#the pimp in me will return
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allofuswantgwinam · 1 year ago
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remember how i wanted avoid the gas station bc the guy who worked there that was obsessed with me? yeah well it’s flipped and he gone and now it’s the opposite 🤣🤣 there is a guy that works there and I’ve been goin every chance I get but he a man of very few words *he also doesn’t speak a lot of English and I don’t speak his language so 🤣* and i need him to be obsessed with me so I can be like “yes, a kiss? You can have all of them” 🤣🤣🤣
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orcelito · 1 year ago
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Ok so I was wondering like
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Top 0.005% of listeners. That's Pretty Damn Small. But I was wondering Just how small...
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357.1k monthly listeners
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0.005% of 357.1k is... just under 18...
Guys. I'm within the top 20 listeners for IAMX. Period. 🫣
#speculation nation#16K MINUTES OF MY 59K TOTAL MINUTES FOR THE YEAR...#A LITERAL 27% OF ***ALL*** MUSIC I LISTENED TO THIS YEAR........#cant help gettin emo i guess#like i knew he'd be indisputably my top artist but. holy fuck.#THIS ALSO ISNT INCLUDING THE SNEAKER PIMPS ALBUM... which ive listened to obsessively too#as an extension of the obsession with his music. bc he sings in it.#SOMETIMES AN ARTIST HITS U LIKE A FREIGHT TRAIN and ur left like. yeah. yeah .#helps that hes got so many albums so i spent Months slowly making my way through them all.#but then i just kept listening to him bc his music just... scratches an itch in my brain idk.#in part it's the grief. Metanoia was a crutch of an album after my uncle died.#and also with my cat... it was just. nonstop IAMX. for Months.#ive been branching out more again recently bc i do like some variety in the music i listen to#but if i want music but dont know what to play it just always ends up going back to IAMX#because it's dependable. it's enjoyable. it's Comfortable.#his music feels like a reset button for me. like returning to a dark room to sleep at night.#it's not dark for the sake of darkness. but for the comfort of it. existing honestly. existing without fear of judgement.#and bringing the analogy together i really have listened to his music to help me sleep a few times#not often just bc i usually dont listen to music as i sleep. im a light sleeper so i need white noise.#but there were a few times i found myself without a working fan. so i turned to his music to act as white noise instead.#not actual white noise of course. but the function of it. the Comfort. the familiarity.#pick one of his lowkey albums and just let it keep going. and it works. it does.#so like. it makes sense. it does. i understand entirely why i rank so high in his monthly listeners.#it's just a bit mind boggling to actually see the tangible numerical value hfkshdjd bc. man. man...
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followerofmercy · 4 months ago
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Networking/Knowing A Guy: A Guide
This is the autism website. Now, as an extension of the power of love and friendship, there are few things more useful than Knowing A Guy. Knowing A Guy means you have a support network. Knowing a plumber, or a tax accountant, or just that one dude that's really fucking good at finding the information you need when you're really overwhelmed, can be the difference between being able to pay rent and having a fun party with friends to fix your shit.
How does one end up Knowing A Guy? It's a skill you can develop called Networking and it is one of the foundations of society. Unfortunately making those connections with people is fucking hard and nobody makes a tutorial for it. So, here you go:
The golden rule is you scratch my back and I scratch yours
It is necessary for survival to seek out useful people
Great news! Everyone is useful in some form or fashion - including you! When given the opportunity to learn about someone, do it! Extroversion does not come naturally to some people and that's okay. Just take whatever falls in your lap.
Types of usefulness: trade skills, connections of their own, personality you jive with, pleasant to talk to, niche interest in shared hobby, security - the list is pretty much endless. I know a guy that lives in the metro area - no job, no major hobbies, inoffensively annoying to me personally, kinda ignorant, not attractive to me, but you know what? He knows how the fuck to get around the city by foot. My rural-raised ass APPRECIATES the guide.
Remember important information: general personality, background, skillset, likes and dislikes. You can find this information by making smalltalk about their life. There is no such thing as pointless conversation. (Yes, even the annoying smalltalk)
The more people you know, the higher the likelihood that one of them will be useful in a given situation - or will know someone who is.
It is overwhelming. In a given clique/community/workspace/whatever, there is A Guy Who Knows The Other Guys. This Guy is a shortcut. Find them. They're often elderly, extroverted, a little bit annoying, a secretary or in some otherwise forward-facing position. Look for people that are gossipy/talk about other people a lot but not in negative ways. If they constantly talk shit, they'll talk shit about you too. They're still useful but be careful with the information you share
You do not have to like someone for them to be useful.
You do not have to like someone for them to be useful.*
If you have low self esteem, you're going to feel like you're using people. You're not. That's the devil talking. People like feeling valued and the connections you are making are the threads holding community together. Recognize people for their talents. It's only a problem when you're taking advantage of people
So: don't feel scummy about it. You're an animal. You have to claw out your right to survive and people will respect you more for it.
Luckily mutualism is the name of the game in the animal kingdom. Offer something back. The foundation of a Know A Guy relationship is Mutual Benefit
Sometimes that Mutual Benefit is just spreading news of the The Guy far and wide. My plumber friend is my actual friend and I love her to death, but I'm maintaining our backscratch relationship by pimping out her plumbing business to anyone that'll listen
Food is a good Mutual Benefit. People across cultures for all of human history have bonded over food. I have good success asking people for a favor and then offering to buy them lunch in return **
General compensation is also good. Offer a service in return and always do your best to offer financial compensation as appropriate. Having your plumber friend take a look at your drain: doable with a case of beer. Having your plumber friend redo the pipes in your entire house? You need to pay for that.
Being transactional is not necessarily a bad thing. I would advise against keeping an itemized list of things owed, but fish don't seek out cleaner shrimp just because they enjoy their company. Everyone gets something
Unfortunately being extroverted and generally personable is a huge benefit here, but that's the value of the Guy That Knows A Guy. There's someone out there that has consolidated All The Guys so you don't have to be the local expert. Always remember nobody can do everything and you don't need to master every skill
* This is the foundation of a functioning community. I have many acquaintances that I find incredibly annoying. They include doctors, welders, artists, social workers, lawyers, construction crew and random fuckers at the grocery store. I do not hang out with them. I do not have to in order to maintain a civil Know A Guy relationship. I can drop them useful tidbits and fuck right off so I don't have to spend any more time than necessary with them
** People may assume romantic intent. Be prepared for that. I generally denote that it's a friendly/work lunch by calling them bro at some point if they're my age. Otherwise my general demeanor is sufficient to show that I do this with everyone
Source: personal experience, mother's teachings of crime, booth vending and poverty
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buckyalpine · 5 months ago
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Give me drunk Bucky who wakes up in your bed, confused over why he's in the softest pj's he's ever felt and for some reason wearing a giant fur coat he can only assume is from a pimp because who else would own such a thing.
What the hell happened
Mere hours earlier; 3:30 am, Guys night
"Noooooo" Bucky howled, letting his body go deadweight while Thor continued to carry him to his room, the only one strong enough to get the soldier off the floor after he'd polished the bottle of Asdargian mead clean. "Wanna see y/n"
"Yeah, can't imagine what y/n would say if she saw you being carried off like a princess" A very tipsy Sam and Steve followed behind while Bucky's bottom lip jutted out into an exaggerated pout, head thrown back with is eyes closed in defiance "She's still off on that mission, she'll be back soon, you can see her then-
Before Steve could finish, Bucky's eyes shot open, scrambling out of Thor's arms and stumbling towards your room. There was no time to stop him from entering, a drunk giggle slipping past his lips as he let himself in and sighed contently. By the time the three men reached, Bucky's shirt had already been discarded beside his socks.
"Oh no- Steve snorted at the sound of Bucky's belt bucky hitting the floor, his lip sticking out in concentration as he tried to work at the button of his jeans.
"Barnes, I swear if you take your pants off-Damn it" Sam huffed, a pair of black jeans landing on his head. "At least keep your boxers-Oh hell nah" He ducked before Bucky's intimates became aquainted with his face. "Don't you dare helicopter that third leg-he's doing it"
No one intervened as Bucky decided to make himself more comfortable, clearly missing you as he sighed, walking over to your closet. He was in there suspiciously long before emerging with-
"Buck, those are-
"Soft" Bucky hummed, coming out of your closet with a set of pj's you wore often, oversized so they'd be extra comfy. Bucky giggled at the smell of your soft scent, slipping the shirt over his head and putting the pants on, flopping on your bed like a cat. "Smells like y/n"
"Do we just leave him here"
"At least he's wearing pants" Steve sighed, frowning when he heard running footsteps approaching along with a chaotic cackling, who else would be still this active at this hour-
"There you guys are!! We're doing body shots off of- wait you're here. C'mon capsicle, take your shirt off-
"For fucks' sake Tony"
"Where the hell did you get that jacket" Sam's face scrunched when he notice Tony's shirt was missing however he was in a large coat which he'd thrown off, the pile of for landing on a half sleepy Bucky. Bucky's eye peeked open at all the fuss, wrapping himself up in the coat and blissfully falling asleep with his face in your pillow, the rest of the chaos mere white noise.
"SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS-"
"TONY NO"
"TONY YES"
Present
"What do we have here" you coo, giggling at a very disoriented Bucky who blinks up at you with puppy eyes, a pink blush spreading on his face. You'd just returned from your mission with Nat, the entire compound still reeking of alcohol, the hallway littered with various still drunk Avenger men. The only thing that cut through the smell was the fresh breakfast a happy Thor had already started, the only one standing as if nothing had happened.
You'd stepped over a sleeping Sam and Steve in the hallway to get to your room, cocking a brow at the large mound of fur and soft snoring sleeping in your bed.
"Good morning, sweet boy" You brushed back Bucky's hair, bending down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, letting him take his time to figure out his surroundings, "have a fun night"
"Missed you" he mumbled, pulling you to lay on the bed so he could cuddle up with you, his head now resting on your chest instead. "Missed you so much"
"I missed you too, bub" You continued to gently play with his hair, happy your boyfriend got to have a night of fun and thankful that you always kept painkillers in your bedside drawer. Poor baby was going to need it. You noticed the pile of clothes that were thrown on the floor, they were definitely Bucky's but Bucky was in clothes so what was he wearing-
"Buck?"
"hm?" "Are those my pjs?"
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djuvlipen · 5 months ago
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i went to a leftist festival last month and there was a panel dedicated to prostitution, why abolition is the only road to go for leftists and how to help and support prostituted women exiting the trade, and i keep thinking about that union organizer who said, "we hear more and more that 'sex work is work', but if that were true, then there'd be professional trainings leading to a qualification for prostitution, then there'd be prostitution diplomas, then high schoolers could send applications to follow those trainings and become prostitutes. but we all know that all these things don't exist, and if they did exist we would all recognize them for what they are: a grooming business encouraging pedophilia and violence against women and girls." and what she said later; "trade unions that argue that 'sex work is work' never engage in legal battles against pimps or brothel owners. they don't even recognize that pimps are the bosses of the prostitution market. "sex workers' trade unions" don't fight pimps because sex workers' unions don't represent the alleged "workers" (prostituted women), they represent the bosses: pimps."
and that made me think of what Kajsa Ekis Ekman said about the trade unions that consider prostitution to be work and prostituted women to be workers: they offer trainings about condom use and spend millions of dollars funding "worker peer education" about "safe sex".
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So one again, it's prostituted women who are held responsible for the spreading and the prevention of STDs - not the johns, not the pimps. the prostituted women, many of them victims of sex trafficking. "As human trafficking expert Malka Marcovich has pointed out, this means a return to nineteenth-century ideals of hygiene, where the onus was “primarily on the women to take responsibility for the health of ‘the customer’, so diseases would not be spread to their families” (2007, p. 347)."
It's quite obvious to any trade union organizer that prostitution is not work and the sex trade can't be organized as a trade union. a few months ago, the biggest unions in my country (which included the traditional left-wing trade unions as well as students' unions) issued a paper condemning the 'sex work is work' narrative and the pimp lobbies got so mad about that because they know their strategy isn't working because leftists know what left-wing politics look like and they know women's liberation doesn't come from prostitution. Now it's interesting that the biggest voices of the "sex work is work" movement come from the USA, where the anticapitalist left doesn't exist. American liberals love to pass reactionary politics as revolutionary but not because they are stupid in their own country does it mean they should influence the actually left-wing labour movement in other countries, right?
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your-highnessmarvel · 7 months ago
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Insatiable
AN: No one asked for this but the Butcher brain rot is crazy and i can't stop myself. Alas, I couldn't resist so welcome to the madness. Anyway, I went insane and absolutely wrote a devoted piece to this man. Jesus help me.
Warnings: dub-con (use of sex pollen-ish mind control), smut, fingering, language, and Butcher is a warning in and of itself.
MINORS DNI Below the cut
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"I'm not wearing any underwear."
The admonition echoed in the habitat of Butcher's Cadillac like a bird's call. Even the sound of leather on leather, as the man sitting beside you slowly turned to examine you, wasn't loud enough to get the stupid ringing out of your head.
This had all started off like a bad scab you thought was healed but wasn't, and now it was bleeding all over your favorite pink pull.
Hughie and MM had uncovered a rightful piece of Temp V hideout; a Supe's mansion on the Upper East Side who, just happened, to be throwing one of his renowned "XXXchange" parties for Supes and their pets (this was how it was described on the e-vite MM hacked).
This Supe, still unknown to everyone because he kept the mansion under a random woman's name, was supposedly a Seven-in-the-making, as Hughie put it. If he could prove himself, he was next in line for a comfy beige seat in the Tower. So hence, him keeping and distributing Temp V to teens and young adults who didn't know any better.
So what had been Hughie's grand ol' plan? Bring you in. As the newest Supe member of The Boys, no one had yet seen your face. No one even knew of you. You were a low-level "barely considerable" Supe...as Butcher had put it the first time he blew the hinges off your front door.
Your power wasn't really a - well, a power at all. It was mostly an advancement, an intellectual add-on, or a sixth sense. You could read lies. More coherently, because someone with a beard and a giant stick up his ass didn't understand correctly--you could tell when someone was lying.
You weren't really an attribute to the team when it came to brute force. You left that up to Annie and Kimiko. But you had your perks, and since you were still under Vought's radar, you could slip through the cracks and get intel for the Boys.
Now why was Butcher with you, the most notorious Boys' member? Well, one might say he was eager to see your 2-hour fight training in practice, but really, it was because he "didn't trust a dumb twat with highly sensitive information and tech". His words.
So he'd garnished a Tommy Bahama blouse with pink flamingoes and palm trees and a matching set of swim shorts, sunglasses, and a stupid bright pink bucket hat that was way too small for his big ass head.
And now here both of y'all were, headed to the Upper East Side, dressed like a hooker and a pimp. Annie had insisted on this get up, a tiny, tiny pink skirt, a white bikini top, and a pink cover up with flip flops to finish off this fucking look. Because apparently, no one would let you in if you weren't A) a Supe and B) not dressed like a House Bunny.
"So you're tellin' me," Butcher drawled as the New York skyline darkened, "that your bare pussy is suction-cupping my leather seats?"
You crossed your arms. "I'm sitting at an angle."
Butcher slapped the wheel. "You should've told me earlier!" he laughed. You frowned in return when he swivelled that giant head of his towards you. "Come now, if you're not wearing panties, why should I, eh?"
"You wear panties?"
He hummed, regaining control of the road as the car slipped passed the last townhouse to enter Mansion Ville.
"I like you, little Truthteller," he mumbled to himself. "Thought you were a bit worthless at first, but you might just prove yourself tonight!"
You didn't dare answer the last bit, instead focusing on the details Annie and Hughie gave you before you flip-flopped your way into Butcher's passenger seat (and did absolutely not suction-cup his leather seats).
The idea was to go in and place a few bugs in and around the mansion in key locations. You could try to figure out who the Supe was or even find out where he stashed his V, but it didn't matter. The Boys would find out over the bugs.
The mansion Butcher parked the Caddie in front of was like a cookie-cutter version of the 90s PlayBoy mansion.
"Alright, love," Butcher sighed, killing the engine and stepping out, rounding the nose of the car to open the door for you. "Give 'em a nice peek of that minge, eh?"
You blushed from head to toe, a torment of fire assaulting your skin until Butcher caught on and chuckled low in his chest, helping you step out the car with his hand.
You still hadn't gotten used to the crass words that could tumble out of his mouth like vomit.
He guided you to the entrance, where a man dressed in black boxers and a black neck tie asked for your invite number, which you recited from the one Hughie gave you.
Then he asked, "And which is Supe and which is pet?"
You blushed even hotter. "Um." Your throat got sticky and dry all at once. "I'm the Supe and he's my... um, he's my-"
"Her pet," Butcher interrupted with a wide smile, the sunglasses hiding the glint in his eye that was surely showing. That ridiculous bucket hat made him look almost two heads taller than you as he bent down to whisper in your ear, "bark, bark."
You groaned inwardly as you lead him into the foyer, where a sprawling staircase lead to a mezzanine and a mahogany banister and a wide archway gave way to a mess of bodies in the living room.
"Oh my God," you mumbled, turning away from the onslaught of legs and arms and slithering bodies like a pile of snakes.
"Oh, nuh-uh," Butcher chuckled, grabbing you by the shoulders, steering you right into the mass of party-goers, moaning and groaning and thrusting into one another or bouncing on top of each other like mad dogs. "If you want to play the part, you have to look the part." His mouth was right next to your ear, and for some reason, the breath caressing your skin sent a slowly gliding shiver down your spine.
Why was this happening?
You felt the flesh melt where his fingers lay, clutching at your shoulders, pulling your coverup off of you.
"Butcher," you said, stopping his hand.
He shook his head. "Show them what you got, mama," he whispered again, the rough of his beard tracing against your cheek. He scooped the coverup off your shoulders and threw it across the room, leaving you in your bikini top.
Butcher had never seen you so exposed before. You'd always worn pants and t-shirts around the safe house, so watching all that bare skin available to his hungry eyes flipped a switch in his head.
A woman, tall and elegant, cream skin and sultry black eyes, approached you before Butcher could do something stupid. He straightened up, lifting the sunglasses from his nose.
"Miss, look at you," he cooed.
Miss was naked. Someone had left a bite mark on her right breast, just above her peaked nipple. She was so long-limbed and beautiful, and the sight of her naked body made you turn away instinctively.
"I like you," she said, voice low and husky, like a purr.
"I like you too, sweetheart," Butcher answered, the heat of his body completely leaving you as he zeroed in all his attention on the naked, wanting lady before you.
She huffed. "You're great too," she answered, and when you turned, her lascivious brown eyes were settled on you. "But it's her that I want."
Butcher gasped and then erupted in laughter, taking the bucket hat off his head and putting it to his heart. "Woah, I never imagined I'd see this in my lifetime."
The other woman smiled slowly and you gulped. She was pretty, but she was also not part of the mission.
So you back-peddled.
You put a delicate hand to Butcher's arm, digging your nails into his skin, and put on a lovely, sweet smile for the offering girl. "That's nice of you," you said, voice sultry like a wet candy cane. "But we're more interested in watching." As you said this, you dropped into your act as best you could, mustering up the strength not to blush but to play the part of the sex-obsessed Supe.
She brightened up at this, gesturing to Butcher. "Well I could fuck him while you watch," she suggested.
Butcher's body tensed up against you and he turned to you. "Please say yes," he mumbled.
You smiled, throwing him a glance. "Both of us are watchers," you corrected, watching as she bowed her head, a lustrous gleam in her eye.
"It would've been a pleasure," she said before walking away.
When she was climbing onto another woman's lap, Butcher grabbed your bicep and brought you into a corner, sheltered in the dim lighting of the room, smothered under the moans and groans and the sloppy sounds of...intercourse.
"You were this close to fulfilling a fantasy of mine," he groaned, and when you looked up, he looked more angry than turned on.
"We're not here so I can watch you have sex with a woman, asshole!" you gritted between your teeth. ''We're here to plant bugs and find some V."
He huffed, rearranging his Tommy Bahama. "I'm obeying just because you're wearing this outfit," he grumbled, following you as you led them into the next room.
A kitchen, stock full with boxes of canned beverages and food platters.
"Okay, here." You pointed to the dinner table in the adjacent room, a teakwood marvel that surely housed a few meetings or two.
Butcher expertly placed a bug under the table.
You meandered safely through the house, planting bugs in various living rooms, meeting rooms, and spare bedrooms. Whenever some couple or lone masturbator dedicated their attention to you both, you pretended to watch, Butcher enlacing you in his arms.
It's only then you noticed how tall, how big this man was. He was easily dwarfing you by just standing there, your head against his chest, his fingers drawing lazy circles against your exposed spine.
When the onlookers would pass, he'd chuckle as you pushed him away like he was a booger wall.
But the more you traveled in the house, the more people seemed to stare, wanting, questioning. So you ended up holding Butcher's hand, at his command: "Wouldn't want the lovely ladies stealing you away, eh?"
And hand holding turned into his arm around your shoulders, the tip of his very long fingers ghosting your breast.
"Let's go upstairs," he whispered in your ear once he'd bugged up the toilet.
"Ew, no."
He sucked his teeth. "I mean," he gritted, pushing you up against a wall when a man with a considerably large strap on made his way towards you. Butcher bent down, squeezing the breath from your lungs as he grazed his mouth on your bare shoulder. He pressed a featherlight kiss, all while observing the passing man, dragging his lips up to your ear. "We should go bug up the rooms, eh? Maybe see if we can find this cunt's V supply?"
You nodded, a wicked shiver pebbling your flesh.
Butcher blew cold breath onto the thin line of saliva he'd left on your skin. "Cold?"
You swallowed hard. "Let's just go."
He chuckled as you grabebd his hand and led him back to the stairs, galloping up to the second floor.
Truth is, you'd never imagined Butcher like this. He was so arrogant and he loved to make people jump out of their skins by how uncomfortable they were with him, but you'd chopped it up to the old chip on the block; Butcher pushing people away to keep himself safe.
So when the Boys had initiated you, you'd figured it'd be best to steer clear from this tyrant of a man. He was way older than you anyway, and he was always calling you every name in the book except your government given one. And he was always dismissing your ideas, so you'd always assumed he had an image of an immature little girl in his head.
But he'd dreamed of you more times than he cared to count. The messed up parts of his brain, where most of it was left behind in his old life, conjured up hauntings of you every night. Of those soft, plump lips whenever you'd eat cherries. Of your legs in your pajama shorts and your giggle when Kimiko signed something stupid. Of that perfect little body of yours.
"Okay, in here." You interrupted his chain of thought, the one that was going to crash into a puddle brains that would eventually leak out of his ear.
You lead him into a room, which turned out to be some kind of antechamber with a hearth and a giant portrait of a small, bald man.
"He looks like a mouse," you muttered.
But Butcher froze, tearing his hand away from yours. "Oh, fuck me," he groaned, putting his sunglasses and hat onto the low table. "That's the fucking Seducer."
Your skin crawled. You turned, examined Butcher's expression as he leaned against the far wall. "This cum guzzler is the one trafficking V?" he thought to himself, just as you asked, "who's the Seducer?"
Butcher turned to examine you across the room, lit by a few lights in the sconces. "He's the world's number 1 date raper," he answered, frowning. "This guy can intoxicate the female species into a mad heat, like dogs."
"What?" You frowned.
Butcher walked a bit closer, turning his head to watch you out of one eye, like a bird. "Yeah, he secrets this hormone on a whim and boom, bitches go mad for his dick."
"Oh." You swallowed, turned to push the handle of another door, leading to a darkened room fit for a king. "I think this is his room."
Butcher muttered behind you, "Lucky guy if you ask me."
"Trouble getting women, Butcher?" you asked absentmindedly as you entered the dark room, lights from the lawn outside filtering milky-white through the windows, illuminating your path like a trail of snow.
Butcher followed, closing the door behind you. "Not really," he answered, immediately pulling cubbards and drawers open. "The ladies love me."
"Oh, yeah I bet," you muttered, pulling open the wardrobe. A loose floorboard creaked loudly and you froze, turning to meet Butcher's eye.
He scrambled to where you stood, pressing on the floor and repeating the awful creaking sound.
"Pants jizzer must be keeping the V under his floor," he mumbled, pressing until at least 6 floorboards rose from the ground on one end, a whole door to the underside of the Seducer's floor.
"Bingo," you giggled, helping Butcher pull the damn thing open. But there was nothing there, only an empty black space that could've fit maybe two people, gaping at you like a dark maw. "He must have transfered them," you whispered.
"Or he's trafficking other things," Butcher replied darkly.
Just as you were about to close the floorboards, a loud thud rang out in the antechamber. You froze, listening, until a feminine giggle made you and Butcher lock eyes.
"Get in," he whispered, motioning to the black pit under your knees.
"In here!?" you whispered tightly.
Whoever was on the other side was making their way towards the room, painstakingly, and this was not the place you and Butcher needed to be found.
"Yes, fuck, get in," he insisted, and your heart thudded so loudly, so harshly against your throat you thought it would burst right out through your chest.
Shaking, you got into the little space, falling onto your back because you couldn't see where this thing ended. As soon as you got your hair out of your eyes, Butcher was tumbling onto you, closing the floorboards a millisecond before the bedroom door burst open.
Sound was immediately muffled, like being underwater, and the only thing you could hear was your breathing. Butcher's breathing over you. Your heart in your throat, nauseating you, the adrenaline rushing like a flood in your veins.
Butcher's chest heaving against yours, the entire length of him pressed up on you like a heavy blanket.
"Get off," you whispered, feeling the heat of his forearm next to your head.
"There's no space," he grumbled, his voice catching on your cheek, your neck, as he tried to maneuver himself every which way that meant he wasn't pressed up on you, but he was just so damn big, like hiding with a grizzly bear, that whenever he tried to move, he just ended up being half on and half off you.
"Fuck it," he grumbled, pressing one hand under your thigh, wrenching a gasp from your throat as he placed himself comfortably between your legs.
The pressure of him on your bare bottom half made you freeze, heart hammering like an angry drum against your ribcage. The way you were positioned, thighs wide open, knees bent each side of his waist, made the skimpy little skirt bundle up onto your tummy, leaving you completely bare.
"Hush up, little thing," Butcher whispered in your ear, holding himself up on his forearms as not to crush the breath out of you. But his voice was wretched, pulled and tight, no doubt reacting to the heat he could feel through the thin fabric of his swim shorts.
The noise overhead intensified; a moan, a few garbled words, thudding.
"They're going to do it while he lie here," you whispered, hands balled up by your sides.
Butcher chuckled silently, breath fanning your neck. "So we really are voyeurs."
You smiled, holding back a giggle until a heavy thud caught your attention and the voices suddenly got a bit clearer. They were right over you.
A woman's voice floated through. "How ever I can serve you, Seducer."
The last word made your insides coil in fear. It looked like this woman was answering a command from the Seducer himself, the man who owned this house, who trafficked all the V and worked with Vought.
"Fuck," Butcher muttered. "This is worse than I thought."
"Why?" you asked silently, your fingers trembling against your thighs.
You felt him bend forward, his body tight like a rod. "This is going to hurt, love."
And just as you were about to ask what he was about to do, a soft pang echoed in your lower belly, like someone had tied a rope to your bellybutton and pulled. You squirmed, the thudding overhead leading back to the bed.
The pulling again, making you heave in a breath, squeeze your eyes shut. "No, no, no," you muttered, feeling an ache build between your legs, a force pull through your veins like molten honey.
The Seducer was using his power. And it wasn't just affecting the woman he was with... it was starting to affect you.
You felt yourself clench on nothing but air when the ache throbbed against your clit, like an invisible vacuum seal had closed over it, and you lifted your hips off the floor slightly.
Butcher immediately grabbed your hip, bringing you back down forcibly, sending a new wave of heat, of ache, of hurt through your body just at the touch of his bare fingers on your bare hip.
"Don't," he breathed, his word clipped. "Don't do that."
He could feel the heat of you through his shorts, just how impossibly hot you were, probably dripping from the Seducer's power, and the little control he exhibited around you was pulling quite taut.
"It hurts, Butcher," you gritted through your teeth, hands settling on his shoulders for support as another wave of need, of painful, painful need, throbbed through your body like a pulsing nuclear explosion. Your legs tightened around his waist, nails digging into the fabric of his Tommy Bahama. "Make it stop," you pleaded, heaving, throwing your head back, bucking your hips to get the pain to stop. Just stop.
Butcher huffed, cradling your face, his insides in turmoil with his brain. God had given him such a gift right now, a chance to take you, mark you as his, finally fuck that perfect little body--and he didn't know if he was man enough to stop himself.
You groaned in pain, subconsciously grinding your bare pussy against his thigh, searching for any kind of friction, of relief. Your skin was so hot, sweat beading your forehead as you braced through another wave of this unknown ache, throbbing relentlessly against your clit, deep inside you, just grazing your g-spot.
Your fingers balled into fists against his shirt, your face finding his chest, and you sobbed, "Make it stop, Butcher, please, it hurts."
You weren't aware that your hips had started grinding against his thigh, the knee he'd placed between your legs for leverage. And just the fact that he could feel his shorts getting soaked had him straining against the stitches of his sanity.
"There's only one way," he breathed against your ear. You sobbed, heaving, breathing raggedly, grinding so hard on his knee it was almost pathetic. "Are you sure you want to try?" he asked, voice trembling.
You sniffed, hung onto his neck for dear life. "Please, anything, this is--ah--this is unbearable."
He bent his head, mumbled for God to forgive him, and then pressed a deep, hard kiss on your lips, pressing you back into the floor completely. Somewhere above him, he heard a woman moan loudly, but the only thing that registered to him was the way you clung to him like a pawing animal.
A strangled moan, quiet and restrained, left your throat, caught behind your teeth as he ravaged your mouth.
"N-no," you mumbled. "No."
He pulled away, kissing your jaw, your neck until your were humping his thigh like a woman gone mad.
"This the only way, little Truthteller," he murmured in your ear, dragging his knee away and feeling your entire body go stiff against him.
A whine, like delicious music, lifted to his ear and he groaned inwardly. He had to convince himself he was doing it for you, but half of him was delighted at the idea of finally having you. Like a meal he'd been mouth-watering over for some time, and now it was fresh and warm right in front of him.
"I need," you muttered, groaning through another wave of the Seducer's power, your hips bucking into nothing. "I need..."
"You need to cum, little dove," Butcher whispered, caressing the side of your face and you shook your head.
"No."
"Yes, love," he muttered, tracing the line of your neck, down your chest until he softly cupped your breast.
A quiet moan rippled along your throat like a symphony to his ears. He played with your hard nipple through the fabric until he pushed it aside and replaced his thumb with the warmth of his mouth.
"Fuck," you whispered, pushing against his shoulders. "This is wrong." Your voice was so thin.
Butcher lapped at your nipple like an ice cream cone. "Want me to do this to your pretty little pussy?" he mumbled, and the crass words sent a hot wave of need pulsing painfully between your legs.
His other hand skimmed down your side, over the swell of your hip, and down to where you needed him most.
When he swiped a slow finger across your soaked folds, the grunt that left him was purely predatory. "You're so fucking wet," he whispered, to the accompanying sound of your panting. He brushed his thumb across your clit, holding you down as you jolted, flicking his tongue against your nipple.
"Butcher, please," you begged.
"Billy, love," he whispered, raising his head to kiss the corner of your mouth, brushing his thumb against your clit once more to capture your gasp in his kiss. "Call me Billy."
You gripped onto his shoulders, feeling the wide, powerful muscle of his right hand playing with you.
He pressed three fingers flat against you and you bucked, searching for more, as he circled slowly, starting you off.
"Say it," he commanded quietly, circling your clit faster.
"Billy," it came out as a whine and he groaned lowly, capturing your lips and kissing down your throat. The way his fingers played you like a harp wrenched a pornographic moan from your throat and immediately, Billy put a hand over your mouth, the skin between his thumb and forefinger snug under your nose.
"Quiet for me, little Truthteller," he whispered.
He moved his fingers to your entrance and slipped one in so easily it was almost embarrassing. He cooed at you, gliding his finger in and out so slowly it was almost arrogant. "So fucking wet, this perfect little hole."
You keened, squeezing your eyes shut at his crude words, searching for more friction until the heel of his hand pressed snuggly against your clit.
Your hips moved on their own, bucking against his hand as he pumped his finger, faster and faster until your pants turned into hyperventilating and your legs started to close around his hips.
"Got my whole hand drenched, pretty love," he whispered. "That perfect little cunt can handle another finger?"
You preened against his hand, your sounds muffled against his large, meaty palm and he chuckled at you.
The second finger was a tighter fit, his thick digits spreading you and squelching into you slowly.
"Ah, there's my girl," he moaned in your ear. "Fucking my fingers like a good girl."
You wanted to tell him to quit teasing, to bring you to orgasm as quickly as possible because the heat stirring under your skin was insatiable, but you didn't understand how much Billy was enjoying himself. He didn't know when he'd get a chance to have you so willingly spread open for him again, or if he'd ever get the chance again. So he savored this moment like a dying man's last meal.
He let you adjust to his fingers, fucking them into you, palming your clit before he thrust in another finger, opening you wide to him. You gurgled against his hand, muffled moans and pleas stuck behind his palm.
He didn't miss just how tight you were around his fingers, how snug and warm. "So tight, my little love," he cooed, thrusting his fingers in and out slowly, enjoying the way your hips bucked.
The sloppy sounds of your cunt sucking on his fingers drove you mad and a hot, painful knot formed in your belly, pulling and tugging at your insides.
He felt you trembling, your orgasm on the horizon, and he lifted his hand off your mouth, capturing your lips in a warm, sloppy kiss.
"Want you to cum with my name in your mouth," he mumbled, almost incoherent in his chase for your climax. He pressed his thumb to your mouth, opening it, listening to your panting, your quiet moans as he fucked his fingers into your cunt, pressing down on your clit, rubbing it with his palm.
"Billy," you breathed. "Billy. Billy." Like a mantra, a prayer.
"That's it, my pretty girl," he whispered, thumb on your tongue, fingers fucking your pussy until that knot in your bely tightened impossibly and your legs went numb. "Cum my pretty dove, gush all over my hand, come on now."
He grunted against you, and somehow, that guttural, manly sound made stars explode in your belly and you came, shuddering his name quietly, over and over and over until the pleasure had seeped out of your veins and you crumbled back to the floor. You felt his fingers slip out of you, his wet hand pull your knee apart, press against the meat of your thigh, spreading you wide, wide open.
He slithered down your body like a snake, pushing you up against the confines of this box until you felt the warm breath of him against your clit. When he lapped at you, humming around your hole like a satiated man, you mumbled his name, searching with your hands until you grabbed onto the thick strands of his hair. Panting, you mumbled his name again.
"Just having a taste, love," he mumbled, sucking on your over-sensitive clit until the heat came blasting through you again, all over, like you were under the Seducer's spell again.
"Fuck," you gritted, biting your lip, caging in the awfully loud, guttural moan that wanted to spring free.
Billy grabbed onto your hips, holding them down, his forearm over your belly like an anchor.
"One more, little Truthteller," he mumbled, flicking your clit with his tongue, his beard scraping on the inside of your sensitive thighs.
"Billy, please," you whined softly.
"Always wanted a taste," he said. Not a lie. "Always wanted to tongue-fuck this perfect hole." Not a lie.
He pressed his tongue flat to your clit, sucked and nibbled on it until he pressed his tongue right into your cunt, fucking you with his tongue like he'd promised. The mix of his hot breath, his tongue inside your walls, his thumb working on your clit made all your senses flush full of adrenaline. Bucking against his face, you rode his mouth until another flash burst through you and you came all over his face, grinding down on his nose until the last waves of your orgasm had left you.
When he climbed back over, kissing your belly, your nipple, covering you with his warmth, you were just a numb shell of the girl you were when you walked in here.
Billy kissed your jaw, your neck, stroking your hair as you regained your senses.
Whoever had been overhead had gone. It was completely silent. And it left you wondering if that last wave of need had been the Seducer's spell or Billy's.
"We should go, love," he whispered. "Before I stuff you full of my cock and have you cumming on it for the third time."
His filthy mouth brought you back to your body, cold and sweaty and oh so comfortable with two orgasm singing in your veins.
"Yeah," you whispered as Billy pushed the trap door open, peaking out to make sure the coast was clear, and then hopping out. He helped you out with his hand, gentle and calm, smoothing down your hair, covering your nipple, patting down your two-inch skirt.
"I've made a real good mess of you, love, eh?" he chuckled, standing and taking your hand. "Was I a good pet?"
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beansprean · 3 months ago
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E11 Ideas in no particular order:
Simon the Devious rug pull/reveal
Simon the Devious was behind the documentary all along. He is Greg the camera guy. The documentary was produced by the Daltry Brothers Production Company with thanks to the Toby Daltry Memorial Film Foundation
Outrageous nandermo flirting throughout
Nandermo secret off-camera relationship (we already have canon nandermo QPR I just wanna remind everyone Guillermo is officially in the polycule)
We find out via tv news in the background that Jordan got hit with that sign Nandor threw and he died (no one cares bc they are doing more interesting things)
Nandermo get served by the local Staten Island Chapter of Vampire Vigilantes for operating as superheroes without a permit
"Clip show" where they all watch the documentary
"Clip show" where they all watch the documentary and its full of 'deleted' scenes that we have never seen before (leading to revealed secrets and arguments and confessions and-)
1 hour special that is literally the documentary (with a special guest narrator)
The Guide x Miguel I am so serious
The entire episode is just a backdoor pilot for a spinoff series (seanmaine sitcom?) (life as cravensworth's robinson's monster?)
The house blows up/is destroyed somehow
Colin, as part of the house based on my own personal EV lore, dies or nearly dies bc of this. They get a new house and bury him there and then he pops back up babystyled and the monster has to be his dad now
The monster sacrifices himself to save his dads (noooo!!!!!!!!)
Last scene all the vampires are going into the fancy room to have an orgy and Nandor pokes his head out to say 'arent you coming Guillermo?' and he grins and shrugs at the camera and goes in and thats how it ends
Jenna was there The Whole Time (please god it would be so funny i will die on this hill)
Guillermo dies and Nandor has to turn him anyway
Guillermo dies and Nandor tries to turn him but apparently thats how energy vamps are made whoopsie
Laszlo says "Guillermo" correctly
Red carpet premiere of the documentary with all the fan favorite characters returning as guests
(maybe even including the two Freddies bc it would be very funny. Nandor getting jealous like excuse me step away from Guillermo you had your chance and Freddie is like oh sorry no I'm the other Freddie and Nandor is like o rly hello and Guillermo is like exCUSE ME STEP AWA-)
Red carpet premiere of the documentary with all the fan favorite characters returning as guests that turns out to be a trap set by the Vampiric Council and they all have to fight their way out of that shit again
Red carpet premiere of the documentary that turns out to be a trap set by Batdor and Robllermo to murder a bunch of rich people
Nadja starts an mlm foot pic empire with the monster as her bouncer (dressed in a cute little pimp suit and feathered hat)
Somehow, the Witch's Skin Hat has returned
Guillermo returns to his pre-corporate color palette (greens and browns and reds and patterns pls!!) but its well fitted and non shitty sweaters
All the ghosts of all the people they ever killed/buried at the house rise up and attack (including lisa's severed head), and this somehow leads to Dolly finishing her unfinished business and saying goodbye
The Guide is proud and relieved to see that Nandor is no longer obsessed with her and they are buddies now
She insinuates that he found what he was looking for (in Guillermo). sometimes you hurt every woman in your life because your soulmate is a man
Sean dies (noooooo!!!!!!!!)
Sean gets turned into a vampire
Sean gets turned into a vampire and immediately breaks every rule and also turns Charmaine and somehow manages to take over the entire eastern seaboard and overthrow Tilda Swinton as supreme leader of the Vampiric Council
MAJOR timeskip, like multiple years or even decades. 10 year retrospective post-documentary release?
They recreate the supernatural finale beat for beat, complete with colin in a very bad wig and two covers of "you're dead" back to back to fill up the runtime
Vampire society rises up against the house after the documentary is released and they all die
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squiddyfics · 17 days ago
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get gone
namgyu x f!reader
description: namgyu’s long hours spent at the club, wasting his life away, have gotten to you. you finally decide to leave him, but it doesn’t hurt to say goodbye first.
18+ minors dni
warnings: nsfw, angst, drugs mentioned, unprotected piv, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation
a/n: happy valentine's day hehe
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
He broke his promise.
Namgyu's shift at the club always ends at two in the morning, but he's never home when he's supposed to be. Whenever he does finally return, his eyes are bloodshot and his mood is sour.
You couldn't stand by and watch him ruin his life, destroying his physical and mental health each weekend as he delves into a world of illicit substances and people who don't give a fuck about whether he lives or dies.
That's why you made him swear to stop staying at the club past his shift. You respect that he has a job to do, but beyond that, there's no reason for him to stay out and slowly kill himself.
Last week, he actually stuck to his word, which was a pleasant surprise. It made you hopeful that he was finally turning things around, for once prioritizing his life with you over cheap thrills.
But now it's three a.m., and he's nowhere to be seen. You run your hands over your face, attempting to stay awake. You won't be set at ease until you see him walk through the door. Each night he doesn't come home on time is a night you spend worrying that he's finally succumbed to the consequences of his actions, leaving you alone in the world.
He never texts you back on these nights, either. You open your phone and click on your text thread with him, fruitlessly hoping that things might be different tonight. Of course not; your messages remain unanswered.
You can't keep doing this anymore, can't keep caring about a man who doesn't care about himself. Up until now, you've stuck by his side, scared that if you left him he'd spiral even further. Enough is enough, though. You have a life to live, and without spending so much of your time stressing about Namgyu's well-being, you'd be much freer.
These are your last thoughts before you pass out on the couch, unable to force yourself to stay awake any longer.
The sound of keys in the door wakes you back up. When you open your eyes, it's lighter in the apartment; the sun is beginning to rise. You check the time on your phone.
6:09.
Namgyu opens the door and looks surprised to see you in the living room. You meet his eyes with a glare.
"Thanks for finally gracing me with your presence," you snap.
"Chill," he says, and the word sends a surge of anger coursing through you. "I just spent a few extra hours networking."
"Networking?" you scoff. "Is that what you call getting fucked up and partying with junkies?"
"I made hella tips," he says. "This group of super-rich dudes said they'd keep giving me money as long as I could convince the bottle-service girl to sit with them."
"Oh, okay, so now you're pimping out your coworkers. That makes me feel so much better."
He throws his keys down on the table much harder than necessary. "Are you seriously mad that I'm making money? Would you rather we get fucking evicted?"
"I'm mad that you broke my trust!" you shout back. "You were supposed to leave at two, Namgyu. You promised."
He kicks off his shoes and storms toward you. "You think I want to be out for twelve hours straight? I'm doing this for us. I would've thought you'd be grateful, but I guess that's expecting too much of you."
"Oh, fuck you." You laugh, but there's no humor behind it. "Don't try to spin this as if doing lines in the club bathroom is somehow for my sake."
"I'm playing the game," he says. "This is the world I work in; this is what you signed up for when you started dating me."
"Well, I'm done now. I'm done."
He pulls the sleeves of his slightly oversized dress shirt over his hands. Normally you'd find this cute, but right now it's just pissing you off.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm telling you I can't do this anymore," you say. "This isn't how I want to live."
"You don't mean that." He shakes his head. "You haven't slept. Let's go to bed and talk about this in the morning."
"Motherfucker, it is the morning," you spit, gesturing to the sunrise outside your window. "And I mean every word of what I'm saying to you right now. I can't stay with you; not when this is the path you're choosing for yourself."
Suddenly Namgyu's apathetic expression morphs into one of concern, and he's on his knees in front of you, grabbing your hands. "No, baby. You don't need to leave. This was the last time, I swear."
"You swore the same thing the other week, but that didn't seem to mean much to you."
"It's different this time," he says, rubbing his thumbs over your hands as if that will fix anything. "I understand now. I know you don't really want to go, so let's just talk this through, yeah?"
"You didn't even have the decency to send me a text." Your voice is smaller now. "I can't spend my nights wondering if you'll make it home in one piece. It's killing me."
"I'll change."
"It's too late," you say. "I've made up my mind."
Still kneeling in front of you, Namgyu hugs your waist, pressing his cheek against your stomach. "You can't leave me. You can't."
God, he's so fucking pathetic.
“Get off of me,” you say, but he only squeezes you tighter.
“You’re not leaving. You’re not leaving.” He says it like a prayer.
“Get the fuck up,” you tell him. “This is just sad.”
He does get up, but instead of walking away, he leans over you, pressing a desperate kiss to your lips. Despite how angry you are, you kiss him back.
He puts his hands on your waist and pulls you up so you're standing too. Your own hands find his face, fingers tracing over the features you've come to know so well, the features you'll be saying goodbye to.
As he guides you to the bedroom, still kissing you, you break apart just enough to say, "This doesn't change anything."
Namgyu throws you down on the bed and climbs on top of you, his lips and hands laying claim to every part of your body. He’s always been physically affectionate, but he’s touching you even more now, with the ravenous passion of someone who knows this could be the last time.
He kisses your neck in just the right spot, and grips your breasts with just the right amount of pressure, perfectly riding the line between pain and pleasure. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good he makes you feel, but you can't help the moan that escapes your lips.
"How could you give this up?" he mutters against your skin. "No one knows your body like I do. It'll never be this good with anyone else."
You know it's true, but you don't want to think about that right now. Instead, you decide to show him what he'll be missing out on, everything he lost due to the consequences of his own reckless actions. You reach down and wrap your hand around the bulge in his pants, squeezing lightly.
He reacts to your touch instantly, rocking into you as curses fall from his lips. He grasps at the hem of your shirt, urging it off of you. "I need you."
One by one, each piece of clothing separating you and Namgyu from one another is tossed aside, until there's no barrier between you. He grinds against you, sliding his shaft along your wet slit. His cock twitches at the moan he elicits from you.
Given his obvious desperation, you expect him to fuck you without hesitation. You're surprised when he lowers his face between your legs, kissing your inner thighs.
You tangle your fingers in his hair as he licks up your slit, taunting you. You attempt to push his head to the right spot, but he's taking his sweet time. By the time his lips encircle your clit, you're already bucking and moaning like a madwoman.
"Fuck, Namgyu," you breathe.
Your reaction spurs him on, and he pushes two fingers inside you, fucking you with his hand while he continues to suck on your clit. There's no warning; you're climaxing in record time, falling apart beneath him as your high racks your body in violent waves.
Namgyu doesn't give you even a second to recover. You're still panting, your walls still clenching as he pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean before raising himself back up and slamming into you.
You cry out, but he silences you with a kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, all your senses in overdrive as he fucks you mercilessly.
"Oh god, Namgyu, hold on, I'm—" but you're cut short as another orgasm rips through your body.
You grip his hips, attempting to still him, to ease the pressure on your sensitive core, but he's relentless. He pounds into you at a shocking pace, and the overstimulation causes tears to well up in your eyes.
"Who else is gonna do this for you?" he asks through gritted teeth. "Who else is gonna fuck you until you can't think straight?"
You shake your head, unable to respond; the pleasure is overwhelming.
"Fucking answer me."
Between moans, you manage to gasp out, "No one."
Your words send him over the edge, and he finishes deep inside you with a guttural growl.
A moment later, he’s collapsing on the bed beside you. He drapes an arm and leg over you in one final weary effort to keep you by his side.
After taking a minute to catch your breath, you slip out from under his grasp and stand up. You clean yourself up quickly, then start getting dressed.
“What are you doing?” Namgyu asks, pulling on his boxers.
“I told you, I’m leaving.”
You grab a suitcase and open up the drawers of your wardrobe, stuffing clothes inside. Namgyu shoots up and rushes to your side frantically. Each time you move to grab a handful of clothes, he takes a pile of them back out of your suitcase, shoving them haphazardly back into the drawer.
“Stop it!” you shout, but he continues to unpack your suitcase, trapping you in an endless cycle. “You’re acting like a child. Let me leave or I’m calling the fucking police.”
He ceases for a moment to laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
He steps back then, finally seeming to understand the gravity of the situation. He sits down on the bed, watching as you gather up your belongings.
You grab a smaller bag and take it to the bathroom, throwing your toiletries inside. Once you’ve gotten all the necessities together, you take what’s left of your life and head down the hallway.
You hear his quick footsteps on the floor behind you, but you don’t turn around.
“Wait,” he says, his voice cracking. “Wait, please. Don’t leave me. I love you.”
You swallow hard, but you still don’t look at him. Seeing his face will only make it harder to go, and you know this is what you need to do. Without another word, you open the door and shut it behind you.
Maybe one day Namgyu will pull himself together, and maybe then a life with him will be possible. Until then, you can’t keep putting yourself through the torture of loving him.
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revelboo · 5 months ago
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Are you okay writing for tfp Knockout or Breakdown? Maybe they are either another (human) racer or heck even someone who works at the car wash who gives some of the best cars waxes, Knockout befriended. That or maybe they’re a mech experiment (mostly) human survivor that helped Breakdown escape MECH. Or literally whatever you see happening these where just some of my suggestions. The floor is yours if you’re okay writing for them? Thanks either way 😄
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My Favorite Accident
Knockout x reader-race
• Huh. Of all the ways you might have imagined you’d die, death by a furious, alien pimp car wouldn’t have made the top ten. Or hundred. Fingers going white knuckled on the helmet in your hands, you feel curiously numb. Drag racing was dangerous and sooner or later, you’d push your luck past the point of no return. But this?
• When you’d managed to pass that stupidly gorgeous, red sports car for the third night in a row, you’d wanted to laugh your head off. Maybe dance a victory jig because your old, rusty Trans Am looked like an ad for tetanus and it’d still beaten all those other pretty, expensive cars. So yeah, when the candy apple red car had followed you and stayed right on your bumper after the race, you’d sucked it up and pulled over. Letting the guy follow you to your house wasn’t happening. If you were going to get screamed at, it was going to be on your terms.
• You grab your switchblade out of the center console and slide it into your back pocket in case wealthy sports car guy decided he could try and bully you out of your winnings. Hip cocked and arms folded across your chest, you wait for the guy to get out and yell- probably accuse you of cheating.
• That sound was something you’d never forget, almost a musical thing as metal shifted and rearranged. And grew to tower over you in the form of a sleek robot.
• An infuriated robot as it takes a thunderous step your way and your helmet hits the asphalt. More than anything, you want to run. The problem is your body isn’t on board. You can’t move at all as it crouches down. “Mind telling me how you beat me in that scrap heap?”
• Cold fury sparking through him, Knockout glares down at the human staring up at him. “Well?” He demands. “You cheated didn’t you?” Because there’s no way a human beat him in that… abomination. It’s not even a car, more a mobile scrap heap. And that just makes it so much worse.
• Huh. Indignation wins out over common sense. “I’m a better driver,” you say. Those strange black and red eyes narrow and you have the thought that you can duck, grab the helmet and sling it at the robot. Maybe buy yourself a whole thirty seconds before it stomps you to death.
• What you don’t expect is for it to throw up an arm in all too human exasperation. “Hardly. I’ve been driving long before you were even alive,” it says, walking past you to stalk around your car. “Do you have any idea how mortifying it is to lose to… this? What it does to my reputation?”
• You can breathe now that it’s not glaring down at you, because it’s popping the hood on your car and shaking its head in disgust. “That’s gotta hurt, huh?” You snark, wincing as it glowers at you over its shoulder with murderous intent.
• “We’re going again. Now.” Because he can’t stand it. And it’s been a long time since anyone’s given him a real challenge. A thrill of electric anticipation makes him smile when your uneasy expression smooths into a cocky sureness, because he knows you won’t just let him win- you’ll fight him tooth and nail for it. A kindred spirit.
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impala-dreamer · 7 months ago
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It's Fucking Unprofessional
A Story from The Boys Universe
~ While working as a PA for Vought, Y/N has made one promise to herself: to stay the fuck away from Soldier Boy. Some promises are too easily broken…~
Soldier Boy x F!Reader
2,434 Words
NSFW. Snark. Cursing. Assholery. Fucking. 
For @jacklesversebingo “You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions”
JacklesBingo Masterlist
Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works
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He was terrifying up close. 
It wasn’t just the knowledge that he could rip her apart with a simple flick of his wrist, or shove her so hard she’d splatter against the wall like a bug on a windshield. It was much worse than all that. It was the fact that he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. His green eyes behind that mask were piercing… the way his muscles pulsed beneath the suit was mesmerizing… the way he walked with that bow-legged swagger was sexy as hell. Being attracted to the epic piece of shit was way more dangerous than the threat of death.  
When Y/N got the job at Vought Studios, she made a promise to her diary and herself. In no way would she get so close to him as to give away the fact that her innocent pussy dripped whenever he was around. She would ignore him entirely. Besides, his behavior was reprehensible. His attitude toward women was disgusting. His ass was so perky and tight and… No. She was going to be strong. She was going to steer clear of all that nonsense.  
Not that he’d ever pay attention to someone like her. The key aspect of her job was to be neither seen nor heard; just a person waiting in the wings to hand off a prop, run and get coffee, and clean up the dressing rooms. It would be easy to stay in the shadows, completely off his radar. 
Soldier Boy was pissed. 
He may have actually been pissed as well as just angry: he stank of rye and stale cigarettes, and fumbled over his lines more than a few times. 
For over an hour, he held the crew hostage while attempting to film his required Anti-Drug PSA. Vought was trying to score some points with the public by helping out D.A.R.E. by pimping out their celebrity supes for commercial spots. Soldier Boy was next in line and very unhappy about it. 
After the twentieth take, he demanded caffeine and production halted until Y/N returned with a styrofoam cup full of black coffee. 
Y/N held her breath and tried to walk away without really looking at him, but Soldier Boy flipped. He sniffed the drink and sneered. 
“Is this hot?” 
Y/N stepped back as he stared into her eyes, daring her to say something. A wave of arousing fear washed over her as he slammed the cup to the floor. It splintered like rotted wood and the hot liquid went everywhere. 
“Iced!” 
She jumped. 
He raged on. 
“Iced coffee!” he screamed. “It’s not hard!” 
Nerves ran down her spine and Y/N moved to grab a rag from the craft table.
“It’s fucking unprofessional!” 
A knot formed in her chest and instead of shying away, she felt a surge of defiance. 
“You’re fucking unprofessional,” she ripped under her breath. 
Soldier Boy’s head cocked to the side. She felt his eyes on the back of her neck, digging in. 
“Excuse me?” 
Y/N turned back with the cleaning rag in hand. “Hmm?” 
His jaw clenched and his upper lip twitched. “The fuck did you say to me?” 
Batting her eyes innocently, Y/N shrugged and bent down to mop up the spill. “I didn’t say anything.” 
His anger followed her down, watching as she dabbed at the floor. Leaning close, he whispered a warning. “I have super hearing, you know.”
Y/N hummed as if she found him boring even though she was screaming inside. “That must be fun for you.” 
Again, his teeth gnashed together and she swore she could feel the air around them grow hotter. A deep growl rumbled in the back of his throat and Y/N met his gaze, unfazed but terrified. He was taken aback by her bravery and somewhat impressed by her attitude.
“You know-”
The director called for attention and Soldier Boy sat back up, getting ready while keeping one eye on the mouthy PA. 
“OK! Let’s run again!”
If he got through two lines in a row, it was shocking. More than once, he stopped just to glare at Y/N. She couldn’t tell if he was contemplating snapping her neck or undressing her with his eyes, so she kept her arms crossed and her expression cool. 
“If taking drugs is uncool,” he mumbled, laughing at himself, “then I’m the most uncool motherfucker on the planet…” 
Some of the crew laughed along, but Y/N sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. “You really are,” she muttered. 
His laugh died away instantly and he threw daggers with his eyes. “Fuck you.” 
Y/N cocked a brow. “Like I’d let you,” she laughed. 
Soldier Boy straightened up, surprised. His annoyance turned to interest and he licked his lips. “Oh, I think you’d let me.” 
She tongued her cheek and popped a hip. “You think?” 
“I know.” 
“Pfft.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.” 
His smile faded and she turned away, giving him a literal cold shoulder. 
The air shifted and her heart stopped when his big hand wrapped around her upper arm, jerking her back a step. 
His lips grazed her ear. “You wanna rethink that last statement, sweetheart?”
Y/N tried to wrench her arm away but his grip was absolute. She spun around to face him and nearly lost her footing. He was impossibly close and regrettably gorgeous. She gasped. 
“Get off me.” 
He blinked slowly and looked her over. He could hear her heart pounding, see the blood rush to her cheeks, smell her arousal. “You’re so… interesting.”
She swallowed hard. “W-What?” 
“Defiant and bitchy, but oh so hot for me.” 
“Fuck you, no I’m not.” Again, she twisted her arm to break free but it was no use. 
His fingers tightened, bruising her flesh. “You are,” he grinned. “I can smell it.” 
“You’re disgusting,” she spat. 
Behind them, the director tried to regain control. 
“Um- let’s uh- if we could just go one more time-” 
Soldier Boy shook his head. “No. We got it.” 
“We really didn’t,” the man pleaded. “I really think we should go again from the top.” 
“No,” he repeated, dragging his eyes down her trembling body. “That’s a wrap!” 
She wasn’t sure if he was carrying her or if they were simply moving too fast for her brain to register her feet on the ground. 
Soldier Boy broke the lock on a random office door and shoved Y/N inside. He flipped on the lights and kicked the door shut as he turned to smirk at her. 
“Now, where were we?” 
Y/N backed away, internally battling her desire and aversion. “I believe I was telling you what a piece of shit you are.” 
He laughed at her daring words. “You’re something else, you know that?”   
She shrugged, playing it cool. “It’s been said.”
“Yeah, but not by me.” With a smug smile, he pulled the mask from his face and ran a hand through his hair. 
Y/N felt her defenses crack. Her vision blurred for a second. “Um… I… really don’t care what you think, actually.” 
He clicked his tongue and took a step closer. “I think you do, actually.” 
Her heart skipped two beats in a row and then struggled to catch up. “Actually, you can fuck off.”  
“Maybe.” Soldier Boy grinned and closed the space between them. “Or…” He reached for her throat and her body tensed. Instead of a death grip, he slipped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her close. He was gentle, but she could feel the strength pulsing underneath his touch. “I can fuck you.”
She couldn’t think of a protest that would even remotely come off as true but it didn’t matter anyway. Before she could speak, his lips were on her and her mind melted. He slid his tongue between her lips and her breath stopped. He ran his left hand across her tits and her legs went weak. 
When he pulled back, she swayed forward, caught in his pull and utterly on fire for him. 
His laugh was smug. His lips were wet and plump. 
“Knew you couldn’t resist me,” he teased. “But it was a nice try.” 
Every bit of resistance faded into his grin and Y/N dove at him, grabbing a fistful of the fabric collar loose around his throat. He laughed into her hungry kiss and set his hands on her hips. He lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather, and slammed her down onto the desk like she was simply a toy for his amusement. 
He rocked into her and Y/N moaned loudly. His cock was hard and she reached down, rubbing him through the spandex tights. 
“How- how do these come off?” she whimpered, tugging at his bottoms. 
Another deep kiss blew her mind and Soldier Boy held her chin in two fingers, stretching her throat and setting her face where he wanted. She held the pose while he backed away and stripped for her. Layer after layer of forest green and woody brown fell away and Y/N clenched her thighs tight as more muscle was revealed. 
“Fuck… you’re gorgeous,” she breathed. 
He smirked and spread his feet apart. “I know.” Grabbing his dick, he stroked himself slowly and nodded at her. “Now you.” 
Y/N shivered and hopped down from the desk. Nervously, she tugged at the hem of her oversized periwinkle sweater and yanked it up. 
Soldier Boy sucked his teeth. “No. Slowly.”
She took a breath and started again, this time lifting away the soft polyester slowly and deliberately. Next came her jeans and he hummed in lustful admiration as she tugged the acid-washed denim down her thighs.  
“Very nice.” 
Embolden, Y/N turned and shook her ass for him as she unhooked her bra. 
“Go on…” 
She tossed the garment over her shoulder. 
“Keep going.”
Aching with anticipation, she slid her hands into her panties and inched them down, bending at the hips and showing him everything. 
“Fucking hell…” 
He was on her in a second; big hands tight on her hips, hard cock snug between her thighs. He settled there for a moment, letting her juices drip down onto his throbbing shaft. She leaned back and he scratched his fingers up her sides and scooped her tits into his warm palms.
“Fuck… your hands are so big,” she mewed. 
He jerked his hips and the tip of his cock slid against her clit. 
“Just my hands?” 
Y/N bit her lip and wiggled against him. “Let’s find out.”
He flipped her over like it was nothing and threw her down on the edge of the desk. She spread her legs wide and he set up camp between them. 
“You ready?” he asked, already lining up. 
She nodded breathlessly and arched her back off the desk, begging. “Do it. Please!”
It was almost painful the way he snapped his hips into her. His thick cock spread her apart and her flesh burned at the pull. She bit back a scream when he pressed all the way in; dropped her jaw when he tugged her hips down off the desk. His blunt nails sunk into her soft curves, nearly drawing blood. She held her breath. He thrust his cock deeper inside. She lost her mind. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” It was all she could say and it amused him like nothing else. 
With a grunt, Soldier Boy lifted her legs high and pushed forward, bending her in half. The new angle pushed him in so deep Y/N thought she could feel his cock tap against the base of her throat. She gagged and her eyes rolled. He laughed and dipped down to lick at her lips. 
“What a good little bitch,” he teased. “Taking my cock so good.” 
She moaned with each hard thrust and her tongue rolled out of her mouth. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. There was nothing but mindless, pounding pleasure and his bright green eyes. 
He ran his tongue up hers and hummed. “That’s a good idea.” 
In a flash, she was on her knees, swaying side to side as he stroked his cock. His fist was a blur, her eyes were white. 
“Open wide.” 
Y/N dropped her jaw and he slid inside. 
“Suck.” 
Her lips clamped down and she took a deep breath, pulling at his velvety skin. Her tongue undulated against the pulsing vein of his big cock and Soldier Boy fit his giant hand on the back of her head. He held her in place and bucked his hips, jabbing his cock down her throat. She choked on him, moaning in bliss and protest as spit spilled from the corners of her mouth and coated her tits. 
“Fucking perfect,” he grit, throwing his head back and enjoying her desperate whimpers and the tightness of her throat. 
Her eyes began to water and he could hear her lungs screaming for air. He set her free. 
“Fuck!” Y/N wobbled on her weak knees and nearly fell to the floor. 
Soldier Boy caught her quickly and set her back on her feet, bent over on the desk. Her tits smashed against the wood and he kicked her legs apart. 
“You’re one hell of a PA,” he praised. 
Her cunt pulsed as he ran the tip of his cock across its lips. “It’s… my… job…” 
He grinned. “Sure is.” He pushed inside. “Gotta give the talent your full attention.” He slapped her ass hard. “Give them anything they want.” He grabbed the back of her neck and lifted her off of the desk, arching her spine awkwardly. “Isn’t that right?” 
She moaned. “Yes!”
“Correct.” 
He let her go and she fell back down, just a ragdoll for him to fuck to his satisfaction. 
When he was done he slapped her ass, leaving a welt behind as a souvenir. 
“Thanks,” he mumbled, already forgetting about her as he tugged his suit back on and fixed his hair. 
Y/N crumbled to the floor, her legs spread wide, her back against the desk. She sat there for a long while, feeling his palm print burn on her bottom and his cum leak from her cunt. He didn’t look back as he left, didn’t even shut the door. 
Soldier Boy disappeared down the hall and Y/N shook herself, wondering how the hell she’d broken her promise and let him get to her. 
Not that she was mad about it. 
Just sore. 
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bellaxgiornata · 2 months ago
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Bella's Masterlist of Jax Teller Fics
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Jax Teller x fem!Reader Series
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You Are My Sunshine [Installment List]
Warnings/tags: 18+; sunshine!Reader/grumpy!Jax (somewhat), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, canon divergent, canon typical violence (more tags to possibly come)
Recently released from a stint in Stockton Prison with a few of the Sons, Jax is still struggling with Tara returning to Chicago over a year after he killed Agent Kohn for her. When he returned to Charming, Jax noticed a coffee shop had sprung up across the street from Teller-Morrow Automotive and the clubhouse, oddly finding himself watching the strangely cheerful owner through the windows. One night he feels drawn to step inside, but he's left even more confused when the owner feels like the embodiment of sunshine itself. Jax quickly realizes that the more he visits her shop, the more at peace he finds himself.
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All That I Can Give [Installment List]
Warnings/tags: 18+; ex-prostitute!Reader (Reader has a slight backstory), mentions of physical/sexual abuse, canon typical violence, smut, angst, hurt/comfort
With Lyla moving over to produce films at Redwoody for the Sons, Nero finds himself in need of someone to run the front of Diosa and to help with the administrative aspect. When a few of the girls recommend you–a blunt, vulgar street girl from Stockton trapped working for a heartless pimp by the name of Hades–Nero can't resist hiring you without consulting Jax first. Though Hades isn't willing to let his Persephone–the prized thoroughbred of his whores–just slip through his grasp. But after Jax meets you, not only is he determined to keep you safe, he’s hell-bent on giving you everything you've never had before.
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Want to Know You Better [Installment List]
Pairing: Jax Teller x Fem!Reader
Warnings/tags: 18+; investigative journalist!Reader, bodyguard!Jax, enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, canon divergence, eventual smut, slow burn, angst
For over a year you had been tracking Aleksander Petrova through California–a Russian crime lord known to abduct sex workers for his trafficking ring. Seven months ago, he disappeared from the L.A. area, but a series of missing women in Northern California catches your attention, drawing you to Charming in the hopes of linking enough evidence together to once again get the FBI involved. But when the Sons’ President makes a terrible first impression before inserting himself into your work, your investigation turns into more than you anticipated.
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All the Good That's Left [Installment List]
Pairing: Jax Teller x Fem!Reader
Warnings/tags: 18+; ex's to lovers , fluff, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, sexual tension, smut, an Alaskan road trip on Jax's bike (more tags to possibly come)
After the past year of helping your childhood best friend with planning her wedding, that feeling of having lost yourself since leaving Charming had only grown. Eight years later, her wedding finally pulls you back to the small town for a single weekend, but in the hopes of clearing your head, you plan to disappear on a solo road trip to Alaska the day after. Though when you unexpectedly run into your ex, old emotions rise straight to the surface, and when Jax refuses to let you disappear again, he invites himself on your weeks-long trip–but is there anything left to salvage between you both after all this time?
Jax Teller x fem!Reader One Shots
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Five Minutes
Warnings/tags: 18+; Fluff, nervous!Reader, suggestive comments, & a slightly soft, flirty Jax
While out with your friends at a seedy bar in Charming, you manage to catch Jax's eye–and he's quite determined just to get you to talk to him.
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Hold on a Little Tighter
Warnings/tags: 18+; Light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, post-shower naked Jax cuddling (that always needs a warning)
Ever since Opie passed, Jax has been lost. When he returns home late at night, you're the one he needs to help hold him together.
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How Much Did You Miss Me?
Warnings/tags: 18+; smut, f!masturbation, cocky Jax and his filthy mouth, somewhat rough sex (kinda, not really), porn with minimal plot, unprotected sex
While Jax is on a protection run, you're desperate to ease some tension so you can fall asleep. But when he unexpectedly returns early, he's determined to prove he's better than your toy.
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Something Changed {Coming Soon}
Warnings/tags: 18+; smut, soft!Jax (more tags possibly to come)
Jax had become a close friend of yours over the past few years, and in that time it had become an accepted and unspoken fact that when you both drank together, you'd wind up in bed together. So waking up next to each other some mornings wasn't abnormal–but having sober sex the morning after definitely was.
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xi-vz · 12 days ago
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Modern Moshang AU
Originally, he thought that Shen Yuan was the one who pressured Luo Binghe for this meeting. Imagine his utter surprise when it was Luo Binghe who was actually very worried for him.
“He’s scared we’ll find your dead body in your apartment… having been electrocuted because your day old ramen spilled onto your shoddy outlet.” Shen Yuan had deadpanned, as if he hadn’t been concerned about the same thing. “Just move in with us until you can find a better place!”
Which was how he’d wound up living in their guest room. Shen Jiu—Shen Yuan’s older brother—had gone over Shang Qinghua’s finances. Which led to an embarrassing meltdown.
“I know someone who’ll pay you for being pretty,” Luo Binghe’s words haunted him now. “I’ll set something up!”
“You think I’m pretty?”
“You don’t hold a candle to Shizun, but some people like hamsters.”
Ok, so maybe Shang Qinghua’s friends sort of, kind of, actually cared for his wellbeing. In their own ways. Still, Luo Binghe was an asshole and Shang Qinghua wasn’t sure why he trusted him.
The restaurant the meeting had been set up in had three Michelin stars. It was fancy, way out of Shang Qinghua’s price range, and intimidating as fuck. But, not as intimidating as the large man who sat across from him.
Shang Qinghua fidgeted in his seat across from the imposing man who had introduced himself as Mobei Jun. (He knew exactly who Mobei Jun was, Shang Qinghua did not live under a rock.)
The expensive restaurant hummed with quiet conversation around them, a stark contrast to the tense silence at their table.
"Shang Qinghua," Mobei Jun said, his deep voice sending a shiver down Shang Qinghua's spine. "What brings you to meet with me today?"
Wait, what? Did Luo Binghe not tell him? Was this some sort of sick joke on Mobei Jun’s part?
Shang Qinghua swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. What could he say?
"Ah, well, that is..." he stammered, desperately trying to think of something, anything, to say. "Iwashopingwecouldmaybeworkoutsomekindofarrangement," he blurted out in a rush.
Mobei Jun arched one perfect eyebrow. "An arrangement," he repeated coolly. "And what, exactly, would this arrangement entail?"
Shang Qinghua felt his face flush bright red. Oh gods, what had he gotten himself into? He took a shaky breath, trying to calm his racing heart.
"I was thinking, maybe, you could help me out financially," he said meekly, unable to meet Mobei Jun's piercing gaze. "And in return, I could, um..."
His voice trailed off and he cursed himself for sounding so uncertain. Mobei Jun studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to Shang Qinghua's shock, the corner of his mouth twitched up in the barest hint of a smirk.
"I see," Mobei Jun said, leaning back in his chair. "Well then, let's discuss the terms of this arrangement, shall we?"
Shang Qinghua carefully tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear (a nervous tick). He was acutely aware of his appearance. His slender frame was accentuated by smooth, porcelain skin, dotted with a smattering of freckles across the delicate bridge of his pert nose. His large, expressive hazel eyes were framed by long lashes, giving him an almost ethereal look. His hair, a rich caramel hue, cascaded in soft, flowing waves down to his collar, shaped into a chic and stylish cut. It hadn’t always been this fashionable, but Luo Binghe insisted on footing the bill for the upscale grooming, much to Shang Qinghua's chagrin. This was not how Shang Qinghua typically looked. No, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was the classic internet troll—hunched over a laptop with glasses and hair in a ratty topknot. This beautified version? This was purely for Mobei Jun’s benefit.
God, what was Shang Qinghua doing?!?! He was pimping himself out! Sure, he did it for his writing all the time. He had no qualms about giving up his integrity in order to make a living and survive. This was a little different. This was sex work for money. And Shang Qinghua was a virgin. He felt his face heat, maybe that wasn’t the best way to think of it.
“Luo Binghe recommended you.” Mobei Jun’s ice blue eyes took him in, it felt like a cold caress. “I am looking for a personal assistant.”
Shang Qinghua blinked in surprise. "A personal assistant?" he repeated dumbly. That wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting when this had all been set up. Luo Binghe made it sound like a sugar daddy-baby situation.
Mobei Jun nodded, his gaze still coolly assessing. "I require someone to handle various tasks and errands. Manage my schedule, take calls, accompany me to functions when needed. In exchange, I would provide a generous salary and cover any necessary expenses."
"Oh," Shang Qinghua said faintly. A personal assistant. That sounded suspiciously like a real job. A demanding one, based on what Mobei Jun was outlining. But the money...
He wet his lips, trying to regain his composure. "And would this, ah, position, require anything else?" he asked tentatively. "Any other duties or...expectations?"
Mobei Jun's eyes narrowed slightly and Shang Qinghua quickly backpedaled.
"Not that I'm assuming anything! I just want to be clear on the terms," he babbled.
Mobei Jun regarded him for another long moment before responding. "I have no interest in anything beyond a professional arrangement," he said flatly. "If that's what you're implying."
Shang Qinghua felt a confusing mix of relief and disappointment. Of course Mobei Jun wouldn't want him like that. Look at the man - he was gorgeous, successful, intimidating. He could have anyone he wanted. Why would he pay for Shang Qinghua's awkward virginal fumbling?
"Right, of course," he said weakly. "I understand." He hesitated, biting his lip. It still sounded too good to be true. A well-paying job that could solve his money troubles, just like that? There had to be a catch.
"So, just to clarify," Shang Qinghua said slowly. "You'd pay me to be your assistant. I'd have set duties, work hours, a contract and everything? Like a regular job?"
"Precisely," Mobei Jun said crisply. "I would expect you to be on call as needed, but yes, it would function as standard employment." His gaze turned considering. "I assume you are currently...unattached? Available to travel if required? My work requires me to be mobile."
Shang Qinghua nodded quickly. "Yes, I'm totally free!" he said before realizing how desperate that sounded. "I mean, I can be flexible. With my time. And location. Um, for work purposes."
Mobei Jun looked faintly amused at his verbal flailing. "Very well. I will have a contract drawn up." He signaled the waiter for the check, clearly about to conclude their meeting.
Shang Qinghua's head was spinning. Was this really happening? Could it possibly be this easy? He nervously licked his lips again. "Ok. Yes, that sounds amazing!”
Mobei Jun passed him his business card. “Come to my office tomorrow at noon.”
Shang Qinghua stared down at the embossed business card in his hand, hardly believing what had just transpired. An actual job offer, with a contract and everything, from this powerful, intimidating, and let's be honest, drop-dead gorgeous man? It seemed too good to be true.
He looked back up at Mobei Jun, who was already rising from the table, clearly considering the meeting concluded.
"Thank you, Mr. Jun," Shang Qinghua said quickly, scrambling to his feet as well. "I'll be there tomorrow, I promise. On time and everything!"
Mobei Jun gave him an inscrutable look, but Shang Qinghua thought he detected a flicker of amusement in those icy blue eyes. "See that you are," was all he said before turning and striding away, his tall form cutting an impressive figure as he exited the restaurant.
Shang Qinghua collapsed back into his chair, his legs feeling wobbly. What had he just agreed to? Being the personal assistant to Mobei Jun was bound to be a demanding and stressful job. But the money... He couldn't pass up this opportunity, not when he was this desperate.
He pulled out his phone and fired off a quick message to Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan.
To: The Married Gays
[you'll never believe what just happened. I think I accidentally got a sugar daddy? Except not really? IDK, I start tomorrow, wish me luck!]
He could already picture their reactions - Luo Binghe's knowing smirk and Shen Yuan's eye roll and exasperated sigh. But beneath that, he knew they'd be relieved he had found a solution to his financial woes, even if it was an unorthodox one.
Shang Qinghua took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He could do this. He would be the best damn personal assistant Mobei Jun had ever seen. And if his new boss happened to be the most stunning man he'd ever laid eyes on, well, that was just a bonus. A highly distracting, heart-palpitating, professional-boundaries-blurring bonus...
Oh gods, what had he gotten himself into?
With a groan, Shang Qinghua thunked his head down on the table. Tomorrow was going to be interesting, to say the least. He just prayed he could keep his foot out of his mouth and his dignity intact.
But knowing his luck? He wasn't counting on it.
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starberry-cupcake · 2 months ago
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I started reading and writing this recap, then I got sick, so now that I'm able I want to pick it back up before I forget where I even was
previously in nonita del 9:
this is the first part and chapter
this is the general tag, for those who stumble upon this in the wild and, for some reason, want to read all the rest
CHAPTER 2
nonita is talking about how she's actually one of potentially two people
and describes herself in the following terms
"skin the color of the egg carton, and eyes the color of the egg mixture, and hair the color of the burnt-out bottom of the pan...a thin, complicated face...nice white teeth in a smile that looked sad no matter how happy she was"
she thinks she's gorgeous
ok cyrus the lyctor with the nudes whose last name I don't remember and I was about to google when autocomplete scared me and I closed the tab
I'm not allowed to google things for these recaps, I should know better
anyway, gideon eyes
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so is this harrow's body but gideon's soul while harrow's soul is in the river with the emperor???? or what's happening???
did gideon's soul get scrambled upon returning from the river somewhere???
if it's gideon's soul in harrow's body, it'd make sense with her thinking she's gorgeous and kissing the mirror tbqh
unfiltered gideon behavior
but the memories of the pool were harrow's??? because she remembered gideon's arms????
gideon's arms are very memorable, I've heard
which reminds me, where's gideon's body????
also, is this new personality who lives in a cumple gonna switch back to who it used to be or merge together?
is this happy-go-lucky attitude gonna disappear or combine?
I remember back when I didn't know anything about these books (and all I saw was the covers and knew that gideon and harrow were a ship), I thought nona was their child in like a distant future
I don't know why I thought that, I just filled in the gaps with that
those were simpler times
so nona is kinda vain about her looks, apparently??
I posted this before but, this was her at a queue when someone was hitting on her
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she's nonchalant about people wanting to sleep with her and camilla says "sex things were right out. She said there were enough problems in the world"
I'd love a tshirt like this, actually
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so am I to understand that gideon and harrow got blended somewhere in the river and reborn as a "born sexy yesterday" lovechild??
I don't know, man, I'm just gonna continue
pyrrha, palmolive and camilla are trying to teach nona things but also not teach her things, because they don't wanna skew the results on who she is
in case it comes back to her that she can wield a sword or do playdoh stuff with bones
what she can do, apparently, is pick up any language by watching people speak it
which, in a planet of refugees, comes up very frequently
palmolive (and me, also me) is like "where tf did this come from?????"
I mean, I guess either harrow or gideon could have that from before, since I don't think they were exposed to anything other than the one language, did they?
I can't remember??? I don't think gideon did??
or is it new???
she downloaded a star trek universal translator on the way down from the river, as a treat??
also, out of the two of them, if this is just one of them, I think harrow would be the one more mortified by everything that's going on during this time, just putting it out there
CHAPTER 3 (we have an apple tree rather than the tomb at the start of this one)
nona says she "doesn't just want to be good-looking and dumb", so she got herself a job
which says a lot about the value of productivity in self worth, even in situations of dire stress and danger, but I digress
if this is harrow, she's gonna hate all this so much
the body maybe is harrow's? because the school lady think's she's 14, and that gave me mercygirl vibes of saying she's less years every time she looked at her
and she wants to send nona to school
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the lady also has suspicions of pyrrha being camilla's and nona's pimp, so pyrrha has to flirt with her to distract her from that line of thought
and says she'd be luckier being a pimp for augustine and alfred
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so, nona insists on going to school and is allowed because palmolive is combeferre-coded and loves education
I mean, I agree, but also, at what cost, in this case?????
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so, nona goes to school and befriends a bunch of kids who ask her for drugs but then relent and let her join their clique anyway
because she takes care of the teacher's dog, which always gives people points socially
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kevin is really adorable btw we love kevin
one of the kids, the leader, is called hot sauce and I think she's been through a lot
like, more than the rest of the kids
one has like 5 fathers, but still
she's the only one not ready and willing to go attempting to kill necromancers, which the other kids want to do
nona can also read people's body language very well, to the point in which she can tell when people are lying, uncomfortable or hiding something
another thing that may or may not be from Before
anyway, nice kids, I'm sure nothing bad is gonna happen to any of them
right?
right????
we'll leave it there for now! next chapter starts with a seventh house skull so idk what we're in for at all, as long as not!dulcinea isn't back...
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mulloey · 9 months ago
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innocents • yunho
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it’s easy to forget you’re his prisoner
warnings: criminal!yunho, mentioned sex trafficking (but it’s in the context of him Not doing it), mentioned murder, reader is held against her will but nothing is done to her without consent, her shitty boyfriend pimped her out kind of and yunho’s not about that but he is Not a good dude in this, dom yunho, implied drugging (alcohol), implied physical punishment, other than the *implications* this is actually pretty tame. also san is yunho’s goon lol
this doesn’t represent yunho, ateez or my perception of them in any way. don’t like, don’t read:) please comment if you enjoyed!
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The first time you met Yunho, you were a payment. Your stupid, doofus boyfriend, thinking he was tough and smart enough to survive a life of crime, had gotten in too deep with the wrong people and found himself with a bounty on his head, pursued across the country until he was finally cornered in a dodgy part of Seoul. Dragged unceremoniously to Yunho’s office, he’d realised quickly who he was dealing with, and what was about to happen to him, and in a moment of desperation had offered you up instead. “Take my girlfriend,” he’d begged. “She’s at my house and she’s beautiful, you can have her. Just please don’t kill me.” And Yunho, disgusted that your boyfriend would offer you up like cattle but intrigued by the thought of you, had sent one of his men to pick you up.
You knew what your boyfriend had gotten involved with and you knew how spineless he was, so you weren’t surprised to see an armed man in your doorway, telling you to come with him if you wanted your boyfriend to live. You were more annoyed than anything else, but as much as you hated your boyfriend for selling you out like this, you didn’t want him to die, certainly not in the slow, painful way the man in your doorway had so graphically promised. So you followed, allowing yourself to be brought to a sprawling property on the other side of the city. When you were dragged into Yunho’s office, your coward of a boyfriend wouldn’t even meet your eye. But there was one person who couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The tall, dangerous looking man behind the desk.
He looked you up and down for a moment, ordering his man to turn you around so he could see the back of you, before nodding. “I accept your offer,” he told your boyfriend. “Leave her with me and don’t ever return to Korea, and I’ll wipe your debts and set you free. Understood?”
And without a moment's hesitation, your boyfriend agreed, thanking Yunho profusely for his generosity — for taking her instead of me. You could have attacked him if you weren’t surrounded by armed henchmen, but you were realising now that this pathetic little man wasn’t worth any more of your energy. So you let him scurry away with your back turned, eyes cast downwards to the floor.
The room was silent for a moment, tension in the air, until Yunho spoke. “If you’re wondering what I’m going to do to you, don’t worry,” he said. “I sell things, not people. Not women, at least. You’ll be safe here with me.”
You nodded, not really convinced before he ordered you closer to him. You shuffled forwards, as slow as you could before one of his men shoved you so hard you stumbled, landing on the solid wood of the desk.”
“San, you fucking idiot,” Yunho snapped, standing from his chair and rounding the desk to help you up. You looked you up and down and, satisfied you weren’t hurt, released his grip on you. “Your boyfriend’s lucky you’re such a beauty,” he said. “And so are you. Cus he’s not being fed to dogs right now, and I’m going to take much better care of you than he did.”
For some reason, maybe the sting and annoyance of the idiotic betrayal you’d just suffered, you believed him. Yunho would take care of you. He’d keep you safe. And you’d never be bounty again.
True to his word, Yunho was for the most part perfectly respectful. He didn’t touch or try anything with you without your permission, and he made certain none of his men did either, as made abundantly clear your second month under his care, when a low level fighter had cornered and felt you up, and Yunho, upon hearing about it, had summoned him to his office and, without a word, shot him between the eyes with his own gun.
The only time Yunho wasn’t so nice to you was the few attempts you’d made to escape. As much as he respected you as a person, he’d forgiven a lot of transgressions and missed out on an awful lot of money to have you, and he wasn’t going to let you go. And in the months (you think, time moves strangely in Yunho’s house) you’d been in his possession, he had by his own admission, developed feelings that gave him another reason to want to keep you with him.
After a few failed escape attempts and quite severe reprisals, he’d settled on another way to keep you pliant. With your previous boyfriend you’d gotten heavily into alcohol and as Yunho quickly realised, supplying you with it was a good way to keep you happy and obedient. And to keep you safe by his side, anything that worked was worth it.
You’re a few drinks deep when he comes into your room, taking a seat on your bed, eyes on you. You’re at your desk and facing him, fiddling absentmindedly with an empty glass.
“Come here.”
You feel dizzy, and not just because of the alcohol. You see the small knife in his hand, dwarfed by his massive palms. You know what those palms can do to you. You’ve tried everything to avoid finding out about the knife.
“Are you going to cut me?” You try to sound as afraid as possible, knowing it softens him — not because he feels bad for scaring you, but because he likes it. You’re such a good girl, he’d say, being so afraid of me. He thinks it’s sweet. It makes him happy. And you like when he’s happy.
His face is blank. “Why would I cut you?”
“The knife.”
His gaze flickers to it, then back to you. “Ah,” he says, smiling slightly. “This isn’t for you.”
“Did you hurt someone?” You ask softly.
“I’m going to,” he says. He puts the knife down on the bed, behind his back where you can’t see it. But now you know it’s there and you guess that was his intention. Your time with this man has taught you that nothing, nothing he does is an accident. “Come here.”
His tone is harder now, on the edge of anger. Since becoming his prisoner, as he hates when you call yourself, you’ve learned that Yunho does not like repeating himself — a lesson that has been painfully delivered to you more times than either of you would like. Not wanting another, you scurry over to him, stopping short of settling on his lap, because he hasn’t said you can touch him, and you know not to do it without his permission. Nothing without permission.
He smiles, recognising your obedience and pats his lap. “Sit.”
You settle yourself in your lap, heart still racing slightly, but the feeling of his warm hands on the small of your back always calms you. He strokes up and down your back, humming softly with his gaze fixed on you. “Have you been good today?” He asks.
You nod. “I have. Thank you for the drinks.”
He hums, running his thumb across your plush lips. He pushes it in slightly, letting you suck at the tip while his other fingers stroke your cheek. “I wanted to check on you,” he says quietly, “before I leave. Just to make sure you’re okay.”
“I am,” you say, smiling softly.
He narrows his eyes, studying your face for any signs of dishonesty, but you know better than to lie to him. You know that in less than a second, the soft, gentle touches on your back could turn hard, crushing and striking, and it informs every choice you make with him. He nods, apparently satisfied that you’re telling the truth, and presses a kiss to your lips. “Good girl,” he breathes.
You smile at the praise, out of relief as much as happiness. You’ve learned quickly that Yunho is very, very good at concealing his true feelings — a necessary skill for someone of his profession — so you never bank on him being satisfied with your behaviour until he confirms it himself. But today he is satisfied, and it fills you with relief. “Thank you,” you whisper.
Yunho smiles at you and pushes his thumb back into your mouth. Focused on the feeling, you don’t notice his other hand move from the small of your back to the top of your leg. The feeling of his hand on the sensitive bare skin of your thigh makes you jolt and he tuts, tightening his grip slightly. “Still,” he orders gently.
He lets his hand wander further up your leg, into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, dangerously close. Your breath hitches as his hand slowly approaches your most sensitive area. “Yunho,” you whisper, the desperation in your voice evident.
He smiles softly but shakes his head. “I don’t have time now, darling,” he says regretfully. “Just wanted to play with my baby a little before I go. Get her worked up and ready for when I’m back.”
The hand on your face moves to grip your thigh, holding you in place as the other pulls your tiny shorts to the side and presses a long finger into your hole. You gasp softly; it’s been a while since you’d started playing with Yunho like this, but you’ll never get used to his size, not just of his dick but of his entire body. Everything about him is large, strong, brimming with restrained power until he has a reason to unless it.
The finger reaches deep inside you, curling as he pushes another in. He starts to pump them slowly, quickly speeding up until you’re whining and squirming on his lap. A third soon joins and you almost choke. “Yunho,” you cry.
He hums, not acknowledging you further. You love when he plays with you like this, clinically and methodically pleasuring you but seeming indifferent to you or your reactions. He doesn’t care what sounds you make, how many times you come undone on his fingers. You’re his toy and he’ll play with you until he gets bored.
He presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing in circles to drive you close to the edge. You’re babbling incoherently now, crying and gasping as he works you to your orgasm.
“Yunho,” you sob as his fingers speed up. “Yunho, I’m gonna—”
“Do it,” he says. He doesn’t look up at you, gaze still fixed in your gushing pussy.
You cry as you let yourself go, juices coating his entire hand. He chuckles at the sight, pumping his fingers a few more times before pulling them out, but you know that’s more due to his time constraints than any desire to show you mercy. Other than your worst misbehaviours, the only time Yunho shows the merciless, cruel side of himself with you is during sex. He’s in charge, and he loves the way you cower and come undone beneath him.
He holds you in his lap for a few more minutes, stroking your gently and whispering praises as you come down from your high, before he gets up, a sad look on his face. “I so wish I could stay, baby,” he says mournfully. “You’re such a good girl for me.”
“Me too,” you sigh. “Please don’t get hurt.
He tilts his head, lips twitching with an amused smile. “I never do that,” he says. “And I’m not fighting anyone tonight. Just teaching them a lesson. Be ready for me when I’m back, yeah?”
You nod and he smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips before picking up his knife and walking out of your room. You hear the lock click behind him, a reminder that as much as you love each other, you’re still his prisoner. But the ghosts of his touches on your skin make it so much sweeter.
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fishfooddude · 7 months ago
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Drunken Escapades Brought Us Here
The long-awaited part 2 to Drunken Escapades.
After finding out about what happened with Mikey, Carmy had to claim what was his.
The Bear MasterList
Directory
Part 1
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Carmy was upset about what had been revealed at Syd’s the other night. He didn’t say anything that would insinuate that he was upset about Mikey feeling you up nine years ago but was withdrawn. 
“Hey baby, can you come by the restaurant this afternoon to help with some paperwork?” Carmy inquired that morning. He was in the middle of changing his clothes, and you could barely hear what he’d been saying as you stared at his shirtless torso, which was decorated with his simple black and grey tattoos. “Thanks.” he grinned. You swallowed softly, silently wishing he’d push you against the wall and attack your pussy with his fingers as he’d done before Syd’s get-together. 
“You okay, baby?” Carmy chuckled, his words bringing you out of your daydream. “Yeah… my mind was just elsewhere. I’ll be by at like 3,” you answered. Carmy nodded and quickly closed the distance between the two of you. His palms leaned against your shared bed as he kissed your lips delicately. It was short and sweet, leaving you longing for more.
Carmy had been having a pretty average day. It wasn’t particularly busy, and everything seemed to be going smoothly enough- until Chuckie and Chi-Chi showed up to help Ebraham with the sandwich window. Richie couldn’t keep his mouth shut about you being ‘puke-girl,’ Carmy tried to ignore the snickers and loud laughter, “It’s like why Carmy got Mikey’s hand-me-downs.” “That’s fucked, asshole,” “Mikey didn’t even get laid that night,” “If she didn’t puke on him- he woulda. Guy was a fuckin’ pimp.” Carmy rolled his eyes as he overheard the conversation. He opted to make his presence known and fully walk into the kitchen. Chuckie stopped talking and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. Chi-Chi looked everywhere except at Carmy. Richie cleared his throat and exited the kitchen to return to the front of house. 
The tension in the kitchen was thick enough to cut with a cleaver. You noted it as you slipped your headphones off your head and around your neck. Syd noticed your presence and gave you a small smile before nudging her head toward the closed office door. You looked around the kitchen, noticing how Chuckie and Chi-Chi went out of their way not to look at you. “Fuckin’ Richie,” you muttered under your breath as you went to the office. 
You dropped your tote bag on the floor by the door as you walked into the office, “Hi honey.” you greeted Carmy cheerfully, hoping the tension from the kitchen had stayed in there and miraculously dodged your boyfriend entirely. Your hope was immediately squashed when Carmy looked up at you briefly- no smile, no greeting, no thank you. With another eye roll, you closed the short distance between where you stood and where he sat. You stood behind Carmy and glanced at the computer monitor before resting your chin on the top of his head and letting your arms drape over his shoulders, hands settling on his chest. “Dam. I don’t even get a ‘hello’?” you scoffed. Carmy shifted in his chair, making you raise your chin off of his head to allow him to put his head back to look at you from the most unflattering angle humanly possible. “Sorry, baby… stressful day…” he excused as he pecked your chin. 
“I need to finish some prep—are you good by yourself, baby?” Carmy asked as you situated yourself at the desk. You nodded swiftly and turned your attention to the open window on the monitor before you. “This shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours…” you trailed off as Carmy noted your mild annoyance. He sighed to himself before exiting the office and slipping his apron back on over his head. He tightened the waist ties around himself and heard Syd call for him.
“Yo. Are you good?” Carmy asked as he quickly walked toward Syd’s prep station. “Coffee run. You or Y/N want anything?” she asked as she removed her apron. Carmy shook his head. “Ight. I’ll be back before the staff meeting.” Syd nodded as she swiftly walked back to the lockers to grab her jacket and bag. Carmy paused and looked around the kitchen, noticing the lack of employees, “Where’d everyone go?” he questioned Syd as she adjusted the strap of her tote bag on her shoulder. She shrugged, “Break time.” she pointed over to the clock. Carmy noted the time as Syd exited the kitchen. He had at least 45 minutes before anyone came back for dinner service.
You hadn’t been working long when Carmy returned to the office. You’d shed your jacket and pulled your hair up, clipping it into a messy bun at the back of your head. Carmy grunted at the sight before him; your exposed shoulders and collarbone tantalized him. You didn’t notice him until your chair was yanked to face him. You were startled by his sudden presence. “The hell-” your words were cut off as Carmy’s lips crashed down on yours. The kiss was surprising and fueled by a hunger you didn’t expect. As Carmy’s tongue invaded your mouth, you felt his hands firmly grip your waist before pulling you out of your chair. You stumbled to your feet and fell against Carmy’s chest. He stepped backward, moving toward the tan loveseat against the wall. Carmy sat down, breaking away from the passionate lip lock. You whined as you felt his lips leave yours. Carmy looked at you hungrily, “Be my good girl, baby.”
You bit your lip and slowly nodded as Carmy’s knees spread, creating a space for you to sink into. Your hands moved to the fabric covering Carmy’s crotch. A soft sigh escaped his lips as you ran your fingers down one of his thighs. The sound made your core squeeze around nothing. Feeling empty and immensely horny, you moved your hands to the button of Carmy’s jeans. Your fingers were nimble with undoing the button and quickly pulling his zipper down. Carmy followed your league and lifted his hips to push his jeans and boxers down just enough to release his growing length. You felt your mouth salivate at the sight as your hand went to the base of his cock. You looked up at Carmy through your eyelashes longingly. Carmy looked down at you with hazy, lust-filled eyes, “You know what to do, baby.” he swallowed as you brought his tip to your lips. You giggled before gently spitting. You watched as your saliva rolled down the length of his cock to your fingers. 
As you took the head of Carmy’s cock into your mouth, you slowly began sucking and tonguing the sensitive skin. You took more of him in your mouth, causing a harsh whimper to escape Carmy’s mouth. Your mouth and hand worked in tantum to get him off. The office quickly filled with Carmy’s soft, unapologetic moan. His hands moved to the back of your head. He took the clip out of your hair and grasped your hair in a makeshift bun before forcing your head down, making you gag as his cock pushed deeper into your mouth and down your throat. “Fuck, baby. You’re takin’ me so well.” he managed to get out. Carmy pulled your mouth completely off of his cock. You panted as Carmy smirked down at you. “Who does your mouth belong to, baby?” he goaded as he pulled your head farther back. You licked your lips before responding with a whimper, “You, Daddy.” 
Your response went straight to Carmy’s cock; he ached to cum in your mouth, knowing he didn’t have time to cum in your tight warm cunt. He eased his grip on your hair, and you moved to take him into your mouth again. Your head bobbed up and down the tip of his cock, hitting the back of your throat with each downward stroke. With one of your hands occupied holding the base of his cock, the other moved to fumble with his balls, low muffled moans filled the room as Carmy’s orgasm approached. “Fuck.” Carmy mumbled as his grip on your hair tightened. His hips bucked slightly as his orgasm approached. You groaned as the ache between your legs grew. You wanted nothing more than for Carmy to bend you over his desk and take what belonged to him- but having him cum in your mouth was enough for now. 
Globs of semen erupted down your throat as Carmy held your head still, “Oh, fuck.” Carmy grunted as his head fell back against the back of the loveseat. As the hot, salty liquid hits your taste buds, you close your eyes. As you swallowed, Carmy’s grip on your hair loosened, and you pulled your mouth away from his deflating cock. With one last soft kiss over the slit of his tip, Carmy sighed in relief. You pushed yourself up from your knees and settled on the loveseat beside Carmy. He lazily lifted his hips and pulled his boxers and pants up in one swift movement. 
“What was that about?” you quizzed as you let your hand fall to Carmy’s chest before scooting yourself closer to him. Carmy paused; he snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you onto his lap before softly kissing your temple. “Richie couldn’t keep his fuckin’ mouth shut. Chi-Chi and Chucky were bein’ assholes…” 
You frowned and moved a hand to Carmy’s cheek before gently nudging his face in your direction to look into his eyes lovingly, “Are you jealous about what happened with Mikey? I didn’t even have sex with him, Carm.”
Carmy groaned, “I know… I just don’t like knowing that other guys- ya know…” 
You nodded understandingly, “I get it, love.” 
Carmy looked at you and pouted slightly. You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t like the idea of you being with other girls. You’re all mine, and no one gets to take you from me.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, Carmen. We’ve been together for what five years?” Carmy nodded, and you kissed his lips softly, “You’re the only guy I want.” 
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macabr3-barbi3 · 11 months ago
Text
A Practical Demonstration (Alastor/Reader)
The deal you made with Alastor leads to an unexpected demonstration.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/54229351/chapters/137324059
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(ayyo I never posted the first and second chapter of this so: here we go!) Chapter 2 Chapter 3
Tags: Sex Toys; Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor; Reader-Insert
“What in the nine rings is that shit?”
“Hi, Angel,” you greet him as he came into your room, not bothering to close the door fully behind him. “As always, nice of you to knock.” You’ve got a wide spread of documents scattered across the desk, various color schemes and books on light studies and all sorts of shit that Velvette had asked you to look into for her. You don’t mind helping out where you can but you had been at this for hours, and Angel showing up unannounced was always a good way to distract you when you were trying to work.
The demon shrugs. “Eh, ya get used to it,” he says with a grin, his sharp teeth coming into view, the gold one glinting in the light from your desk. “But for real, what is that thing?” He points to your nightstand, where the rose toy you neglected to put away sat on proud display.
You flush and race across the room, throwing the toy unceremoniously back inside. “It’s really nothing,” you tell him, and when he approaches you spread your arms out to try to keep him back. “Angel, come on-”
He’s sprouted his third set of arms to reach around you, opening the drawer and pulling your newest gift out from the top. “Come on now, ya don’t gotta be ashamed if it's a sex thing!” He lets it sit in his hand as he poses with the rest of his arms, blinking coyly at you in his new position. “I basically am a sex thing, baby, it don’t bother me none!” He holds it up to inspect, and when he brings it a little too close to his face you drag his arm back away. “Where’d ya get this thing?”
It was a gift from Velvette, something new that Vox and Valentino had created together that your friend had felt compelled to shove into your hands one day. “Keep it on the low, yeah?” She had said, an eyebrow raised and a cocky smirk on her face. “New product, can’t be lettin’ it get in the wrong hands but Satan knows ya ain’t gettin’ any action in that rickety joint of yours.” You had blushed and stammered and protested but ultimately had taken the damn thing, placing it on the nightstand in your room when you returned that day and not touching it beyond the one time you turned it on- just out of curiosity- and saw the force of the suction that it could generate.
“Velvette gave it to me, and it’s a sex toy,” you tell him, and he gives you a knowing look.
“Ahh, she’s still tryna get ya laid, huh?” You close your eyes and give him a tight nod. “She still doesn’t know about your thing for tall and freaky?”
You slam your hands over his mouth, eyes darting to the partially open door, not noticing the shadow that slipped into the room mere moments before. “Angel! Shut up!”
“Whaaaat?” He complains, pulling your hands away from his mouth. “It’s not like it’s a secret- pretty much everyone knows except the Strawberry Pimp himself, and-”
“And,” you interrupt him, taking the toy from his hands and throwing it back into the nightstand, “I would like to keep it that way. And don’t call him that,” you add as an afterthought.
Angel groans as he started walking away. “Spoilsport,” he calls over his shoulder. “Ya never let me have any fun.” He exits the room and purposely leaves the door fully open this time, and with an eye roll you follow him, sure that Charlie and Vaggie have dinner ready by now.
Alastor is there when you stroll into the dining room, his customary smile in place as he looks at the two of you. “Evening, friends!” He greets you, and you give him a smile back. “I’ve saved a seat for you, my dear,” he says, and pulls out the chair to the right of the one he normally sits in.
Your face flushes, and Angel snickers beside you as he goes around the table to sit by Husk. “You don’t have to do that, Alastor,” you tell him, and his grin sharpens dangerously.
“But of course I do,” he says smoothly, quietly, fanning out his napkin to sit across his lap as he sits. “What would dear Velvette think if she knew we weren’t getting along?”
Your spine stiffens, and a glance around the room confirms that no one else had heard him. It was the only point of contention between the two of you, really, the deal that you had made with him to keep Velvette safe from the insanity of the other Vees.
He owned your soul, and any of your knowledge of the more recent aspects of technology on Earth that could potentially help him in taking down Vox. In return, he would not specifically target Velvette when the final confrontation with the Vees took place, content with simply obliterating Vox and Valentino- provided that Velvette did not take any actions directly against him.
Velvette knew about your deal and the part you played in ensuring that when the Vees fell she would not be part of the carnage. They had thrown her under the bus not long before you came to the hotel, placing the blame for a series of footage and info leaks on her social media platforms, and she was more than happy to let someone else seek her revenge for her. She kept the benefits of working with the Vees- ‘no harm done,’ she had told them- and had the extra reassurance that when they fell she would remain on top. She knew you seemed happy enough to work with Alastor when he asked it of you, and was pleased that the deal didn’t seem to be a hardship on you.
He didn’t often use that against you like this though, like her safety was a bargaining chip that went hand in hand with his personal happiness or mood. You hadn’t even said anything bad! Just that he hadn’t needed to save you a seat beside him. You were thrilled, honestly, and just mostly nervous about him catching one of your looks or blushes when you watched him too closely.
You gave him a smile regardless. “Right. I appreciate the gesture then,” you say, and don’t see the way that his grin extends as he watches you sit and start reaching for the food laid out on the table.
Dinner is a strange affair. Throughout the night Alastor seems to keep finding excuses to turn his attention to you, only to harshly refute or ignore what you say in response. His leg is twitchy under the table and keeps knocking against yours, to the point that you turn essentially sideways in your seat to stop it from happening and talk to Vaggie and Charlie instead. At the end of the meal you walk yourself to your room slowly, tired beyond belief, confused and a bit hurt by Alastor’s behavior.
To your surprise, the Radio Demon is in your room when you close the door behind you. You startle a bit, not expecting him, and at the sound he looks up from where he sits at your desk, the documents you had for Velvette organized into a neat stack. “Hello, my dear!” He says, and rises from the chair to approach you. You look to the floor, not wanting him to see the hurt you’re sure is reflected there, but he places a sharp tipped finger under your chin and raises your head to look at him. His smile is softer, his eyes lowered a bit as he gazes down at you. 
“I want to apologize for my behavior at dinner,” he says, and you heave a relieved exhale. “Upon reflection I do see that my manners were abysmal, and there was no need to treat you in such a fashion.”
“It’s okay, sir,” you say, but when you start to take a step back more of his fingers come up to grip your face, holding you in place. “Um-”
“Ah ah ah,” he admonishes. “I wasn’t finished. In addition to my apology, I did have a query for you in regards to our deal.”
“Of course,” you tell him, and your heart has started beating a bit harder in your chest now with the way he’s looking at you. It’s impossible to tell when he’s angry with the smile most of the time, but his expression is even more unreadable now than it usually is. “What is it?”
He pauses for a moment. “Is there any form of technology that you are uncomfortable with the thought of showing or demonstrating for me?”
You blink slowly a couple times, the way you’ve seen Lucifer do when he doesn’t understand something that someone has said to him. “Uh. No, sir, I don’t think so.” Part of your ‘job description,’ as Alastor put it, was sometimes showing him non-television style technology and demonstrating its uses for him. You had gone over flip phones, Walkman's, CD players, pagers, and more recently some small tablets and compact computers. Digital cameras were out of the question, as were actual televisions whether they be old or new.
He didn’t like any of them, would have rather not bothered with the whole idea by his own admission. But he felt it necessary to understand what he could about the things that gave Vox so much power over people, and being the most recently dead at the Hotel you had the most up-to-date information. You were also one of the few who didn’t begrudge Alastor his preference for older tech- you had died while AI was a big thing on Earth, and that had freaked you out enough at times that you could appreciate hardwiring that didn’t talk back to you unprompted. Usually he stood a few feet away, far enough back that he could still watch without interrupting any frequencies, and allowed you to walk him through the various uses of the device.
“Lovely!” He says at your response, and then straightens up and crosses the room towards your bed of all places. “Now, I noticed at dinner that you’ve seemed quite out of sorts lately. Are you getting enough rest?”
What?
“Yes, sir, I think so,” you tell him, eying him warily. “I’ve been doing a lot of studying for Velvette to help with her shoots- light composition and all that, but-“
He makes a noise at you, something that sounds like an admonishment. “Come now,” he says, “you mustn’t be neglecting your beauty sleep for a Vee, even if she is the most tolerable of the lot!” He takes a seat on your bed- what? - and gently pats the pillow at the head. “In you go, my dear. I can’t have my little assistant lacking.”
You raise your eyebrows but decide not to argue on the matter. He’s been in a weird mood all night, and you really are quite tired at this point. You approach cautiously, climbing into bed the opposite side of where he sits. “If you say so, Alastor.” You lay back against the pillow, not bothering yet to get under the covers. “I’ll see you in the morning?” You glance towards the door, hoping that he will rise and leave you.
“Hahaha!” He laughs instead, rotating his body so that he can face you more fully. ‘No, I think not my dear! I’ll stay to make sure you get some proper shut-eye.”
Your heart beats faster. No way would you be able to actually sleep with him in the room. “That’s really okay,” you try to tell him, but when you sit up he places a hand gently on your shoulder and guides you back down to the pillow.
“Naughty girl,” he admonishes, and the words send a rush of heat across your face. “I truly insist! You rest up, and I’ll be right here to ensure that you do!”
“Oookay,” you finally agree, and lean back against the pillows stiffly. It's torture for a long few minutes, where you try to regulate your breathing and not focus on the fact that he’s so close to you, in your bed. Eventually though, despite your heartbeat in your throat, you do start to relax a bit.
“Hmmm.” Alastor hums where he sits in the bed next to you, and while his smile is, of course, still present, his eyes have a kind of far off look in them.
“Alastor? Is everything okay?”
“Oh, quite alright!” He says in his typical fashion. “But I must admit I find myself rather curious about something, and I was hoping you could help me gain some enlightenment.”
“Sure; however I can help.”
“Splendid!” He claps his hands together. Your nightstand is enveloped in shadows, and when it re-emerges your rose toy sits front and center on top. You choke on your spit a bit, sputtering as Alastor looks at you. “I heard you mention to Angel Dust that this is a ‘sex toy’ earlier, but you didn’t go into any further detail! What exactly is the function of such a thing?”
You were going to drop double dead right here in your bedroom, with Alastor sitting atop your sheets and looking curiously between you and the toy. “Oh God, uh…” He raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue, but you can’t seem to find the words. “Shit, um, that’s not really- it’s kinda a private thing,” you sputter out, but he just continues to smile at you as you attempt to sink through the bed, through the floor, into a special kind of Hell reserved for moments as awkward as this one.
“I confess, my dear, a contribution to my terrible manners earlier stemmed from the idea that you might be holding back information.” He plucked the small device off the night stand and turned it this way and that in his hand. “When I thought about how you mentioned to Angel that it was a ‘sex toy,’ though, I realized that we had never established any sort of boundary as far as what kinds of technology you would show me per the confines of our deal!” He placed a hand to his forehead, an exaggerated face palm. “Which was quite silly of me, of course.”
You were going to stop breathing.
“Naturally I wouldn't want to make you do anything that would make you uncomfortable,” he continued, tucking the hand not holding the intimate technology under his chin to look at you thoughtfully. “And really, I doubt this is any kind of device that could do any true damage in the coming battle between myself and Vox. But one can never be too sure!” 
He holds it out to you, and though you take it with trembling hands you are still trying to explain. “Sir- Alastor - this is very much not the kind of technology that you would be interested in.”
“Oh but I am!” He assures you, and he sits cross legged now beside you. “I am quite interested in learning more about such a strange device. And did you not say that there was no technology that you were uncomfortable with demonstrating?”
“Well, yes, but-”
“And- pardon my eavesdropping, of course- did you not also tell Angel Dust that you received the device from Velvette, a known ally of my personal enemy and a demon bent on destroying me?”
You close your eyes tightly. This was too much. “Yes, I did. But-”
He makes a noise at you, like a parent would to an unruly child. “Well now, how am I to know that the device was not planted on Velvette by the others? Not merely a gift to a friend but something orchestrated by Vox to destroy me and everything I care for?” He reaches out a hand, brushing his fingers against your cheek. “I would so hate to see you harmed, my dear. Will you not show me how it works to ease my worried thoughts?”
Your breath is stuck in your throat as you swallow hard. You… suppose he raised a valid point, as awkward as you felt about it. You knew that despite your deal he felt some apprehension about allowing you to spend so much time with Velvette, even with what you were providing him with in return. If this was what it would take to ease some of the tension in his mind…
“I… okay,” you said finally on an exhale, and looked back down at the toy. Your voice trembled as you held it up for him to see. “Do you… I mean, usually you stand a little ways away, sir.”
His grin stretches up his face, eyes glowing red as he watches you fiddle with the object in your hand. “Oh no, darling, I’m quite content right here.”
“Right.” The blush on your face nearly permanent at this point, you rotate the device so that you can reach the button on the side. “There’s this little, um, button on the side to turn it on.” you press the button and the noise immediately starts, subtle but all too loud in the space between you and Alastor. Your cheeks are burning. “There are a few different uh, strength settings. For the. Suction.” The smile on Alastor’s face is etched in stone, and he leans closer to you as you cycle through the different speed settings. You can’t look at him anymore, dropping your eyes into your lap as you hold up the toy. “Next, uh…”
“What is the suction for, dear?”
When you look up you nearly jump back in shock; he’s moved even closer, his face right in front of yours when you’ve brought it up. “I- what?”
He places his hand over yours on the rose. “The suction. Whatever could it be for?” You try to lean back and he follows you, bent nearly in half as he does. “You could use-”
“No!” You push the toy into his hands, desperate for escape from this situation, but his smile doesn’t waver. “I mean, not no no, but- you don’t want to see that-”
“My dear.” He sets the device to the side, using one of his hands to bring your face up to look at him. He comes even closer, essentially crawling across the bed and hovering over you- what the fuck what the fuck- while you do your best to sink into the pillow. “As entertaining as it is to see you so flustered, I truly was looking for a more practical demonstration. Won’t you show me?”
If your heart flutters any harder it will burst from your chest. But he’s being so insistent that he doesn’t mind the nature of the device and that he wants an actual showing of how it’s used. You take a deep, shaky breath and commit to it- he’s asked, and you’ll indulge Alastor anything he asks of you. You reach to the side of him and take hold of the toy. “I haven’t, uh. Used it before,” you tell him.
 His eyes flash red and the smile stretches as he leans back the slightest bit. “No time like the present then!” He chirps, the static in his voice more pronounced that it had been thus far. When you move your hand to your waistband you hesitate, but his eyes zero in on the movement. “By all means,” he says, “don’t stop on my account.”
Another deep breath and you clench your eyes shut, not able to make eye contact with him as you remove your bottoms. With your eyes closed you don’t see the way that his widen; so focused on your own breathing that you don’t notice his sharp inhale at your movements as you settle back into the mattress. You keep your eyes closed as you bring the toy to your lower body, debate for a moment, and decide to position it before switching it on.
You’re hyperaware of Alastor’s gaze on you even without being able to see it. Your hands tremble as you place the small gap in the top over your clit, spreading your legs slightly for a better angle. A hand on your thigh makes your eyes fly open, and when you make eye contact with Alastor you clench them shut again, unable to do this knowing that he’s touching you-
Without realizing, your hands have tightened their grip on the toy and pressed the button to turn it onto the lowest suction strength. The sudden strong sucking on your most sensitive spot has a harsh moan tumbling from your lips, your head tossing back into the pillow and Alastor’s fingers tightening imperceptibly on your skin, claws digging in ever so slightly. It's so much and so sudden, almost overwhelming, and you’re not sure if you should curse Velvette or send her a gift basket.
“What does it feel like?” The static is gone from Alastor’s voice, and when you find the strength to open your eyes he’s much closer to your… demonstration than you would have expected him to be. Close enough to taste, not that he would, but the thought of it alone has your hips lifting from the bed, desperate for more that you know he won’t give you.
“It’s so- ugh, fuck,” is what you manage, and his eyes are hooded and focused so intently on you. You hope that this is giving him whatever information he was hoping to gather, because there was no way in any of the nine rings of Hell that you would ever be able to look him in the eyes again after this.
“Eloquent, darling,” he says, still no static to the words, and then his spare hand is placed over yours on the rose toy and jumping the suction up by a couple levels.
Another unbidden moan rips itself from your chest, your free hand clenching the sheets on the bed as Alastor holds your other to the toy on your clit. You’re soaked by this point, arousal dripping onto the sheets below you, and you’re so close already without the added stimulation of the harsher suction. “Fuck fuck fuck, God,” you get out between your panting, and his chuckle brings your gaze back to him, not realizing that your eyes had rolled back as you rode the waves of pleasure.
His other hand, the one that had been on your thigh, is now posed by your entrance, his glove discarded somewhere on the bed and his fingers mere centimeters away from where you suddenly, desperately want them to be. “There’s no God here, my dear,” he says darkly, “but perhaps I can be persuaded to worship you instead.” The suction increases again, his pressing of the button subtle, but it's too much, too much-
Your vision goes dark with the strength of your orgasm, the coil in your stomach snapping as you arch up with a drawn out gasp of his name. There’s static in the room, drowning out the sound of your cries as you ride through your release, and you can just barely see Alastor through your half-closed eyes, his own eyes lidded and his pupils blown wide as his smile is stretched as far as the sudden green stitches would allow. 
He holds down on the power button to turn the device off, pulling it- and his hands- away from your body. You allow your eyes to drift shut, breathing heavily as you lay back into the pillows. You can hear the vague sounds of something moving around, your nightstand opening and closing though the space on the bed is still dipped down from his weight. You’re trying to gather the strength to say something, to explain yourself maybe- because how could you let yourself get so far gone that you said his name mid-orgasm, Jesus- when the dip in the mattress disappears.
“Well, that was quite enlightening!” You hear him say, and when you drag your eyes open he’s standing on the other side of the bed, his expression totally normal aside from the permanent smile. “I do so appreciate your compliance, my dear, in helping to ease my mind about such a strange device.”
“I- yeah, sure,” you manage to get out without stuttering too much, and how composed he is now, while you are still half naked and heaving from your release, has your face flaming. “Anytime. Happy to help.”
His eyes lower. “Funny you should say that! I did notice a few more devices in your drawer- were these items gifts from Velvette as well?”
You had forgotten about the variety of other toys you kept near your bed, and your blush renews, your face hot at the thought of what he had seen. “No, sir,” you tell him, and he makes a little humming noise similar to the one he had earlier. 
You think about how his pupils had been so dilated, his fingers poised and ready to join the fray while you used the toy, and add as an afterthought- “Some of them are uh, VoxTech brand though.” You hoped you weren’t wrong, and the positively lecherous look that his smile takes on confirms it for you.
“How interesting!” he exclaims. “I suppose there may be other demonstrations in order then, hm? After all, it never hurts to be thorough!” He holds a hand out to you and you place your own into it, allowing him to bring it to his lips for a soft kiss. “And I do plan on being quite thorough, darling. I hope we can find the time to reconvene soon- in the meantime, sweet dreams.” 
With that he melts into shadows and vanishes, and no sooner than the black puddle on the floor disappeared have you whipped your phone out of the pocket of your discarded bottoms. You text Velvette first, a series of emojis that she has no hope of deciphering- her response of ‘TF r u on about???’ confirming that thought- and then Angel, asking for recommendations before pulling up the VoxTech website and taking a look at the options you don’t currently have in your drawer.
Like Alastor said- it doesn’t hurt to be thorough!
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