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evilmenenjoyer · 2 days ago

Text

Gratitude

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

SEQUEL to City of Love. Probably not a good fic to read as a stand-alone; read City of Love first for context.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), dubious consent, rough sex after a fight, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, bruising, marking, pain play/sadomasochism, mirror sex, manhandling, hurt/comfort (but mostly hurt), lots of angst.

Tags: @apookalypse @thecutiepieishere / I do not have an official taglist yet, but I'd be willing to make one if people were interested. If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, or in any additions to this story, let me know somehow!

–––

It's three days later when you see him again, just when you were convinced he left Paris for good.

You knew it would take a lot longer for the reminders of him to leave your mind as well as your body. He's in the marks his hands left on your hips, in the scrapes and faint bruises along your back from when he tossed and squeezed you against the brick wall, in the ghost of his lips on your skin. You can still feel them every time you close your eyes, hear his voice whisper your name against your neck as he came.

It shouldn't surprise you, after everything, to have him knock on your door right as you’re getting ready to have a night out. It still nearly takes your breath away to see him, looking as impeccable as usual in his dark gray suit, smiling as if his mere presence doesn't rock your world upside down a third time.

“What part of ‘don’t ever contact me again’ did you not understand?” you ask, though right away you can tell you don't sound nearly as firm and assertive as you’d like. You wonder if he can tell you hoped, against every rational thought in your brain, that he would come back.

Judging by his smile, you’d bet he can.

“I couldn't help myself,” he responds, raising his hands slightly in mock surrender. “Can I come in?”

That part of you that still clings to rationality, that can tell a good idea apart from a horrible one, lights up like a loud siren in your brain. There's nothing good that could possibly come out of this. Hasn't he toyed with you enough already? With his weird twisted games, tracking you down all the way to a foreign country, sending you off to those horrific games?

Still, you find yourself stepping aside, leaving a gap for him to come through. You’ve never been good at controlling your impulses, after all.

The apartment you’ve been renting for the time being stands in the heart of Paris. It looks exactly what you pictured a typical, glamorous Parisian apartment to look like – high walls, hardwood floors, large arched windows with a stunning view of the city and the Eiffel Tower. It's furnished with all the essentials, and nothing more. You didn't see the need to bring in new furniture or decorations when you didn't even know for how long you’d be staying in the city. At this point, you’re already considering moving on to somewhere else.

“Make yourself at home,” you say. “But I’m going out soon.”

“I see that.” His eyes run over you as he sits at the arm of the couch, shamelessly lingering on the black dress that hugs all your curves at the right spots. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

You turn your back to him, looking for the earrings you had put down somewhere when you heard the knock on the door. You feel his body heat approach you from behind, his fingertips brushing against a red spot on your shoulder blade that the spaghetti straps of the dress fail to cover.

“Did I do this to you?”

His voice doesn't sound remorseful or apologetic at all. If only, there's a hint of pride to his tone, a small smile at the corner of his lip that you can tell is there without even looking at him. It should upset you, thinking of how roughly he pushed you against that wall, but it has goosebumps blooming all over your skin around the spot he touches.

“Who else would it be?” Your voice shakes ever so slightly against your will, and you clear your throat to get rid of it.

You expect him to pull back, but instead he inches even closer. He has to lean down to mold his chest to your back, his lips brushing the delicate skin of your neck when he speaks. “I can make it up to you.”

“Oh, really?” You turn your head just enough to chase after his lips. Screw the night out. He lets you capture them, indulging you in only a quick kiss before pulling away.

“I’m serious. I have something for you.”

“Oh.” You frown at the loss of contact, turning to face him. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes.”

Your frown deepens, and he raises his eyebrows at you. “Don't you trust me yet?” he asks.

No. Absolutely not. Still, what's the worst that can happen? What would he do while you have your eyes closed that he can't do right now; that he couldn't have done three nights ago at that bar, when you gave yourself to him so willingly?

You close your eyes, with a small sigh as if letting him know it's a nuisance. There's no real heat to it, and you both know it.

The Salesman’s hands find their way to your arms, guiding you further into the apartment. You follow his lead slowly, careful not to bump into any furniture or clutter you left around the place while picking an outfit and getting ready.

“You didn't have to give me a gift,” you say, still confused about what this is about. He stops walking the two of you, leaving you in an unknown part of the apartment. Your heart beats slightly faster than normal; distrustful, but excited. No man has ever bought you a gift before. Gifts are for girlfriends, for women they're trying to impress. Somehow, in all your years on this Earth, you’d missed out on being that woman to anyone.

“I was feeling romantic,” he explains. You feel something cold land over the exposed skin of your neck and chest, and he fiddles with a clasp at the nape of your neck. “Blame it on Paris. You can open your eyes.”

You do so, finding yourself standing in your bedroom, right in front of the large mirror resting against the wall. The necklace stands out against your skin – thin white gold chain and gemstones shining so bright you can immediately tell they're real, a ruby and a sapphire encrusted by tiny crystals. The color choice is an odd one for a necklace, prompting you to take a closer look. That's when any hints of a smile vanish from your face.

The gemstones are placed beside each other, the shapes and markings in them identical to those of the ddakji tiles you and the Salesman had played together in the subway station.

“I had it custom-made for you,” he says. Standing behind you, his reflection on the mirror takes up almost the entire background, but you don't pay him any mind. Your eyes are all but glued to the red and deep blue stones hanging from your neck, hoping against hope that you had seen it all wrong, that this was just a figment of your imagination and the real necklace will reveal itself if you just look hard enough.

It never does.

Reality hits you then. This isn’t some fun new fling, or the beginning of a Paris romance. This is the man who lured you into a horribly traumatic experience when you were at your most vulnerable, who came all the way from Seoul just to rub in your face that you didn't deserve to make it out of there alive. And now here he is. Prying his way into your apartment, your body, your mind. And you just let him.

Horror floods you, nearly pushing you to your knees right here. You touch the pendant with shaky fingers, and it takes everything in you not to grab the chain and yank it off your neck. Finally, your eyes meet the Salesman’s in the mirror.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He blinks innocently. “You don't like it?”

“Why would you do this?” you ask, unsure of whether you want to burst into tears or slap him in the face.

His fingers join yours where they rest on the necklace, only grazing your skin on their way to touching the pendant. “I thought you'd like a reminder.”

That makes you spring into action, pulling away from him and pushing his hand away with a ferocity you didn't know you still had, not since the Squid Games.

“A reminder? What makes you think I want to remember that shit?” You raise your voice; something to make up for how small you feel, by the way you need to tilt your head to look him in the eye. “If I could erase that night from my memory for the rest of my life, I would.”

“I find that hard to believe. Would you erase our night together at the bar as well?” His eyes leave yours only to look back to the mirror behind you. “Look at you. Wearing those bruises so proudly.”

For a moment all you can do is stare at him, unable to believe the sheer audacity he has to stand in your house and say these things. The worst of it all is you can’t fully deny it – you picked the dress deliberately knowing it left the upper part of your back exposed, happy to catch glimpses of the bruises he left you with if you happened to stumble upon a mirror or reflective surface throughout the night.

“I would,” you insist. “What the fuck makes you think I’d want to remember the night that ruined my life?”

A laugh comes out of him; a short, but cruel sound. “I ruined your life, is that what you're saying?”

You scoff. “Don't act like you don't know you did.”

He steps even closer to you. You refuse to step back, even when it feels like his chest is about to bump into your forehead. “Your life,” he says, “was already shit way before I came around. Debt, an awful job, an even worse home, no future prospects, no friends. What exactly was there about your life that was good enough to be ruined?”

Rage consumes you to hear him talk like that about your old life. Things were bad, yes, but there was a positivity about you that's been lost ever since you stepped foot in those games. You could barely make ends meet, and your shifts were long and exhausting, but you had hopes of going to school, of turning your life around. Your home was a tiny, shitty house in an even shittier neighborhood, but you still took the effort to decorate it and try to make it feel more like a home. Where did that go? Now, you have all the money you could ever wish for, and all you do is spend it on clothes and expensive trips you don't even have the motivation to enjoy, your only goal being getting far away from Seoul.

“At least I felt like a fucking person! Do you even know what that’s like? Feeling human?” you all but yell, grateful for the language barrier in case any neighbors happen to be listening. “I’d never killed anyone. I’d never wanted to kill anyone! I didn't have nightmares, and I didn't wake up every day wondering if I deserve to be alive after everything I did to survive!”

“You had nothing,” he reminds you, his voice cold as the winter outside. “Not even your dignity. Or did you forget how we met? How you asked me to play ddakji with you, willing to get hit in the face repeatedly not for money, but just to have my attention?”

You hold back a sob, shaking your head furiously, but it's of no use. The words sting hard enough to bring tears to your eyes; it stings even more to know they're true.

“Get out of my apartment,” you demand. You wish you'd never let him in. You wish you'd never met him at all.

“Things are different now,” he says, ignoring your order completely. “You’re rich, and you’ve matured. You’ll never struggle again in your life, if you're smart.”

“I said GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Finally at your breaking point, you push him, shoving at his chest as hard as you have the strength to. He barely budges. It's only then that you notice how cornered he’s got you, your back about to bump into the mirror.

He brings his hand towards your face, cupping your chin and forcing you to look higher up at him. You thrash and claw at his wrist, trying to push it away from you, but he only tightens his grip until it's almost painful. There’s a darkness in his eyes that’s unlike any expression you’ve ever seen on him.

“I made you stronger. You're a millionaire now because of me,” he says. “How about a little gratitude?”

Even from your position, you still manage an incredulous scoff at him. “Gratitude?”

“Yes.” A grin stretches the corner of his lips, not a trace of warmth of friendliness behind it. “You should be thankful I pulled you out of your misery.”

He moves faster than you’re ready to, grabbing you by the waist and tossing you down. You brace yourself for the impact of your head hitting the floor, gasping in surprise when your back bounces over the soft mattress instead. He hovers above you, using his heavier body to pin yours down before you even have the chance to start struggling against his grip.

“Get off me!”

“Calm down.” He holds both your wrists together with one hand, while the other manages to somehow pull your panties off your body, using your kicking legs as leverage. Your eyes widen in shock. “I’m just giving you another reminder.”

“W-what?” Your voice wavers with fear. All that fury is slowly but surely being replaced with it, or with a mixture of both feelings that leaves you heaving for breath.

He doesn't have to pull your dress up – your own struggle does it by itself, leaving the fabric rumpled up at your hips and your bottom exposed. You stop kicking him in an attempt to cover yourself, and he takes advantage of that fraction of a second to stick his knee on the spot on the mattress between your legs, stopping you from shutting them. You gasp, the heavy pressure on your core cutting off all your thoughts for a moment. You can think of nothing to do other than to yell for help.

As if reading your thoughts, his free hand covers your mouth.

You voice your displeasure through a muffled grunt. You keep on struggling, trying to kick him off you, but each movement unintentionally rubs your bare clit over his thigh that pins you down. He applies even more pressure and you cry out, mortified to feel heat pooling between your legs.

“Christ, you're wet. I can feel it.”

You can feel it too, the fabric of his pants damp and hot where it connects with you. You're torn on whether to keep fighting and essentially humping his leg or giving up, if only to have a few instants of relief.

“If you scream, I’ll slit your throat,” he warns in a hoarse whisper. “Do you understand?”

Out of options, you nod.

He releases your mouth, then your wrists. It occurs to you to scream anyway, but you force yourself to remember who you're dealing with. He wouldn’t give you empty threats. Anyone involved in bringing people into those games has no qualms about slitting your throat open and leaving you to bleed out on your silk sheets.

The Salesman makes his way down your body, now holding onto your legs with his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you manage to ask, the answer rather obvious but it had all happened so fast, leaving you dazed and confused.

“Giving you yet another reason to be thankful to me.”

The sudden, damp feel of his tongue on your entrance overcomes your senses, and you wouldn't be able to hold back a shout if you tried.

Fortunately, he forgives you for it. You squirm under the sensations, but he holds your hips down against the mattress in a firm grip, immobilizing them completely and prying you open all at once. You hoist yourself up over your elbows only to be met with your own reflection on the mirror across the room, your hair a mess already and your face contorted in fear and pleasure and indignation all at once. You can’t bear to watch yourself like this, mortification entrenched into every muscle of your body that reacts to his touch as he continues to penetrate you with his tongue. You fall back towards the mattress with a broken moan.

“God– Y-you can’t–” Whatever you were about to say dies out in your throat as his lips rise to your clit, enveloping you so expertly in the wet heat of his mouth. You clench your whole body, eyelids all the way down to your toes, and for a moment you’re grateful for the hands that hold your legs open just so you don’t have to face the shame of spreading them wider.

Your hands, perfectly capable of putting up a fight once they’d been released, twist into the sheets beneath you, holding on like your life depends on it. You curse yourself for not trying harder to push him off, for not really wanting to; for always being so unwilling to say no to him. Moans leave your lips like they’re being ripped out of you, growing in volume like you just can’t help it. It makes you wish one of the pillows were within reach so you could bury it against your face and muffle them, or simply to hide yourself from how incredibly good it feels to be at his mercy.

It doesn’t take long at all. Say whatever you want about the Salesman, but this is a man who knows what he’s doing with his tongue. In only a few minutes he reduces you to whimpers and pleading, your orgasm hitting you like a wave crashing full-force over the shore. Your back arches off the bed, mouth open in a long moan, and he continues to dine on you like a starving man until the moment you fall backwards, spent.

When you come back to yourself, you’re covering your face with your hands as he presses kisses to the line of your inner thigh. You feel him make his way up your body, feel his hands on your wrists, gently moving them out of the way and exposing your face, the deep flush that has colored your cheeks.

Looking into his eyes, you’re overcome with a rush of emotions you’re not sure how to name. How can a person make you feel so many things at once? How can you still want him – ardently, desperately, profoundly want him – after everything? How can he be so addictive, leaving you already hooked from the scraps of attention he’s given you? You tilt your head just a tiny bit towards him, a silent invitation, and he leans in the rest of the way to take your lips in his.

He kisses you deeply, hungrily, holding you through the shudders that run through your body from the aftershocks of your orgasm until they subside. Kisses you like you’re more than just a hookup, tempting you to believe there must be something about you that’s special. Kisses you for long enough to get you drunk in it, like he’s happy to do nothing but this for the rest of his life.

The next time he pulls back, he removes his suit jacket and tie. You somehow manage to help him unbutton his white shirt, motivated by the promise of feeling his bare skin on yours. You nearly forget his pants are still on, letting him work on that as you press kisses to down his neck. Of course his body is as perfect as his face. He makes an approving sound that you can feel on his throat, and you follow the vibrations of his vocal chords until his pulse point, pleased to find his heartbeats as fast as yours. You can’t resist taking the skin there between your teeth.

He growls, hands tightening on your hips and flipping you on the bed so you’re facing the other side, your back to him. You hold onto the bed frame to steady yourself, body half-bent forward.

You expect him to thrust into you without warning, just as he had the last time. Before that, he brings a hand underneath your chin, tilting your head upwards, your sight landing squarely on your joined reflection on the mirror.

“Keep your eyes right there.” Now he enters you, and you watch your eyes widen at the sudden intrusion. “Watch yourself get fucked on my cock.”

The sheer filth in his voice prompts you to obey, to look. Your knuckles turn white on the bedframe and your body rocks forward with each of his thrusts; slow at first, but steadily gaining power and speed. He reaches down to rub your clit in circles, and it makes your body jerk to feel it and see it at the same time, to watch your reactions in real time. The sight of the necklace still hanging from your neck prompts you to look away, a confirmation of what’s actually happening to you that you’re not prepared to stare in the face.

His hand leaves your clit to wrap itself into your hair, yanking it back. Your body arches to follow it, your reflection on the glass confronting you once again.

“I said look,” he says into your ear. “Don’t you wanna see what a pretty mess you are for me?”

You shake your head, although his death grip on your hair makes it difficult to move. That’s precisely the issue: seeing the mess that he made you into, seeing yourself so overwhelmed and dirty and ashamed, the sounds leaving you suggesting nothing other than aching, raw need. It’s too much. It doesn’t stop you from pushing your hips back to meet his, trying to match his rhythm.

He angles his thrusts to hit a spot inside of you that makes you see stars. “Oh God,” you croak, feeling the heaviness of tears behind your eyes and another orgasm fast approaching.

Just when you’re close, impossibly close to your release, he stops. You watch him on the mirror, panting just for a moment before he pulls out of you and releases your hair. You’re about to protest, or maybe plead for mercy, but he pushes you to lay on your back on the bed again, back inside of you before you can even think of a sentence.

“How about that thank you now?” He pounds into you, somehow even deeper from this position. “Say it.”

“Shut up,” you say instead. The pause, brief as it was, only served to make you more desperate to come, and the last thing you need right now is to hear this. “Please just shut up.”

The necklace gleams over your chest, catching his attention. The Salesman runs a thumb over the sapphire, as if contemplating something, before he presses down on the pendant hard, digging it into your skin.

You gasp, throwing your head back. He’s moving fast enough that the bed rocks underneath you, the headboard slamming into the wall, his fingers still on the necklace like he wants to imprint it into your chest. It fucking hurts, the sharp metal edges unrelenting, digging in hard enough to leave a bruise. It makes your body sing, awakes the deeply-hidden, fucked up parts of you that crave this kind of pain.

“Every time you wake up,” the Salesman says, slightly out of breath himself, but much more composed than you, “and you look out of the window and see Paris, or anywhere that’s not the gutter in Seoul, you thank me for saving you.” He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust. “Say it.”

You don’t want to say it. Saying it makes you feel like it’s true, like you should give in and believe what he’s saying. That you are a piece of trash who got lucky, after all, and you should thank him for anything close to success that you achieve from now on. But your orgasm is so close you can feel the force of it numb your ears, your wrists; and in this moment, you would say anything, do anything, so long as he keeps you feeling this good.

“Thank you,” the words are just barely above a whisper, like you wish you could keep them to yourself as a shameful secret.

“For what?”

He gives you another hard thrust, almost painful if only the lines between pain and pleasure hadn’t been blurred a long time ago. You push your chest into an arch, the pendant digging even deeper into you until it breaks skin and the pain turns into agony.

“F-for saving me.”

“Good girl.”

You come then, thinking about the mark that the necklace will leave on you, thinking about how you’re going to feel it for days, how you’re going to remember it every time you feel it or see it. That there will be evidence on your body that he touched you this passionately. It feels like you’re floating, rising to the sky as you clench and unclench around him, as sound after humiliating sound leaves you.

You collapse back against the mattress when your orgasm finally lets you go, boneless and spent. You didn’t see or hear him come – in another situation, it might’ve upset you to miss it, if you weren’t still riding the aftershocks of that incredible high –, but he’s still against you, breathing hard into your neck. His release leaks from between your legs. He stays like that for a long time, slowly softening inside of you, before he finally pulls out and away from you.

You stay right where you are, unmoving. Somewhere far away, you think you can hear him searching for his clothes and dressing himself. You don’t want it to upset you, but it does; because of course he would come here, humiliate you, give you the best fuck of your life and then immediately leave, without so much as a word to you. Your head falls to the side, and even that small movement feels incredibly difficult, like your entire body is a limb that has fallen asleep. Your vision is blurry, far-away, until it finally focuses on the large window that overlooks the city. Tiny snowflakes flutter over the city lights and the dark night sky.

“It’s snowing.”

That pulls his attention to you. He’s got his pants and shirt on, the first few buttons undone, his once perfectly-styled hair a mess. He follows the line of your gaze to the window. “Were you looking forward to it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” It feels like forever ago since the last time you even thought about it. The Salesman was right; the city is beautiful at this time of the year.

You expect him to return to his clothes then head out the door. Instead, he reaches for the covers over the bed and wraps your naked body up in them like a baby. “Ow,” you hiss when he moves you, pain exploding on your chest where the necklace was pressed against you. A few drops of blood dry on your skin from when the skin had split. You feel the Salesman lift you bridal-style, much to your surprise, but you’re still too dazed to find it in you to question it.

He sits you both on the thick windowsill, him behind you and you leaning against his chest, framed by his legs. It’s gentle, somehow more intimate than you’ve ever been with him even after sleeping with him twice. You watch the snowfall outside, mesmerized, letting the steady rise-and-fall of his chest behind you soothe your aching muscles.

It’s the closest to safe you’ve felt in what feels like forever, and you’re crying before you even realize it.

Once it starts, it’s impossible to stop it. Your body trembles with the force of your sobs, tears flowing from your eyes like they haven’t since you were a little kid, at least not this openly. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you flush against himself and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, keeping his lips right there against your scalp. He rocks you ever so slightly, shushing your cries, the sound as soothing as a soft lullaby. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you sob. You think about the snow in Seoul, about how the first snowfall always made you excited, even when it happened every year. You can feel your tears rolling down your cheeks and into your neck, your collarbones. “I want to go home.”

“Then go home,” he says, like it’s simple.

“I can’t.” How can you walk the same streets you always did, as if your life wasn’t completely changed? As if the price you paid for this change wasn’t much, much greater than you could deal with? “You’re right. I have nothing. No one.”

“You had nothing. You can have anything you want now.” You want to tell him there are things money can’t buy, but you’re so tired, so exhausted. You can’t muster the willpower for much other than wallowing in your own misery, weeping in his arms like a child. “And you have me.”

That only makes you cry harder, shaking your head. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

“Look at me.” He nudges you to turn to him, the angle awkward but it’s so worth it the second he cups your face in both hands, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “I mean it. Come back to Seoul.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your heavy eyelids. “You just need to see things from a different perspective. I can help you.”

He coaxes you to lay back against him, and you do so without protest, burying your face into his chest. For a moment you actually consider it. Dropping the plans you had for a next trip and following him to Seoul, letting him finish corrupting you with whatever twisted worldview he has. Maybe it would be blissful, you think, to see all that violence and bloodshed as a blessing, as something that saved you rather than ruined you. It has to be a trap, or another one of his games. But it doesn’t hurt to dream about it, just a little bit.

Little by little your crying subsides, your breaths returning to normal. He holds you through it all, stroking your hair in a way that’s so tender, so soft, like you’re fragile. Like he cares about you, or even loves you.

You silently wonder if he can love anyone at all, much less someone as broken as you.

With his fingers drawing circles on your scalp, you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

–––

You wake up alone. You’re still naked but on the bed, tucked into your blankets. There’s no confusion over what happened last night, no delusions that your brain would come up with a dream like that. There’s only memories hitting you like a truck, one after the other, and it’s too fucking early for this.

You pull yourself into a sitting position, and you jump at the sight of yourself on the mirror. You barely notice the smudged makeup from last night, your eyes going straight to the star of the show: the angry red spot right on the center of your chest, already turning into a deep purple at the center. You flinch before you even touch it, your hand hanging in the air halfway through like you’ve changed your mind. The necklace finishes it off like the cherry on top of the cake, the pair of precious stones right next to each other like eyes watching you, mocking you.

You button your coat all the way up before you leave the house.

It’s still early enough that the sun has just begun rising, coloring the sky in a bright blue that bleeds into the buildings and streets. There’s probably nothing open right now, but you could really use some coffee. Or a drink. Probably a drink.

You find him at Pont Neuf, watching the river below. There’s no one else around, the city in a rare moment of quiet and peace. He hasn’t spotted you yet, seemingly lost in thought, and it occurs to you that you could sneak up behind him, push him over the edge and just keep on walking. Sever your ties to him forever, and simply keep going like nothing ever happened, bury it along with all the other memories you try so hard to forget.

You don’t do it, but knowing you could brings you a bit of comfort. You lower your head and keep walking in the opposite direction, not sparing him another glance.

#the salesman x reader #salesman x reader #the recruiter x reader #gong yoo x reader #squid game x reader #the salesman x you #salesman smut #my fics #guess who was too lazy to make a cute banner #next time i promise

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kirbmey · 24 hours ago

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— s1!jayvik headcanons ／(＞×＜)＼

synopsis: viktor and jayce need the help of a new investor to keep up with their research and fall in love with his daughter <3

tw: suggestive, reader is an spoiled brat, established!jayvik, not canon obv, jayce’s lowk pathetic, reader calls her father “daddy”, viktor takes the lead, choking mention if u squint, etc.

s1!jayvik who, with sky’s help, managed to find an aristocrat in piltover who was willing to meet with them and talk about hextech.

s1!jayvik who attend to your maybe-too-big mansion to discuss terms with your father while having dinner, and you were there too (๑╹ᆺ╹)

s1!jayvik who were known all over topside for being a pair of handsome inventors and curiosity peeked trough you, fixated on meeting them.

s1!jayvik who expected your father and your father alone, jayce shy at your presence and viktor already staging ways to approach you later.

s1!jayvik who, while dinner occurs, don’t fail to notice your cute curls and your lipstick a beautiful shade of crimson, you just playing a fool even though you knew you caught their eye the first second they stepped inside your house.

s1!jayce who’s mesmerized in the way your lips wrap around the fork to take a bite, on how you push your long hair aside while drinking, maybe even how your necklace decorated your throat, thinking his hand would look better (ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩⑅)

s1!jayce who feels the real shame every time he has to excuse himself to your father because he didn’t really paid attention to what he said. such a silly boy :(

s1!viktor who’s a lot better at hiding his lustful gazes, having the investment a priority; after getting the accord, he can worry about how he’ll get under your garments.

s1!viktor who actually listens and actually eats something at the dinner.

s1!viktor who notices deeper details about you, the moles all over your skin, the number of little diamonds your ring had, the way one of your eyebrows was thinner than the other (how your breast almost spilled out of your white dress), you know, deeper details ♡￫ܫ￩♡

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“so, I need to make sure my money is sent to smart hands, gentlemen, can you show me anything about this hextech thing?” your dad spoke in a deep voice that echoed the grand dining room, contrasting with the soft violin playing on the background.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“of course! we brought tons of sketches and studies and analysis and—” jayce implied excited, always happy to talk about the project of his life, being interrupted by viktor’s skinny hand on his shoulder while the other one passed a notebook to your father.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“that’s all you’re actually interested in, sir.” he declared with a thick accent, it made you curious to know where it belonged to.

s1!jayce who anxiously plays with viktor’s brace under the table, tracing its shape while shaking his leg, looking adorably concerned.

s1!viktor who caresses the big hand that toyed with the metal around his calf and knee, circling motions over his knuckles to calm his partner down.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　your father didn’t seem to really trust the idea brought to the table, the implication of magic clashing with his ideals. therefore you leaned closer to him, head against his shoulder as you read the notebook as well, noticing viktor’s neat handwriting.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“oh, daddy, isn’t this just so so so interesting?” you voiced with a honey sweet tone, locking his arm with your own.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“look, portals to quickly travel between regions? imagine all the money piltover would make, all thanks to you investing in ‘em.” you murmured now, locking eyes with viktor, who was smirking at you subtly, jayce too nervous to even hear what you said (◕︿◕✿)

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“hmm, still, darling, magic?” your father questioned with a slight disgust in his voice, putting the papers down and sighing while massaging his mustache.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“wasn’t piltover the city of progress? this really seems like progress to me…” you looked at him with a pout plastered on your juicy lips. “i think leaving old stigmas and taboos behind is really… progressy.”

s1!jayvik who watch you leave towards the gardens after making your father deal with them a crazy amount of money with just some puppy eyes and sultry voice.

s1!jayvik who catch a glimpse of your white nightgown covering the grass of said garden while you sat down, playing around with a stray cat, it almost seemed like you were waiting for them.

s1!jayvik who approach you after viktor insisted, to thank you, and maybe have an intimate conversation with you, too.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“thank you for interfering, my lady, if it wasn’t for you we would’ve left empty handed.” viktor confessed while siting down on the stone bench under the white pergola where you sat, the moonlight highlighting your angel-like features, leaving his cane on top of said surface.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　jayce sat down in front of you in the floor with some distance, legs crossed and arms propped behind him, tilting his head to the side when he noticed how you scooted closer to him and blushing to this right after.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“well, it wasn’t charity, you know.” you murmur in a sweet tone, curling your hair around your manicured finger as you stood on your knees, taking support from jayce’s thick thigh to end up facing viktor from above, as if you were worshipping him.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　the skinnier man scoffed at this, noticing how your cheek rested now against his inner thigh, how your hair fell down your exposed back as jayce held your hand to take place in the empty space next to you, mimicking how you rested your head to stare at you, viktor caressing his now not so put together hair in a way he seemed to be accustomed already.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“then, what is it that you desire from us in exchange, little angel?” he questioned with that accent that you started to fall in love with, his thin fingers coming down to hold your chin, making you look up to him.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“mmm, i dunno…” you feigned hesitation, reaching jayce’s handsome face to scratch behind his ear slowly, noticing how he didn’t comply, such a puppy. “maybe take me to your laboratory and show me your advances from time to time.” you pouted when you felt his thumb smudge some of your expensive lipstick away.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“wouldn’t want you two forgetting about me.” you confessed before taking said thumb between your lips, looking up to him. jayce took your smaller hand between his, inhaling your cherry scented hand cream before peppering kisses all over it.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“we would never forget about you, bunny.” he said softly against your skin, caressing your cheek while you kept on sucking viktor’s finger, adverting your gaze to him now. “you can come over anytime, maybe we can make you find science more interesting.”

⠀ ⠀ 　　　viktor chuckled before emptying your mouth and leaving jayce’s hair be, gaining a whine from both of you. “so it is settled, we’ll see you tomorrow at the academy, correct?” he asked while taking his cane to stand up from where he sat, motioning his hand to order jayce to do the same.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　you imitate their actions, tidying your hair before grabbing their holding hands with yours, standing on your tippy toes to leave a noisy smooch against their cheeks, decorating them with the granate of your lips. “you most definitely will, gentlemen.”

s1!jayvik who don’t notice how your father stared at the whole play from the beginning, shaking his head on disappointment at you; always playing around with men.

s1!jayvik who walk towards their ride in silence, jayce still inhaling your lingering scent and the soft of you lips against his cheeks, viktor trying to not think too much about the growing boner you gave him (*_ _)人

a/n: i’m obsessed with this setting, part 2 maybe? (*^ω^)

#arcane #arcane headcanons #arcane imagines #arcane jayce #arcane viktor #arcane jayvik #jayce x reader #viktor x reader #jayvik x reader #jayce smut #viktor smut #jayvik smut #jayce headcanons #viktor headcanons #jayvik headcanons

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transformers-spike · 2 days ago

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(Not a request)

I’ve been like honestly thinking, what would certain bots call their little human partners? Like I could imagine TFA megs being “my darling” but like at the same time I don’t. Just a random ramble I hope you could help me out here bc it’s been on my mind for a while🥲

I've been discussing this question with @drunkeninlovesailor this morning and we've brainstormed a bunch - so keep in mind we've also come up with a bit of extra worldbuilding (since we don't always vibe with official sources) Honestly, it depends on how well a bot is acquainted with/willing to use human terms. TFA Megatron for example would only use "my darling" if he knows it terribly flusters the human. He obviously looks down on humanity (and this includes everyone but his human - whom he still looks down upon to a degree but shhhhh). If his planet's terms don't have the same impact, then "darling" it is. But if he were to use a Cybertronian term, he would go for "my spark" (meaning "person I cannot live without"). TFP Megatron always goes for something that's a thin line between affectionate and demeaning. Things like "little one" where you're really questioning if he views you as someone he loves or a glorified pet. To be fair he's weird with everyone - any affection he has is mixed with murderous intent. TFP Optimus would call you something that shows his respect and appreciation for you. Not big on nicknames, but I'm sure you can get him to adopt something - be it Cybertronian or human lingo TFP Bulkhead and Breakdown are well-acquainted with human media (thanks to Miko and Knock Out) - but the nicknames they choose are either obscure references or sickeningly sweet to a point it gets ridiculous. Are they aware of this? Mostly Bulkhead - Breakdown would call you cotton candy with a straight face because it's sweet so it must be affectionate, right? TFP Ratchet would refer to you as his associate and later friend until he finally figures out his feelings and admits to himself he's been pining for so long it's starting to take a toll on him. Then he'll start calling his human "my spark" in private, because he's old as balls. But also "sweetspark" if he's feeling playful. Although he's willing to adopt some human terms as well and lovingly mock you by using the most grotesquely cute nicknames when you're alone. TFP Starscream? Absolute disaster. He tries so hard but he's too self-aware about how weird it sounds to call you anything affectionate. Usually everything he uses sounds demeaning even if he starts them with "my" - ie: my fleshbag. Unless you're in private and he's feeling particularly generous, at which point he's going to see if he can use some of the human lingo he learned while scouring the internet. He's testing them out to see which ones work - this can either make or break your boner. He's trying to seduce you not call you his "honey bear" TFP Smokescreen is a virgin who's never been with anyone before (you can pry this headcanon from my cold dead hands) so he's navigating the land of pet names with even less experience. Don't let him use the internet though because he'll probably end up calling you his bitch and see nothing wrong with that. Cybertronian terms tend to be easier. He says sweetspark and acts smooth to impress you, but all it takes is a sultry voice and his entire system needs to reboot. TFP Knock Out has a good grip of human lingo and is the best at mixing human and Cybertronian nicknames. He can easily switch between sweetspark and love - my spark and darling. Heck if he wants to be a smug bitch he'll call you kid/kiddo by saying Newspark.

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leftoverghosts · 3 days ago

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who am i now?

divorced!art donaldson x f!vampire reader. mdni. no use of y/n.

You are not yourself, as you have not been since you became this.

What you once were—a slave, a feast, a bride, an aristocrat, a reclusive author, an old Hollywood starlet, an industrialist—has not mattered for a long time.

No longer bound by human morality, you shed each identity like skin, as needed, as time passes.

Most recently, you have stepped into the persona of an heiress. The young girl you once took in as your daughter now poses as your elderly mother, lending credibility to your fabricated backstory.

Even in the age of social media, where everything can so easily be disproven, money talks.

You spot Art Donaldson while hunting another athlete.

In the camera lights, his golden hair glows like a halo, but the bags under his eyes betray a sadness that makes the back of your throat tingle. No wife to anchor him, just a child who barely sees him. That sorrow calls to you. He is perfect prey for something like you.

You glide through the crowd, a shadow among the living, charming your way into his company. The long years of your life have sculpted you into a mistress of deception, and the role of a mysterious, alluring woman is one you wear effortlessly.

Each of your honeyed words drips like poison, infecting Art’s thoughts, dulling his reason. But it is not merely his desire for you that renders him vulnerable; it is the abyss of his emptiness, the lack of love and connection inside him.

He inquires about your level of interest in tennis.

You respond that you are a blank canvas for him to paint upon, a lump of clay for his hands to mold. If he is willing, you would be grateful for his guidance and instruction.

As the night wears on, you veil yourself in a false mantle of compassion, offering generous sums of money to the promising young athletes. Humans, with auras as haunted as Art's, crave compassion, yearning for it to be poured out upon them.

He watches you, and you watch his smile grow, the corners of his lips curling upward in an unnatural, mechanical way. It gives you pause. He is a walking corpse, just as you were before receiving this gift.

And that makes this all the more satisfying.

You may not play tennis, but you do enjoy playing with your food.

As you press yourself against him, cold, wet flesh tightening around his empty warmth, Art whispers, "Oh God."

Your voice oozes with a sultry purr, correcting him with a sharpness that sends shivers down his spine. "No, not God," you sneer, your hips swaying with each move as you ride him like a puppet on strings.

Your fingers wrap around his neck, tightening like a vise as you take from him both physically and spiritually, draining him of all control and power.

The look in his eyes is a mix of desire and resignation, as if he believes you will drain him completely.

A wicked grin spreads across your face as you taunt in his ear, reveling in the intoxicating, raw power that courses through your veins. "I am of her shadow," you declare, claiming your place as a creature mirroring the twisted and destructive forces that wove your existence. "I bask in the shade of her love."

He pants like a wild animal, his once-blue eyes now rolled back to white as he succumbs to your relentless pace. And as you fuck him mercilessly, you bend down to his lips, slipping past them to sink your teeth into his tongue and drink deeply from his life force.

As he weakens and fades beneath you, you only grow stronger and more vibrant. And as you claim him fully with a kiss that tastes like death, it is in this moment that you are truly alive. For in this union of pleasure and pain, dominance and submission, you have transcended into a being akin to humanity.

"Step into the darkness with me," you entice seductively, knowing that Art will not resist the pull towards eternal damnation by your side.

#noriwroteit #noriblurbs #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #is it giving sexy nosferatu?#challengers 2024

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l0relaii · 2 days ago

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Josh with a girlfriend who’s just to her core a slut lmao 🤝 or even just a friends with benefits situation because his best friend just has to have her needs met 24/7 💀

irl i'm an awkward mess, but i still am a slut, mentally.

being friends with benefits with josh?? jesus pls i need that

i think he'd crave a bond, a relationship with someone

but if he really liked you he'd settle for whatever you were willing to give him

he is convinced that he can change your mind eventually 👀

but until then he's just showing you that he's as much a slut as you are, maybe more

let's say it all started one evening when he came to your place to help you with something

maybe the light went out at your place and you had been waiting for him to come and help you

so you lit some candles so you could see in the dark of your apartment

he finally comes and helps you with your problem and you offer him a drink to thank him

one thing lead to another and you ended up fucking on your couch

not gonna lie the next morning was a bit awkward

you wanted him, he wanted you, why was everything so tense?

"about last night.. ugh, nothing has to change between us you know, i wouldn't want you to feel weird or something-"

"oh no worries josh, it's uh, it's okay i guess.. do you feel weird? "

"..no? do you?"

"nope"

after that things did get a bit weird, he was more avoidant, but you couldn't blame him for it

you also didn't really talk about that night so.. 🤷‍♀️

but you decided to change that

once again you lit some candles and called him over lying that there's something wrong with your light so he would come and help you

he would've come anyway if you asked him, but you didn't know that

when he arrives he flips the switch and the light turns on in your living room

"i think this is not the reason you called me over here, is it?"

"..no.."

you fucked once again. it sorta became your thing, you lit candles and waited for him to come and rearrange your guts

you'd call him on the nights he couldn't come and touch yourself at the sound of his voice

you loved phone sex with him. the way he'd gasp and intentionally bring the phone closer to his cock so you could hear him stroking it

or sending him nudes every once in a while.

you once sent him a video of you in one of his shirts fingering yourself while he was at one of his father's movie premieres

poor boy had to excuse himself to the bathroom during and interview to film something for you

#anon ask #until dawn #until dawn x reader #until dawn smut #joshua washington #josh until dawn #josh washington x reader #until dawn josh #josh washington #until dawn josh x reader

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hakkkuu · 3 days ago

Note

sub wonbin!!! need him so bad

cw: riding, sub

There’s something intoxicating about being in control, watching him as he leans against the headboard, surrendering completely to the moment. “Just relax and enjoy,” you say, your voice teasingly low. He nods, his breath hitching in his throat as you sit on his cock and your hips begin to rock against him. You take the lead, guiding the rhythm while he revels in being the one who simply receives.

The sensation of power surges through you as you feel him responding beneath you, his body shifting to meet your movements. His fingers grip the sheets tightly, the tension in his muscles a playful reminder of how much he craves this. You know he loves being at your mercy, and your confidence only deepens his desire.

“Are you feeling good?” you tease, your voice dripping with playful authority. His response is a soft whimper, his eyes fluttering closed. “Yes... more, please…” The sound of his plea sends a thrill coursing through you. It’s intoxicating to know that you’re the one bringing him this pleasure satisfying his needs.

You increase your pace, each motion deliberate and powerful. Wonbin’s breath quickens, and you can feel the heat building between you—to him, each sway of your hips is a delicious wave that pulls him deeper into ecstasy. He’s lost to the sensations, completely at your mercy, and it drives you even wilder.

“Just take it, Binnie” you command softly, reveling in the way his body responds to your every word. He feels so pliable, so willing to submit to your desires. You can see him surrendering completely, the way he relishes the feeling of you leading the dance while he simply enjoys the ride.

“God, you're so tight" he breathes, lost in the moment. Your hips grind down harder, and you can feel his body quiver beneath you, a beautiful blend of pleasure and surrender. The trust in his eyes reinforces the bond between you, and you can’t help but push him further, testing the boundaries of his submission with every thrust.

You catch a glimpse of the pure bliss on his face, and it drives you to the edge of your own desire. “You’re so sweet, my baby” you whisper, your words wrapping around him like a shroud. It’s a powerful statement of ownership, one that sets off a shivering pleasure, echoing in each involuntary sound that escapes his lips.

In this moment, you both become something primal—a duet of desire where you dominate and he submits beautifully, like the good boy he is.

#riize hard hours #riize scenarios #riize fanfic #riize smut #riize #wonbin #riize wonbin #wonbin hard hours #wonbin x imagine #wonbin x reader #anon ask #hakkkuu

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scribblue · 22 hours ago

Text

@acksolotel618 Got inspired by this post and ended up using it as a writing prompt for a short scene with Zane and Garmadon!!

You can read it on Ao3 here , or after the cut

❆ A Lesson In Humanity ❆

Zane speaks to Garmadon about their shared history of being manipulated emperors.

{ 940 words, no major warnings }

"I was once like you."

The words landed heavily on Garmadon's shoulders, yet with further consideration he refused to believe they carried any real weight. Merely a vapid placation, or worse, outright mocking. He furrowed his brow. "You couldn't possibly understand me, metal man."

Zane stared back evenly. His eye contact was unwavering, unnatural. It felt as though he could see through Garmadon's very chemical makeup, and was intent on dissecting him down to his barest components like a hunk of biological technology. The nindroid stood on the catwalk connecting their underground base of operations to the elevator up to the monastery. The rest of the ninja had left to take a break, following a particularly intense—and unsuccessful— training session between Lloyd and Garmadon. Garmadon had to admit his surprise, if only internally, at the company he now found himself forcibly entertaining; Zane had never made an effort to speak to him one-on-one, and the cold shoulder was reciprocated.

"You are free to believe that, if a sense of individuality brings you comfort,” Zane said. “However, it is an inaccurate assessment."

Garmadon rolled his eyes. "Thank you for reminding me why we never spoke. You may leave now,” he said, waving a hand to dismiss him.

Zane remained. An unsurprising development, and an aggravating one. "Do you not wish to know of our similarities?”

A frown crossed Garmadon’s face, and curiosity clouded his thoughts. He was quick to disperse it with a shake of his head; Zane was clearly trying to get under his skin, force his guard down so that he would ease up on Lloyd. It would never work. Mastering Oni form took an iron fist, not a distracted mind. He turned away and clasped both sets of hands behind his back, pretending to focus on the computers for a long moment.

Not long enough, evidently, as Zane made his continued presence known. “I am going to tell you anyway.”

“Great,” Garmadon muttered.

“When I was trapped in the Never Realm, I was manipulated into becoming the Ice Emperor: a cold and ruthless entity who spared no one in his quest for retaining power. My true self was hidden from me for sixty years, until Lloyd helped me restore it,” Zane said, a waver of emotion in his robotic voice. “It has been some time since it happened, yet I still feel the effects of this event to this day.”

“Hmm.” Garmadon pressed a couple buttons on the keyboard in an attempt to make his distraction look convincing. “I fail to see how that relates to me.”

He heard Zane take a small step forward. “When you became Emperor of Ninjago, that emperorship was predicated on lies and manipulation by Harumi. She encouraged you to reject your humanity, just as my advisor Vex did to me. And I am willing to bet you have also suffered lasting effects.”

Garmadon scoffed. “Please,” he said, turning a tight-lipped scowl towards Zane. “I am an oni, I never had humanity to reject…that is, until Vinny of NGTV news took me under his council. And even so, such humanity would not benefit me here. Lloyd needs to learn to release his oni form, and I can assure you I am in the perfect condition to do so—no ‘lasting effects’ as you say.”

“Perhaps that is true. Or perhaps you only wish it to be.” Zane’s pointed stare finally wavered, drifting to some far-off corner of the room. “I have spent much of my own spare time wrestling with the reality of my situation, versus what I wish to believe… It is difficult to grapple with the truth that I have hurt innocent people while under another’s influence. It sometimes holds me back from being the best version of myself that I can be, for fear of hurting others again.”

That did sound familiar, not that Garmadon was willing to admit it out loud. He was often plagued with memories of his short-lived reign over Ninjago, and the atrocities committed under his hand. He was loath to say he regretted any of them, in fact he wasn’t sure he was even capable of regret– nonetheless, the flashbacks were bothersome, and the more he attempted to embody “goodness”, the more frequent they became. “So…what? You believe I am compromised in some way? I can assure you I’m not.”

“I believe you have begun the process of betterment, without addressing the root of the issue.”

“...And what might that be?”

“Your relationship with Lloyd. You hurt Lloyd during your time as Emperor. Now, your beliefs and goals are changing, but you have not mended the rift that has grown between the two of you, or attempted to grapple with the effects your actions have on both yourself and others… you cannot expect to find success in the present, until you face your past,” Zane said. His even tone and matter-of-fact delivery did nothing to lessen the blow of his words. “You may not believe it, but Lloyd is your humanity. As he was mine, when I needed it most. Do not forget that he needs you too.”

Something twinged in Garmadon’s chest. He had half a mind to blame it on his incomplete resurrection, and perhaps that truly was the case; complicated emotions could simply be a byproduct of his botched vessel. He averted his gaze and said nothing.

Zane didn’t attempt to break the silence, either. He lingered for just a moment longer, before turning heel and wordlessly leaving the room, where Garmadon remained alone with his thoughts.

“…I won’t,” he said, knowing there was nobody there to hear him.

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meangreennunseen · 2 days ago

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Medusan Spirit

A quick random drabble.

Ferrus trying to get used to being a dad and failing miserably. He had met his match.

- Sleep. - Primarch's voice was stern, but without any malice or negativity. It was just a simple order.

Small child, who sat by his side, watched giant being laying beside him with questioning expression, but it seemed he completely missed the order.

- Haven't you heard what I said? Sleep. Now. - Ferrus' eyes narrowed as he ordered again locking his sight with a child, but his order had no effect. Quite opposite, Argus just smiled at him innocently.

Primarch growled, as he turned on his back and sighed. Why him? Why he has to carry this burden, not any of his brothers? Why not Horus? He probably would enjoy it. Why not Russ? He also seems fool enough to find such a burden enjoyable. Even Fulgrim? Yes that one was the newest Brother his Father recovered and he... Was different. Something about the one who called himself Phoenician of the IIIrd. was so different from others, but felt of same kin to him, Ferrus Manus of Xth.

He glanced to the side of his bed. The hammer named Forgebreaker, a traded gift with Fulgrim after challenging eachother in the Forges of Ural, was unique, strong, durable, but also ellegant and beautiful. Just as Fulgrim was. For one Ferrus loved the hammer, but on other hand, he was bitter that Fulgrim managed to achieve such a beauty and perfection with metalwork. His craft. While in his eyes, Fireblade he made was not worthy gift.

Ferrus felt cold sting on his skin and as he glanced, he remembered the child. He now managed to find a way on top of him and sat on his abdomen, legs spread to the sides. His necrodium covered hands plastered on Ferrus shirtless skin.

That child was pain in his ass, as Terrans used to say.

He grunted. Not because it was any issue physically to hold a child he could almost otherwise carry in one palm, but it frustrated him so. Why him? He was more content with his life as it was before this.

Ferrus was bred for war and conquest. He was Emperor's weapon of warfare, not a nursemaid. Primarchs were not meant to raise children and he was unlucky one chosen for this. Even his Father, the Emperor, ordered him to take the child. Why, Ferrus had no idea. It's not like Mankind needed more warriors with Astartes at the frontlines.

He cursed that damned day something clinged in him and he pulled that child from a toxic swamp on Medusa. Weakness it was, and he now was doomed.

Ferrus lifted his own necrodium covered hands and picked up small child off himself. He felt Argus' back goosebump and hastly willed some higher temperature in his hands. Again, why he cared to show effort confused him so.

Ferrus placed child besides him on the bed, pointing his massive finger right at child's face.

- Sleep. Now. Or else. - he growled. Truth be told he was ready to throw the child across the room and yet he knew sad consequances if those terrible thoughts became reality.

But Primarch was frustrated and tired. More tired than he was for weeks fighting on first frontlines for the Imperium alongside his legion. He hated to admit but putting child to bed was indeed harder than leading warfare of the battlefield.

Maybe his face indeed was scary enough, or intimidation finally worked, but smile from child's face dropped and he laid down into small ball on his belly.

Finally. Peace and quiet. Ferrus laid back down.

For few moments Ferrus closed his eyes. It would have been more useful if he did not need to sleep at all, but for some reason even Primarchs needed this.

So he slept. Not for long though.

What he heard soon after were sniffles. Little ones. Crying.

Again. He felt something pin into his hearts. Otherwise healthy, he felt the pain. Annoying pain which comes due to feelings. Guilt.

Half sitting and cussing in his mind, Primarch turned and loomed over the child, very careful not to harm by accident. Watched him for few seconds just to see little shoulders twitch. Small hand moved to the eyes as child rubbed them.

Damn it.

Ferrus was strict and wanted his child to listen, but now even if Argus listened he cried, forcing Ferrus feel guilt.

Very carefully he poked at the child, only surprisingly to the Primarch his own tiny human child raised his little hand in a ball, smacking his finger away. Primarch, confused by this tried again, just for the child to smack at his hand again.

- Stop it. - Ferrus growled, this time anger he tried to supress before more audible.

Child still sniffled, but pushed himself off the spot he laid upon the bed and turned to the Primarch.

The eyes. Those hazily green eyes, reminding half dead flora of Medusa, looked at him with anger. Total denial of demigod before him and frustration. Even if Argus' lip still twitched from crying and cheeks and eyes were wet, boy was angry.

Ferrus just watched him back not really knowing what to do. Weirdly enough his own eyes drifted away from that angry face. Was he... Embarrased? Nonsense! He was a Primarch, son of Emperor, Demigod among mere mortals and this child now looked down on him making Ferrus feel so minicule.

A child. Human child. Mortal Human Child. Yet so determined in his own way to even defy almighty creature like him.

Suddenly Ferrus felt smile form on his lips. That smile grew into a giggle and a full laugh. Primarch laid back down on his back, laughing to himself. He turned the head, still smiling to watch what's about to happen next. Now he had to see what is about to go down.

Argus still held his tiny necrodermis fists pressed into balls, like he was about to jump a Primarch. No, not a Primarch, but his own Father. He tried to stand up on the bed and he almost got it just to fall backwards. He tried again, and again until he was on his feet. Ferrus had no idea when human children started to walk, but it was probably about time his kid got the hang of it.

Once on the feet, Argus made his way to the side of Primarch and again started climbing on his abdomen. Ferrus was about to reprimand his kid for a second time, but before he could, little Argus shot him down with the same stern and denying look.

It seemed Primarch finally lost. To a human child.

Once again on top on Ferrus' abdomen, Argus scooted closer to his father's barren large chest and slumped on it making himself comforable. He closed his eyes and soon dozed off.

Ferrus had to cover his own mouth so not to laugh too loud.

Despite all the frustrations he had with his son, he could not deny that unbreakable Medusan spirit Argus posessed.

Placing palm of his other metal hand carefully over his son's gently moving tiny frame, Ferrus took one deep breath.

Maybe indeed he was stuck in this hopeless situation, but just as every impossible task before him, he will crush it.

#Post #my writing #warhammer 40k #warhammer 30k #Primarch #dadmarch #primarch children #ferrus manus #oc: argus manus #I love writing those two stubborn idiots #They are worthy of eachother

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cherryblossompink303 · 8 hours ago

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Patience: ~A Challenge from Lobelia Girls Academy!~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: the host club gets a reaity check from an interesting group of visitors ➼ what to expect: "I was sent to ouran for a reason, and...we're being patient, it's a lot easier to be patient here than it would be there" ➼ warnings: The zuka club, Tamaki's views on wlw ➼Part Eight | Part Ten

"I don't understand why I have to dress up as well Tamaki" while the ball gown you had been urged into was gorgeous you had to admit that it was not practical, the rare occasion that you would rather be in your uniform.

"For authenticity of course y/n if we are going for the more traditional European fairytale you would know first hand" Tamaki is failing at fastening his suit of armour, "Don't think I forgot that you grew up in France Tamaki I know that this is a ruse I just don't know what for..." You squint at him in skepticism.

"But you look so beautiful as princess" Tamaki starts crying, you roll your eyes "I thought our clients were meant to be the princesses" the last thing you needed to do was draw attention to yourself, it was the whole point of keeping your engagement to Kyoya a secret. "I'm inclined to agree with y/n, tamaki having her dress as a princess, while cute, may inspire rumors in our clients"

Cute? CUTE? You didn't think that the word was in Kyoya's vocabulary. "I'm just going to go change I don't need any client Jealousy it isn't good for the club" before you get the chance the move however the doors swing open, two girls that you do not recognise enter, which is when you remember that there were schools visiting for the cultural fair.

Snapping into host mode the other club members suddenly appear in position "Welcome ladies" Tamaki instantly taking on the knightly persona he has created for himself "Well, well, well, I see you ladies are from another school. I certainly hope we haven't startled you. We love first time guests"

Tamaki's eyes twinkle as he approaches the two girls "I'm glad you've come, princesses. My darlings even if the world were to be destroyed, I'd put my life on the line as your faithful knight and servant" The girls look less than impressed at Tamaki's 'chivarly'

"Oh my, do you you really think you'd be able to protect us?" One of them asks "That's awfully arrogant don't you agree?" Oh no. you could practically hear Tamaki breaking from across the room. "You think that's what a woman wants to hear? well you're wrong"

"Come on, give him a break, sister Suzuran, men are just lowly life forms who don't care about anything other than perpetuating their testosterone-laden image. By 'protecting' us he's actually attempting to disguise the fact that he is weak and unable of even protecting himself"

You and Kyoya exchange eye contact as if to question if they were being serious

"You're such a clever girl, Hinagiku"

Tamaki stands "Don't you think that's a little harsh?" You have to admit that Tamaki is keeping a much cooler head than expected, perhaps because the girls are strangers to him but you would have thought he would have had a crisis by now.

"Fine, then, what do women like you want to hear?"

A voice emits from far away, presumably from out in the hall "Maybe something like 'i would never leave my lover alone'" the next thing you know a third student appears with Haruhi in her arms "If we fight, it'll be together" she spins her "if we fail, we fail together"

"Even if I were to die, I promise you that I will never leave your side my love" She kisses Haruhi's than, you and the rest of the host club look on in shock, clear having missed a few pages. However it does kick off the crisis you were expecting off Tamaki.

"Benibara, we thought you'd never show"

"What are we going to do with you?"

"So tell me where you found this young lady"

"I just met her outside of the school" From the look on Haruhi's face you are willing to bet that 'met' isn't quite the right word."She may be dressed as a boy, but I knew the truth" while you were slightly surprised that the girls had put it together so quickly given that Haruhi can convincingly pass as a boy to the entire school you were also slightly cautious on how loud Benibara was announcing it in the hallway.

"She has so pretty, maidenly eyes" the way that she span haruhi around and dipped her strangely reminded you of tamaki "Uh, thanks, I guess" it soon progresses in all the girls fawning over Haruhi while the rest of you uncomfortably watch on.

"Wow her skin is incredibly soft"

"Isn't it though?"

"I think this ones going to be a diamond in the rough"

Tamaki has had enough, running to the girls "Don't go touching my Haruhi without asking my permission!" he is quickly rebuttled by benibara "Leaver her alone!" leaving Tamaki to crawl back to you "She punched me! Shes so violent!" he bursts into tears "Get ahold of yourself"

"Guess the rumours we heard are true, you guys are just a bunch of weak little punks with no sense between you" Kyoya finally gets a good look at them "Those uniforms, I assume you ladies are from the Lobelia Girl's academy?"

Benibara smirks "That is correct" the girls jump into a costume change and montage

"St Lobelia Academy, high school second year, Benio Amakusa"

"Second year student, Chizuru Maihara"

"First year student, Hinako Tsuwabuki"

"We are the members of the St Lobelia Academy's white lily league otherwise known as-"

"The Zuka Club!"

The host club doesn't really know what to make of it. The twins are the first to burst out laughing at the name "Oh man! What a name! The Zuka club? My stomach hurts"

"The Zuka Club! That's priceless"

"You shouldn't underestimate the zuka club!" Renge's cackling can be heard from far away as the whirring of the platform she uses to enter starts up once again. You roll your eyes "oh god"

"I may not know much about instant coffee, but I'm fascinated with girls schools. St Lobelia Academy. It is truly a woman's world there. The zuka club is a group of strong young maidens who consider women to be superior in every way. The club prides itself on it's 30 year history. It's a society of maidens, by maidens, for maidens. Zuka club activities include 'maiden tea parties' 'the maiden debate forum' but most importantly musical reviews performed by the society's top members"

In the time that it took for renge to finish rambling you had gotten the chance to slip out to change and return, as did Kyoya "You sure have a vast wealth of knowledge Renge"

"Well i've always admired St Lobelia's I just couldn't go to school there, though what would I do without any boys?" Renge disappeared quickly much to your relief. "A maiden's beauty, it means possessing a spirit pure enough to not give in to power or lust"

"As a girl, you, for a girl, you. We've had quite enough of all your oppressive male contempt for womankind"

"And our pride comes from having meaningful relationships based on equality, because we're the same sex. And yes, that include relationships of love"

"Yeah you tell them Benio"

"You're awesome Benibara"

While you were sat confused at the...certainly set beliefs of the girls the rest of the club had gotten bored, moving on quickly "Whatever, we're so over it"

"Why don't you gals just scram?"

"I find it hard to believe that you silly boys have nothing to say about our sublime female love" Chizuru speaks up.

You raise an eyebrow, turning to Kyoya who had moved to reading "Didn't she call the other one sister not five minutes ago?" the observation made him smirk, attempting to hold back a laugh.

"What is she even talking about?" one of the twins asks, continuing to ramble about their games "You should feel sorry for them hinagiku their patented host skills don't work on us. Now they're flusterest and don't know what to do with themselves"

"True. I must say I'm glad we decided to perform here. It was fun to sneak a peek at the notorious Ouran host club"

Honey turns to you "Are we really notorious?" you shrug "I suppose" while you will take any opportunity to call the host club out on something you did not like the seemingly high and mighty standpoint the zuka club was taking.

Benibara suddenly appears next to you, apparently only now noticing your presence "Oh? Another maiden? Tell me these pathetic men have not lured you in with their schemes" you had to resist the urge to burst out laughing at the view that Benibara had built up in her head "I'm not a client, trust me if anything they are victims to my schemes"

"What?" Kaoru looks up from the DS, resulting in you elbowing him to distract from the questioning. "You're not a 'client' of this so called host club? then pray tell why are you here?"

"She's my fiance" Your face fell at how nonchalant Kyoya was about revealing that fact to pretty much strangers, wanting to remind him that it is supposed to be a secret. You didn't even know why that was what he chose to reveal, he could have easily enough said that you were a club member. Perhaps it was to deter Benibara from treating you the same way as she had Haruhi.

"So they have lured you in, poor thing dragging you down with them, the both of you, the host club's president may be a petty little halfer, but he shouldn't be using his looks to create a fictitious romance! Attempting to fool the heart of a pure, young maiden is demeaning! Your so-called 'club activities' are nothing more than debasing macho fantasies"

"If I may butt in, these lot may be idiots but they aren't scheming to take advantage of women, the girls at this school are smart enough to know what a host club is in premise and know what they are entering into when they request a host. They aren't exactly luring the women in they come on their own accord" leaning back in your seat trying to picture what exactly they thought the host club was but coming up empty

"Oh you are in so deep, they have told you so many lies you've started to believe them to be true, and now they have entrapped you into an engagement! I promise you, we will bring this club down! The Ouran Host club will be abolished"

You raise an eyebrow, you think that the reaction is a bit dramatic until you remember they are literally theatre kids. "I see, I understand your concern, but do you think maybe we could finish this later?"

"Are you saying that you're not going to face us?" Benio asks "Not at all, it's just that our president is still bedridden from the initial culture shock"

"You see Tama-chan is having his nappy time right now"

"Wake him up!" Benio seethed "Excuse me. I made some coffee. Would you ladies like to have some?" the zuka club fawn over haruhi and her coffee, which seems to snap Tamaki from his nap.

"You girls have it all wrong! Don't you see there's nothing to be gained in a romantic relationship between women? If that were the case then why did god create adam and eve?" You put your head in your hands, praying that you heard Tamaki wrong, but knowing that you probably didn't, karma instantly faces him as he burns himself on coffee. "Hot! Hot! Hot!"

"You've gotta be more careful senpai" Haruhi kneels down to bandage him up. You turn to Kyoya "So at what point was I going to find out that you have been 'dragging me down with your lies'?" You laugh, Kyoya smirks, pushing up his glasses "Just wait until they find out our engagement was arranged"

"This little conversation doesn't seem to be going anywhere" Benio yanks you and Haruhi away from the hosts "Now that we know what's going on, we can't allow these maidens to stay here. We'll prepare their paperwork and have them transferred to Lobelia at once and we'll welcome them into the zuka club"

"Huh?!" You couldn't help but see the irony in the situation that they were accusing the host club of holding you and Haruhi captive yet also declare to steal you both to Lobelia without even asking.

"Hey, just wait a second, will ya? There seems to have been some misunderstandings here. I mean first of all you called senpai a 'halfer'"

"He is a halfer! He's half french half Japanese" Honey chimes in "Well, uh, anyway, I don't think it's fair for you to pick on the host club just because you don't think they have the same history as you do" you add.

"We barely have any history. We were just founded two years ago"

"Yeah the boss created it whenever he started highschool here"

"Be that as it may saying their club activities are only held to satisfy their appetites is just wrong, I mean it's not like the host club is charging their guests or anything"

You grimace at Haruhi's point knowing that Kyoya's going to correct her any second "While I wouldn't call it a charge, we do have a point system. We offer priority services based on the winning bids of auctions held on our website" You pinch the bridge of your nose,trying to point out to Kyoya that he was not helping Haruhi's point.

"Check this out Haruhi, your used mechanical pencil just sold with a winning bid of 30,000 yen. Good for you"

Haruhi rushes over to the laptop the two of you were stood next to "What?! But I thought I lost that pencil! Why didn't you tell me about this before Kyoya-senpai? I had no idea you were collecting money!"

"So you thought we were all just working here as volunteers? While it''s not much, because of the expense of organising events, we happen to make a small profit from the online auctions"

"You can't sell other people's things without asking permission! That's stealing!" The twins slide in at an attempt to diffuse the situation "It wasn't stealing. You dropped it on the floor" Haruhi looks furious.

Tamaki bursts out crying, rushing over "I'm sorry Haruhi! It's not like we were hiding it from you! Here you can have mind it's got a cute teddy bear on it" Haruhi rolls her eyes "Senpai I don't want your pencil"

"Well to make it up to you how about i do this? I'll tell you the secrets to my success and my fondest memories"

"Not to be rude senpai but I'm not really interested in that information" Tamaki goes to sulk in the corner at the reply, leading the zuka club to swoop in "Oh you poor dear, I can't believe they've been deceiving you"

"Why don't you two just dump these losers and come with us?"

You shoot Kyoya a glance questioning why they were so dedicated "I kinda have an attachment here so..." you could have sworn that in the corner of your eye you saw Kyoya smile. "Oh, well it has been a long day, we'll give you both some time to think about it. We'll come back for your answer tomorrow. Well then, adieu" The zuka club spin out the room.

Haruhi sends death glare to the rest of the club "I'd better be going I've got some thinking to do" She storms out leaving Tamaki wailing "Why did you have to tell her the truth? You just added fuel to the fire"

"Tamaki you shouldn't be mad she found out if you knew she was going to react like this" You point out, you weren't in charge of the auctions, that was Kyoya's side of things, you just assumed they were of photobooks not used pencils "The facts are the facts" Kyoya shrugs.

"Maybe we should've asked before we sold her pencil on the internet"

"Yeah, for all we know, it was a keepsake from her mother"

"Nah it was just a freebie they were giving out at the electronics store"

Tamaki finally calms down into a more forlorn expression "Gentlemen, just think about it. Haruhi may be basically indifferent, but if she had to choose, we know that she tends to favour men's clothing. And besides, when she first joined the host club, didn't she tell us 'being a host and getting fussed over by a bunch of girls might not be that bad' Why didn't I realise this before? Perhaps they would be a better match for Haruhi. Maybe she'd be better off with the Zuka club"

"I think you're reading way too much into this senpai, even if Haruhi is attracted to women that doesn't mean she's going to transfer schools to be with some strangers, her scholarship probably wouldn't even transfer over. She's just mad because you went behind her back" You cross your arms, confused on why Tamaki was being so dramatic.

"Haruhi is smart enough to pass the Lobelia scholarship test"

"And they have the money to pay off the 8 million yen debt she owes us"

"Haru-chan is going away?"

"She's perfect for a girl's school"

"What are we going to do?"

"Calm down, it'll be alright, listen to what I have to say. I have a secret plan." You face palm, knowing that they aren't going to see sense until Haruhi tells them directly. "Okay, whatever, you're going to go ahead and do it anyway why do I try?"

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

"You're not considering transferring are you?" Kyoya asks while the two of you walk to his car that afternoon. "Huh?" the question catches you off guard, you thought it had been made clear earlier. "You seemed...frustrated earlier, you know that you aren't tied to ouran? if you really wanted to transfer to Lobelia a good point could be made to your father to allow you to transfer"

"I wasn't, I'm used to Tamaki's antics by now, besides I don't think it would be helpful" you reply, looking at all the displays for the exposition "Hm?"

"I was sent to ouran for a reason, and...we're being patient, it's a lot easier to be patient here than it would be there" You smile, entering the car.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

You decided to walk into school with Haruhi this morning, not wanting to get unceremoniously swept up again, however you find the Zuka club waiting for you as you approach music room 3. "Hello young maidens"

"We've come for your decision. Are you prepared to leave?"

"We're ready to confront those ouran host club idiots and set things straight once and for all"

Haruhi raises an eyebrow "Set what straight?" Benibara slides over "That you should come with us and go to school with your own kind" she starts dragging the two of you off "She does know other girls attend here right?"

The host club is plunged into darkness as they open the door to the music room.

"Ouran!"

The lights flicker on to reveal the host club "Ouran! Host club welcomes you!" The sight stuns you and seemingly the rest of the girls, you had to admit when Tamaki said he had a plan this was the last thing you expected, the entire host club dressed up as princesses"

“Oh, Haruhi, y/n, welcome back.” Tamaki greets in a red ballgown with pink accents, almost a princess version of the knight costume he had been wearing the previous day.

Honey twirls to the front in a magenta gown, his blonde hair also done up with extensions and beyond garish makeup, “Look, y/n-chan! I’m a princess now! Aren’t I cute?!”

Benibara gasps in offense, “What is the meaning of this?! Are you trying to make fun of womankind?!” she demands. All the while, you’re still beyond confused.

“Make fun? No, that’s not it at all. Everything's going according to plan. Our strategy is guaranteed to make even a crying child smile. It's the freebie campaign!”

"Oh Tamaki" You shuffle away "You ladies have lived sheltered lives at Lobelia so you might not know that commoners are weak. They have a weakness for free things! Haruhi, you may be distracted by the Zuka club, but choose us and you gain not only a host club full of brothers but sisters as well! See, this way you can experience feminine bonding while staying in the host club"

"I am right here?" You point out, rolling your eyes through a laughter however, because you had to admit,this was entertaining to watch. "Isn't that a great idea? aren't I pretty?"

"We’re the Hitachiin Sisters! Which one of us is prettier?” They appear closer to you, fans covering their mouths.

“I’m just teasing you,” Hikaru whispers as Kaoru laughs haughtily.

“Listen, Haru-chan! You can call me Big Sis from now on.” Honey seems to be the least uncomfortable in his attire. Even Usa-chan is decorated with a red bow and bold lipstick.

“Why you! Do you idiots really think you can win her over like this? I’ve had enough of your fooling around!”

Finally, seemingly both of your exteriors crumble, and you burst into a fit of laughter. Not amused chuckles or snickers, but whole-hearted laughter at their show of… whatever this might be.

“This is too much! What the hell are you even trying to do! Oh man, look at those outfits!”

The twins and Honey start chasing Haruhi around the room telling her to call them big sister. "What were you thinking? What's gotten into you guys?"

"We did this because we don't want you to leave the host club"

You approach Kyoya "What did they have to do to get you on board with this one?" he shakes his head "I don't want to talk about it" You laugh.

"So maiden, have you made your choice?" Haruhi stands "Yeah I have, I'm sorry but your club is not for me I think the idea of a girls' school is great, and your views are very unique and interesting. But I came to this school with a goal and a plan for my future so while I appreciate your offer, I really already knew that I was never going to leave ouran academy"

"Haruhi! So why were you acting so angry yesterday if you weren't going to leave?"

"How'd you feel if I stole something of yours without asking you?"

"I told you all this" You shook your head.

"Um… Benio?” Chizuru begins as she watches the interaction, Benibara lets her eyelids slip closed as she sighs.

“Yes… I know. We’re not going to give up on you” She leans over to you.

“I swear this to you. Someday we’ll come and rescue you from this place and your arrangement! And when we do, we’ll abolish the Ouran Host Club!” Benibara affirms with vigor and a smug smirk.

“Well, adieu~.”

Just as they twirl through the door, the three of them simultaneously slip on banana peels just as the doors to the club room close.

“Until we meet again.” you cross your arms and sigh in exasperation.

The lights flicker out, and Renge’s platform rises from the ground for the second time this episode, except this time with a monkey at her side.

“And so, a new rival, the Zuka Club, has appeared. From this point on, the story’s gonna get even more exciting! What’s gonna happen to our beloved host club boys and y/n next? Hang in there, Host Club! Don’t give up, guys!” Renge munches on a banana.

"Hey its not your job to cook things up!"

With that all over you finally take in Kyoya's appearance "I must admit you wear it better than i do" Kyoya rolls his eyes through a laugh "Shut up" You laugh. "Oh sorry 'mother kyoya'"

Next time on patience 'A day in the life of the L/N family!'

Tag list (reply to be added): @skottch @cgmajor @rebirthbunbun @bbybubbles @blueberry19000 @katgirl05 @smellslikelovinglies @veras-fanfic-reblogs @sadprimrose @mirtalikesdr @sleeplesssskeleton @ritzes28 @crackpeole @rory-cakes @renjunniex @II-kita-san-II @angelicwillows

#kyoya ootori #kyoya ootori x reader #ohshc #kyoya x reader #ohshc kyoya #ohshc x reader #ouran high school host club #ouran highschool host club #ouran host club #ouran hshc #kaoru hitachiin #ouran #ouran kyoya #hikaru hitachiin #haruhi fujioka #tamaki suoh

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almosthonest · 3 days ago

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i have made (or semi-made) a gang from scratch. the creativity was popping again, so ...

Meet the Pinpointers!

i unfortunately do not know where the pinpointers reside (thinking maybe queens?? i don't know, i've never been to new york and i don't know where all the gangs are located other than the warriors and maybe the turnbulls). but they are a five person gang! all known for their peculiar sense of style and personalities! they are mostly adorned in polka dots, and are mostly reminiscent of the goth/punk style, though they make it their own!

examples of this down below :

their colors are known to be black, white, and dashes of red and pink! and are known to wear dark makeup (dark blues, black, reds, dark pinks and purples, etc.)

now, for the gang members' individual intros!

Polka (she / her, gang leader) ── she built this gang from only her desire to have friends more like her. she's wild, carefree, and doesn't care what gets destroyed or how it gets destroyed, she just wants it destroyed. she's a menace, as her planning skills are so meticulous. she's careful. she's formed this gang with her best friend and war chief, atom, who has almost the same mindset as her, only crazier.

Atom (he / him, war chief) ── a pyromaniac and a science fanatic. he always wants to set things on fire (polka doesn't let him). he is the one that lights a fire under everyone's ass (figuratively and literally, sometimes). but he is also the most caring. he is a helper and a healer. he's most known for tending the wounds of his soldiers. he can be very sweet, but he's also very hard on them, simply because he knows that they have so much potential.

Dottie (he / him, tagger) ── he's actually cuckoo, as people like to say. likes jumping from roof to roof, hangs upside down from fire escapes. all to tag their mark on some wall or some window. he's a wild child, barely has any discipline. he's always giggling to himself (it's the voices, he says). a lot of people are scared of his uncertainty, and someone's that is the pinpointers secret weapon. but he is an artist, and a very good one. carries a sketchbook everywhere.

Button (she / her, scout) ── she's quiet and swift, but also a social butterfly. she knows how to navigate herself in a conversation. so don't be fooled. if she's in a corner, she's observing, eyeing everyone and everything. she's very brave, willing to take on more than she can handle sometimes. she's the newest recruit, so she wants to do anything to make polka and atom proud. they're like her brother and sister.

Pepper (he / him, soldier) ── he's actually pretty chill, but if you need a fighter, he's your guy. skilled, especially with a switchblade and his fists. you would have to get through him first before anyone else. he's pretty much the guardian, dad energy, although not stern. he's got cool dad energy. he's also the oldest, which is a little weird, but he doesn't want to have leader responsibilities, for it stresses him out. he's just good being the handyman and fighter.

#warriors musical #warriors album #warriors (2024)#i wasn't kidding when i said i was making a gang from scratch #oc gang : the pinpointers

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s-i-ll-y-w-i-ll-y · 3 days ago

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“I need this job”

Frederick Chilton x Secretary!reader

Summary: You’re often late to your job as Dr. Chilton’s personal assistant and he appreciates punctuality. So when you aren’t there on time, it’s bothersome and could end up with you fired. At least he’s willing to give you another chance if you do something for him..

Tw! Dubcon, manipulation, reader being taken advantage of, abuse of power; Chilton being an ass, oral (m receiving)

(Please tell me if I missed some.)

People: @toshanyanyomy @neonlifeform @potatowithahat @mongooseundertheporch @beardedbarba @spellbound-multi @obnoxiousbag @jeongiejellie @mcghestie @blood-and-guts-and-spiderman @vorpaelyzis @slimegecko @bakedbeansplease @chimaerite @blue-cheerios @allthatglitterandgold @islatama

Note for those tagged:

You probably don’t remember why you’re tagged but early last year I made a post asking if anyone wanted some Frederick Chilton x readers and yous liked, reposted, or commented on the post.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stepped in from the rain, peeling off your coat and draping it over your arm. Your footsteps echoed throughout the quiet corridors. Nurses shot you looks of sympathy as you rushed down to the office at the end. Just as you reached it, the door swung open.

Your boss, the ‘respectable’ Dr Chilton loomed in the doorway, an aura of faux confidence and narcissism radiated off of him and his thousand dollar suits. “Oh good, you’re finally here.” He mumbled in a less than enthusiastic tone, stepping aside to let you in. A tired smile rested on his lips, and his eyes were void of anything except slight rage.

The tension pooled from all angles in that room since the second you stepped in. Your pace slowed, matching the pace of his footsteps between each tap of his cane. He slammed the door behind himself, the loud noise echoed throughout the room and made you jump out your skin.

Fear.

That’s all you could feel in this moment.

The room felt like it was getting smaller, was it? Maybe. Who knows? Could he tell you were freaking out? Could he tell you felt sorry? Maybe you should say something:

“Sir, I’m-“

“How many times have you been late this week?” He asked, plopping himself into his seat. He bore a serious expression that threatened to fall due to a smug smirk that lingered just beneath it.

You balled and uncurled your fists over and over as you stood in front of his desk, your eyes avoiding his sharp gaze, “three..”

Dr. Chilton’s smirk finally peaked through and he leaned forward, propping himself up on his arms. “I’m sorry, my dear. What was that?” His voice exuding cockiness.

“3 times, sir.” You replied louder, not bothering to hide the way your voice shook as you spoke. He could tell you craved nothing more than to sink into the floor, let the world swallow you whole- anything but stand here and get yelled at due to the plethora of excuses that you had offered him the past few days.

He cleared his throat, causing you to finally make eye contact with him, and repeated what you said; checking to see if he enjoyed the taste of that number as it rolled off of his tongue.

He did not.

Dr. Chilton hummed softly, thinking over his next words carefully. Without breaking eye contact, he stood back up and walked around his desk at an agonisingly slow pace, as if he was taunting you. His cane tapped on the floor before coming to an abrupt halt as he reached the front of his desk. He leaned against it and raised his hand, beckoning you closer with two fingers. “You do know that I have fired nurses for much less than this, correct?”

Your shoes clacked on the floor as you cautiously walked to him, stopping two feet away. His eyes scanned your face as you silently nodded.

“You’re very lucky I enjoy having you as my assistant. If you were anything like my last one, I would’ve kicked you to the curb by now.” He leaned his cane against his desk, just beside his legs, and folded his arms.

“..I am really sorry, sir. It’s difficult because of those road works and-“

Dr. Chilton’s hand shot up, stopping your apology before you could prattle on any longer. “It’s very irritating to have an assistant this disobedient- this…this unprofessional, I need you to understand that.” He spat, malice coating each word that came from his lips. Once again, he beckoned you closer.

To which you complied and stepped closer, only for him to grab you chin and yank you towards him, leaving a sliver of space between himself and you. “Hardworking, kind…yet you struggle to follow the simplest of rules.”

Your hand shot up to meet his wrist, grabbing it tightly and trying your best to pry it away. A silence fell between the two of you, making you more uneasy. The clock on the far side of the room was the only source of sound- aside from the faint echoey screams of patients who were slowly losing themselves to this slate grey, solitary prison, ruled by a tyrannical man on a power trip.

His gaze wandered down your body, analysing you, trying to find anything. A shiver shot up your spine as he smirked and let go of your chin, crescent indents from his nails on the underside of your jaw. His hand fell to your throat, his index and middle finger traced the marks he left. A soft chuckle left his lips as he pushed off the desk, causing you to step back.

He grabbed his cane and leaned on it as he stood up straight. “You know, three times could be three too many.” He smugly stated, both hands now clasped on the top of his cane.

You felt your stomach drop, “Excuse me?” You mumbled breathlessly.

“You heard me.”

Worry flashed across your face as you took a half step forwards, leaving enough space between the two of you. “Sir, I need this job-“

“You can find another. They won’t keep you as long as I have though, probably won’t pay as good either.”

Your mouth opened to protest but nothing came out.

Why did he switch? It was so sudden.

You were so screwed.

Your rent was due soon and you were one more pay check away from being on time this month. You had student loans to pay back too- you couldn’t risk this.

A jolt shot through you at the feeling of his warm hand gently nudging your agape mouth shut. Your eyes met his once more and there was something in his, besides the intimidating moss green you associated with this stern figure. His hand cupped your chin, thumb tracing your bottom lip. “It would be such a shame to see something so pretty out on the street.” Dr. Chilton stated, his voice somber, almost as if he felt bad for firing you. He guided his hand to weave through your hair, tugging your head back so you were looking directly at him. “You’re fresh out of college, aren’t you? No scholarship, I assume. Lots of debt?…rent due as well, I can imagine.”

You stayed still, listening to him as he spoke about you. You were aware that he knew all of this. No questions were needed for this, he has your file, after all. All those silly questions he asked prior to this moment seemed to make sense; it wasn’t general questions, he was finding things he could hold over you- use against you if it came to it.

The room went cold as the two of you drew closer to each other. Despite that, you felt hot. Very hot. The lingering warmth of his hand on your chin, the feeling of his nails digging into your soft skin. His caresses and pulls, although not too harsh, still were strong enough make you feel winded.

A gasp leapt from your lips as he tugged your hair, forcing you closer, your faces now inches apart. “I wonder what someone like you would do to keep their job…” he purred, his empty hand snaking around your waist.

~~~~

The wind and rain battered against the glass windows, threatening to burst through. Not that you could see the windows anyway, the blinds were drawn so no one outside could see you under Dr. Chilton’s desk, or watch as his hips rolled up to meet your mouth, or see that his trousers were all the way down at his ankles.

The faint smell of his cologne and the taste of him on your tongue had you drunk and craving more. Along with the mewls, moans and whimpers which fell from his lips.

A sloppy, lopsided grin was strewn across the doctor’s usually stressed and irritated face. You had never seen him so relaxed, it was odd to not see him with furrowed brows and his lips pressed in a fine line. But it was nice..he deserved to relax for once- although you’d gladly have it be anyone else doing what you’re up to. Frederick praised you as you took all of him in, one hand planted in your hair to guide you and keep you from pulling away when he got too close to the back of your throat.

Your head violently moved along his length as he chased his high, hand shaking vigorously as he tugged on your hair. Then he slowed as his release poured into your mouth. You held it in your mouth and turned to the bin, believing he’d let you spit it out. He eased his hand out of your tussled hair, moving to your chin to guide your head up so your eyes caught onto his.

“Swallow.”

He commanded, and, not risking your pay check, you did as he told. For that, he cooed and pulled you to your feet, sitting you down on his desk. “You did very good today…if you want to keep your job then perhaps we should keep this going.” He remarked, a cocky grin on his face.

A simple nod is all you could manage as you fixed your hair and wiped the drool off your chin, silently watching as he tucked himself away and put his belt back on. After that you padded across the wooden floor and opened the blinds again, despising how loud the floorboards creaked as you sauntered over to each one, the feeling akin to stepping on a squeaky floorboard whilst trying to sneak back to bed after getting a glass of water.

“Now then,” he reached for a pen and sighed as he glanced at the mountain of paperwork lingering on his desk. “Lets get to work.”

~~~~~

To my hos, PLEASE IGNORE THIS PURE SMUT OMG-

Sunday 19th January 2025, 7:41 PM

#nbc hannibal #frederick chilton #frederick chilton x reader #dr. chilton #dr. Chilton x reader #hannigram #will graham #hannibal lecter #raul esparza

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