stain her boxers Hazel attempts to draw her face out of your palm.

"Jesus, Hazel!" You squeal, pulling her head down closer to your height, until Hazel has to support herself with a hand on the counter behind you, "Please don't tell me you were sparring with anyone on the football team again!"

You hoped you succeeded in masking how turned on that thought actually got you...

Hazel's voice is deep and low as she replies,

"Jeff said that if I can at least dodge his left, left, right hook next time, I could probably be ready for the whole team." You breathe out and airy laugh almost the same time as her, the both of you silently aware of what the other was doing.

"Ugh, you're such a virgin." PJ mutters under a mouthful of soup.

"I literally have a girlfriend," Hazel mutters without looking away. Her gaze was nearly trapped in yours as she allowed you to pull her limp body away from PJ and Josie. "Come on, I need to clean you up."

And that's how you had found yourself, cross-legged on Hazel's bed with her leaning against the headboard like your Oh so compliant little patient. Her gaze is yet to waver from yours, in fact, cleaning the laceration had been utter hell, right up until this point because Hazel had taken to drawing various circles against the skin of your exposed thigh.

The skirt had ridden up marginally from your seating position, and Hazel seems perfectly fine toying with your various emotions.

"You look really pretty," Hazel breathed out as if those words were sitting heavily on her heart ever since you applied the wet gauze against her left cheek. You try to hold your composure, keeping a firm eye on the dressing of Hazel's wound as you say, "I don't really think I want you going to fight club anymore,"

"Tch'yeah okay," she snickers dismissively, "Hey, is this skirt new? It's hot- like 'gay 50s housewife' kinda hot," There's an edge to her voice that has Hazel sitting taller against the headboard before incriminatingly letting her hands drift just a little higher on your thigh. Your breathing becomes heavier as you fight hard to maintain your crumbling composure.

"I'm serious, Hazel," you had begun to whisper. Why had you begun to whisper?

"I don't wanna have to stitch you up every time-"

As soon as the gauze was plastered onto her cheek, Hazel's head was already melting into your chest, nuzzling at your open cleavage exposed by your Pastel v-neck as she says, "God, I love it when you mommy me,"

"H-Hazel," any warning you tried to inject into your tone gets fizzled out by the embarrassing moan that escaped your lips as Hazel's teeth dragged lightly against the skin of your chest. Her hands were restless, as if she was testing herself as to how far she'd allow herself to go so quickly.

You suck in so much air as Hazel's palm cradles the inside of your thigh and because you're cross legged, closing your legs is nearly impossible. "Fuck, I'm so turned on, right now," her voice cracks as she brings her face up from your boobs. Pressing a hand to your cheek, she tries and fails to bring your lips towards hers.

Hazel frowns as you say,

"You think it makes me feel good seeing you like this?"

You ignore the budding voice in your head echoing the loud and very obnoxious 'yes, yes you do like seeing her like this. You like seeing that reckless smile blossom onto her cracked and battered face. It gets you wet and you know it does-'

But your voice is full of fragile conviction as you say, "You think I like seeing my girlfriend beaten up everyday of the week?"

Hazel blinks once before she succinctly replies, "If I put my hands up your skirt right now, am I gonna find you wet?" An entire desert ecosystem is suddenly born inside your mouth, and you swallow thickly as your eyes evade Hazel's uncomplicated, piercing gaze. She tilts her head, smiles gone, simply waiting for your response.

"Do you want me to tell you what I think?" She asks before steadily closing the distance between you once more. Only, you're so terrified of being caught out, so utterly embarrassed at the thought of her finding out about the pool of wetness that had begun soaking completely through your panties, that you back away the closer she gets. Your slinking backwards only allows Hazel to crawl closer until she's hovering above you in the centre of her bed.

You have her undivided attention, and she has yours. Your eyes recklessly scans her face, every cut, laceration, and every old bruise buried under a new one has your lips turning downward as a small, almost imperceptible whimper forces itself out of your throat.

"There she is…" Hazel whispers with a palm cradling your cheek, "There's my needy little girl," You're quickly slipping into subspace right in front of her and Hazel is more than grateful. A single silver pendant dangles from her throat as she dips down, finally connecting your lips in a quietly passionate kiss. Your eyes immediately flutter shut, and so does hers. The both of you are utterly enamored by the sheer lust communicated by the intensity of the kiss alone.

"Fuck," Hazel curses, momentarily breaking apart to peel off her oversized graphic tee. You're watching your girlfriend in her sports bra with unbridled lust shining heavily on your pouty lips.

"Tell me you're wet for me," She says, "Please, Baby."

You're slipping deeper and deeper but you still have half a mind to lightly whisper, "Hazel, they're right downstairs-" She's already crashing her lips back down onto yours.

"Tell me you're wet for me," She murmurs against your lips, never being able to stray too far.

The hand that isn't holding her up, hovering above you, is once again, underneath your skirts, only this time, the tips of her fingers are dragging up against your inner thigh with no chance of stopping.

"Fuck, Hazel,"

"Is that supposed to be an answer?"

You're already pulling your own hips off the bed, seeking her hand out like a whore as you break the kiss only to whimper, "Yes, okay, fine! I'm so wet for you, Hazel- just, please!"

She watches completely fargone as you let your soaked panties meet her awaiting palm. Watching you grind yourself against her hand has Hazel's mind absolutely descending into lust.

"God, you're so beautiful," she says, before finally pressing her own hand against your soaked panties. She rubs in harsh, rough circles, eager to bring you to the very edge of insanity. She needed to see you fall apart for her again and again-

"Inside," You whisper, watching your girlfriend rub your cunt with bated breath. You're still wearing your skirt but you figure Hazel needs to fuck you in it to fulfil some sort of fantasy and you don't entirely mind. Not at all.

"Hazel, Please. I need you inside-"

"Fuck- you're such a slut-"

Your head immediately falls back against the bed as Hazel's movements against your soaked panties increases.

"You like it when I call you a slut, baby?" Your hips stutter upwards in vague response as you moan loudly into the air.

"Fuck- Hazel, I'm close- I'm so fucking- fuck," the orgasm sneaks up on you like a villain in the night and you're spamming underneath her, while Hazel continues to rub your cunt through the torrid sensation. Before you've ever even come down from your high, there's a knock on the door, and look towards it with slightly parted lips and blurry vision.

"Hey- you have no more soup, and I think you two are fucking in there so Josie and I are just gonna g-"

"Fuck off, PJ!" Hazel screams at the door, failing to hear the small little 'Okay, rude' before she's lifting your skirt until they're pooling at your hips.

"Hazel, what're you-"

"Another one, okay?" She nods encouragingly before shifting your panties aside and pressing the colds tips of her forefinger and middle finger against your soaked cunt. "You're going to give me another one. I wanna see if I can do it."

You can't even roll your eyes at her unnecessary display of pride because your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as she drags the essence of your arousal along your clit. "Fuck, you look so hot-"

"H-Hazel," the aftershocks from your previous orgasm rack through your upper body just as the oncoming tempest of lust gears you up for the next one. Hazel leans over you once more as she continues to rub at your clit, "Just one more, baby, I know you can do it. Show me, baby." It's downright evil, the effect her manipulation has on your body as you descend further and further into your lust.

"Look at how perfect you look," she says with a voice thick with lechery, "Fuck, you get me so wet to, baby," she murmurs before instinctive pressing her lips to yours once again, as if something nestled in her being, craved the touch of your lips against hers.

"You're gonna be a good girl for me?"

"Fuck- Hazel-"

"I'm right here, angel," she whispers, before bringing the tips of her fingers to your opening. Hazel is quick to slide her index and middle finger into your pussy until she's fucking you hard and deep. It takes a few short pumps for you to clutch mindlessly at her forearms with your vision slightly waning as you look up at your smiling girlfriend who watches you descend into your orgasm.

"That's it," she coos as you clench around her fingers, "You're doing so well for me, baby,"

"F-Fuck!" You stutter out as you fall into the depths of euphoria. Your mind is flooded with nothing but Hazel, all thoughts previously plaguing your brain is made null and void. In the end, you're just a beacon for her to release her frustrations out on. Even if it means overstimulating you until you become a noisy, helpless mess.

For a while, each other's heavy breathing is all you hear.

That is, until you hear a loud bump against Hazel's closed door, drawing both your attention.

"PJ-" whispers Josie with unimaginable frustration.

"Oh my God, they're definitely fucking-"

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan x you #bottoms x reader #bottoms fanfic #bottoms movie

2K notes · View notes

jobean12-blog · 1 year ago

Text

His to Keep

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Mob!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 3,626

Summary: You've been working for Bucky for almost a year and although you know there's so much more to him than just owning the club, you can't help but be drawn to him as he's drawn to you.

Author's Note: Just more mob!Bucky because I love him so! Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: light mentions of v-i-olen-c-e and angst, but mostly sweetness and softness, tension and flirting, and d-o-m and obse-ssi-ve Bucky.

The piercing shot rings out, and before the echoing sound even dies, Bucky’s running. Your high-pitched scream pierces the air and he silently prays for your safety, his long legs moving so fast time seems suspended.

When he reaches the hallway, there’s a small group of employees gathered by the doorway, their expression filled with shock and horror.

They part without question as he approaches, rushing into the room and ignoring the violence that so blatantly fills it. His blue eyes search for you and finally his heart starts beating again when he sees you unharmed.

You’re crouched in the corner, eyes wide with terror as you take in the slumped over man in the chair, his tailored and expensive suit now stained red.

Bucky’s men immediately follow his orders to handle the situation but his attention never leaves you.

With slow steps he approaches you, holding his hands out and speaking your name softly. When your eyes lock with his the first tear slides down your cheek and he nearly crumbles to his knees, his heart shattering.

He gathers you into his arms with such a gentle grace, as if you’ll break and ushers you toward his office. With a nudge of his toe he opens the door and sets you down in his large leather chair. Carefully he takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over you, tucking it above your shoulders.

His eyes are laser focused on you as he fills a crystal glass with whiskey and forces it into your shaky hand.

“Drink this.”

You glance at it unseeingly, lost in your head, replaying what you just witnessed over and over.

He lifts the glass with a gentle touch and when it reaches your lips you drink reflexively. He waits until you finish all of it.

Taking a silk handkerchief out of his breast pocket, he kneels down in front of you, his hands moving with slow trepidation, but still you try to intercept it.

“Let me,” he orders. “Please doll.”

The second set of words come out softer and your hands fall to your lap.

He cleans your face of tears, his touch delicate and reverent and you can feel his warm breath fan your cheek as his thumb chases a stray tear that slips toward your mouth.

“Doll,” he whispers roughly, emotion clogging his voice.

Your wet lashes lift and you meet his eyes, your breath catching at what you see. You’ve never seen him look so vulnerable. His usual façade of unrivaled power and unrelenting dominance gone, replaced by a haunting look of dread.

“James?”

At the sound of his name on your lips his jaw clenches, his controlled restraint slowly slipping away with his mask and every moment he spends so close to you. He needs you to feel you. Your warm and soft skin, your pulsing heartbeat, your lips, every curve…

But he would never take advantage of you, especially after what just happened.

“Let me take you home.”

You nod and easily fall into his embrace, resting your head against his chest as he escorts you toward the exit.

When your soft sheet hits your shoulder you sigh, snuggling closer to your pillow as Bucky tucks you in. You had argued lightly when he told you to shower but now that you’re warm and clean you feel marginally better.

He pauses at the door as you fall asleep, knowing he can’t leave you here alone, instead sinking into your make up chair in the corner of the room, watching vigilantly as you succumb to slumber.

A week later you’re determined to leave your house, wanting to get back to work, even if it means facing the demons of that night. And you want to see him again. You’ve missed him, even though you know he’s never very far away.

He watches from his hidden vantage point as you close your car door and start the engine. He doesn’t need the GPS tracker he had installed on your car to tell him where you’re headed, but he turns it on anyway.

His own car starts, black and sleek in a nondescript way. He easily catches up to you, maintaining a safe distance behind you so you don’t notice him.

He phones Steve who’s working the back door of the club. “She’ll be arriving soon. Escort her in.”

Steve makes a small sound of acknowledgement and hangs up, promptly moving outside to wait for you.

Once Bucky is satisfied Steve has you covered he makes a sharp turn off the main road and takes the back streets toward his club. He needs to be there before you. Ready and waiting.

Before you even turn your car off, Steve is at the door, opening it and guarding you with his body.

In his office, Bucky waits, checking the crowd through the one-way glass that overlooks the floor. Security has been upgraded, covering every inch of his club to ensure nothing like what happened last week ever happens again.

Everything in the club looks to be running smoothly…not that he would have it any other way. All his endeavors are done with the utmost care and cunning precision. He wouldn’t be able to run this club any other way let alone the whole damn city.

He scans the floor until his eyes land on you and as if you can feel his gaze, your eyes glance up to the window where you know he’s standing.

The connection that’s been growing between you two for the past year has only been solidified since the unfortunate event that took place last week. He knew in that moment that he would do anything for you. Die to protect you.

Since the instant you walked into his club to apply for the job as manager he knew you were special. And having you work for him has been the sweetest torture. Day after day he watches you excel at your job, handle everything thrown your way with ease and professionalism, even the scummy clientele that try to lay hands on you.

No one touches what belongs to him and only the ones that don’t know who he is try. But they soon find out how big of a mistake they’ve made.

Steve alerts Bucky that you’re on your way up to his office.

The knock on his office door makes his heart skip a beat and even though he’s dressed impeccably he smooths his hand down his chest, adjusting his tie in the process.

“Come in.”

You crack the door open and peek in.

“Hi James. Steve said I could come up?”

At your questioning tone, Bucky smiles.

“You never have to ask to see me doll. You’re welcome to anytime.”

You smile softly and walk in, shutting the door behind you. With a slow saunter you move toward his desk and perch yourself on the edge near his chair.

He finds it hard to concentrate the moment you’re close. Even though you try to keep a cool demeanor, your body is inviting in its posture and your eyes devour every inch of him.

“Thank you for seeing me James,” you start. “I wanted to��”

Before you can finish he leans closer, a gentle interruption with his consuming presence. “First of all, call me Bucky. I’m only James to everyone else. And as I said before, I would love to see you anytime you want doll.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning toward him as if you’re pulled by some invisible string. “That’s actually why I’m here. I wanted to thank you.”

“For?” he asks, his eyebrows raised as a small smile pulls at his lips.

Your eyes drop to his mouth before your lips part to speak again.

“Taking such good care of me last week and rescuing me.”

“I hardly rescued you doll. I’ll never forgive myself for putting you in that situation and the fact that I wasn’t there to protect you will haunt me forever. I never wanted you to see this side of my…business.”

You pull your gaze away from his mouth and study his face. He’s beautiful. His large blue eyes framed by dark and long lashes and his perfectly shaped jaw surrounding a mouth with lips you dream about tasting.

“It’s ok…”

“No.” he says, his tone harsh.

His face crumples when he sees your eyes widen at his gruffness.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly recovers. “That’s not meant to be toward you…if anything had happened to you…”

You tentatively reach up to cup his cheek, your thumb softly brushing over the dark stubble that lines it.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I know you would never hurt me.”

His eyes are locked on yours, the tension between you palpable. You unconsciously trace your lips with your tongue, drawing his attention. He moves closer, closing the distance and resting his elbows on his spread thighs.

“Anything you want from me. Anything at all. You need but to ask and it’s yours.”

“Jame…Bucky, thank you.”

He visibly preens when you say ‘Bucky,’ and it makes you smile, triumph alight in your eyes.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do…?” you ask, looking at him from under your lashes.

“Nothing. You’re perfect. However, I’d like to ask you something.”

His words peek your interest and you inch closer, knowing after today there’s no turning back from this. From him.

“Dinner. I want you to have dinner with me doll.”

“That wasn’t a question,” you say teasingly, even as you drag your teeth over your bottom lip. “More of an order.”

“Mm, you’re right,” he winks. “Either way, I think your answer is going to be yes.”

“Like a date?” you question, your grin widening.

“Yes. A date.”

“What will everyone else say when they find out you’re dating your employee?”

Your question has his features hardening ever so slightly, but not at you.

“No one will say a word about it. I can assure you of that.”

You audibly swallow as you take him in, focusing on the way you feel about him, not what he’s capable of.

“I’d love to have dinner with you Bucky.”

He visibly relaxes and a genuine smile graces his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes in such an endearing way you nearly swoon off the desk.

“Good. Then let’s eat.”

You giggle. “Now? I thought you meant you were going to pick me up, you know, I’d get all dressed and then you take me out.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to give you time to reconsider.”

Reluctantly, but with a smirk, he pushes on his heels and rolls his chair away from you, grabbing his cell. He orders a spread of food from one of his restaurants, then sits back down.

“Sit,” he says, motioning to the chair across from him.

When you do he slides closer, framing you with his spread legs and caging you in with his thighs.

“So now that this is dinner, tell me something about yourself that I don’t already know.”

“Hmm,” you muse, tapping your chin.

You fall into easy and comfortable conversation, sharing more about your past. Bucky listens intently, hanging on to every word and prodding gently with well thought out questions.

A knock at the door surprises you both and you can see Bucky’s body tense. He was so immersed in you he lost sight of any possible dangers, forgetting his surroundings. He mentally berates himself, tucking that away and vowing to be more mindful, if only to keep you safe.

Thankfully, it’s only the dinner delivery.

He takes the food and moves to the casual seating area of his office, placing the food down on the coffee table. You follow him and sit on the floor.

He stares at you for a moment, his eyes wandering over your form before he follows suit with a light shrug.

“Have you ever sat on the floor to eat dinner?” you ask playfully.

“Not that I recall,” he answers, serving you food.

You both laugh and dig into the delicious dinner.

After your impromptu dinner date you and Bucky continue to dance around each other at work. The connection is strong, the pull between you taut with intense heat and longing. You can always feel his presence, his eyes on you, but it’s not uncomfortable at all, in fact, it makes you feel safe.

Later that week as you’re leaving your yoga class you feel someone following you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end but when you hear the instructor’s familiar voice you relax slightly and turn to say hello.

“Hi Matt.”

He greets you warmly and falls into step next to you as you walk toward your cars. The conversation is light at first but then he starts to complain about his girlfriend and how their relationship is failing. You begin to feel uncomfortable and as if sensing it, Matt drops his head.

“I’m sorry. Enough of my drama. I just need to move on I think.”

You take that as your cue to leave and start to say your goodbye but he keeps talking, chasing after you as you move toward your car.

“Hey, how is work going?”

“Uh..good, really good, thanks.”

Matt continues firing questions at you and your eyes dart around the darkened parking lot, quietly searching for Steve or one of Bucky’s other men.

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” Matt says, the words pulling your from your spiraling thoughts.

You step back to gain space and before you can answer, there’s a loud clanging noise as the door of the gym next door slams shut.

A big and broad silhouette comes into view and both you and Matt automatically look over.

Steve’s large frame moves closer and you sigh in relief.

“Hey Steve,” you chime, taking a step toward him.

Steve respectfully keeps his distance while also always keeping you protected.

“Ready to go?” Steve asks as he glares at Matt.

“Yes,” you answer, waving at Matt.

Matt blinks several times, clearly confused at Steve’s arrival but grudgingly says his goodbye and shuffles off to his car.

“I was looking for you Steve,” you say once Matt is out of ear shot.

“I’m sorry it took me longer than usual. I was on a call,” he apologies.

“It’s ok,” you say with a soft pat to his shoulder. “Just glad you’re here.”

“I always am.”

When you look at him with curious eyes his own go wide. “Well…not always of course. Bucky would have my head, but I just meant…”

You throw your head back with laughter. “I know Steve. The first few months I thought I was just crazy but when I realized it was just you trailing me and keeping me safe I felt better.”

Steve gives you a more relaxed smile and opens your car door.

“Um Steve,” you say softly as you sit. “Do you think maybe…we could keep this just between us? Matt’s not really a bad guy. I think he’s just having a rough time. I’m sure everything would have been just fine.”

Steve’s mouth turns down in a frown. “You know I can’t do that.”

With a sigh you reply, “I knew you were going to say that.”

Steve’s lips lift into a wry smile. “When it comes to his girl he wants to know everything.”

“Is that so?” you ask, narrowing your eyes. “Should I start keeping a diary so I can report in every second of every day.”

“Well, you probably don’t need to go that far, but…”

Your lips purse but when you see his expression morph into one of sheepishness for the second time that night you decide to let it go and take it up with Bucky himself.

Back home, Steve walks you to your door.

“Do you want to come in? Need a snack or drink?” you ask.

He doesn’t take a single step closer and shakes his head once.

“He’s on his way now.”

“Bucky’s on his way?” you squeak. “Shit. I need to change and tidy up!”

At your use of ‘Bucky’ Steve genuinely grins. The action catches you off guard but you realize that Bucky wasn’t lying when he said no one calls him that but you. With another flurry of thanks and goodnights you bid farewell to Steve, even though you know he’ll just be sitting outside in his SUV until Bucky arrives.

You prepare for your shower, determined to keep your head once he gets there and get some definitive answers from him.

At his knock, you open the door with a tentative smile.

“Doll face,” he greets, his voice deep and intense.

“Bucky,” you echo. “Would you like to come in.”

“Please,” he answers and brushes past you.

Just the delicate touch of his hand as he walks by sends goosebumps skittering across your skin.

“I’m sure you already know about what Steve did tonight,” you say as you walk into your living room.

“Of course,” he answers.

You look over your shoulder and narrow your eyes.

“Want something to drink?”

“Do you have whiskey?” he asks.

“No whiskey, just red or white wine and water. Take it or leave it.”

At your sassy tone his eyebrows raise every so slightly.

“Water is fine, thank you. And want to tell me what that sassiness is about.”

After you get two glasses of water you sit on the couch across from him, leveling him with your best glare.

“How long have you had Steve following me?” you ask him.

“You’re very observant,” he states.

“That’s not an answer,” you continue with sass. “And I’ve been paying attention. You know I have. But mostly to you.”

Your confession satisfies him. You can see it in the way he lifts his chin and his eyes glitter.

“I want you to fill me in Bucky.”

“On?” he asks as his arm falls over the back of the couch and his fingers ghost over your shoulder, mostly bare in your thin tank top.

“Bucky.”

You mean it to come out more demanding, but it’s breathy and your body shivers at his touch.

“Are you sure? You were pretty freaked out by what you learned last time you got a glimpse behind my curtain. And rightfully so.”

“Tell me. I trust you and I want to give us a chance.”

He takes a deep breath and shares as much as he can without putting you in any more danger.

“Why do all of this though? Do you have men following everyone that works for you? Why did Steve call me your girl?”

“Two of these questions have the same answer. From the moment I saw you I wanted you to be mine and after the incident earlier this month and I almost lost you, it became an overwhelming feeling.”

His fingers press into your skin as he glides them down your arm.

“And no. I don’t have men on anyone else that works for me. I keep them safe of course. But just you. Always you.”

His hand leaves your arm and he strokes his thumb along your jaw. You lean into his touch and sigh out his name.

“I’ve been patient,” he murmurs. “Fuck doll, I’ve been so patient.”

He presses the pad of his finger to your lips, tracing their softness.

“But with every breath I take, I think of you. Every beat of my heart, I want you.”

The moment stretches in sweet torture before you place a hand on his cheek.

“I want you t…”

Before the words are fully out of your mouth he’s on you, dragging you into his lap and grinding his hips up as he grabs the back of your neck and steals your breath.

You press closer, needing to feel every inch of him. Your arms wrap around his neck and you lightly scratch your nails over his scalp before your hands fall to his chest and you start to tug at his tie.

Your lips leave his and you trail kisses along his jaw, stopping just below his ear before tracing the muscular column of his neck.

He hisses out a curse and tightens his grip. You smile into his skin and loosen his tie. You’ve barely gotten it undone when his large hand lands on your ass cheek. The sting makes you moan and rock your hips but in a flash your eyes are on his, your chin caught between his thumb and forefinger.

You take in his appearance as he stares at you. His usually pristine shirt now wrinkled, the buttons at the top hanging open and his loose tie dangling messily. His normally untouched hair is tousled, wild from your fingers and his control is clearly wavering with every heaving breath he takes.

You don’t waste another second and this time you kiss him, pressing your softness against every hard plane of his body, maximizing every bit of contact as you try to pin him to the back of the couch. You nibble into his bottom lip and then swallow the sound of his satisfied growl.

“Doll,” he starts, and you hear the questioning tone of his voice.

“Fuck me, Bucky. Fill me and make me yours.”

For a split second you see surprise flash across his features but he instantly recovers with a smirk.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for his, how many times I’ve dreamed of you saying those words to me,” he murmurs, his body rigid with his restraint. “And remember, you asked for this. I’m going to give you everything.”

His words are a dark promise, one you hold onto with every fiber of your being.

@book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @littleseasiren @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #mob!Bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #mob au #mafia au #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

2K notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 11 months ago

Text

Lando Norris Masterlist

All of my Lando imagines, blurbs and series can be found here

NAVIGATION

Series (I have a lot of Lando series to be written)

Rich Kids Club

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Set The World On Fire

Imagines

Petit Monstre

Lando Norris + Y/N Leclerc = In Love LandY/N + Charles Leclerc = One very angry big brother

Lando Norris HC's

Exactly what it says on the tin

Horse Girl

High school sweethearts Lando and Y/N are very in love (she also happens to be Flo's best friend and they met through their yards)

Saying Goodbye

This is another one for the horse girls. A social media AU dealing with Y/N losing her horse and the grief that follows

For You Page

Lando finds his girlfriend TikTok, it isn't what he expects

On Stream

While Lando streams, his girlfriend tries to study. Except she couldn't study, not when her boyfriend was so damn distracting (and he was really trying his best to be distracting)

Rockstar GF

lando is obsessed with his rockstar girlfriend. His rockstar girlfriend is obsessed with him

Hurry Up Little Norris

Lando and his wife are expecting

Little Pig

Lando, his girlfriend, and their unconventional pet

Three Apples Tall

Lando and the readers son is insecure about how short he is. But he got his height from his dad and it was one of the reasons reader fell in love with him.

Best Dad Ever

Lando is the best girl dad. When his little girl wants to ride horses, he makes it happen

Little Terrors

Lando Norris wants to jump his wife's bones. She has to remind him of the consequences of unprotected sex

What Could Have Been

Lando Norris is dead. He isn't human, he doesn't remember being human. Well, he didn't remember, not until he saw her. Until he saw her and her baby bump.

Rock The Ship

Pirate Captain Norris has something very special in his possession. Until its stolen from him. He'd do anything to get it back, and I mean anything

Blurbs

Heartbreak boy

Comatose P1

Comatose P2

Comparative

Smitten

Colours

Home Cooked

Had Enough (the burnt out student)

Lando and bimbo reader

Lando's too big

Lando's girlfriend has tattoos

Finger sucking with Lando

Reader Finds out she's a bet

Aftercare with dom lando

jealous lando x musician reader

best friends drunken mistakes

dom lando against his car

lando sneaking reader out of the house after one night stand

verstappen hears them fucking

there was only one bed

sex injuries

horny chocolates

migraines

Lando and his pr manager

lando x bookwork reader

lando's girlfriends have cats

Lando x sick reader

baby = papaya

First time together

magnet collecting

lando isn't aware of his own strength

hufflepuff!lando

lando + situationship

Little spoon lando

lando's girl can drive

they're defo not sleeping together who said that

drunk lando

can't fall asleep

jealous lando

period

the bracelet thing

lando x volleyball

lando x horse girl

phone sex

verstappen

Fuck everything else

Ferrari fan

throatpie

teasin'

lando win thing (fluff)

choking kink

post race blowy

moving

waking up in the same bed

supportive Lando

Little Lando Norris

demon lando

play fighting

friends to lovers

grumpy

scary dog privileges

Frat boy! lando 3+1

original frat!

nipple piercings

dick suckin'

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norrsi smut #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader

941 notes · View notes

natalievoncatte · 1 month ago

Text

11. Emerald

That was when she saw it, faint flashes of emerald in the dark. Kara sucked in a sharp breath as she tensed. Green was the danger color. It was the pain color, the burning color, the hue of agonizing death. Even a brief flash of an unelected green glow set her nerves ablaze.

The flash was brief, there and gone.

“Kara, wait for the team.”

She tapped the comm bead in her ear. “I don’t need a team for this.”

She scanned the area with her Kryptonian sight, first x-ray then infrared, and found only the outlines of crates and old junk. No heat. No heartbeat. No threat.

Why did villains always set up in abandoned warehouses? Why not a nice downtown coffee shop? Or a movie theater?

She should count her blessings. She could be the Batman, creeping through an abandoned amusement park looking for a psychotic clown. Clark had remarked to her that Gotham had a lot of abandoned theme parks for some reason, and abandoned comedy clubs. It was almost too convenient.

Something creaked to her left and she stopped.

“This thing is dangerous, Kara. There’s been three bodies found already.”

Kara knew all that. Three victims, all drained dry and desiccated, so bereft of moisture that they cracked and crumbled when moved. The life sucked right out of them.

She knew something else: All three had been killed in front of witnesses who said the night came alive and took them… while the dead men were in the process of robbing and assaulting the witnesses.

“I’m not going to have a murderous vigilante in my town.”

“I’m not a vigilante”, a soft voice purred. “But a girl’s got to eat.”

Kara spun, scanning the warehouse. There was no one with her.

A soft scuff on the concrete behind her. She turned, throwing back her cape and raising her fists.

“Where are you?”

“Here,” the voice murmured in her ear.

Kara yelped spun, but there was no one there.

“Kara, pull back. Pull out!” Alex snapped.

“Mmmm, Kara. Ka-ra. A pretty name.”

“Show yourself!”

Kara wheeled and found the creature right in front other, inches away, grinning broadly and baring sharp fangs. Kara recoiled, dancing back a few paces, fists raised.

It was a woman, sleek and slim and dressed in a slick black suit with a black lace blouse and a choker of black diamonds around her throat. Her skin was ghostly pale and dark hair fell down her back in wages past her waist, fanned out over her shoulders. Cold emerald eyes fixed Kara to the spot, the woman’s gaze carrying an almost physical force.

“Uh,” Kara said. “Alex?”

“No, I’m Lena.”

Kara squared up. “Are you the one killing those people?”

“I’m the one taking out the trash. Is that a problem for you?”

“Yeah,” Kara snarled, “it is.”

She hesitated. This woman, this creature, had no body heat. No heartbeat. When Kara used her x-ray vision, looking for weapons or gimmicks, she saw the woman just standing there in the pale transparent world of Kara’s super sight, as if the x-rays bent around her.

“What’s the matter, stud? Come teach me a lesson.”

“You asked for it.”

Kara lunged, and her hands closed on empty air. The woman was suddenly behind her, hands on her shoulders and lips pressed to her ear.

“Too slow. Catch me if you can.”

Kara whirled, grabbing at her, but she moved so fast she blurred. It was as if she knew where Kara would move before she did.

“Hold still!” Kara snapped, fighting the rising panic twisting in her belly.”

“Kara,” Alex said, “get out of there! You’re outmatched, we need a plan.”

“She’s right.”

Another whisper in her ear. This time as Kara turned and throw a roundhouse punch the woman stood there grinning, and Kara almost pulled her blow, but when her fist was just about to connect her target simply melted, swirling into a pillar of mist that held together for a brief moment before exploding in every direction and surrounding her.

She suddenly felt surrounded, a pressure coming from every direction, and a wild surge of claustrophobic panic burst like a firebox in her chest and she cried out in shock and terror, falling wildly.

A body pressed against her from behind and hands seized her wrists. The strength that resisted her twisting attempt to escape shocked her, and then came the pain. Quick and sharp, she felt pressure on her throat before the pain as twin points lanced into her flesh.

Kara screamed, then her voice softened and collapsed into shocked moan as an ecstatic heat spread from her throat through her entire body, tingling under her skin. Her eyes grew lidded and she writhed it spread through her.

Her head lolled and she passed out.

With a jolt, Kara snapped awake. She immediately tried to rise from where she lay, but found herself weighed down by heavy chains at her wrists and ankles.

A cold but soft hand curled around her chin and this Lena filled her vision, arching down over her from where she sat straddling Kara’s hips. Her grip was gentle but shockingly strong.

“My, aren’t you a pretty little thing.”

Kara yanked hard at the chains, but they clanked and pulled at her wrists and impossibly held.

“Now now, none of that.”

Looking around, Kara frantically sought the source of her weakness- Kryptonite, a red light source, something she could attack.

“Those chains are nth metal, and there’s a sorcerous circle binding you beneath the bed.”

She was in a bedroom, lying on a four poster bed, chained down with her captor sitting in her lap, pressing her thighs against Kara’s hips.

She ran her hands up Kara’s flanks, feeling the muscles beneath the tight fabric.

“My my my, you are delicious, pet. Let me go.”

“I think not.”

“Are you going to drain me, too?”

Lena flipped down on top of her, resting her head on Kara’s shoulder. She smelled cold, somehow, like the faint scent of embers and falling leaves on an autumn night. She smiled with her soft pink lips and her emerald eyes blazed.

“I could,” she murmured. “It’s hard not to. You are the sweetest prey I’ve ever sampled, and your blood sings in me. A taste of honey is worse than none at all.”

Kara ignored the feeling of this person lying on top of her, one long leg still thrown across her belly, calf hooked around her hip. She was stroking lazy circles over the crest on Kara’s uniform, sharp nails teasing her through the fabric. She could have shredded it if she wanted, and liked the flesh too.

“You’ll never admit it, but I can feel how much you like being overwhelmed. Don’t you?”

Kara ground her teeth. “No.”

Lena smiled again. “Isn’t it hard, being Supergirl? Being so tough all the time, always swaggering around with your hands on your hips? Doesn’t part of you want to relax? Let someone else take charge?”

“What the hell do you want?”

Lena sighed dramatically and rolled off her, and her absence was near painful. She had to be using some trick, trying to control her. Kara had to stop herself from whimpering when Lena laid on the bed beside her, head propped on her hand.

“Can’t I just want to admire you and those beautiful muscles of yours?”

“Let. Me. Go.”

“Maybe. Hear me out.”

“No.”

“I need your help.”

“You could have just asked.”

“You wouldn’t listen. Besides, where’s the fun in that?”

“Fine,” Kara huffed, staring up at the tin ceiling. “What do you want?”

“There is a master vampire, far more powerful and deadly than I am, and far older. He plans to poison the sun and free all vampires from the tyranny of daylight. He’ll declare himself an emperor and rule your world.”

“The hell he will. I’ll stop him, with Superman.”

The vampire laughed, a soft, sad chuckle.

“Oh, darling. Your cousin won’t be of any help to us.”

“Us?”

“You and me.”

“There is no us.”

“Dumping me on the first date, love?”

Kara rolled her eyes.

“Clark isn’t going to help us, Kara,” said the vampire.

Kara’s head shot up. “What? What did you say?”

She smiled.

“The master vampire has already made your cousin his thrall, love.”

“Who… who is this guy?”

“We both have so many names, but you know him as Lex. Lex Luthor.”

“What?!”

Lena moved closer, her stunning green eyes full of genuine fear.

“He sent me here to enthrall you. You’re the only chance I have. Please, I’m begging you. He’s a monster. A world under his rule will be an absolute nightmare. Unless you want to end up chained to his throne as a trophy you have to help me.”

There was either genuine fear in her voice, or she was excellent at faking it. Kara couldn’t rely on her super-senses.

Her jaw clenched.

“Let me go. No more tricks, no more games. Let me up and we’ll talk.”

Lena snapped her fingers and the bonds fell from Kara’s wrists.

“Done.”

Kara lunged across the bed and twisted, pinning her down.

“My turn,” Kara said, her eyes blazing with red sun fury. “Don’t test me.”

“Oh darling,” Lena purred. “You are delightful. I could get used to this.”

“Stop that,” Kara snarled.

Lena licked her lips, pale pink tongue flashing.

“Alright. Okay. I’ll be serious. We have to kill him. We have to kill him before he ends everything.”

“I don’t kill. I swore an oath.”

“Well, that’s inconvenient.”

Kara huffed.

“Fine. We can still defeat him. I think you and I could take over the world.”

“There is no you and I. I’ll help you and then you’ll answer for what you did.”

“I told you, a girl’s gotta eat.”

“Lena!”

“Oh, I like that. Say my name.”

“Le- No!”

Lena sighed, and ground herself up against Kara.

“I mean it. Stop that.”

Lena swallowed, pale throat bobbing. She fixed Kara with her piercing green eyes.

“I didn’t ask to be a monster. I wasn’t given a choice. I was forced.”

Kara felt a twist in her stomach, cold and brittle. She drew back her hands and freed Lena, stepping back off the bed.

“I’ll help you, but I have conditions. They’re non-negotiable.”

“And they are?”

“No more killing.”

Lena rolled her eyes.

“We agree on everything we do first. Don’t lay a hand on me without my permission again.”

A soft smile curled her lips. “Affirmative.”

Kara crossed her arms. Lena was openly admiring her, eyes roaming up and down her frame.

“Stop looking at me like I’m your next meal.”

“But darling, it’s not my fault that you look good enough to eat. Shall we get to it, then?”

Kara sighed. “Yes.”

“A Super and a Vampire, taking on the world. We just might survive.”

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #spookycorp #vampirecorp #Lena is a vampire #Lena is a tease #Lena wants to taste Kara #can you blame her #supercorptober 2024 #supercorptober2024 #supercorptober

203 notes · View notes

holybibly · 7 months ago

Text

This is a little preview of my new series and yes, bunnies, this is a whole series from me. I hope everyone is ready for an erotic dystopia?

Decadent dystopian erotica with majestic dragons - second teaser for today

Glass House Ateez x reader

Everything changed in an instant.

The king was dead, and thousands of dragons took to the burning skies. The old world was over, and a 'new age' was in the making—an age of gods and monsters.

A thousand years ago, the fires of revolution blazed across the face of the world. Dragons—the creatures of ancient legends and children's fairy tales—reduced the once prosperous world to ashes in a matter of minutes. Rivers of black blood coursed through the veins of the streets, flooding the cities and lands in their wake. The sky was a blaze of purple flames and electric shocks. The church was reduced to rubble, and the royal family was executed in a public display. In the eyes of the dead, the unspoken horror in front of these majestic creatures remained forever, and in the sparks of the flames, they shimmered like precious sea stones.

There was a bitter smell of burning flesh and ash in the air. It was the smell of dreams on fire—the smell of a future in decay.

It was the beginning of the end of ancient life. The beginning of a new world. The Age of Immortality has begun.

All the legends turned out to be true; dragons did exist. They had always lived close to us, lurking in the velvety darkness of the night, waiting for the hour. Waiting for the hour to come when the power would be in their hands. Dangerous, unbridled, wild creatures of magic and the elements, predators at the top of the food chain. They had come into the world to rule, not to obey, and now, at long last, their time had come.

The world was at anarchy. Dragons were killing, raping, and enslaving races and lands as if it were an amusing child's game. They drank blood as black as the night from golden bowls, and they ate our succulent flesh as our bones cracked under the pressure of their razor-sharp teeth. They would hold orgies in the midst of the torn corpses and revel in their omnipotence. Those were the days of darkness. A time of terror, when the very word danger was a synonym for life itself. And so it went for several years, until the ultimate power fell into the clutches of the deadly Children of the Night, the oldest of all dragons.

The majestic Hala.

Eternal as the moon itself and deadly as the uncharted depths of the ocean, they inspired burning terror in all who encountered them. To their people, they were nothing more than a myth, a legend written on fragments of tablets. Forefathers, ancestors—they had hundreds of names, but each one inspired more fear than the last. They were predators among predators, bristling with animal dominance and primal, unbridled sexuality. They exuded power and sinfulness. They were the ones who defined the rules and set the boundaries of what was permissible.

With the arrival of Hala, a new phase in the history of the world began.

Humanity was enslaved, and dragons became the dominant species. As the years went by, the human population began to decline rapidly, with fewer and fewer humans, until "our" species reached the status of gatherers. Angelicus Nova, or Angel Stars, was what we came to be called. Human existence took on a strange religious orientation; we were worshipped, idolized, and adored, but despite all this, humans remained nothing more than a rare exchangeable currency, nothing more than an expensive trinket that was prestigious to own and could be broken with a flick of the wrist.

The human being also became one of the ways in which money flowed endlessly. These institutions were known as "glass houses." Gateway to heaven. They would be the equivalent of strip clubs or luxury escort houses if you and I were in the old world. The rules were the same: "Look, but don't touch." Girls and boys were expensive pieces of family jewelry that rested under the glass of fancy display cases. Our masters showed us off to the greedy eyes of the world with all the pride and ostentation that dragons have.

In spite of their possessive, animalistic nature, dragons were nothing more than swaggering bastards with inflated egos and delusions of grandeur.

Humans could be anything as long as dragons owned us—a muse, an innamorata, a nymph, an angel, a siren, or even a goddess—but like everything else in the universe, we came at a price.

The 'glass houses' were only in operation at night. During the day, all the 'jewels' rested and tidied up after tiring hours of contemplation of the world through the bluish glass of the display window. Nice, obliging workers in starched white collars were busy with the cleaning, scrubbing the baroque decorations of the vetrines with great care from a mixture of sperm, drool, and other secretions. You looked at it with an almost reverent awe, finding it disgusting to the point of bordering on the pornographically beautiful.

You could see it as real art—crude and original, but art nonetheless. There was something particularly mesmerizing about it, almost hypnotic, about the way the thick, pearly sperm dripped slowly from the golden flowers.

Of all the glass houses that ever existed, "Eros" was the most beautiful. It was the jewel in the crown of the New Empire, and you were its goddess. There were rumors that the Hala themselves were customers of 'Eros'. But rumors were only rumors. If they were ever to visit your 'home', you would know about it, for they would be where all men ended up—at your feet.

You were content with the life that you were living. There was no tragedy and no misery, no abusive family or abusive peers, no bullying and harassment at school—no, you had it all great. You were born here at Eros—the growth and blossoming of a beautiful flower. Your whole life has been within the confines of glass rooms and silk sheets, but unlike your dreamy friends, you weren't in need of rescue.

Your name is Aphrodite. Born in the radiance of the Creator. A goddess among goddesses, carved out of marble and mother of pearl. Your hair falls to the ground in waterfalls of pearls and silk. Your eyes are the eerie silvery moonlight in half-darkness, the deadly attraction of jewels in velvet lashes. Your lips are the succulent, juicy, forbidden fruit that every man would like to taste. The pain of your kiss is going to be the last pleasure of life.

You are not a delicate, pure lily; you are not a passionate, fiery rose; you are a narcissus reveling in the crystal of mountain waters. You love yourself to pain, to death, to despair, and in all the New Empire, there was none more beautiful than you.

Original sin. The primordial beauty. You are desire in all it manifests and begins to manifest.

The naked goddess, clad in snow-white fur like armor, is the goddess of love and ecstasy.

You've never been conceptualized; you've always been enigmatic.

You have been the object of worship. Your beauty has been sung in songs, and your love has been professed in a thousand languages. "Eros" was the site of visits from the mightiest and most powerful dragons of the New Empire. They all crawled at your feet, stroking their thick, greased with their cum cocks, greedily as they burned your skin with their golden gaze. They licked the deceptively thin glass of your display case with their long, sometimes split tongues, leaving muddy streaks on the perfect surface of the glass. The mighty and great dragons, unaccustomed to humiliation and submission, urinated like bitches in heat at the mere sight of your bare shoulders and long neck covered with diamond serpents, their eyes shining like stars in the twilight of your silken chambers. They would drip their sperm onto the icy marble floor until it collected in small, glistening puddles, and then they would lick it up as if it were the sweetest nectar in the world. Ambrosia in the truest sense.

Behind the glass walls of Eros, they were dominators, predators, and the rulers of this world through fear and pain, but here in this garden of Eros, they were nothing more than whores—shameless and needy. Slaves to your beauty, desperate to please you.

Their moans are always a delight to you. The moaning of your name.

The scenarios have been repeated to the point of being painful. Sugar-sweet subs with outstretched tongues and pretty, tear-stained faces. Dominant alphas with sweat-glistening skin and eyes rolling with pleasure.

Dragons fucked other dragons; orgies and bacchanals were staged; they were subjugated and subdued. They growled, moaned, squealed, and purred; some were fucked like a port slut, and some were licked for hours until they passed out from hyperstimulation. Some masturbated in front of your window, enjoying the fact that you were there to watch them, and there were others who would spend their heat and ruts in front of your window.

The list could go on and on: bondage, darkphilia, breeding, voyeurism, humiliation, objectification, and breathing games.

You were saturated with this game.

There were so many ways in which you could spend your evenings in the company of others. It was all designed to excite you, to make you beg, and to make you plead. Each of your visitors secretly hoped that one day you would strip off your luxurious furs and assume the position that was right for them—submissive, naked, and ready to accept whatever it was they were giving you.

It was an act of power; it was a position of strength, but here you were the strength. You were power.

No one would ever have the temerity to lay a hand on you. Goddesses are always untouchable.

You entertained yourselves by teasing them, mocking them, and fanning their flames of desire and passion. Dragons are creatures that are very dependent on their emotions and their desires; they feed on their power and their magic, but when they do not get what they want, it burns them from the inside; it breaks and crumbles them, like a cookie that has been bitten.

It was delicious, but you were full. Thank you, next.

You never denied that you were a sadist; you had a taste for pain; maybe it was a kind of revenge for the destruction of your family; maybe not. They came to you for that feeling; the dragons wanted to be punished and tamed, and the feeling of pain made them cum harder. As they say, Orgasm is a little death.

You could play this game for hours on end, letting the fur expose your boobs and pressing it against the cold glass as you went. It was magnificent—tall and plump, as if it had been milked with milk—with pink nipples the color of magnolia blossoms. There was something animalistically seductive about it—an appeal to their natural reproductive instincts—that evil thought of possible pregnancy. Their whimpering made you laugh, and the sounds they made were so sweet—desperate pleas and long, long moans.

"Let me taste you; I want it so much. I was a good boy, such a good boy."

There were other days when you would let your hands run over the bare skin of your thighs, leaving long red streaks that stood in erotic contrast to the silk of your pale skin. You smeared the clear, shimmering liquid of your juices along the line of your neck, in that most exciting place for dragons, where their teeth locked in a mating mark, as if branding their mate in the most perverse of affiliations.

"Tell me I belong to you; please say it. I'll do anything you don't want. Own me, use me; I want to be your toy.".

Sometimes other girls would be brought into your shop window to put on an erotic show. Exquisite nymphs and rosy-cheeked Lolitas would explore your tender skin with their soft, wet tongues, leaving traces of hungry kisses, until at last their lips would close on the most intimate spot between your thighs.

On days like this, the whole of 'Eros' would shake with furious, jealous growls and thunderclaps. Dragons were terrible possessive, and even though the "scene" itself would excite the hell out of them, the jealousy would burn through their veins from the inside out, like a deadly poison.

"You belong to me, and only to me. You are mine, mine and mine alone. I will tear this girl apart, and we will fuck in her blood until there are no more conscious thoughts left in your pretty little head, until you remember nothing but my name.".

But no matter what their words were to you, you didn't have a care in the world. Nobody would dare touch the goddess, and if they tried, they would not only lose their hands but also get killed.

That was the law of the New Empire—all the people who were left were protected and sheltered in an incredible way. There were very few of you, and if there had been any harm to even one of you, it would have been a real tragedy. Only once has there been a breach of that law, and the consequences have been terrible. No one wants a repeat.

In any case, your life in the Garden of Eros was a pleasure. Maybe it was some kind of perverse way of looking at the world and love, but you didn't have any desire to change anything; everything was great.

Have you ever wondered if there might be another version of you out there? Perhaps, somewhere in a parallel universe, humans would still exist as the dominant species, their countries and cities would be prosperous, and you would be living a different life—a normal one. There, in that other universe, that other Aphrodite—no, not Aphrodite—you would have an ordinary name, not a divine one, something cute, something sweet, and always with a hint of shyness. It is probably there that you would have experienced your first love, that you would dream of a prince who would take you off into the sunset, and that "and they lived happily ever after." You would have been embarrassed to talk about sex, and you would have blushed horribly if his fingers had been in your knickers. But you weren't her. And she wasn't you. You don't want to be saved from sinning; you want to become one of them. You want to experience forbidden pleasures. You want to subjugate and dominate.

You're not in need of a prince; you've already had a king, or rather, eight kings. The day will come when everything you have ever dreamed of will come true, even if you haven't met any of the Hala yet.

You want power; you want to sit on a golden throne in a castle high up in the sky, and so it shall be. They say that love is a great strength, but they fail to mention that it is also the greatest weakness. And you, like no one else, know how to use it to your advantage.

This is not a pink fairy tale. There are no rainbow ponies pooping rainbows and eating fairy dust. No, this is a rotten world. It is full of debauchery, violence, and sex. You could say, "Come and rescue me. I'm waiting for you," but no, you have to rephrase it as "I'm waiting for you to crawl on your knees and lick my heels, and from that moment on, I will own you.".

Yes, that sounds much better.

It's already eight o'clock; time to get ready; you're leaving soon.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the most famous glass house in the New Empire. Tonight we have wet aesthetic cunnilingus as our main course, and for dessert, a mind-blowing orgasm. You have a choice of starters. Drinks are on the house. We accept cash and checks. If you wish, you can leave a tip for one of our "jewels.".

Our hope is that your time at Eros will be an unforgettable experience.

292 notes · View notes

identityflawed · 4 days ago

Text

to every single arcane fan on the planet who is pissed at caitlyn for her actions in s2 act 1, please listen to me:

you are right to be pissed, that’s kind of the point, but hating her means you have to hate… like every other character. grief is a powerful factor in almost all of arcane and the motives of every character are based in something they’ve lost: whether it’s family, ideals, reputation, land, etc, they’re all dealing with loss and that causes them to act in morally-challenging ways. because that’s what grief does. a loss unthinkable causes actions unthinkable.

caitlyn joins the grief club a bit later than your other main characters, jinx and vi. but unlike jinx and vi, we actually see cait’s actions fresh off the block. the time cuts in act 1 only showed the clean-cut effects of losing their parents on the bridge, and then the new jinx and vi that occurred after the five (?) year time-skip after the explosion in the warehouse. you don’t see them when they’re full of raw grief and terror and illogical actions. you don’t see how severely vi was beaten in prison, how she must’ve lashed out in response to being taken away from her sister, how she continuously made the situation worse for herself because she felt like she deserved it, that she should’ve fought harder, been a better leader and a better sister. we don’t see jinx’s mental breakdowns afterwards, we don’t see how silco grooms her, how he uses her for his literal and emotional goals, how she’s shattered and how she pushes people away because of her own mistakes… but we’re seeing it with caitlyn, we’re seeing the rawness that comes with all of it, and we’re seeing how that impacts the narrative and other characters. people who haven’t grieved don’t seem to understand that it is like containing a storm, and you cannot do it by yourself, all of the time, and sometimes it gets out to other people if they press hard enough.

arcane is very cyclical in the way that all characters follow the same path, over and over again. caitlyn and jinx are following narrative paths, especially when you compare ambessa to silco. i do wonder if jinx knows that silco stabbed vander, that he was the one who ruined everything, hired the goons to jump them and scared her into dropping their haul from jayce’s workshop, etc. i wonder if the reason she continues to spiral is because she doesn’t know, and if caitlyn will get the same treatment with ambessa’s betrayals and her hand in the attack on the memorial.

whatever the case, you cannot defend jinx and hate caitlyn. they are not the same, i understand, but they are both products of massive grief that they blame themselves heavily for.

back to the idea of grief being a storm, because the most common gripe i see with caitlyn is how she promised vi she wouldn’t change, and then changed within a day. this isn’t… this is not an unreasonable course of action from caitlyn, given the situation and how she’s feeling. she is like… at most, a couple weeks out after her mother’s death. it is still an incredibly fresh wound, and she is sort of hinging her entire self-worth and identity on her ability to make the shot that resolves this feeling inside of her. she doesn’t get to make that shot, and fresh off of that miss, that realization that the fight is going to be prolonged and that vi is not as unattached to jinx as she says she is…

both of them made strange promises in that tunnel that they didn’t quite keep. how can you blame vi or caitlyn for picking their family over the girl they met less than a month ago? isha was a wildcard in that fight, but they both knew that caitlyn wouldn’t actually miss the shot. vi didn’t flinch when caitlyn shot 2 inches behind her, vi didn’t flinch when cait shot the gun out of isha’s hand, or the finger from jinx’s, etc, etc. it wasn’t about missing, it was the realization for vi that she can’t just cut herself off from her sister (especially when there’s signs that powder is still in there), that it is much easier said than done. and for cait, it was the realization that vi is not with her. that vi never changed.

that’s kind of the issue. vi didn’t want caitlyn to change, but caitlyn wanted vi to change, and they’re both in situations that demand change and stagnancy, respectively. see what i’m saying? does any of this make sense?

#arcane #caitvi #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn kiramman #vi arcane #i am sick as a dog and tired as shit writing this so i might be way off based #eeeueuuughhh

63 notes · View notes

ducktoo · 1 month ago

Text

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

27. Terror in Tokyo

Note: wooo fight time part 2

Masterlist here

As Y/n was getting ready to finally collapse on his bed after a long day out in Akihabara, a soft knock echoed from the door. He rubbed his eyes, wondering who could possibly want anything this late. Opening the door, he was met with Winter and Ningning standing there with mischievous grins on their faces.

"Y/n-oppa, you’re not gonna like this," Ningning started, leaning casually against the doorframe. “But we’re going clubbing.”

Y/n blinked, his brain still catching up. “Wait… what? Clubbing? Now?”

Winter, who normally didn’t suggest such things, nodded with a nonchalant shrug. “Yeah. We’ve had a long week, and we want to blow off some steam. But... we need a bodyguard, so you’re coming, idiot.”

Y/n crossed his arms, eyeing Winter suspiciously. “You, clubbing? Really? I thought you hated those kinds of places.”

Winter chuckled, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I’m not a fan. But I’ll only go if you or the members come with me.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. This was a side of Winter he hadn’t expected. She was usually more of the homebody, preferring to chill in the dorm with movies or video games. “You’re serious?”

Winter nodded. “Yeah. But you’re the only reason I’m okay with it. I trust you’ll keep things from getting too wild.”

Y/n sighed, rubbing his temples. He couldn’t say no, especially when Winter was laying it out like that. "Fine," he groaned, “but I’m only coming because I don’t want you two causing random shts in Tokyo.”

Ningning snickered and tugged him toward the door. “Relax, we’re just gonna have fun. You’ll barely notice we’re there.”

“Doubtful,” Y/n muttered, but he followed them anyway, quickly throwing on his jacket.

The club was loud, packed with people swaying to the booming music. Y/n found himself standing off to the side, once again acting as the responsible one while Winter and Ningning danced away under the flashing lights. Y/n wasn’t exactly in the mood for dancing, but watching the two girls enjoy themselves at least made him feel a bit better about being dragged out.

But Winter, surprisingly, was fully embracing the scene. She moved in rhythm with Ningning, flashing a rare, carefree smile as she danced. Y/n couldn’t help but notice how she seemed more relaxed than ever, laughing freely as if the usual pressures had lifted.

As the night wore on, Y/n kept a close eye on the crowd, making sure no one got too close to the girls. Winter shot him an occasional thumbs-up from the dance floor, her way of letting him know she was fine. Every time he met her eyes, she grinned, showing that she was actually enjoying herself.

After a couple of hours, Winter finally made her way back to Y/n’s side, her cheeks flushed from dancing. “Thanks for coming with us,” she said, slightly breathless.

Y/n smirked. “Tired already?”

Winter rolled her eyes. “Maybe a little. But it’s been fun. I needed this, I think.”

Y/n chuckled. “I’ll admit, it’s a little surprising seeing you like this. Didn’t think you’d be the type to enjoy clubbing.”

She leaned against the bar next to him, shrugging casually. “Normally I’m not. But it’s different when you’re here. Feels… safer, I guess.”

Her words caught Y/n off guard. He wasn’t sure what to say for a second, so he just nodded, feeling a strange warmth spread in his chest. “Well, I’m glad I could help make it less terrible.”

Winter nudged him playfully. “I didn’t say it was terrible. Just… a bit much, sometimes.”

Ningning danced over, grabbing Winter’s hand and dragging her back toward the floor. “C’mon! One more song before we leave!”

Winter gave Y/n a quick wave before she disappeared back into the crowd with Ningning, both of them laughing. Y/n stayed at his post, glancing around the club every few seconds to make sure things stayed calm. His mind lingered on Winter’s words, her trust in him resonating deeper than he’d expected.

Maybe this night wasn’t so bad after all.

Eventually, around 3 AM, Winter finally pulled Ningning away from the dance floor, both girls flushed and grinning. “Alright, we’ve had our fun,” Winter said, wiping sweat from her brow. “Let’s head back.”

Y/n nodded, relieved that the night was finally coming to an end. As they left the club and began walking back to the hotel, the cool night air hit them, refreshing after the heat and noise of the club.

Except Y/n.

See, Y/n’s senses had been on high alert since they left the club, and the feeling that something was off only grew stronger. As the night air turned colder, the streets became quieter, with fewer people around. That's when Y/n caught sight of him — a man walking a little too close behind them, his pace mimicking theirs.

It wasn’t just a coincidence; it was deliberate.

Y/n’s stomach tightened. He slowed down his steps, positioning himself closer to Winter and Ningning without saying anything just yet. His eyes darted to the storefront reflections, catching the stranger’s shadow trailing them, his gaze fixated on the girls.

Trying not to alarm them, Y/n spoke in a low, steady voice. “Jeong, Ning. Stay close to me.”

Ningning looked up at him, confused. “What? Why? What’s going on?”

“Just… stay close,” Y/n repeated, his tone firmer this time.

Winter glanced over at him, noticing the seriousness in his eyes. She followed his gaze toward the man and immediately tensed up. “Is he… following us at 7 o'clock?”

Y/n gave a slight nod, his jaw clenched. “Yeah. Don’t look back. Just keep walking.”

The mood shifted instantly. The playful banter and relaxed vibe from earlier evaporated, replaced by a silent, shared tension. Y/n knew they couldn’t keep walking blindly down the street — they had to shake him off. He scanned the area quickly, spotting a side alley that could lead them away from the main road.

“Turn here.” Y/n instructed, his voice calm but urgent. Winter and Ningning obeyed without question, their footsteps quickening as they rounded the corner. Y/n slowed his pace slightly, hanging back just enough to act as a buffer between the girls and the man.

The narrow alley was quieter, dimly lit by flickering streetlights. The only sound was the soft echo of their footsteps and the ominous click of the stranger’s shoes behind them, getting closer. Too close.

Y/n’s patience snapped.

He spun on his heel, stepping directly into the man’s path. “Can I help you?” Y/n asked in English, his voice steady but laced with a warning. He stood tall, broadening his shoulders to block the man’s view of the girls.

Of course he wouldn't answer. Y/n asked him in English. The creep's a Japanese.

The man said nothing, his eyes still locked on the path Winter and Ningning took, a creepy smirk curling at his lips.

“Hey!” Y/n barked, stepping forward. “I asked you a question.”

But the man still didn’t respond. His face twisted into a sneer as he lunged forward, making a grab for Ningning.

Y/n reacted on pure instinct. He shoved Ningning behind him and intercepted the man’s outstretched hand, gripping it tightly before twisting his arm and pushing him back. The man staggered but quickly regained his footing, his sneer morphing into anger as he swung wildly at Y/n.

Y/n ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the man’s punch. His breath came faster now, adrenaline pumping through his veins. "Stay back!" he shouted to Winter and Ningning as the man advanced again, this time with more ferocity.

The man swung again, and Y/n blocked it with his forearm before retaliating with a sharp jab to the man’s ribs. The impact made the stranger grunt, but he didn’t back down. Instead, he tackled Y/n, sending both of them crashing into a nearby wall.

“Y/n!” Winter screamed, but he held up a hand, silently telling her to stay put.

Pinned against the wall, Y/n gritted his teeth as he struggled to push the man off. The guy was stronger than he looked, but Y/n wasn’t about to let him win. He braced his legs against the ground and shoved hard, breaking free from the man’s grip. Y/n swung his fist, connecting with the man’s jaw, sending him stumbling back a few steps.

The man wiped a bit of blood from his mouth, his eyes filled with rage. He lunged again, this time throwing a wild punch. Y/n ducked, and the man’s fist grazed his cheek. Y/n countered with a swift kick to the man’s legs, causing him to lose balance and hit the ground hard.

But the man wasn’t done. He scrambled to his feet and charged at Y/n again. This time, Y/n was ready. He grabbed the man by the collar and twisted him around, slamming him against the alley wall.

“Stay still,” Y/n growled through clenched teeth. He didn’t care how much the guy struggled — there was no way he was letting him near the girls.

“Y/n!” Ningning’s voice was shaky but focused as she fumbled with her phone. “I’m calling the cops!”

Winter, standing a few steps away, balled her fists at her sides, her eyes flashing with a mix of fear and anger. “You better stay down,” she muttered, glaring at the man.

The creep squirmed, trying to twist free from Y/n’s iron grip, but Y/n held firm, pressing his knee against the guy’s back to keep him pinned against the wall. The man groaned in frustration, but there was no escaping Y/n’s hold.

“Who do you think you’re messing with, dipsht?” Y/n hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “You think it’s okay to follow them like that?”

The man thrashed against Y/n’s hold, throwing an elbow that caught Y/n in the ribs. Pain shot through Y/n’s side, but he tightened his grip, refusing to let go. The man managed to land another punch to Y/n’s stomach, causing him to double over for a second, but Y/n quickly recovered, grabbing the man’s arm and twisting it behind his back.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Y/n growled, slamming the man’s face into the wall for good measure. The man struggled, grunting in pain, but Y/n held him firm, his chest heaving with exertion.

Winter, watching in horror and awe, clenched her fists, ready to jump in if necessary. But Y/n had everything under control, his grip unyielding despite the struggle.

It wasn’t long before the faint sound of sirens filled the air. Relief washed over Y/n as he heard the police arriving, but he didn’t let his guard down. Not yet. He kept the man pinned until the officers rushed into the alley.

“Over here!” Ningning called out in Japanese, waving to the approaching police.

Two officers quickly took over, cuffing the man and hauling him away. One of them nodded gratefully at Y/n. “Thanks for holding him down. You alright?”

Y/n nodded, his muscles finally starting to relax as he stood up straight. “Uhh. Ok. We are” He said, using all the Japanese words he could find from his memory.

The officers escorted the man into their patrol car, and soon, the alley was quiet again, save for the heavy breaths of the trio. Ningning let out a long, shaky sigh, her hands still trembling as she pocketed her phone.

Winter, still looking a bit shaken, glanced at Y/n. “Are you ok, Y/n?”

"Of course, I am" Y/n smiled. "I should be asking you that instead."

"I…genuinely had no idea what I would do if you get hurt." Winter whimpered. "I would lose it."

Y/n shrugged, rubbing his sore shoulder. “As long as you are around, I won't be going anytime soon.”

Ningning, still jittery, glanced back at the now-handcuffed man being led away by the police. “Honestly, I thought we were just going to have a fun night out. Didn’t expect a full-on street brawl.”

Y/n looked between the two of them, feeling a strange mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. “Let’s get back to the hotel. I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night. I need the damn sleep.”

As they finally made it back to the hotel, Y/n’s adrenaline started to fade, replaced by an overwhelming exhaustion. Winter and Ningning walked in silence beside him, still shaken by the night’s events, but visibly relieved to be out of harm’s way. Y/n was just glad it was over.

The hotel lobby was quiet, the soft hum of distant conversation the only noise as they stepped inside. But the moment they walked through the door, Karina and Giselle were already waiting by the elevator, their faces full of concern.

“There you guys are!” Karina exclaimed, rushing over the moment she saw them. Her eyes flicked between Y/n, Winter, and Ningning, quickly noticing their disheveled appearances. “What happened? You guys look like you’ve been through hell.”

Winter gave a weak smile, brushing off her jacket. “Well, we kinda were. Some creep followed us after we left the club.”

Karina’s eyes widened in alarm. “What?! Are you okay? What happened?!”

Ningning nodded, stepping closer to the group. “Y/n handled it. He basically went Y/n mode on the guy and held him down until the cops came.”

Giselle’s jaw dropped. “No way. You serious?” She looked at Y/n, a mix of amazement and concern in her eyes. “You okay, man?”

Y/n, too tired to even offer much of a response, waved them off. “I’m….so….dead.”

Karina crossed her arms, her brows furrowed. “Dead? You just took down a stalker, and you’re telling me you’re just dead?”

“Hey, that’s the appropriate response…” Y/n sighed, leaning against the wall for support. “Whatever…you guys are safe…I’m happy...”

Winter, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since the incident, stepped up beside Y/n, giving him a light nudge. “He was so calm. Like, scary calm about the whole thing.”

Ningning nodded in agreement. “I’ve never seen him like that before. It was… kinda cool.”

Karina shook her head, still trying to process the whole ordeal. “I don’t know whether to be proud or worried.”

“Both,” Giselle muttered. “Definitely both.”

Y/n chuckled weakly, trying to shake off their concerns. “I’m fine…I think. As long as Ning and Jeong are fine...”

But despite his reassurances, Karina and Giselle weren’t convinced. The protective instincts in both of them were flaring up, and Y/n could tell they weren’t going to let this go easily. Not that he blamed them — he knew what it was like to worry about the people he cared about.

“Alright, let’s get you guys upstairs and settled,” Karina said, placing a gentle hand on Ningning’s shoulder. “You all need some rest after tonight. Especially you, Jung Y/n.”

As they headed up to their rooms, the atmosphere was a strange mix of relief and tension. Y/n could feel his energy draining by the second, and by the time they reached their suite, he was practically sleepwalking. The girls filed into their rooms one by one, but Y/n didn’t make it that far.

The moment he stepped into the living area of the suite, he collapsed onto the nearest couch, his body finally giving in to the exhaustion. His eyelids felt like they weighed a ton, and he could barely keep them open as he sank into the soft cushions.

Winter peeked her head out of her room, noticing Y/n slumped on the couch. “You’re really just gonna crash right there?”

Y/n mumbled something incoherent, his face half-buried in a pillow. “Too… dead…”

Giselle let out a soft laugh, leaning against the doorframe of her room. “Looks like he’s done for the night.”

Karina shook her head, her expression softening as she watched Y/n. “After what he just did? He deserves to pass out.”

Winter, still feeling a strange mix of emotions from the night’s events, walked over and grabbed a blanket from the closet. She draped it over Y/n’s sleeping form, her movements gentle as if she didn’t want to disturb him.

“Sleep well, Y/n-nie, and thank you.” she whispered, stepping back.

Ningning gave Winter a teasing smile from across the room. “Look at you, being all caring.”

Winter rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “Shut up. He saved our asses tonight.”

The girls shared a knowing look, their usual playful bickering taking a back seat to the gratitude they all felt for Y/n. They knew how much he’d put on the line for them, and they didn’t take it lightly. After everything that had happened, they were just glad to be safe and together.

As the suite finally settled into a calm, peaceful quiet, the girls retreated to their rooms, leaving Y/n to his much-needed rest on the couch. His breathing evened out, the stress of the night slowly melting away as he drifted into a deep sleep.

Tonight, at least, he could rest easy knowing he did well.

The next morning came far too quickly for Y/n. His body ached, his limbs felt heavy, and his mind was still foggy from the events of the previous night. Slowly, he blinked awake, finding himself still sprawled out on the couch. The blanket Winter had thrown over him was now tangled around his legs.

“…sht. It hurts…”

He groaned, trying to stretch, but was immediately met with something unexpected.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Ningning’s voice chimed from beside him.

Y/n froze, his eyes snapping open in confusion. Ningning was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the couch, casually massaging his legs like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Y/n blinked, still not fully awake. “Uh… what are you doing?”

Ningning hummed, continuing her amateurish massage. “Well, you looked like you needed it after last night. Figured I’d help loosen you up a bit.”

Before Y/n could protest, he felt something else — soft hands pressing against his shoulders, kneading his muscles with surprising precision.

“Relax,” Winter’s voice came from behind him, sounding far too amused. “You worked hard last night. Let us pamper you for once.”

Y/n sat up, his mind reeling. “Wait, wait, wait. This is too weird. What are you guys—”

“Shhh.” Ningning placed a finger over her lips, laughing softly. “You saved our lives, remember? This is our thank you.”

Y/n could only stare in disbelief as Winter continued massaging his shoulders, her touch firm but oddly soothing. He didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or run away.

“I don’t need a thank you! I'm getting paid for this!” he protested, glancing between the two girls, his face turning a light shade of red from the situation.

“Oh, come on,” Winter teased, digging her knuckles into a particularly tense spot on his back, causing him to wince. “You deserve it. Besides, we don’t get to see you like this often. Let us have our fun.”

Y/n sighed, feeling completely outnumbered. He tried to wiggle free, but Ningning grabbed his ankle, holding him in place as she continued her impromptu leg massage.

“This is... too much,” he muttered, though he couldn’t help but feel a bit touched by their sudden affection.

Winter smirked, her hands still working their magic on his back. “Too much? After last night, I’d say this is just the beginning.”

Ningning giggled, patting his leg playfully. “You’re not getting out of this, Y/n. Just sit back and enjoy.”

Y/n let out a defeated groan, slumping back into the couch. “I don’t even know what to say anymore.”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Winter said, leaning in a little closer to whisper near his ear. “Just admit you like it. Getting massaged by two beauties.”

"You sure? I only see one, Jeong." Y/n deadpanned. "Owowowowowow!"

"Aish." Winter increased her output, forcing Y/n to groan.

Before he could protest further, the door to the girls' room opened, and Giselle and Karina stepped out, their expressions a mix of amusement and confusion as they took in the scene in front of them.

“Uh… what exactly is happening here?” Giselle raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she watched Ningning and Winter practically hovering over Y/n like they were performing some kind of strange ritual.

Karina, however, took it a step further, her eyes narrowing as a smirk formed on her face. “Are we interrupting something?” she asked, her tone dripping with fake suspicion.

Giselle immediately caught on and let out a snort, nudging Karina playfully. “Yeah, Y/n, should we give you three some privacy?”

Y/n’s eyes widened in alarm. “Wait, what?! No, it’s not like that! They just—"

Winter pouted, feigning innocence as she leaned closer to Y/n’s ear. “You know, idiot, if you don’t deny it so strongly, people might not think it’s that weird.”

Ningning giggled, continuing her fake massage. “It’s too late now, oppa. We’ve already been caught.”

Giselle and Karina exchanged knowing looks, pretending to be scandalized. “Wow, okay, I see how it is,” Giselle teased. “We leave you alone for five minutes, and suddenly we’re not invited.”

Karina clicked her tongue, crossing her arms with an exaggerated sigh. “I guess this is what happens when you save people’s lives. You get all the attention.”

"Oh, for fck sake…this harem is not needed." Y/n groaned towards the pillow. “I hate all of you.”

But even as he said it, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Despite the teasing and the ridiculousness of the situation, he knew they were just messing with him. The tension from the night before had all but disappeared, replaced by the familiar chaotic warmth of their usual dynamic.

Ningning finally let go of his shoulders, stepping back with a satisfied nod. “There you go. You’re all pampered up. How do you feel?”

Y/n stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders experimentally. “I feel… weird. That was weird.”

Winter chuckled, giving him a light shove. “You’re welcome.”

Karina and Giselle watched the whole thing, their teasing grins still in place as they plopped down onto the nearby chairs. “Well, at least we know who Y/n’s favorite members are now,” Karina said slyly, eyeing Winter and Ningning.

“Definitely the ones giving him the royal treatment,” Giselle added, winking.

Y/n could feel his face heating up, but before he could retort, Winter leaned in with a smug grin. “Hey, at least my solo song’s still his favorite.”

That got a collective groan from the others, and Karina shot Winter a mock glare. “Still? You’ve been holding onto that since ages ago, haven’t you?”

Winter shrugged, unbothered. “What can I say? It’s true.”

Ningning nudged Y/n again, her voice playful. “You’re too easy to mess with, oppa.”

Y/n sighed, feeling the warmth and humor of the moment wash over him. Despite all the teasing, despite the chaos that seemed to follow him wherever he went with these girls, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

They might drive him crazy, but they were his chaos. And for now, that was enough.

“Alright, alright,” Y/n said, standing up and stretching his arms, trying to shake off the weirdness. “Enough of the massage stuff. I’ve got work to do.”

But as he moved to step away, Ningning and Winter shared a mischievous look, and before he knew it, they both lunged at him, tackling him back onto the couch in a fit of giggles.

“Not so fast, idiot,” Winter teased, pinning him down playfully. “You’re not off the hook that easily.”

Y/n laughed despite himself, trying to push them off. “You guys are relentless.”

“And you love it,” Ningning added with a wink.

Karina and Giselle looked on, shaking their heads with amused smiles.

"Guess you’ve got your hands full," Karina said, crossing her arms as she watched the chaos unfold.

Y/n sighed, glancing up at her with an exaggerated look of defeat. “Oh, wow. Thanks, Jimin.”

#aespa #aespa x reader #kpop #aespa giselle #aespa karina #aespa ningning #aespa winter #karina #ningning #giselle #aespa x you #aespa x male reader #aeri uchinaga #kim minjeong #ning yizhuo #yoo jimin #x reader

76 notes · View notes

derekhighwaytf · 1 year ago

Text

InstaCub

I loved the Cha Cha Room. It was as exclusive as it was expensive, but hey that’s the price you pay when you’re a social media sensation. Being Trey, the sexy instagram model wasn’t without its downsides, however. The worst thing was when guys who should’ve known that someone of my caliber wouldn’t be interested in them tried to hit on me. Sure, I fucked my fans regularly, but only the ones that shared my dedication to beauty. I couldn’t help that I was born gorgeous.

My entourage, an aesthetically curated group of other models (all only slightly less attractive than myself) walked into the Cha Cha Room, ready to be gawked at, each of us oozing beauty and charisma. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, their eyes filled with awe, desire, and, my favorite, envy.

But amongst that sea, there was one guy that forced me to do a double take. Doug, rounder and balder than anyone else, didn't fit the usual demographic that came to Cha Cha. It was a mystery how he must’ve slipped his way in when security wasn’t looking, because there was no chance they’d ever willingly allow someone who looked like that to enter such exclusive premises. And, to make matters worse, when he caught me staring at his odd appearance, he began to make his way toward me, a small, devious smile playing on his lips.

"Can I buy you a drink?," he asked. I raised an eyebrow, my lips curling into a smirk. Sure, he was far beneath my standards, but I loved teasing my inferiors, especially when it comes with a free drink. "Well, aren't you a sweetheart," I replied, trying to hide my disdain for his smelly, musky demeanor.

As we talked and I pretended to listen, he must’ve farted at least three times, but I wanted to be nice, so I held my breath and counted the seconds till I could rejoin my way cooler group of friends. However, when Doug began flirting, I couldn’t help it. A chuckle bubbled up from my chest and I shook my head, saying "Doug, was it? No amount of drinks in this club could make me think you're anything but fat, smelly, and bald."

“And what’s wrong with that?” he said earnestly. “This is a bar for fat, smelly, bald guys after all.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. Just as the words escaped my lips, I noticed something strange. As my eyes scanned the crowd, I realized that everyone, even my formerly flawless friends, looked just like Doug. They’d grown beards, their hair on their head was gone, and they all had guts the size of bowling balls. I felt a chill run down my spine as I started to walk away.

“I must be in the wrong place. I don’t belong here,” I said, just barely missing the door. But before I could free myself from this hellhole, Doug stopped me and said, “Yes you do. I think you fit in perfectly.”

Suddenly, my Gucci shirt felt tight around my midsection, and my once firm arms now felt doughy. As I turned to leave, a full-length mirror on the wall revealed a shocking transformation. I reached up and where once were lush and thick chestnut locks, was now greeted the cold, bare skin of a rapidly receding hairline, retreating with alarming speed, creating an expanding dome of skin I’d never seen before.

Clumps of my hair began to detach themselves from my scalp, falling gently to the club floor. Each strand felt like a piece of my identity, a piece of Trey, falling away to reveal the bald truth underneath. I watched in frozen terror, feeling each follicle detach until all that remained was nothing but a smooth, shiny surface. I was as bald as an egg.

And then I farted.

Pffffffft.

I was disgusted with myself for only a moment, until I started to let a hearty chuckle much deeper than my old voice.

I looked in the mirror again, my face so much more different than it was ten minutes ago—familiar, but not the one I had painstakingly maintained for the world to admire. Suddenly, the world seemed to shift as a flood of memories washed over me. I wasn't Trey, the Instagram sensation. I was Tom, a twenty-something, bald, overweight man who didn’t shower, farted every five minutes, and fucked anyone who’d have me. This was my bar and I was gonna make sure all my fellow cubs had a good time

As the rock music blared and the crowd at Tommy’s Den started to become increasingly alluring to me, I was suddenly hit with a wave of unfulfilled desire, a need for cock. So I pulled Doug aside to the bathroom and…well you can guess what happened next.

I was Tom now, and, honestly, my life was so much better…

Pffffffffft.

#bald #bald tf #male transformation #tf #gay tf #mental change #tf story #twink to bear #bear tf #bearification

571 notes · View notes

idkfitememate · 1 month ago

Note

We need more boar and venti fluff

They gotta be chaotic besties

Or chaotic rivals

Like all venti sees is boar creator loving saying this:

Venti vs. Boar..?

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! Boar Reader vs. Venti/Barbatos

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 1.8k

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : CRACK CRACK CRACK, tiny bit of angst ???, fluff :3

Barbatos was a benevolent god.

He was the god of freedom for Archon’s sake! His entire deal was allowing these people the will and right to choose to live their lives however they pleased with no judgement from him or anyone.

And yet, here he was absolutely hating the free will of a single Boar.

Now it wasn’t like he wasn’t amazed at all the way the Boar found to terrorize his people, but the animosity came from the fact that the Boar targeted him out of everyone.

Like why??? What did he do to them??? He just fucking existed and the Boar decided he would be the perfect victim.

Which was ironic, he guessed. He, a God, was being bested by a Boar.

Venti sneezed for the one hundredth time as he combed the cat hair off his clothes and out his own hair, sighing and subsequently coughing afterwards.

All because of that damned Boar.

And Venti didn’t swear a lot so you know he means business.

Just recently the Boar had surprised him with a tree full of cats, which was awful, naturally. Why and how this Boar knew his weaknesses he would not know, but Venti was tired.

He wanted to know the Boar’s weaknesses, anything really, just to get back in some kind of way. His people loved the thing, but as time continued, he really didn’t feel too much.

Annoyance? Yeah. A tiny bit of anger? Yeah that too. But any real kind of rage?.. No.

Every time he tried to will any kind legitimate rage or true anger towards the animal, he just couldn’t. The faint memory of the Boar sleeping next to him under a tree never fully faded from his mind.

Barbara’s fan club was slowly dissipating because of them. Which was nice, amazing for her. Jean was finding more time to relax due to them taking Klee out of the city for a while to do… whatever they did, again amazing of everyone really. Everyone seemed to be benefiting by the Boar’s presence in one way or another, besides Venti.

He just couldn’t understand it! Why? What did he do in order to piss this Boar off so bad, that it would try to fight him at every given moment. He was tired of it.

Hoping down from the tree he was currently residing in, Venti slowly made his way into town, taking off his hat and ruffling his hair, plopping it back on haphazardly and yawning. As soon as the gates of Mondstadt came into view, Venti stopped and slapped his cheeks lightly, taking a deep breath and dawning his signature grin, nearly skipping into the city.

He greeted children and slowly made his way to the bar, but was stopped by shouting down an alley. Looking around and noting no one nearby, Venti leaned back and took a look. There, he found, was his enemy, The Boar. And by the looks of it, one of Barbara’s fan club members.

Venti honestly almost snickered at the sight of this full grown man down on his ass by a very angry Boar. Every attempt to rise back up was met with hooves to the face and legs - and even once the poor man’s balls R.I.P. - and all he could do was moan and groan some shit about having to go see her, a comment that would be met with a head but.

For a few minutes it was funny, watching you beat the shit out of that man, but it very quickly and very suddenly escalated. The man, despite all the pain he should’ve been in, shoved you off. You were disoriented for a second, but quickly jumped back up to beat the shit out of him, but he - the mad man he was - whipped out a switchblade.

Venti’s eyes widened, taking a step forward to help, but instead was met with a harsh gust of wind. His eyes shut from shock, only opening after putting hands in front of his eyes. You, the Boar, was blowing on the man, pressing him against the back wall of the alley.

After pressing him there for sometime, you dropped him, smoke billowing from your snout, you stepped forward and opened wide, revealing flame licking the back of your throat.

The man screamed, the blade long forgotten as he jumped up and ran, shoving past Venti and into the streets.

Venti turned to look at you, you who had your chest puffed up in pride and glee. You both stared at each other for a moment, before you scuttled away, darting out the alleyway and into the city.

Venti tugged on one of his braids, eyes glancing back over at the alley. With a new pep in his step, Venti walked back into the sun, out of the alleys.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍬🍯🍡୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Drinking was a long-time acquaintance to Venti, something he knew would never leave him even as the sands of time continued to flow.

He’d never be one to admit why he drank, and with the looks he’d get from Master Diluc and other patrons, he didn’t think he’d ever admit it. To himself, or anyone.

The bard had just been kicked out on his ass, Diluc staring worriedly yet disappointedly at the man, musing something about going home and sleeping this off. Venti shrugged with a giggle and shambled off into the darkened streets.

The tipsy man sang drunkenly, old sea shanties and bar songs bouncing off the silent streets, making it seem as though there were a thousand men singing with him. With each passing breath he grew louder, though if anyone was awake at the time, no one tried to silence him.

Venti wobbled his way closer to the entrance of Mondstadt to go off to his favorite tree to nap, cape half-hung around his shoulders and top buttons of his shirt undone.

He was stopped abruptly by a hand dragging him down another alleyway. What was with him and alleys today?? He was slammed against the back wall, a hand unceremoniously slamming over his lips, finally silencing the rambled singing.

Now he wasn’t scared, the god in a man’s body knew very well that no matter what he’d be fine. His real… concern(??) was in the fact that someone even had the gall to do something like this. Not to say Mondstadt didn’t see any crime of course it was usually just… regulated.

Venti looked up to the man who had the nerve and - yep - it was a Fatui member. The grunt was shaking, breath puffing out into the cool night air. His lips were trembling as he huffed, eyes darting between Venti and some invisible force beyond the alley. Just as Venti was about to speak up, the Fatui member beat him to it.

“Listen, we don’t have much time but I can’t risk it finding me-“ He cut himself off, flinching at the sound of something falling over, looking over to find a cat next to a fallen flower pot. He sighed and sniffled, stiffening up again to look down at Venti.

“Just keep your mouth shut, okay? No more singin’, no more nothin’. Just be quiet and let me slip away-“ This time, he was interrupted by flame dancing across the walls of the alley, licking him and Venti.

The man screamed, tears suddenly pouring from the eyeholes of his mask as he ran through the alley towards the other end, only to be blocked by a wall of Geo. He sobbed louder, slamming his fists against the wall in hopes of anything happening.

Venti stared at the pathetic display, drunken mind still comprehending the literal man-child before him who had by this point slid onto the floor with his face in the dirt, sobbing into the ground.

Venti looked back up at the sound of small hooves trotting along, coming into view was you. Despite your trotting, your face read nothing but rage to the short god, and all he could do was shiver and let you pass him by. Even when dealing with all your pranks you never looked at him like… that.

There was something in your eyes he couldn’t read, power radiating off you like a rushing river. He almost fell to his knees.

Finally you made it to the whimpering Fatui grunt, who was now on his knees and shaking like a leaf. Your little trot came to a stop as you stepped closer to the quivering mess of a man before you both. You snorted in disgust and flicked him with your front hoof, making him squeal like a child.

He jumped onto his ass and pressed his back at the wall, kicking at you as you oinked in annoyance. Venti could only watch, having sobered up a bit by this point. Sure, it was obvious that you saving him - even if he could’ve done it himself - was a byproduct of you already being on the Fatui members ass, but it was the mere fact that you did.

There was an understand between you both, unspoken, that you each knew the other was non-human. Venti had a damn good idea that you knew he was Barbatos, but to you… he wasn’t entirely sure. Evidently you were different, he’d be a fool to not see that, but he genuinely couldn’t place it.

Venti was thrown from his train of thought when the Fatui member flew over his head, screaming. He landed with a thud and scurried off, screaming. Both you and Venti watched, you huffing with pride.

You glanced up at Venti and snorted, and began trotting off.

“… Wait!” Venti’s voice called out. You stopped and turned, looking at the bard with interest. He took a few cautious steps towards you which would’ve been offensive… if you hadn’t deserved it.

When he got close enough, you sat down which made him flinch. You snort-chuckled and he clicked his tongue. Finally he stood before you, staring down at you as you awaited why he stopped you.

“… Why?” The question startled you. You tilted your head and he sighed.

“Why do you hate me so much? Why do you seem to despise me out of everyone?” Your eyes widened before you huffed, turning away, eyes downcast.

Venti sighed before kneeling, and with a hesitating, shaking hand, he ran his fingers through your hair, brushing his nails over your scalp. After a beat, you leaned into the touch.

“I don’t know why, but I’m tired of fighting you. Small truce, just for a while?” You hummed, tail starting to wag as he pet your head. The wall of geo fell behind you both and a nice breeze blew in, cooling Venti’s face and bringing a smile to his lips.

“Thank you, Wild Boar.”

You snorted.

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : No because that ending tho I’m so tired LMAO-

#genshin impact sagau #sagau x reader #sagau #x reader #x gn reader #gn y/n #yandere x reader #yandere x you #Boar!Creator

133 notes · View notes