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scoonsalicious · 6 months

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Unwanted: Chapter 9, Unselfish - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of past trauma, Pocket's self esteem issues.

Word Count: 1.8k

Previously On...: Jade's really doing her best in insert herself into Bucky's life. After forgetting all about you when he walked off with her at Central Park, you and Bucky have a talk, and he seems to see where you're coming from. Hopefully, you've reached an understanding.

A/N: FINALLY! Some quality Pepper Potts. I weirdly love writing her, for some reason, and she played a larger part in my original draft of this story, so I am so happy to finally give her some time to shine. To everyone getting hit by the Nor'Easter this weekend, I feel you. Currently snowed in and freezing. It's supposed to be Spring, damnit!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff

The next day, you called upon the one person you knew had been in your shoes and you hoped could help you make sense of your emotions. You knocked on the door of Pepper’s office, letting yourself in when she called out an invitation to enter.

“Pocket!” She put down the file she was perusing and stood up, walking around her desk to embrace you. “To what do I owe the pleasure, honey?”

“Hey, Pep,” you said, returning her hug with all the affection you felt for her. “Do you have a minute? I was hoping to talk to you about something.”

“For you?” she asked, motioning for you to sit in one of the armchairs that sat near the windows. “Always.” She called for her assistant to bring you both a pot of tea and you made idle small talk while you waited for it to arrive.

“So,” she said once her assistant brought the tea and poured you both a cup, then departed with orders to hold all Pepper’s calls, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Is it business or personal?”

“Personal,” you told her, taking a sip of the Earl Grey.

“Did something happen with you and Bucky?” she asked, concern lacing her voice. “Did he do something?”

“No,” you laughed, though there was no real humor in it. “God, no. Bucky’s been perfect. I’m worried that I’m the problem.” You put your cup down and looked at her. “Pep, when you and Tony first got together, how did you handle it?”

Pepper leaned back in her chair. “You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific, honey. Tony’s given me a lot to handle over the years.”

You snickered at that. “Yeah, fair enough,” you said. “I guess I’m not really sure how to word this. We both know that, before you, Tony was a… well…”

“A giant slut?” Pepper offered.

“I was going to say something like ‘amorously adventurous’, but yeah, ‘giant slut’ also works,” you said with a laugh. “Even after you two became an official couple, women were still throwing themselves at him. How… how did you deal with it? Sometimes I just get so angry, so jealous, I want to scream. I hate feeling like this.”

Pepper reached across the coffee table and took your hand in hers. “Oh, honey,” she said, her voice conveying her sympathy. “I’m going to tell you something that took me a lot of time and pain to learn: You can’t control what other people are going to do. I won’t lie to you, it wasn’t easy for me. Every woman who made a pass at Tony, I kept thinking ‘she’s prettier, she’s smarter, she’s younger; why would he choose me when he could have any or all of them?’"

“But,” you began, “you’re Pepper Fucking Potts. You’re amazing.” The thought distressed you. If someone as absolutely wonderful as Pepper struggled like that, what hope was there for you?

“That’s what Tony said.” Pepper offered you a wistful smile. “I had to realize that it didn’t matter what any of those other women did, how they threw themselves at him. The only thing that mattered was how Tony reacted to them, and whether or not I trusted him. And I trusted him. So, you have to ask yourself: Do you trust Bucky?”

You nodded fervently. “With my life,” you said.

“No offense,” Pepper began, “but he’s your teammate. Yes, you trust him with your life, but you could say the same about Thor, or Clint, or even Rhodey. Do you trust him with your heart?”

“I do.” There was no ounce of hesitation in your answer, no pause for consideration. You trusted Bucky implicitly, with every fiber of your body and soul.

“Then you have to hold onto that,” Pepper said. “Like I said, you can’t control what other people are going to do, but you can control how you react to them. If you trust Bucky, then why waste your energy worrying about what someone else might do? Especially if you don’t have any doubts about how Bucky feels about you.”

“I know,” you sighed, “but it just feels like it’s so much easier said than done. Like, I know he loves me, but I’m so scared that one day, he’s going to wake up and realize that I’m just not worth it. That he could do so much better. Or that I’m holding him back. Did you know I’m the first person he slept with since the ‘40s?! What if he decides that he wants more? That, even though he loves me, I’m just not enough to keep him satisfied?”

Pepper exhaled and scooted forward in her chair to be closer to you, taking both your hands in hers. “Honey, I might be biased because you’re essentially my sister-in-law and I love you so much, but you are, by far, more than enough. I know you get caught up in your head, and that all of this relationship business is brand new to you, but you’re extraordinary. Look at everything you’ve overcome and where you’ve gotten yourself. Do you know how many people who have been through what you’ve endured would have just given up? Or settled for so much less?”

You halfheartedly shrugged your shoulders. “If it hadn’t been for Tony, though, I–”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Pepper interrupted gently. “Tony just saw what was already inside of you. He saw your drive, your raw talent. He knew you were starting from behind the finish line, and he just provided the resources to help you catch up. If you had been brought up the way you should have been, the way you deserved, with the love and support that parents are supposed to provide, I have no doubt that you would have found yourself here on your own eventually, with or without any assistance from Tony.”

Your throat caught with the weight of Pepper’s words. You held the CEO in the highest esteem, and to hear her speak of you this way filled your heart. “I wish you and Tony had been my real family,” you whispered, hoping to keep the cracks in your voice in check. “I love you both so much.”

Pepper’s face softened. “We might not be your blood family, honey,” she said, her eyes growing glassy with unshed tears, “but never for a minute think we aren’t your real family. You’re the family we chose, just like I hope we’re the family you chose.” You nodded in agreement– they were the family you chose– the entire team was, but Pepper and Tony were special. “I wish you could see what we all see whenever we look at you,” she said.

You swallowed thickly. “I wish I did, too.”

“Can I make an observation?” Pepper asked gently, as though afraid of overstepping. When you nodded, she continued: “Being loved has always been transactional for you. You were never allowed to just be loved for who you were; your sad excuse for a mother and her monster of a boyfriend made you work for it in the most horrible ways imaginable. They gave you less than the bare minimum, and only if they felt you’d earned it from them. That’s no way for a little girl to grow up. And it breaks my heart, because now that you’re surrounded by people who love you for you, and a man who would literally die for you, who sees no other woman than you, you’ve been so conditioned to think that, if you’re not actively working to earn that love, you don’t deserve it. And Pocket, honestly, nothing could be further from the truth. You make all of our lives better just by being in them.”

You looked down at where she still held your hands in hers. God, you wanted to believe her. She made it sound so fucking easy.

As if sensing your hesitation, Pepper went on: “I’m going to make a recommendation,” she said. “I’m making it not just as your friend, but as a sister and your boss, because I think it would be beneficial in all aspects of your life right now. You’re free to do with the recommendation whatever you like; I only ask that you seriously consider it.”

You looked at her, anxiety beginning to course through you as you ran through all the possibilities of what she could possibly have to say. You nodded for her to continue.

“I want you to consider getting yourself back into therapy,” she said, gently squeezing your hand. “We can all tell you how wonderful you are, how worthy of love, until we’re blue in the face, but it’s not going to do any good until you actually believe it.”

You looked down, ashamed to meet her eye. You had been in therapy for years while you were in college and when you first started working for Stark Industries, but you’d prided yourself on your progress and had stopped attending sessions a long time ago.

“I know you’re private when it comes to your past,” Pepper continued, “and that you don’t want anyone thinking less of you or pitying you because of what you’ve been through, but honey, it’s not healthy for you to go on this way. You’re in a whole new phase of your life right now that should be filling you with joy, but you’re unhappy. I’m not saying that to make you feel bad, or to make you feel like you can’t handle it, but don’t you think it would be good to have some help? Maybe you could talk to Tony about accessing his Virtual Therapy program. That way, you’re not divulging your secrets to a real person, but you’re still getting the help you need.”

You looked at her, considering her suggestion. It had a lot of merit, and you wouldn’t have to open up to an actual person, just FRIDAY. And Tony had created it, had trusted it with his own issues, so you knew the system would be secure, and just as good, if not better, than speaking to a human therapist.

“Yeah, okay,” you finally agreed. “I’ll talk to Tony and see what we can set up.”

The relief on Pepper’s face was palpable as she stood, pulling you up so she could embrace you again. “You’re so important to me, Pocket,” she whispered. “To all of us. None of us want to see you trapped in your head. You don’t deserve that.”

“Thanks, Pep,” you said, squeezing her back. “I’m so thankful to have you in my life.”

“I am, too, honey,” Pepper said, stepping back and releasing her hold on you. She brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen into your face. “Anytime you need anything, you know where to find me.”

You nodded, thanked her again, and made your way out of her office. Once back in the hallway, you pulled out your cell phone, dialing Tony’s number.

“Hey, kiddo,” he answered. You could hear the sounds of DUM-E extinguishing something in the background; he was obviously down in his lab, setting something on fire. “What can I do for you?”

“Hey, Boss,” you began, taking a deep breath, “I need to ask a favor…”

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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dumbd3m0nzart · 3 months

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A NEW KILLER IN TCSM AND LEAKED VOICE TRANSCRIPT?!!

SHE LOOKS SO CUTE!!! I CAN’T WAIT FOR HER TO RELEASE SO I CAN GO CRAZY!!!!!

💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵

Apparently her ability is made to lure victims into a state of false security until another one of the family members strikes? I wonder how well that could execute in game without it being so op?? Honestly seems like a very interesting concept from the voice transcripts she seems to be a big crybaby which honestly who doesn’t love crybaby murders? I’m definitely not gonna complain!

(Dolly’s Leaked Voice Transcripts)

/To make it easier to read I’ll color code her responses!/

Interacting with the family (Dolly Hart)

Dolly Sees Sissy

“(crying) I can’t do this, I can’t.”

“Awh sugar, what's with those tears? Ain’t you having fun?”

“(crying continues) No.”

“Nancy is really startin’ ta get on my nerves.”

“Pay no mind to the old woman Doll, she's just a bit upset that her boy is payin' more attention to you than he is her.”

“I’ll try.”

“I-I’m really not supposed to be talkin to ya.”

“Did Johnny tell ya that sugar? Don’t listen to him..I’m always here if ya wanna have girl-on-girl talk!”

“S-sounds like fun! But let’s keep this secret please.”

“Of course sugar, whatever ya say. (laughter)”

“(crying) It’s everywhere, they’re everywhere.”

“Come on Dolly, smile! I know you aint used to this but it gets easier over time I promise!”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“(crying)”

“(fake crying) Is this makin ya feel better? (small laughter)”

“(crying elevates) NO!”

“You haven’t seen Johnny have ya?”

“Sweety with all due respect how do ya put up with the bastard?”

“Oh well, he’s real sweet to me when he wants ta be even when he gets mad I know he means well.”

“(laughter) Well good luck you sure got yer hands full.”

Dolly Sees Drayton/Cook

“Where are they, damnit.”

“Hey you! Doll or whatever go roun' back and check on those damn gates. Make sure they're nice an' secure understood?”

“Y-yes sir! I’ll g-get right on that!”

“(crying)”

“Quite that damn cryin’ before I give ya somethin’ ta cry about ya here girl?!”

“(crying) O-okay.”

“An' quit just noddin' at everything I tell ya dammit! Like some damn beaten ol' mutt, I swear there isn't any normal person roun' here. (annoyed grumbling)”

“Umm D-Drayton, not to be a bother but who’s this girl Johnny seems to be so fond of?"

“That damn girl is the soul reason we're in this mess! If that boy woulda jus' stop bringin' all of them girls to the property, we wouldn't be chasin' roun' stupid kids!”

"T-There are more of em?”

“Drayton you really gotta show me some of your recipes, yer cookins real good!"

“Quit tryna butter me up, and focus on actually gettin' the job done instead of havin' everyone finish it for ya!”

“Yes sir. (disappointed sigh)”

“Y’know that recipe ya showed me last time?”

"(annoyed sigh) Yes Dolly, I remember."

“Could ya show me again? I umm forgot what goes in the sauce.”

"Jus' ta stop yer yamerin' I’ll show ya again once we kill all these damn vermin okay?”

“Okay!”

Dolly Sees Johnny

“(crying)”

“I really do love it when you cry, Dollface. (laughter)”

“(slighty aggitated) Johnny who’s this girl everyon' sayin' yer so fond of?"

“Awh c’mon Doll, yer not jealous now are ya? You know yer always gonna be enough for me, Dollface.”

"R-really?!”

“(crying) Johnny, I wanna go back home."

"You think I wanna be here all day chasin' these vermin'?"

"(crying) N-no I jus-"

"(tuts and taunting) Awh, cmon' Dollface quit poutin' already an' help us out with that little act of yours.”

“(screams of distress) Help me! Get it off! Get it off!”

“What's the matter, Doll, can't handle a bit of blood? (laughter)”

"(hums "Look At Your Love" Sissy's song)"

“You ain't talking to that hippie now are ya darlin?"

“(stops humming and in panic) N-no! I would never!”

"(sadistic tone) You know I'll find out if you are."

“(small cries) Johnny, you love me, right? You promised you wouldn't leave me, right?"

“Nancy tellin' ya shit again? (annoyed sigh) Don't worry, Doll, I'll handle her. You just keep yer distance.”

"Okay."

“Johnny! C-can I stick with ya for a bit? I don’t w-wanna be alo-"

“(frustrated sigh) Dolly Baby, why don’t you go and smash some heads in, instead of hoverin' all over me like a damn dog and let me finally breathe!”

"(crying) I-I’m sorry."

“(crying) There’s so much blood."

“Bloody and a Crybaby, darlin' you really are for me! (laughter)”

"I-I am?”

“I can’t knock 'em down right with this no matter what, they just keep runnin'!

“What not likin' the mallet? Try smashin' harder, so that way you can get the job done much faster. Now isn't that an idea, sweet thing?"

"Ah! O-Okay I’ll make ya proud!”

"(laughter) I’m sure you will.”

Dolly Sees Nancy

"(crying then gasp of realization) Shit, not her."

“Of course yer crying. What else would you be doing? Yknow, I can't wait till my Johnny finally gets bored of ya."

“(sniffs) Johnny cares about me more than anything in the world I know he does, right?”

"Just like all the others, you ain't nothing special. (laughter)”

“Nancy.”

“Heard you and Johnny tusslin' trouble in paradise, Doll? (laughter)

"(verge of tears) Please not now."

"Oh girl, you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into. once he's done with you, I'll make sure to take care of you myself.”

"Johnny doesn't want me talkin' to ya leave me alone."

“Stilk fallin' for his act, huh? Johnny may like ya, but does he actually love ya? (laughter)”

“Nancy have you seen any of em kids around?"

“Of course, you’d let one get away! (frustrated grumbling) Well? Go get 'em I ain’t helpin' ya!”

Dolly Sees Nubbins/Hitchhiker

"Nubbins, do ya have any idea why Nancy is so I don't know mean all the time."

“I d-don't get why that old lady’s all mean t-to you! Y-yer pretty, and nice a-a-and she's just a m-mean o-ol hag that's what!”

“(sniffs) That’s real sweet of ya Nubsie.”

“(crying) Why can’t they just die."

“W-Why you al-always cryin' for? Don't you ever get a headache from all that w-whining?”

"(crying dies down) O-oh umm yeah b-but I’ve gotten used to it by now.”

"Sissy says I should use more accessories as a way to get Johnny to notice, but I'm not sure what?"

“I think a nice b-bone bracelet would l-look real nice on you! I c-can make you one if you want! (laughter)”

“(gasp) R-really?! I would love that, thank ya, Nubsie. I really do appreciate it. I can’t wait to see it!”

“(crying)"

“Yknow the o-only reason they pick on ya is because y-yer to nice gr-grow some b-backbone o-once in a-awhile!”

Dolly Sees Bubba

“Heya Care Bear!"

"(affection grunting)"

"Woah n-now! Don't get so close swingin' yer chainsaw aroun it could hurt someone.”

“(crying) I don’t think I can do this by myself, Bubs. I really don’t wanna hurt em.”

"(very concerned grunting)"

“Yer lookin' real s-scary with that blood all smeared."

"(very concerned grunting)

"Don’t worry I’ll help ya clean yer mask once this is all over.”

“Heya Bubs, how's the huntin' goin' for ya?"

"(happy/affection grunting)"

"(laughter) I'm glad yer havin' some fun."

“If I find one of em you’ll be the first to know!”

"(comforted grunting)"

Dolly Sees Hands

“Wow Johnny wasn’t kiddin' y-you really are an intimidatin man.”

“I heard a lot bout yer hunts with Johnny, ya mind teachin' me a thing or two? (nervous laughter)”

"Not much of a talker, huh?"

“(crying) I-I can’t do th-this alone."

"(silence)"

"(sniff) Ya min' given me a hand? (laughs lightly)”

"(small laughter)"

“Hands! Glad I caught ya when I did. You wanna try this new recipe I’m workin on for Johnny it's with h-hum- well meat."

"(grunts in affirmation)"

"I’ll t-take that as a yes”

“(screaming in terror) Oh! (laughs lighty) it's just you."

"(grunts in affirmation)"

"Ah, silent, but deadly I’ll have to learn from that.”

Match Start Intro

“H-how did they escape?! God, this needs to end quickly.”

“Of course, the cat plays with their food and the mice find a way to run wild. I really don’t wanna hurt em.”

“(crying) W-why couldn’t they have just stayed in the damned basement and die! Ya’ll kids better die this time.”

“Don’t worry Johnny I’ll make ya proud. I hope.”

Idle

“(crying) I never wanted to do this yknow but you gave me no choice I have to kill ya now!”

“Sissy was right it really does get easier the more I do this.”

“(laughter with tears) I really am a terrible person.”

“This is gettin' old! Come out already!”

“I can’t do anything right. (crying) Hell! I can’t even kill someone right!”

“What was it that Sissy said to me once? Laugh and smile and everything will get easier. (Manic Laughter) Yeah, no.”

“Go ahead, lil bunnies. The big bad wolf is gonna find ya soon enough.”

Feed Grandpa

“Don’t bite me, Don’t bite me, Don’t bite me!”

“Open wide, don’t choke now.”

“(crying) Please, let this work Johnny’s countin' on me…”

Find Hidden Victim

“(screams in excitement) I actually found one!”

“(crying) like a dog I’ll always fetch!”

“Run.”

“(crying) You're all real bad at hidin’ no wonder they always find ya.”

“You think yer hidin will do ya any good (laughter) then yall are dumber than you look!”

“(crying) Don’t hide without me! Make some room!”

Hit Enemy

“GRAH! Just stand still will ya!”

“(crying) Can’t ya see I’m tryin' to help! Just let me take away yer sufferin' already!”

“(crying) This is hurting me more than its hurtin ya.”

“Cry all ya want! (crying) It won’t change anythin!”

“(crying and laughter) Yall are making this way too easy. I feel real bad for ya.”

“Trust me, it's better if I’m the one who kills ya!”

Dolly See Blood Trail

“Looks fresh, your close ain’t ya.”

“(crying) You poor things I’m so sorry you havta suffer like this, I’ll help ya don’t worry”

“So much blood.”

“The more blood yall lose the easier it will be when he finds ya!”

“Well looky here a little red road!”

“(crying) This will be yalls demise.”

See Enemy First

“Run rabbit. (crying) Run!”

“Oh c'mon now, don’t just run off without me!”

“Just a few smacks to yer pretty lil skull will do the trick trust me!”

“(crying) I can see you.”

“I ain’t gonna bite ya! I promise.”

See Enemy Sub

“Johnny’s gonna be real pleased once I tell him how I found ya’ll!”

“It’s over. You better start runnin'. (crying) Right now!”

“Found ya!”

“(crying) Don’t even try runnin' it’s useless now.”

Encounter Start

“(crying and struggling) Let go of me!”

“(laughing with tears) well, looky here! Cmon, kill me! Yknow ya wanna!”

“Don't you dare, touch what's his!”

“Try me! I dare ya!”

“(crying) I just wanted y’all to die. Is that too much to ask?! Huh?!”

Exit Interaction

“AH! This could’ve ended badly. Good thing I caught it before any of em really did run off.”

“God this is frustratin’ just stay on dammit!”

“No wonder I didn’t hear no vroom an’ boom!”

Lose Enemy First

“Dammit, dammit, dammit! Johnny’s gonna be so mad!”

“No! This isn’t how it’s supposed to go!”

“Gah! (crying) The hunt just started, and I already messed up! Shit!”

“(crying) Johnny, trust me, this isn’t my fault.”

Lose Enemy Sub

“Run all ya want I’ll find ya! I hope.”

“Go ahead, run from fate!”

“(crying) No, please! Let this end! For the both of us.”

“(crying) Come back! Please I’m beggin' ya, please!”

Lose Enemy Long

“Yall were already dead the very moment you set foot on this place.”

“(crying) The more yall struggle the more painful this is gonna be!”

“I know yer here come on out! This is pointless. Please just go away.”

“I was like the rest of y'all once I too ran from death, but look at me now head over heels for him. I’d do anythin’ for my Johnny.”

See Family Member

“Keep yer eyes peeled they're here, somewhere”

“(crying) O-Oh! I didn’t see ya there. I’ll be quiet now.”

“I-I need yer help, please?”

See Trapped Victim

“Like a bug, disgusting.”

“(crying) That looks like it hurts! Here let me help!”

“I told ya, didn’t I? We’d find ya one way or the other, dead or alive.”

“Go ahead! Struggle, easier for me ta kill ya this way.”

“(crying) Please understand this is really for the best.”

“I-I need ya to stop movin yer makin' it harder to aim.”

See Victim Escape

“No, no, no, no, no! (cries and screams in frustration) What am I gonna do!? What am I gonna do?!”

“No wait! Please don't go! Please! Let me free you!”

“Bleed, bleed out, and die for all I care (crying) I tried helpin’ ya but yer too stubborn to care!”

“They got away, shit! (crying) I really am useless. What’s Johnny gonna do with me now if I can’t even finish the job! N-no, he wouldn’t do anything like that. Would he?”

“(crying) Johnny. I need Johnny!”

Use Ability Blocked

“They ain’t nearby yet. Gotta wait for the right time.”

“I don’t see anyone here.”

“Can’t deal with crowds. Gotta wait till they scatter.”

“No one is here to help.”

Use Ability

“Help! Help me! Please?!”

“No please don’t hurt me! Please someone help!”

“We gotta run! We gotta hide!”

“Y-yer not one of 'em are ya thank god! (crying)”

“(crying) Please, don’t leave me alone. I’m scared!”

“(crying) We’re not safe here! Please, we have to go!”

Use Ability Success

“I’ll take us somewhere safe! I promise.”

“(crying) I’m so glad you stayed. I was so scared, please don’t leave me.”

“(crying) I was stuck here for so long. I’m glad yer here to protect me.”

“You got so much blood on ya, I’ll clean ya right up once we're out of here!”

“We’re gonna be safe again, I just know it.”

Execution

“(crying) I’m sorry! You gave me no choice!”

“(crying) Blood, blood so much blood!”

“Why won’t you stop twitchin'!?”

“(crying) I'm sorry I'm sorry, I'm sorry!”

Isn't she so cool! I need to know more of her lore, honestly. Can't wait for them to talk about her next stream if they even do.

(I hope ya like my oc!!!)

#tcsm game #digital illustration #drawing #artists on tumblr #digital art #tcsm oc #johnny tcsm #tcm game #johnny tcm #nancy tcm #sissy tcm #nubbins sawyer #tcm nubbins #bubba sawyer #hands tcm #oc #oc art #dollyhart🐶

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aquagirl1978 · 4 months

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I was wondering what makes chevalier your favourite? ☺️

Oh anon, today is your day, the day that I finally respond to this ask. Yes, I've been putting this off because well, reasons.

Chevalier has been my favorite since Day 1 - even before the game was released in EN, I saw some posts about him and already, he was the one. While his route suffers a bit from being one of the first 3 released, I think his Romantic End more than makes up for it. But it is really in his events where you see this other side of him - the human who found love - that he really shines and a lot of these reasons come from there.

He makes me cry (happy tears). Okay, I know this really isn't a reason. And I know lots of people cry at many of the routes. But I don't. So when I do, it means I really, really, really like a character. And his Romantic End reduced me to tears. His events leave me teary eyed. And even Gilbert's route god damnit made me cry 3 times - all because of Chevalier. God help me when his sequel drops in EN.

He loves you. Like, he really, really, really loves you. I think he might even love you more than you love him. Here is a man who loves you so much, he will do anything for you, like play a silly Valentine's Day game. A holiday he puts zero worth on, but because you do, it has meaning. He quietly eats all the beignets you make - they taste so good because you made them.

He is kind. He doesn't think he is kind - and most would agree with him, but you see his kindness in so many different ways. The way he warned you in his route to be wary of everyone. How he stayed away in his amnesia story when he knew it would hurt you. And there's this one scene in his sequel (Drama End) that is perhaps his ultimate act of kindness.

He is a good man. He might not be the shining ray of sunshine Leon is, and many of Chevalier's actions are, well, a bit rough? Harsh? But he doesn't have an ounce of malice - what he does, he does to protect (country, family, you). Even Leon agreed that Chevalier did the right thing on Bloodstained Roses Day. Chevalier also kills all the assassins in his route to protect his brothers. He allows himself to be the brutal beast so that his favorite brother Clavis can continue to be human.

He is awkward. You are his first for everything - his first love, his first touch, his first hug and kiss and everything else. He's learning, with you as his teacher. It's a slow progression, but worth it to see how his touch changes.

He is playful. Unless you read his events, you won't see this side of him. But he can be teasing when alone with you, sometimes he is so bad he is a bully. He likes to bite and leave marks. If you try to wake up too early, he is liable to drag you back to bed and hold you tightly.

He finds you worthy to stand next to him. To him, you are perfect.

I'm gonna end this right now before this becomes a book too late.

#aqua asks #ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #otome #otome games

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corporatefrog · 1 year

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╭₊˚ ๑︰REQUEST: Having a sleepover with Superhero!Stan, Kyle, and Kenny when Professor Chaos attacks South Park!

✧.* tags: college au, neighbors, superhero au

✧.* Characters: stan marsh, kenny mccormick, kyle broflovski, butters scotch

a/n: i didn't know how to introduce or end this piece so i made it a mix of headcannons/oneshot! do you guys prefer reading one over the other? i lowkey think a miraculous au with the superheros would be SO COOL

masterlist

living in the same apartment building means it's super easy to have SLEEPOVERS!!

Butters usually joins you, but he said he was feeling under the weather today :(

just dance is a MUST

Kyle and Kenny get really into it

Stan definitely is the type just to move his arm

"why are you guys doing the legs too, it only tracks the remote"

"it tracks you SPIRIT too Stan that's why you're fucking losing"

"you're literally in last place Kenny"

the night always ends with a funny or scary movie

but tonight when you're setting up, a notification interrupts you

Four phone's simultaneously erupt in the iconic bird tweet, screens around the room lighting up with the same words:

ALERT: Villain activity has been spotted in the park! Unknown plants with spiked teeth have sprouted from the ground and have begun eating local teens.

I went to grab my phone, squinting to see the words from the bright screen in the dark room.

"Dude, what the fuck-"

"I HAVE TO GO WATER MY PLANTS!" Kenny suddenly shouted, running out the door before any of us had a chance to react.

I turned to look at Kyle but he'd already gotten up from the couch and was lacing up his shoes.

He looked up and met my gaze, giving an apologetic smile before standing, "Sorry, yn, I just remembered I've got a paper due tomorrow and I've got to finish a few paragraphs still." He explained, rushing out the door in a similar style to Kenny.

But Kyle finishes his papers a week before theyre due. why would he still need to write a few paragraphs?

"Do you know what's up with them?" I asked, turning to the kitchen where Stan was making popcorn. Well, was as in past tense. By the time I turned to the kitchen, Stan was gone with a bowl of popcorn sitting on the counter.

Hearing the doorknob turn, I whipped my head around to see Stan halfway out the door.

He paused with one foot out when he noticed my eyes on him.

"uh…" he trailed off, searching for the words for his reason, "We'll do this tomorrow! bye yn!" and with that, Stan Marsh shut the door and I was sitting alone in my apartment.

What the fuck just happened?

Without anything else to do, I decided to put on my shoes as well and investigate what was happening in the park. I had a youtube channel to run, after all. And who knows, maybe I'll get some good superhero shots tonight!

Halfway to the park, my wish comes true. Through the sky, a blur of color speeds through the air.

That’s got to be Human Kite!

I pull out my phone and aim it towards the sky, zooming in on his face as he looks down. Through the screen, I can see his eyes widen as his mouth moves in words I can’t hear. Suddenly, he’s nose diving towards the ground. I worry he’s going to crash but he pulled up at the last second and lands on his feet.

"You really shouldn't be in this area, we don't know how far the plant problem has spread." He holds up a hand to block your camera as he speaks to you. Human Kite always was more camera shy than the others. It was rare that you got a good shot of him during your on-site reporting.

God damnit, Kite, I’m trying to speak for the people here!

"That's exactly why I need to be here! how else are the people of south park going to know the true events!" You refute, moving the camera above his hand to refocus my frame.

Down the street, a plant burst through the concrete, purple and green spotted head screaming at an ear piercing volume. The head lunged at a teen trying to escape on their bike, cutting off their cries of terror with a single chomp.

“See that! That’s the type of truth the people of South Park need to see!” I exclaimed, leaning to the right to zoom in on the plant happily crunching on the teen as muffled cries of “oh god!” and “Why, Jesus! WHY!” echoed down the street.

Human Kite stepped to the right, blocking my frame, “I’m serious, this area is extremely dangerous. You need to get as far away as-” The jaws of a mutant plant closed around him before the sentence could finish. I scrambled away from the plant, clutching my phone close to my heart in case it attempted to beat out of my chest.

“NO!” A shout sounded from behind me. I spun with my camera to catch Toolshed rushing down the street with a weed wacker in hand.

“KY- I MEAN KITE, HUMAN KITE!” He stuttered, likely due to the stress of watching your partner in crime fighting be eaten by a giant piranha plant. It was at this point he noticed you standing there, camera still held up to catch his expression shift.

“Uh- Civilian! You need to get back!” He said, holding out an arm between me and the plant to push me back. I lifted my arms to keep my shot clear.

“No, no, it’s alright! I’m just here to film this for the town! I’ll just be back here, this camera has a great zoom.” I flashed the snazzy camera setup in his direction before refocusing on the plant that ate Kite.

Toolshed opened his mouth to protest but before he could, Professor Chaos emerged from behind the plant, maniacally cackling with arms outstretched as if to bask in his own villainous glory.

Wow, this is a great shot. The people are going to love this.

I focused my camera on the villain as he began to speak.

“That’s right! I’ve captured the Human Kite within my carnivorous plants! And soon you will all be-” Chaos stopped his monologue as our eyes met. The devious smile shifted to a wide grin as he waved a tinfoil wrapped hand, “oh hey yn!”

I gave a quick wave back, “Hey Chaos!”

“Chaos? Oh yeah, CHAOS!” Professor Chaos snapped back into action, strutting around the plant which held the Human Kite as if it were the prize pig at the fair.

“This is some of my best work yet! Months of experimenting have allowed me to develop the perfect containment for you stupid heroes! And soon, you’ll all be nothing but plant food!”

A flash of darkness crossed my vision to my left.

“You’ll never get away with this, Chaos.” Mysterion crouched atop a boulder, deep voice reverberating through the air.

Holy shit it’s Mysterion! The viewers are going to love this!

The statement only made Professor Chaos laugh, “Never get away with this? But I already have! Half of the town is being digested in my plants of chaos and the other half is soon to follow!”

God damn, this is good. I can’t wait to tell the guys about this!

After professor chaos is defeated (like always), Mysterion leads to back to your apartment, chastising you for getting in the middle of another hero/villain altercation

At this point, you know the whole script he goes through about how “it’s really not safe” and “you can’t just run into a fight between superhumans”

And you nod and say you’ll never do it again

But you totally will

The next day, you tell the guys all about it

But they all seem super tired for some reason

You asked Kyle what paper he had to write so suddenly and he responded that he wrote a philosophy paper’s due date wrong in his phone and only noticed when the Call Girl notification went out

Seems a little sketchy but okay

At the end of the day, they’re your friends and you love them

You all make plans to redo your sleepover that weekend! And Butters is able to come this time since he’s feeling better!

#south park #corporatefrog #south park headcanons #south park x reader #south park imagines #butters stotch #kenny mccormick #kyle broflovski #stan marsh

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missmaywemeetagain · 1 year

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Sweet Symphony 🎻❤️‍🔥🎹, a '68 Special Era One-Shot

A/N: This one has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for quite a while. Sweet Symphony started as a special request for '68 Special era Elvis from my Get to Know Me Gala way back in March! I also included the prompt, "Do it again, please." Nothing like a good two-fer!

A professional violinist Reader gets a little more than she bargains for after rehearsal for Elvis Presley's '68 Special...

Mature 18+ || Word count: 9.2k

TW: Sexxx in various forms, fluff, cussing, dubious use of a piano

For my most patient baby, @savedrebelcreation 💗

(If you want to get stories like this early, come join my Patreon!)

Sweet Symphony

A ’68 Special Era Request

You’re early. Too early, in fact, but your mother always said, “If you’re on time, you’re late,” so it goes to reason that for such an important job, you find yourself clicking your heels into the rehearsal room a full hour before it’s set to start.

The only reason they allowed you in this early is that your brother-in-law, Billy, is the one in charge of this portion of the production rehearsal, arranging the music for Elvis Presley’s television special due out in December. He had been tasked, rather last minute, to take over the musical arrangements. When your sister called on Billy’s behalf, saying he desperately needed a professional violinist to fill in for the one who’d been suddenly struck with a bout of appendicitis, you were a little confused at first. Why in the world would Elvis Presley need a violinist? had been the first thought in your head, but a job is a job, and you figure a television special of this magnitude wouldn’t hurt your classical resume.

Sure, why not? you’d thought, then packed up your violin and got a ticket for the next plane out to LA. If nothing else, I’ll get some sun.

Since your plane arrived late, you made the executive decision to go straight to the studio rather than chance the traffic by checking into your hotel first. Which is how you find yourself in the near-dark rehearsal space before anyone else has even thought to arrive, violin and suitcase in tow. At least you’ll get a chance to look over the score Billy just handed you before anyone else arrives, you think, finding a chair and settling in to unpack and prepare your instrument.

So focused are you that you don’t really register the door opening and then latching closed. You figure it is just Billy, who had been frantically going over sheet music up in the booth. When the piano begins to play, softly, you nearly jump out of your skin with surprise, having been so lost in sight reading and humming your part that you were oblivious to the presence of another in the room.

“Oh my god!” you gasp in surprise, managing to knock the loose pages of the score off the music stand as your hand flies up to your chest. “Damnit,” you mutter under your breath, scurrying to pick up the pages and put them back in order.

“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to startle ya,” you hear a gentle voice drawl out from the darkness.

“Oh, no, I just wasn’t expecting anyone in here so early and I was so caught up in…” you taper off, furrowing your brow and trying to get your sheet music situated.

“Here, lemme help you with that,” the voice says, kneeling to pick up loose pages.

“Oh, thank…” your voice hitches when you look down at the man holding up more music that had fluttered away across the floor.

It’s the sparkling sapphire blue eyes that catch you first, framed in criminally long, dark lashes, blinking up at you from where he’s kneeling on the floor next to your chair. They are utterly mesmerizing in the way they search your face apologetically. Your voice dies in your suddenly dry throat, and so mesmerized are you with those eyes that it takes you much too long to take in the rest of him.

That’s when you realize that the man with the pretty eyes on his knees near your feet is the one and only Elvis Presley.

“…you. Thank you,” you manage to finish, gingerly taking the pages from his grasp.

Elvis smiles up at you so bashfully, so charmingly, that it takes your breath away.

It doesn’t hit you until this very moment that you are playing for the Elvis Presley. Between everything happening so quickly and you assuming you wouldn’t get to meet the man himself, you just hadn’t considered the magnitude of the job.

You’d just hit your teenage years when Elvis came into his stardom, the timing perfect for swooning over the Southern boy with the rebellious good looks and the completely unique sound. But your parents had been strict and conservative, opting for your upbringing to be filled with learning and playing classical music, so the only chance you’d had to listen to Elvis was when you went to your girlfriend’s house. There you could swoon over him unimpeded, but it was more vicarious than anything else. And by the time you were old enough to properly swoon to your heart’s content, you were so busy with your music degree that it hadn’t really crossed your mind to ogle over Elvis.

To be quite honest, you had become a bit of a music snob at that point, so Elvis wasn’t really on your radar, though you had been impressed by his reworked English version of O Solo Mio. His It’s Now or Never had been a massive hit, and he had amazed you with his vocal talent, which you were convinced was wasted on silly pop songs. Needless to say, Elvis and his music had been off your radar for a long, long time.

You certainly hadn’t realized the man had only gotten more attractive as time went on. Magazine pictures and even his movies (which you hadn’t cared to watch since the beginning of the decade) don’t do him justice, which is saying something since you’d never once seen the man look anything less than handsome. But those damn eyes pop against his tanned skin and raven hair, and that curved-lip smile has butterflies flying in your stomach like a schoolgirl.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks quietly, still kneeling at your feet.

“My name? Oh, um, my name is y/n,” you stammer out. You could kick yourself for how gobsmacked you sound, a grown professional woman nearly forgetting her own name in the presence of an attractive man. But the thing is he isn’t just attractive—he’s ethereal.

“Well, hello there, y/n. I’m Elvis,” he says, as if he were just some regular Joe and not one of the most famous men alive. “What do you play?” He motions to your music.

“Uh, violin. Well, and piano, but violin professionally,” you reply, unable to take your eyes off him.

His eyes light up at this. “I play piano, too,” he says, with such a little boy quality that you can’t help but smile.

“Oh?” This surprises you quite a bit since he is so synonymous with the birth of rock and roll and you’d only ever seen him with an acoustic guitar.

“Yeah, a lotta people don’t know that, but between you and me, I like playin’ piano more,” he says, with a wink. Elvis stands up from his crouch with little effort, so lithely that you equate it to a dancer. Your eyes follow up, up, up his lean frame, and you try not to notice just how well his tailored outfit fits him.

He walks back towards the piano he came from, and you blush when you catch yourself staring at his backside, like some sort of lecherous creep. Quickly turning your attention back to the pages of music in your lap, you force yourself to try and make sense of page numbers, shuffling them back into order.

“Do you know this one?” Elvis suddenly asks, shocking you by playing the opening notes of a well-known Beethoven piece.

“Yeah, I mean, yes. I do,” you respond, still stumbling over your words. “That’s Moonlight Sonata.”

“What happens after this part?” he asks, playing the beginning again. The question seems quite honest, still having that curious, young quality about it. Before you think better of it, you’re walking over to the piano.

“May I?” you say, standing near the bench. Music is your language. You’ve always been better with an instrument at your fingertips than with your words. It makes you feel bolder, so when Elvis only scoots over instead of yielding the bench, it doesn’t stop you from perching next to him.

It only takes a second for the movement to come back to you and you place your hands on the keys, letting them speak for you. You’ve done your share of teaching, so it doesn’t take but a moment to fall into that role. You just try not to think too hard on that fact that it’s Elvis Presley that you’re teaching.

He’s nodding along, eyes focused solely on your hands. So close to him, you can feel the way the music affects his body. It’s something you can relate to.

You stop yourself from speeding too far ahead in the music and pull your hands away from the keys. “Is that…do you want me to go again, or do you want to try it?” you ask.

“Do it again. Please?” he asks watching your hands with incredible focus.

You do, trying to keep it simple and without too much flourish.

“Okay, so it’s like this then?” he says after you finish, and as his long, slender fingers glide across the keys, you realize they are musician’s fingers. They may be dripping with jewels that are likely more expensive than your apartment, but they are quite perfect for the kind of instruments he plays. It strikes you he was made to do this.

You recognize then that Elvis is truly a musician and not just a performer. The way he concentrates, learning and adapting quickly as you show him more of the song, only by ear and sight, amazes you.

It's through the music that you begin to calm. Talking one musician to another is much more manageable than considering the magnitude of the person you’re speaking with. Frankly, you are completely amazed by how incredibly gentle and disarming the man is.

When the door opens again, both of you are consumed enough in the music that it doesn’t faze you much.

“Oh, hey Elvis! Just the man I needed to see. I hope y/n isn’t bothering you,” Billy says, in a teasing tone only a family member could produce.

“Hello to you, too, Billy,” you say, a bit annoyed at the interruption and at feeling put in your place as if you were still a child.

“Oh, no, not at all. She’s a great teacher,” Elvis grins, bumping your shoulder. “You two…know each other?” he then asks, his smile faltering in the slightest as he looks from you to Billy. The question is innocent enough, but the way he says it gives you pause and your heart flips.

“Since she was practically in diapers. She’s my sister-in-law,” Billy says.

“Twelve isn’t in diapers, Billy,” you scoff at him, then turn to Elvis. “He’s married to my older sister yet has never hesitated to treat me like a baby. Lucky me.”

“Aw, you know I only put up with you because you’re too talented for your own good,” Billy ribs, making to muss your hair.

You duck swiftly out of the way, bumping into Elvis in the process. “Oh, sorry!” you breath out.

Elvis just chuckles at the two of you, looking pleased as punch, though you’re not exactly sure why.

“I think what you meant to say is, ‘Thank you for dropping everything to fly across the country last minute to help me, dearest sister-in-law,’” you throw at Billy, batting your lashes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure I’ll never hear the end of it. Now, skedaddle. I need to talk to Elvis,” Billy shoos you.

You suppress the urge to stomp your foot and pout, but you realize you really should act more professional than you are. Settling for a huff at Billy, you turn to Elvis. “It was nice to meet you,” you say, all the spunkiness you had towards Billy deflating into shyness the moment you look into those dark blue eyes again.

“Oh, I have no doubt we’ll be talkin’ again soon, honey, and thank you for the lesson,” Elvis drawls softly.

His words send a cascade of shivers through your limbs. You feel heady as you stand from the bench, shooting a familial glare Billy’s way, noticing the frown on his face as you do so. God, even with you being 27, Billy had the ability to make you feel like a scolded younger sister.

You force yourself not to look back as you head to your chair. Be a professional. Just because Elvis is handsome doesn’t mean he’s not the man you’re ultimately working for. Busying yourself with rearranging your music, you hear Billy usher Elvis out and up into the booth.

Well, that’s that, you think, rosining your bow, and you get to practicing.

You’ve been at your share of long rehearsals, but you will admit this one is both long and intense. The music Billy has arranged—this “Guitar Man” medley of some of Elvis’ songs—isn’t difficult music to play, per say, but you can now sense an underlying importance around this entire operation. Part of it is the barely held back frantic look in Billy’s eyes, and knowing him as you do, for him to be this frazzled means there’s a lot on the line. However, it’s when Elvis comes back, much later, to run through the medley with the orchestra, that you realize you can sense it in him, too. It’s well-hidden, to be sure, when the man introduces himself and shakes hands with the members of the orchestra, and you probably wouldn’t even have noticed if it weren’t for the relaxed way he’d been with you earlier in the day, but it’s an undercurrent all the same. Then, they send him into the booth to do his thing.

And, boy, does he. You’ve worked your share of Broadway musicals and operas, but you’ve never seen a man completely give himself over to the work in just a rehearsal quite the way Elvis does with this medley. It’s like he’s singing for his life. By the time it’s all through, Elvis exits the booth, dripping with sweat, exhausted but exuberant. His eyes sparkle and his body hums, some part of him tapping or jiggling or wiggling every moment, as though the music had become electricity in his veins.

You try not to stare as you slowly put away your bow, your violin, collecting your music from the black stand. You try not to, but you keep stealing glances because not only does he look enticing, but it’s also more that you connect with the feelings he seems to be having. The way the music can just take over and become something else inside you, as if you are the conduit to something much bigger than yourself. This you understand. And you’d never imagined a sensation like Elvis Presley would feel the music that way, too. Perhaps this is the secret to his massive success.

Almost all the other musicians have packed and left by now. You tell yourself you’re stalling so you can say goodnight to Billy before hailing a cab and finally checking into your hotel by midnight. You are exhausted, after a day of traveling and frenetic rehearsal, yet you are buzzing with the excitement only music seems to bring you. And you can’t help that the part of you that feels that way is being drawn towards Elvis like a magnet.

When Elvis catches your less-than-sly stare, a million-dollar smile spreads over his face and your heart flip-flops in your chest so hard it takes your breath away. Caught, you quickly and conspicuously look up and away, as though that will save the burning embarrassment on your cheeks. Suddenly, all you can think of is how fast you can get out of here, and you finish packing up like a fire has been lit under you. You scurry towards the door, hoping to escape before making a fool of yourself further.

“Hey, Miss Moonlight,” Elvis says, fingers light on your arm, stopping you before you reach the door, “whaddya say you join us back at my place for a little get together?”

The nickname would usually make you roll your eyes, but coming from him so sweetly, you balk under the attention. It distracts you so much that it takes a full second to realize that he’s just invited you to his place.

“I…uh, it’s been a long day. I-I haven’t even checked into my hotel yet,” you stammer, the excuse so unconvincing you might laugh if you weren’t so befuddled and nervous that Elvis is asking you…well, you’re not exactly sure what he’s asking you.

He quirks a perfect raven brow at you. When he steps in closer, you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“Well, I can have Joe swing you by your hotel before headin’ over, if you’d like, though there’s plenty of space at the house. We can set up a room for ya…s’probably more comfortable than a hotel,” Elvis drawls quietly in your ear.

You’ve never heard a man make a pass so naturally in your life, so much so that you almost hesitate to believe it is one. His low voice and the open suggestiveness spear straight into your core, threatening to melt you into a puddle on the spot.

In any other circumstance, you would laugh in a man’s face for suggesting such a thing. Generally shy, reserved, and cerebral, you’re certainly not the kind of woman who just spends the night at a strange man’s place. But this isn’t any other circumstance. This is Elvis Presley asking you to stay the night with him.

And maybe he does just mean it casually—a “hey, come party with us and you can sleep on the couch”—but at the moment, your body doesn’t know the difference. Your inner pragmatist begins listing off all the ways this is a terrible idea, but the only thing that cuts through the noise is the regret you know you’ll feel if you don’t accept this invitation.

“Um…well, okay. I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose, of course,” you manage to breathe back.

His lip curves up into an almost bashful smile. “Oh, Moonlight, you couldn’t be an imposition if you tried. Plus, you hafta show me how to play the rest of that piece,” he says, running a calloused fingertip down your pointer finger.

You can’t help the shudder that runs through you or the way your heart catches in your throat. “Well, how could I possibly refuse?” you finally get out.

“Fantastic! Hey, Joe, this is my new friend, y/n,” he says enthusiastically, calling over the shorter man. “She’s gonna be joining us tonight.”

Joe seems kind enough, albeit barely looks or speaks to you after the main introductions. Before you know it, you, your violin, and your suitcase are packed into the back of what you assume is a ridiculously expensive vehicle. Elvis slides in behind you, and you, now sandwiched between him and the car door, think you ought to feel apprehensive about the situation, but all your attention is fixed on how Elvis’ side is pressed up against yours. The heat radiates off him, bleeding into you, his leg bouncing so quickly that you think he might need to get out and run laps. He makes conversation, asking about how you came to be a musician and you uncharacteristically and nervously start rambling about yourself. You’ve got to give him credit for the way he nods and hums, truly seeming to listen to you even though your mouth is running almost uncontrollably.

By the time you arrive at the house, you feel as if you’ve told Elvis your life story and you abruptly shutter your mouth closed. God, I am such an idiot. Way to play it cool, y/n, you berate yourself.

Elvis kindly helps you out of the car, walking you toward the house as Joe follows with your violin and suitcase in tow. The way your heart pounds against your ribcage threatens to do you in—it’s all suddenly become very real that Elvis Presley is leading you into his house where you are going to surreptitiously spend the night. His hand is guiding you so gently at the small of your back, but the heat of it blazes through you.

Oh, get a grip! The man has probably touched thousands of women, you’re no different. You’re not special.

Realizing you’re holding your breath, you force yourself to take in air as inconspicuously as possible.

“You don’t gotta be nervous, baby,” he says, a cheeky little smile gracing those luscious lips of his.

“Sorry, I…this just isn’t where I thought I’d be at the end of this very long day,” you chuckle.

“Well, let’s make you at home then.” His smile turns reassuring and warm.

He spends the next hour getting you comfortable and fed, having the most amazing ability to relax your normally nervous nature without hardly trying. You can’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach at the way he seems to be continuously touching you—the press of his leg, an arm around your shoulders, the graze of a finger against yours—in a familiar way, even though you’ve known him less than a day. If it were anyone else, you would have leapt off the couch and run for the hills.

What surprises you the most is that you aren’t uncomfortable at all. Excited and nervous, yes. But you don’t feel preyed upon or anything of the sort. Frankly, you are trying not to get ahead of yourself about what the rest of the night might bring.

An impromptu jam session with his old bandmates has you feeling even more surreal. If someone had told you yesterday that you would get a private concert with Elvis Presley and his former band, you would have laughed at them. You find yourself unable to take your eyes off him and how he seems to get completely lost in the music, and you right along with him. His gritty baritone combined with the sensual way he tackles each song has warmth pooling in your belly. Despite the cranked-up air conditioning, you find yourself sweating and parched, especially in the moments he smiles in your direction.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, only that you feel the heady exhaustion of being up too long coupled with an uncharacteristic hungry adrenaline running through your veins. When the jam session ends, you are both disappointed and exhilarated for what might come next.

Don’t get your hopes up, you remind yourself. This night has been amazing no matter what happens next.

“Did you enjoy that, Moonlight?” he leans over and whispers in your ear. It tickles you and sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod. “Oh, yes.” It comes out more breathless than you’d like.

You feel him smile against your cheek. “Are you up for teaching me more of that sonata, honey?” he asks. It’s an innocent enough request but you can’t tell exactly what his motivations are, though for the first time in your life, you’re not sure it matters.

“Of course,” you say quietly, starting for the piano in the corner of the living space.

His warm hand catches yours, and you look back, surprised, as he shakes his head and pulls you in the opposite direction.

Your heart threatens to beat out of your ribcage as he leads you down the hall and into what you assume is his private suite. It’s not until he closes the door and you realize that you are utterly alone with him that you feel a glimmer of trepidation.

It must read on your face because he jumps in to reassure you. “Oh, honey, I just want to get to know you better, away from the rest of them. I’d never hurt you or make you do anything you didn’t want to do. Honestly, I don’t want the other guys ribbing me…they don’t go for the classical stuff,” he says quietly, looking away, and you think there might be a little pink rising on his cheeks.

His sincerity is palpable, and you certainly never expected him to be bashful about playing classical music. There’s a softness to him now, almost a shyness, that wasn’t present moments ago around all his entourage. It is like a yearning for one-on-one connection, and this part of him melts all your reservations and tugs at your heartstrings.

“Well, I do…go for the classical stuff, I mean,” you say quietly. You smile and squeeze his hand reassuringly as his deep blue eyes find yours again.

He looks giddy as he leads you to the second piano in the house, a baby grand in the far corner of the large suite. You sit down, opening the lid, and he slides in beside you. The heat of him rolls around you, the smell of his cologne and a day’s worth of sweat combining into an alluring combination that perks up your senses.

“Show me what you remember,” you say, and he starts to play, long, nimble fingers gliding gracefully over the keys. It amazes you that he committed everything you showed him earlier to memory so fast and so accurately. Something about it tightens a coil low in your belly. Unsure whether it’s your attraction to him physically or musically that has you so aroused, you swallow hard as he finishes abruptly.

You shake it off as best you can as you show him more of the movement, hoping the music might quell the buzzing in your veins. You go through it a few times, getting a little lost in the notes, as you tend to do. It only serves to stoke the fire in you when he picks up what you’ve shown him so quickly.

He finishes a phrase, and you move to show him the next, but his hand suddenly covers yours. Surprised, you look over at him to find his oceanic eyes searching your face so intimately that warmth blooms across your chest and your breath catches in the silence.

Slowly, Elvis leans over, cups your cheek gently, and kisses you. It’s almost chaste the way his incredibly soft lips press into yours and your surprise is so great that by the time you register what is happening, he is already pulling away.

His eyes open slowly, those lashes fluttering along with the fluttering in your heart and belly. Shock has you outwardly frozen but it’s as if he lit every one of your nerve endings on fire with the touch of his lips.

He must register your surprise as hesitance because his gaze changes to something akin to apologetic.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare ya. I shouldn’t’ve—”

Before he can get the rest of that sentence out, your body miraculously obeys you and you unfreeze. Boldly cupping his jaw with both hands, you pull him back to you and plant your lips on his.

It surprises both of you, and it’s a second before either of you relaxes into the kiss. This permission is all it takes, however, and then his mouth is languidly searching yours and his arms are wrapping around you to pull you close. Soft, short kisses alternate with longer more passionate ones, and you feel utterly spellbound by him, every inch of your body aware and alert to his.

Never in your life have you been kissed so well or so thoroughly. It’s as if the music in his soul must find a physical outlet, and the way he explores and opens you up to him is like him playing a new instrument. When his tongue rolls softly against your lower lip, you can’t suppress the low moan that comes out of you, causing you to open your mouth. He accepts the invitation readily, expertly, and the wet plushness of his tongue slowly begins exploring.

The warmth that sparkles and blooms across your chest travels lower still, sparking fires as it goes, until you feel your pulse throbbing between your legs. It’s nearly unbearable the way he stokes you without hardly trying. You’ve never felt so aroused so quickly or so completely.

Your eagerness is impossible to contain, your fingers buried in that luxuriously soft hair at the base of his neck, your body rolling towards his of its own accord, as if magnetized. You follow his rhythm, meeting his music with your own.

When he pulls back to trail kisses down your jaw, you are left breathless and clutching the lapels of his half-unbuttoned shirt. The nuzzle of his nose on your cheek as he finds and licks the tender spot behind your ear leaves you gasping. Pleased, he does it again and your entire body shudders.

Every inch of you yearns to be consumed by him. It’s never felt like this, not with any man you’ve been with. Those were fumbling amateurs playing one handed melodies in comparison to the symphony Elvis is invoking. While he is leading and in control, you sense as much eagerness from him as there is in you. It’s reassuring and flattering all at once.

There is an embarrassing amount of slick between your legs already, soaking the cotton of your panties and leaving you clenching your thighs together in search of friction. He must notice this as he kisses down your throat and across your décolletage because then he’s looking up at you for permission with those pink, swollen lips and dreamy bedroom eyes.

It’s unspoken, but you nod and he continues his sweet journey, one hand deftly unzipping the back of your dress while his lips follow gravity as it slips down your arms and reveals your chest. Pushing the fabric off and to your waist, his hand is then hot against your bare stomach. He hums in approval when his mouth finds the swell of your breasts that spill from your simple, beige bra.

A low whine escapes you. His apt response is to thumb your nipple to attention through the thin satin before lapping at the bud with his tongue. The result is a jolt of electricity shooting straight into your core, sending you clutching his neck and writhing against him. Expertly, he undoes the clasp in the back and abandons your bra to the floor in what must be a well-practiced motion based on the speed of it.

Goosebumps rise across your now fully exposed flesh, both from the cool air in the room and the way his fingers brush so lightly over your breasts. He seems pleased with the way your nipples stand at attention under his heated gaze. You don’t have the wherewithal to feel your usual self-consciousness; instead, the sight of his pupils blown black with arousal has you shivering with nothing but anticipation.

The combination of the way his tongue darts between his lips as he lightly pinches the hardened buds has you begging for more. “Please,” you moan and that’s all it takes before he’s lathing his tongue over and around the sensitive nubs, palming the fullness of your breasts. You can hardly stand it, how everything he does makes your body sing and want to scream his praises.

A quizzical look crosses your features though when he stops his ministrations and slides to his knees on the carpet on his side of the bench. For a second you are worried something you’ve done something to hurt or displease him, but when he beckons you towards him at the end of the bench with such arousal in his eyes it nearly knocks you over, you obey without a thought.

Elvis scoots you forward and kisses your belly, sending a new wave of tingles over you. He removes one of your low-heeled pumps and then the other, ghosting kisses along your ankles before running his large hands up the smoothness of your pantyhose, pushing your dress up with them. As if under a spell, you can’t help the way your legs fall open for him when his thumbs drag up the insides of your thighs. The little coy smirk that graces that beautiful face when he feels the damp that has soaked through to the gusset of your hose has your cheeks flushing and your lips parting.

You can’t bring yourself to be too embarrassed at how wet you are because the pleased look on his face at the discovery makes you feel like you’ve won the lottery. He pulls on the waistband, forcing you to lift your hips, before gently rolling the hose down your legs until they are off and discarded on the floor.

What you don’t expect is how he begins peppering soft kisses up your now bare calves, at the inside of your knees, and then up your inner thighs.

A swell of panic hits the farther up he goes, and you jerk up, unsure of what exactly he’s meaning to do. The men you’d been with in the past had been rather direct about the whole thing—once the clothes were off, they buried their pecker inside you and thrust above you, all with varying levels of success in getting you off as they did so.

But not a single one had kissed up your thighs and spread them open with a hungry and expectant look like the one Elvis had now.

Looking down at him, confused, you ask, “What are you doing?” in a voice that is a little too apprehensive for your liking, but you need to know.

He cocks his head at you a moment, as if trying to determine your level of seriousness. Then his eyes shine with understanding and in that low, Southern drawl of his says the downright naughtiest thing you’ve ever had a man say to you: “You ain’t never had a man take good care of your kitty before, have ya? Give her all the love and attention she deserves?” He runs a fingertip lightly over the wet cotton at your center and you shiver.

He can’t possibly mean what you think he means.

You must be gaping because he rises on his knees and catches your lips with his own before breathing, “Close that pretty mouth baby or you’re liable to catch flies up in there.”

You are speechless, unable to form words, but the question is written all over your face.

He leans back on his knees with a contemplative smile. “That sweet little kitty of yours ain’t never been eaten, has she, baby?”

Oh my god.

It’s all you can do to bite back a moan and shake your head at him.

He looks positively gleeful about this development, his shining eyes taking on a whole new level of arousal. Then he seems to notice your trepidation and reigns himself in.

“That okay with you, baby?” he asks.

You had never even considered it an option before, or that a man might like to do such a thing. Maybe he’s teasing you? Suddenly you feel very conscious of the mechanics of the act and breathlessly mumble, “You don’t…you’re sure?”

“Oh, I am.” The smile of anticipation on his face seems to echo the sentiment.

The enticing thought of that beautiful mouth of his being down there on you outweighs your uncertainty and prudishness. You nod your head. “O-Okay.”

You’ve never seen a man look so thrilled at the thought of being between your legs as Elvis Presley is. “Don’tcha worry, I’m gonna take real good care of ya,” he says comfortingly. “You just lie back and relax and let me make you feel good, honey.” Then he places a kiss just under the waistband of your panties and you let out a little sigh.

The piano bench feels slightly warm on you bare back as you lay down. Elvis, grabbing under your thighs, pulls you to the edge, and your heart resumes its pounding. You truly can’t believe any of this is about to happen and steel yourself for him to rip off your underwear and go to town.

But he doesn’t.

No, he takes his time warming you up, as if he’s trying to get you used to the idea. He kisses down one hip then trails down the panty line. You tense the closer he gets to your core but then he only ghosts a breath over it before jumping to the other leg and kisses up the crease on that side. The ticklish sensation is almost too much to bear as he works his way up to the waistband again.

You are panting by the time his mouth is grazing from your belly button downwards, pressing into the soft curls beneath the fabric. He stops just short of that forbidden little spot where your aching clit resides, and you push up on your elbows to shoot him a look.

A grin spreads over his features, his eyes narrowed like a crocodile’s and full of desire and he watches you intently as he finally places a light kiss over that sensitive little button.

The sensation is nothing like anything you’ve felt before and the whole scene has your body flaming white hot. You don’t recognize the low mewl that erupts from your lips and the only thing keeping you from throwing your head back is the way his eyes are locked on yours, as if feeding off your reaction. Then he uses his perfect nose to nuzzle into it before placing a firmer kiss there.

“Elvissss,” you whine, unable to keep from throwing your head back this time.

“You like that, baby? I barely even started,” he speaks, his hot breath puffing over the slicked core of your panties. He kisses down, down until over your entrance, where he then tongues the fabric, pressing it up and into you.

“Honey, you’ve done soaked right through,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure if he’s speaking to you or directly to your pussy. You’re not sure you care for the way you moan, the way your body shudders and writhes, suddenly starving for anything he’s willing to give.

“Lemme see how pretty she is,” he says, and God, if his filthy yet somehow sweet words aren’t stroking you in such a way that you wonder if you could come from his lilting voice alone. He pulls your underwear to the side, finally baring yourself to him, and he whistles.

“Just lovely, and all weepy for me, too,” he says, voice thick with lust now.

The anticipation has your heart racing and your fingers clawing at the wooden bench with a whimper.

“Okay, baby, I hear ya,” he murmurs kindly, then hooks his fingers in the sides of your panties and finally slides them down and off your legs. Then his hands are pushing them apart and his tongue is lightly skimming up your folds.

You gasp at the soft and silky feeling, unready even despite his preparations. When he circles your clit and then kisses it, bare this time, you are so aroused you’re afraid you might weep. But the teasing is done, and he tests you expertly. His tongue flattens and takes in the full breadth of you, licking a stripe up your pussy that sends your hips rolling.

He seems to gauge every reaction carefully, giving equal and alternating attention to every piece of you. Nipping, suckling, and kissing your swollen clit into submission and just when you think that heated coil in your belly might snap you in two, he moves down and kisses through your folds. When he laps at the arousal dripping from your tight little hole, tongues it, and then plunges it inside of you, you find yourself screaming out his name.

You can feel him smile and hum at your response, the vibrations adding entirely new sensations to the slew of new sensations you are feeling. He thumbs at your clit as he laps at your hole, and you think you might hyperventilate with how fast you’re breathing and how hot you feel.

So completely attuned to you, he pulls back and gives you a break, despite your whimpering protests. His full lips are swollen pink and slick down to his chin with you, and when his lip curls up into a knowing but almost bashful smile, you think this might be the eighth wonder of the world.

“You alright? I’m doin’ okay?” he asks, his left eyebrow quirking.

You giggle, almost drunkenly even though you’re entirely sober, because the question is so absurd but sweet of him. “Yes, yes, yes,” you say, words slurring.

“Okay, good,” he says, nodding. Then he rises on up on his knees and commands you forward with a come-hither motion so deft and quick, it has you drooling.

You are powerless to resist and push your dazed self to your elbows on the bench. He meets you halfway, kissing you deeply, lewdly letting you taste the tang of yourself on his lips. Distracted as you are by his wandering mouth, you aren’t ready for the way he slides two of those perfectly long musician’s fingers up through your silky folds and deep into your wet heat.

A shocked gasp quickly turns into a moan that he swallows with another kiss. He begins ever-so-slowly pumping those fingers into you and the rough pad of his thumb circles that sensitive bundle of nerves at the hood of your sex.

“Goddamn, you’re so perfect, so tight,” he breathes into your mouth.

You can’t stop the shiver that ripples through you. “I-It’s been a-awhile,” you pant. You can’t help but look down and watch the way he works you.

“Don’t you worry, baby. I gotchu,” he purrs, then curves his fingers just so and the pleasure that courses through you has you crying out.

Your brain is fuzzy, with only one thing on its mind. Luckily, Elvis seems to be reading it because he smiles that coy smile and returns those full lips of his to your clit.

For a moment you think you might die from the intensity of the sensations he’s procuring from you. Seems an awful lot like God gave him long fingers and a full mouth not only for music, you think. Though the way he’s playing you right now and the noises he’s coaxing out of you makes it seem like a whole different type of song he’s expert at.

The way he traces and flicks and suckles your clit, coupled with the obscene sounds coming from the way he’s fingering your pussy has you writhing on the bench and gripping his beautiful hair in your hands.

More, more, more, is the only thought left.

He hums against you with one last kiss and a wildly accurate thrust and curve of his fingers. The coil inside you explodes, then white-hot, full-body shudders violently overtake you as you silently scream and hold onto him for dear life as to not fly away into the stratosphere.

Your orgasm is utterly mind altering and earth shattering.

“Good job, lil’ girl,” Elvis coos, soothing you through the aftershocks with a lathing tongue.

You can’t think straight enough to respond, only whimpering from the empty feeling when he removes his fingers, then gasping again when he laps at the arousal pouring out of your core.

It’s all too much, and, overstimulated, you whine and clench and pull at him.

He sits up again, between your legs, looking mighty pleased with himself. “Come ‘ere, darlin’,” he says, pulling you up by your arms and sliding you onto his lap. Boneless and naked (save for the dress bunched in a ring around your waist), your legs fall open, easily straddling his hips. Your hands grip at his shirt and you bury your head into his neck, still dizzy with release.

He holds you steady. “Didja like that? Your kitty all happy and purrin’ now?” he whispers in your ear, sending a new set of shivers down your spine. All you can manage is a pleased hum and a nod. You kiss his neck, tasting salt on his tanned skin.

A soft moan escapes his lips at that. Suddenly, you become quite aware of the hardness in his slacks, pressing up near your swollen folds. The embers of your arousal have not died, and you kiss his neck again while slowly rolling your hips into his.

Groaning, he tightens his arms around you, holding you to him. You nip at the throbbing pulse point on his neck and are reminded just how talented and famous these hips of his are when he rolls them back into you in response. He’s rock hard, straining against his zipper, the tip of him bumping against your sensitive clit. You moan and find his rhythm, feeling the wetness between your thighs start to soak through the fabric of his slacks, creating a delicious friction.

Elvis pants heavily in your ear, murmuring curses and praises as he grinds into you. At this rate, you think he might come in his pants, which just won’t do. Not with the way your pussy is buzzing, and that coil is tightening again in your belly. No, you need him inside you. You need him to fill you.

You use what little returning strength you have and rise on your knees, away from his needy cock. The man actually pouts, his lower lip jutting out with a desperate little whine and it is so alluring you almost forget what you’re trying to do. You place a finger over his lips to quiet him, then set to the task of trying to undo his lavish belt and zipper.

Once he understands, he races to help, making much quicker work of the whole thing and finally his cock springs free. It’s quite long, and the deep pink tip peeking out of his silky foreskin is already shiny and weeping with precum. Of its own accord, your finger slides over his slit, circling the slick tip and spreading the wetness gathered there. He hisses. You bring your finger to your mouth, tasting the salty musk of him.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, his hand palming his length. He gives it a pointed tug, then another, his lips falling open as he watches you.

He’s gorgeous in every way and it’s almost intimidating the way he looks at you with such open and vulnerable lust. You can’t bring yourself hold back or tease any longer, needing desperately to give him all of you, to give him what he needs. Hovering over him, you help line him up, then slowly descend onto his cock.

You are plenty wet—he’s seen to that—but even still, the stretch of him burns. It’s been too long since a man has been inside you like this and he is much longer than you anticipated.

A quiet, “Oh, oh, oh,” is all you manage to puff out as you bob slightly up and down, taking a little bit more of him with each tiny pump. He presses gentle kisses everywhere he can reach and murmurs encouraging praises with each inch that you conquer.

By the time you settle on the hilt of him, snug in his lap, you’re both groaning. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders because you are so full of him you don’t know what to do. You’ve never been so gorged and the pressure is a little frightening.

“Snug as a bug in a rug,” he slurs happily, letting you adjust around him. “Little Elvis likes you lots and lots, baby. S’like you were made just for him.”

“Little Elvis? H-He’s not so little,” you say with wide eyes, then giggle a little, which causes you to gasp from the tightness below and how it makes you clench even harder around him.

He groans. “If ya keep doing that, he’s not gonna last very long, darlin’.”

You try to move, but in this position and after that orgasm, you feel weak and a little like he’s spearing you in two. You’re almost too full, and the angle is not quite right. You wiggle in his lap, your brow furrowed, as your arms grow tighter around his neck. A low whine escapes your throat.

He notices your distress. Petting your hair, he babytalks at you, which under other circumstances might be strange for a grown man, but it comes so naturally to him somehow it both comforts and arouses you, “Oh, shh, shh, baby, s’okay. He’s a widdle much for ya, ain’t he? Sometimes he gets too ‘cited and gets ahead of ‘imself. But he’s gonna take real good care of ya, I promise.”

And with that, he gingerly shifts sideways, leans forward, and lays you down on the plush carpet under the piano. The movement has him sliding partially out of you, giving you some relief from the bursting sensation, and you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. Your body relaxes.

He looks so gorgeous above you, with his raven hair falling in his eyes and a soft, bashful smile gracing his lips. You can’t help but smile back at him.

“That better?” he asks.

You nod.

Leaning down, he nuzzles your nose, then places soft kisses on your mouth. He coaxes you back to him, the heat building between you with each deepening kiss. So focused on the rolling of his tongue against yours, you don’t even realize he’s pressing deeper into you until he’s nestled almost completely, but much more comfortably between your legs.

You sigh contentedly into his mouth. The pressure still has you feeling full, but in a delicious, silky way this time as you finally relax around him. He rolls his hips smoothly, the strokes slow and deliberate, in time with the movement of his lips. Each stroke is better than the last as your increased arousal combined with his own slickens your inner walls.

“There she is,” he moans quietly into the crook of your neck.

That feeling is back, a chant of want, want, want running through your brain as the tension and fire in your belly begin to grow once more. When he bottoms out this time, your punctuated, “Ah!” is from pleasure and not discomfort. He’s managing to hit places inside you that you didn’t know existed.

You writhe under him, starting to meet his thrusts with your own, trying as you might to find that perfect spot he keeps slipping past. If only you had the right leverage…

It comes to you once you’ve hitched your legs up around his svelte waist. You lift your hips and plant your bare feet against the grainy wooden underside of the piano, meeting his next thrust with your leveraged one. It sends him deeper, driving into that little spot just perfectly. You keen.

“Oh, goddamn,” he moans along with you.

Each thrust seems deeper than the last with your legs pressing up like this. They shake from the exertion, but it’s worth every ounce of effort for the way you feel driven into the earth by his cock. Sweat drips off his face and onto yours as he showers your body with pleasure you didn’t know existed.

He thumbs your clit, timed perfectly with the piston of his hips, and you can barely breathe at the sensation. Gasping, your entire body shudders of its own accord as you hurtle towards another release.

“I…I…I…” is all you can seem to manage as your second climax starts to crest, and he grunts with effort above you, his eyes glassy with unbridled desire.

He mutters a string sweet filth that only fuels you forward, slurring and panting, “Oh, fuck, yes…such a good yittle kitty…good girl for me…look atchu taking ‘im so deep…never been s’deep…Jesus, I can see ‘im in your belly.”

You both look at the swell of your abdomen on the next thrust and this time he holds you flush against him so you can see the tip of Little Elvis bulge out the slightest bit. The moan you let out is obscene. Holding you at the waist, he doesn’t let your hips down, instead running the palm of his hand over the protrusion while he flicks your clit furiously. Then he presses down at the same time he thrusts as hard and as deep as possible.

Your climax hits so hard and so fast that it knocks the breath out of you, leaving you gasping his name, “Elvis, Elvis, Elvis!” Flaming white stars flash behind your eyelids as you flutter and clench around his length. Molten fire spreads from your core outward. You shudder and claw at him, at the bottom of the piano, at anything that will keep you tethered to reality while the rest of you shatters into a million pieces beneath him.

“Good girl, s’good fo’me,” he praises you through it, losing himself to you as you come apart.

You feel his hips start to stutter into you again because a primal need has him beyond the point of waiting any longer. Somehow, through shivering aftershocks, you have the wherewithal to force your eyes open, even as the rest of your body goes slack. He looks like Adonis in the throes of passion, his full and swollen lips falling open. In one fell swoop, he drops your hips and pulls his considerable length from you, his knowing hand pumping his slick-covered cock with expert precision.

Watching him come is a marvel and you make yourself commit this moment to memory, knowing it will fuel your arousal for years to come. He tenses above you, those sapphire eyes fluttering closed. Shivering tension ripples over him with a choked cry and through gritted teeth. Thick and warm white ropes erupt and splatter over your torso and you moan along with him. Then his eyes pop open pointedly as he watches himself cover you with his seed. The poignant, dramatic end of a brilliant symphony.

“F-fuck,” he pants, finishing off with another shiver. Exhausted, he catches himself just before crushing you with his weight, instead pressing his sweaty brow into yours. Your hot, heavy breaths mingle as you both try to come back down to Earth. He nuzzles his nose into yours before kissing your cheeks and your mouth.

Eventually, you find your words. “That was…incredible,” you say breathlessly, with no exaggeration.

He pulls back to look at you, with a goofy, pleased grin. “I told you I’d take care of you, Moonlight. And boy oh boy, was that a neat trick with the piano there…that part of your classical trainin’?” he says, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Putting that college degree to good use,” you say with a giggle.

His eyes go wide and then he laughs—a musical, beautiful, contagious sound—which fills your heart up in a way you don’t quite understand.

He crawls back and helps you out from under the piano. Your back is rubbed raw from the carpet, which he kisses gently with apology, but you barely feel the sting. You are too dazed and relaxed to worry about much of anything.

When he helps clean you up and pulls you into his big bed, slotting you in next to him, you want to savor every minute. How he smells delicious and masculine, how the heat of his long body envelops your own—you want to remember everything.

Exhausted, you fall fast asleep, sated and cared for, knowing that you’ll never, ever be the same.

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thesakuragarnet · 29 days

Text

Unexpected Proportions

Summary: A few seconds pass before he finally brings his arm down…and comes face to face with Hawks’ pecs in his HPSC compression shirt. Dabi blinks. He’s looking straight forward. Normally, he has to crane his neck downward to look at them. Something’s wrong. Dabi lifts his eyes, looking up…and up…and up . Hawks is seven feet tall. Hawks has never been seven feet tall.

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY! TAGS BENEATH THE KEEP READING SECTION

Word Count: 3,658

AO3 link

Tags: DabiHawks, swearing, making out, 3xplicit s3xual content, Quirk Accident, Hawks is taller than Dabi, size k!nk

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

The text doesn’t reach Dabi’s phone until he’s already almost to one of Hawks’ apartments. Leave it to All For One to put the worst phone plan available on the burner phones. Dabi didn’t get any service until he was halfway up the fire escape; it buzzes in the pocket of his jacket.

Birdie: Need to reschedule ASAP. Sorry.

Dabi rolls his eyes at the message, continuing to make his way up the stairs at the back of the complex. This was one of the seedier HPSC safe houses for their pet, which was why Dabi typically picked this one to meet up in. Less prying eyes. Less attention. Less chance of being ambushed. There were more PLF members on this side of the city. Not that Dabi would ever need backup.

“That’s not how this works,” Dabi mutters under his breath in annoyance. “I’m coming whether you like it or not.”

Besides, he hadn’t even given him a reason. It was suspicious. And suspicion was dangerous. Dabi was paranoid enough as it is. Paranoid of being found out. Paranoid of Hawks being a backstabbing bastard. He was in too deep now. He can’t risk everything he’s worked for crumbling to pieces. Not when he’s so close. So close to meaning something. So close to revealing the truth to the whole world.

Dabi blinks as he grabs the railing, pulling himself up to the final landing outside Hawks’ apartment. He can’t get distracted. He can’t let his mask slip. Not now. Not ever. Not until the timing is right-

CRASH!

Dabi nearly jumps over the rail as shattering glass and muffled shouts of pain rumble from the other side of the window, followed swiftly by clamorous thumps and panicked noises.

‘Oh, fuck, is he getting ambushed?!’ Dabi’s mind reels. If any of those PLF idiots had gone rogue and decided to attack the number two hero… his Pro to corrupt…oh, they’re not going to even live long enough to regret it.

Azure flames flash in Dabi’s eyes, barely held back as he uses what little muscle he’s built up on his arms to force the window open. He clambers through, landing unceremoniously on his feet in Hawks’ kitchen.

The lights are off.

“OW, FUCK!” Hawks’ voice cuts out in the darkness. “Damnit, Dabi, I told you I needed to reschedule!”

He sounds irritated, which is unusual. Hawks is always calm, cool, and collected. He does what he’s told like a good little soldier. He doesn’t snap. He doesn’t have an attitude, at least not a particularly nasty or spiteful one. But he doesn’t sound like he’s being attacked, which is a relief. One less mess for Dabi to clean up.

“What’s your problem?” Dabi retorts into the shadows, squinting through his subpar vision as his eyes attempt to adjust. He braces himself as the awkward stumbling noises grow closer until-

“ FUCK, my eyes!” Dabi hisses, shielding himself from the sudden illumination as Hawks flicks the kitchen lights on. A few seconds pass before he finally brings his arm down…and comes face to face with Hawks’ pecs in his HPSC compression shirt.

Dabi blinks.

He’s looking straight forward.

Normally, he has to crane his neck downward to look at them.

Something’s wrong.

Dabi lifts his eyes, looking up…and up…and up .

Hawks is seven feet tall. Hawks has never been seven feet tall.

The guy was five-seven at best . Now, he’s standing over a foot taller than Dabi.

The second detail the villain notices is the broad expanse of his wings. That must’ve been the cause of the crashes from moments ago; he kept banging them into things and hitting his head on the doorways.

Hawks takes note of Dabi’s stare…of the subtle change in his posture…of the flicker of something in his eyes…of the way he’s looking up at him. Dabi feels vulnerable. It’s painfully evident to Hawks, which is a bit shocking considering Dabi’s usually so hard for him to read.

“What the fuck?” Dabi breathes out in possibly the smallest voice ever.

“Yeah, I know, right? I got hit with a stupid Gigantification Quirk. Was able to stop it before it got too out of hand. Doc says it should wear off in time for my patrol tomorrow afternoon-”

Hawks says more, but Dabi isn’t really paying attention. He’s too transfixed by the hulking hero over him, wings hanging behind him like two barn doors.

“Okay…,” Dabi’s voice trails off. He hasn’t moved from his place beside the window, boots planted firmly on the floor as if he’s rooted to it.

Hawks stops talking, cocking his head slightly as he finally realizes why Dabi’s acting a bit strange. The corners of his mouth quirk up into a crooked smirk.

THUNK!

The noise that leaves Dabi’s mouth sounds alien coming from him, the high-pitched yelp even catching Hawks off guard. Sure, Hawks was expecting Dabi to be a bit flustered or annoyed when he struck the kabedon pose, but he didn’t expect him to squeal and look like he was going to melt into the floor. It was very un-Dabi-like behavior. Then again, Hawks had a very un-Hawks-like advantage at present. Dabi was always the one towering over him, or, at least, looming with his decent height advantage.

Hawks is quite literally towering over Dabi.

Dabi holds his tongue, breath hissing through his teeth as he grinds them so hard he wonders if they’ll shatter. He can’t fucking believe he just made that noise because of Hawks . Sure, Dabi’s let him have his dominant moments before, but not like this. Never like this.

Dabi feels overwhelmingly vulnerable…and he’s so turned on by it. His knees are shaky, his heart is stuttering in his chest, and he feels so light-headed he wonders if he’ll just keel over and faint. It’s sickening. He’s acting like some sort of sloppy romance main character, over-the-top and over-the-moon for the love interest. Objectively, he doesn’t fit that role at all.

“You’re really into this…aren’t you?” Hawks clicks his tongue with a shit-eating grin, eyes scanning up and down Dabi’s body for dramatic effect, clearly playing into the fantasy.

Of course Dabi’s into it. He’d be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn’t. He hates it. He hates that his heart is noticeably pounding harder in his chest and that his palms are clammy and his mouth is dry. He hates that he can’t even find the words when he’s just trying not to pass out under the overwhelming presence of Hawks practically swallowing him up. Dabi feels impossibly small…he fucking hates it. But if he hates it…why isn’t he responding with fire like he usually does with everything he hates?

“Remember to breathe,” Hawks trills cheekily, making the pale flesh on Dabi’s cheeks turn several shades redder.

“Shut up,” Dabi manages to spit out, vitriolic but shaky.

“Uh-uh, be nice,” Hawks hums, voice husky and dropping low in a hush as he brings his hand that’s not occupying the wall up to brush against the side of Dabi’s face. The villain shudders with every inch of his body even though his brain is screaming at him to stay fucking still. There’s nothing he can do when his emotions go into overdrive like this; the mask isn’t good enough. The feelings, the arousal, the thrill…it’s too potent.

“Fuck you,” Dabi mutters, voice cracking. Hawks exhales through his nose: a poorly concealed laugh of amusement.

“Nah, I think you want me to fuck you instead.”

This time, Dabi bites his tongue hard . His inner voice screams at him to ignore what he just said and remember why he called this meeting in the first place. It was for…fuck, he’s forgotten. How could he remember anything under the canopy of red and nothing but those golden eyes glowing down at him like a predator stalking prey?

“You’re never this quiet, Dabi,” Hawks’ grin grows steadily wider, a mix between wolfish and ecstatic. He’s enjoying this way too much, and he notices Dabi holding back a gasp when his name rolls off his tongue.

Dabi doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? Hawks is right. He’s so down bad right now that it’s borderline criminal. It’s embarrassing. It’s…intriguing.

‘Does the effect also change his strength proportionally?’ Dabi’s thoughts are consumed by the situation at this point. He opens his mouth unfiltered and unprompted:

“Could you like…throw me across the room with just one arm?”

“What?”

‘Now would be a great time to burst into flames,’ Dabi thinks to himself, certain that smoke is curling out of his ears.

“Are you asking me to pick you up and throw you?” Hawks chuckles, clearly open to the idea.

“No.” Dabi’s response is curt and blatantly a lie.

“Are you sure?”

Dabi can’t admit it. It’s like there’s an impossible barrier in his own brain preventing him from directly asking for any of this. Dabi’s conditioned himself to take and take and take because if he doesn’t… Dabi has nothing to give anyone. Touya had given everything he’d had to everyone he knew and no one had wanted any of it. No one wanted him to talk. No one wanted to see anything from him. That’s at least how he saw it-

“Dabi? You still with me?” Hawks coos, at least acting like he’s oblivious to the sudden inner spiral Dabi found himself caught in. Dabi swallows, blinking back to reality, readjusting the metaphorical mask.

“Yeah.” It’s an answer. A breathless answer that’s full of tension, but an answer nonetheless.

“I’ll do it, y’know. I won’t do it too hard. Don’t wanna hurt you,” Hawks smirks, and Dabi’s certain he missed a part of the conversation.

“What?!” He blurts, eyes widening to the size of saucers.

Now, Hawks is blushing.

“Oh-uh-I meant throwing you. Uh-I mean…if you want to do anything else-”

“I think throwing me on the bed is a good start,” Dabi’s lips move before he can stop them, and he silently curses himself for sounding so easy.

Any other scenario, and this would be overwhelmingly humiliating.

“Do you want me to carry you to the bedroom?” Hawks raises his eyebrow.

“I can walk,” Dabi replies flatly, though he’s partially worried that the moment he takes a step he’ll crumple to the floor. His cock throbs borderline painfully in his jeans, noticeably tight to his chagrin, and Hawks has definitely noticed.

…

The moment Dabi’s leather boots cross the threshold to Hawks’ bedroom, he’s enveloped in a swath of crimson. Wings wrap around him like nets, feathers manipulating his body to spin around to face Hawks and push him against his chest.

“How about instead of one arm we do two?” Hawks winks, and Dabi bites back a groan as a pair of strong arms grab him by his waist.

Suddenly, he’s off the ground.

Hawks lifts him up like he weighs absolutely nothing, and Dabi’s breathing picks up as his heart threatens to burst out of his chest and fall into a bloody mess on the floor. Hawks slowly struts a few paces closer to the bed as he brings Dabi up to his eye level; the eye contact is dangerous, turquoise and gold meeting each other with amorous intensity.

The sound Dabi makes when he hits the bed is somewhere between a dramatic gasp and a surprised grunt. Hawks had thrown him halfway across the room with a ridiculous lack of effort, like Dabi was simply a rag doll for him to play with…oh, this is gonna be fun.

Hawks stalks toward him in the dimmed lights of the bedroom, slowly shrugging out of his jacket before undoing the clasp at the back of his neck to take off the compression shirt. Dabi watches, completely entranced. Even his muscles look bigger. The bulge of his biceps and the shadows of his abs are more pronounced. More for Dabi to lick. If those are bigger…Dabi’s getting hornier by the second; it’s almost laughable.

Dabi scrambles to shrug off his jacket, fumbling with the zipper before he finally gets it off and tosses it to the side, leaving him in nothing but his jeans and white T-shirt.

WHOMP!

Suddenly, Hawks is on top of him. Naked. A single glance confirms that Dabi was right in his suspicions.

God, there’s so much more of Hawks than Dabi’s used to. His wings are like two gigantic comforters, practically acting as a canopy for the bed, encasing the two in a sea of draping crimson. The outermost feathers brush up against Dabi’s exposed arms, soft and downy against his scarred skin. The feeling of Hawks’ feathers against him was always so intoxicatingly soothing.

“Let’s get you more comfortable, yeah?” Hawks hums suavely, fingertips playing with the hem of Dabi’s shirt and gently tracing the edge of his belt.

Dabi nods vigorously, cheeks flushing and cock throbbing.

Hawks peels off Dabi’s clothes with unabashed tenderness, hands moving expertly over his skin.

The hero’s lips curl into a devilish smile when he sees the beads of precum already leaking through Dabi’s gray boxers.

“Oh, you are so far gone, firefly,” Hawks whispers, tone sweeter than honey. “Want me to be inside you so bad, dontcha?”

A soft moan bubbles in the back of Dabi’s throat, held back by the villain’s gritted teeth. He knows his facial expression probably belongs in a bad porno, but he’s so entranced by everything that he can’t help it.

Two feathers curl into grips on the fabric at his hips, slowly dragging them down his body until Dabi’s completely naked.

It’s not Dabi’s first time bottoming for him, but this is different. Dabi never thought Hawks was able to completely pull off the dominant persona...but he’s proving him wrong in so many ways right now. The villain’s never been in such a submissive headspace before, willing to surrender everything to his lover on a whim.

“You ready for me?” Hawks trills before pressing a deep kiss to Dabi’s lips. Dabi hums into the kiss, Hawks’ impossibly soft lips brushing all the right places as Dabi hears the familiar slick of lube rubbing over Hawks’ cock.

The moment Hawks starts to slip inside, Dabi can feel the pressure…and then he sees the bulge in his lower stomach. The more Hawks pushes in, the fuller Dabi feels…and the more prominent the bulge in his stomach grows.

“ Fuck ,” Dabi whimpers, choking on his words as his back arches and his head falls back into the pillow. Dabi usually wasn’t a big fan of missionary when he was bottoming; he preferred to have his face shoved in the pillow and just let Hawks use him. But this ? This is overwhelmingly sexy.

Finally, he feels Hawks’ balls resting against his ass.

“Oh, fuck ~” Dabi’s voice sounds utterly broken and blissed out, overwhelmed from the stretch as moans pour from his throat, wanton and heavy on his tongue. The floaty headspace is new, completely surrendering himself to everything Hawks has to offer and more. He’d give him so much more. He’d give him anything at this point. Anything to be consumed by his presence and not have to worry about anything else ever again. It’s unusual for Dabi to want to give up all control, but he feels higher than he’s ever been in his life off this feeling.

“God , you’re tight. Are you okay?” Hawks grunts, taking note of the hazy expression in his lover’s eyes.

“Uh-huh,” Dabi hiccups, drool pooling on his tongue and threatening to leak out of the sides of his mouth. Every exhale is a subtle moan, whimpering and shivering in pleasure.

“Color?” Hawks whispers, seeming to worry about the size difference.

“Green.” Dabi doesn’t miss a beat despite the brain fog. “AlreadysaidI’mmokay,” His words slur together in an impatient huff.

“Can I start moving?”

“If you don’t I’m gonna kill you,” Dabi grumbles, but the hero doesn’t need any further encouragement.

The first rock of Hawks’ hips moves Dabi’s entire body, punching a pleasure-filled wail from his lungs that’s quickly followed by another…and another…and another.

“ Hawks~ah~~ ” Dabi groans, swallowing the drool that pools on his tongue with every breathy exhale.

“That’s it, baby,” Hawks pants, eyelids fluttering, staring at the bulge of his cock in Dabi’s stomach with each roll of his hips.

“ Fuck me ~!” Dabi slurs, “H-harder.” He doesn’t have time to cringe at the words, but Hawks eagerly complies with his request, rutting his hips at a pace that makes Dabi see stars.

“You feel so good ,” Hawks gasps, senses on fire as he becomes completely absorbed in the feeling of Dabi’s inside wrapping around him…of Dabi’s hands searching for purchase in his golden locks…of the feeling of his ankles locking around his waist.

“Kiss,” Dabi chokes out repeatedly, brain numb and insides ablaze; it takes a moment for Hawks to realize what he’s saying.

The hero bends down, connecting their lips sweetly and passionately, lips spit-slicked and swollen as they suck, tongues desperately intertwining. Dabi’s sigh of relief muffles in his throat, closing his eyes as he kisses back, pleading and greedy. Dabi always felt like he got drunk off of kissing Hawks; it was such an overwhelmingly intoxicating experience. Hawks was a wonderful kisser, sure, but something felt deeper whenever they kissed. It was like they were always meant to kiss and only meant to kiss each other, their lips always moving in a way that was too good to be true. It was too good.

Dabi pulls back from the lip locks with a cry, feeling heat pool in the pit of his stomach as he gets closer and closer to orgasm.

“Close,” Dabi huffs over and over again, voice pitching higher and higher.

“You can come, baby,” Hawks croons between sighs of pleasure, “Be a good boy and come for me.”

Dabi’s eyes practically roll into the back of his head at the praise, jaw slack and brows arched as he feels the ecstasy boiling in his blood. Hawks is barely holding it together at the display in his arms; the noises pouring from Dabi’s lips are wrecking his mind, and the expressions on his lover’s face are sending him into the stratosphere. He knows if he doesn’t keep concentrating, he’s going to come early. Hell, Dabi’s already going to come early. He usually lasts much longer than this.

Hawks can sense the shivers in Dabi’s skin, goosebumps prickling the pale, unscarred flesh. Blood seeps out beneath the scars under his eyes, trickling thin scarlet rivulets down the sides of his face. The villain’s cock bounces up against the bump of Hawks’ cock inside him, soaked in precum and reddening into a painful purple. Hawks leans forward as he keeps fluidly pumping his hips, touching their foreheads together, letting themselves feel the heat of one another’s breath.

Hawks’ name drips from Dabi’s lips like the purest nectar as he suddenly convulses, gushing white that spurts up on his stomach. Dabi nearly screams at the overstimulation as Hawks fucks him through his orgasm, gentle and intentional, moving just the way his lover likes. The hero’s muscles tense up, wings flaring suddenly as he comes with a rasping gasp, coating Dabi’s insides.

Slowly, Hawks brings his movements to a halt, breathing heavily as he grips Dabi’s shoulders, the pads of his fingers pressing into the scarred and healthy flesh.

Dabi can barely see through his “tears”, vision blurred and maroon. He desperately blinks them away, reaching up with a shaking hand to rub his eyes.

Hawks promptly hushes him, feathers leaving his wings and then returning with a warm, damp rag that begins to blot Dabi’s face, cleaning the blood.

“Felt…so… good ,” Dabi manages to blurt out between deep breaths as he tries to regain his bearings.

“You’re incredible, Dabi,” Hawks coos, pressing his lips against the villain’s sweaty forehead. “I’m gonna pull out, yeah?”

Dabi nods, gritting his teeth as he feels the pressure slipping away, leaving him feeling hauntingly empty. Hawks immediately swoops in, wrapping his wings around his lover, whispering sweet nothings as he kisses him back down from the high. Dabi whimpers, focusing on the feeling of Hawks tracing his skin, running his fingers through his hair, kissing down the side of his face to his neck. Another feather whirls away, whisking in a rag to wipe away the spent on Dabi’s midsection as he shudders in Hawks’ arms.

After what seems like eons, Dabi sighs cathartically, letting the waves of bliss fade away.

“I’m good now, birdie,” He admits, looking up at the gorgeous golden eyes staring down at him. The temporary size difference is still so enchanting; Dabi feels like he’s being totally encompassed by Hawks’ presence. The hero rolls over to the side, an arm still wrapped around his lover.

“We were gonna get dinner tonight, weren’t we?” Hawks chuckles.

“Somethin’ like that,” Dabi says breathlessly.

“You still hungry?” Hawks offer with a soft smile.

“I could eat,” Dabi shrugs, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

“You okay with yakitori?” Hawks raises an eyebrow as he grabs his phone from the nightstand.

“Just wake me up when the food’s here,” Dabi yawns, grappling with the comforter and climbing under the covers, wincing slightly at every movement. His muscles are sore, but his heart is full, and it won’t be long before his stomach is too.

All in all, a good night. He got dicked down. He’s getting to sleep in a comfortable bed that won’t pull at his staples. He’s getting a full meal for free. He gets to sleep next to someone who loves him.

At least for now, Touya is completely content. His eyelids flutter closed; the last thing he sees before falling asleep is Hawks’ warm smile.

#ao3 writer #my hero academia fanfiction #dabi x hawks #dabihawks #toukei #hotwings #keigo takami #mha smut #dabi smut #hawks smut #dabihawks smut #dabi #fanfic #ao3 #mha hawks

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sendmebacktomysecondlife · 7 months

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I'll say it, I didn't like the PJO series. Now, I've been a book reader since I was 12, I'm almost 22 now, I have bias. But the series does not do the books any justice, and it's very meh in execution.

First of all, the lack of mention of the "battle reflexes" and "hardwired to read Greek" just left a bitter look on Percy's ADD. As someone diagnosed with ADD in the really early 2000s, PJO was the only thing that didn't call me broken for it. So for the series only mention of his ADD be to have him saying he was broken and messed up with no explanation otherwise when that was the entire point of the series left a sour taste in my mouth.

Second, I understand Rick loves these kids, but damnit, it's so obvious they are quickly growing too old for their roles as children. PJO would have benefited much more from being an animated series, if anything for consistent character appearances and visuals concerning the gods and powers.

Third, I hated the actors for Zeus and Hephaestus. I'm sure the actor for Zeus, may he rest in peace, was a wonderful guy, but it was so clear he was not healthy in those scenes and I was genuinely put off and uncomfortable being stared at by him when it was clear his health was failing. As for Hephaestus, call me picky, he came out looking and sounding stupid as fuck, and I was honestly annoyed they didn't find a disabled actor for him [yes I know the actor has a cane, I don't want to hear it, he's still a conventionally attractive actor who's disability wasn't even visible on screen]

I didn't like the casting for Annabeth. Leah, she's a lovely actress, but I'm just tired of characters described one way or having specific traits for a reason being changed, and it's the same for me with Luke and Percy, but Annabeth frustrated me most as a fellow geeky blonde little girl who was never good enough

I also didn't like the massive changes to Percy. Overhauled from a troubled kid with a sketchy past due to being a demigod to the most soft, sanitized crap ever.

This was something my fiance and I both noticed, they practically inverted Percy and Annabeth. Annabeth was the insecure one, and Percy was always taking the lead. Personal nitpick, didn't like

There was only eight episodes, and jesus christ if you weren't a book lover there was nothing to hook you into this fandom. No filler, no small reprieves. Just straight plot for 45 minutes.

these are all my personal opinions, I'd love to hear you guys thoughts. Please don't send a crap ton of hate, if you disagree move on or be nice.

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo tv show #percy jackson #pjo tv crit #pjo tv series #percy jackson spoilers

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redlittlebird · 1 year

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So maybe I just feel like ranting. Tim Drake has been my favorite character for as long as I can remember, he’s the character that I’ve found myself relating to the most my entire life. That includes my bisexuality, when I was coming to terms with my own sexuality I saw myself more and more reading this character I loved as bisexual. It was something I identified with and thought it fit him. So when I saw the DC was making him bi, I got excited. Confirmation! Hurray!

At least that’s what it was like in the beginning, now I just tend to get frustrated. I want it put on record that I don’t hate Timber, I don’t hate Bernard. I hate that I feel like Tim got put with Bernard to check a box. Increasingly I feel like Tim’s relationship with Stephanie Brown was cut short because DC just want to make him date a boy to prove he was bi, and honestly? That’s just such a crushing feeling. When I’ve dated guys, that has not made me any less bisexual. When I’ve dated women THAT HAS NOT MADE ME ANY LESS BISEXUAL. It’s just a trend I feel like I’ve seen over and over again, if a character is bi, they have to be in a same sex pairing to prove it, and it just feels so unbelievably reductive to the bisexual experience. It’s treated so often like if you’re bisexual and dating someone of the opposite sex you’re not being true to yourself, or they’re not what you really want, and that is just so biphobic on so many levels it makes me want to puke. You can say what you want about the rocky road Tim and Steph’s relationship has been across their decades long history, but when they were broken up off screen it was a gut punch. It was such a blow because nothing in their recent writing indicated they were going to breakup, let alone so suddenly. For the answer to why to be shown over and over again by DC as “Tim just couldn’t be himself with her” is just such a shallow take, and terrible reason for me. Maybe it’s just me but I’ve found Bernard while cute and loving to Tim, to be a largely empty character with little substance. This lends to me feeling like Tim was put with him just to prove a point, so DC could say “See? He swings both ways!” doing so at the cost of a relationship that had been written for years at that point to be very loving and supportive.

I love this character, I loved Tim with Steph, I just wish that DC could have had Tim come out without falling back on so many harmful stereotypes with bisexual people, including the most harmful, that we will just drop our partners because they aren’t fulfilling us as bisexuals, that we’re shallow and confused, and can’t be our true selves unless we prove that we’re bi. I’m happy for representation, especially from my favorite character, but damnit I just wish it was treated with more tact and respect for what actually being bisexual is like. It’s not something we need to prove, it’s who we are, and that doesn’t mean we have to be with someone of the same sex and just happen to like the opposite sex as well. It’s not incidental. We don’t hurt the people that love us just to explore, and it’s damaging to frame it that way.

#tim drake #dc robin #stephanie brown #timsteph #timber #bisexual #just a rant #bernard dowd

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toxicanonymity · 1 year

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Brothel - Dicks

The brothel, aka real housecreeps, is a meta reality show about the Joels and other blorbos. Normally everything is smooth sailing, but we mostly air the drama.

Collect calls SPOILERS

brothel master list

Oh no, a producer leaked a copy of the dick HCs and raider Joel just sent me a dick pic with a ruler for scale, claiming I shorted him. I stared at it for a good 60 seconds, then left him on read. Now someone's knocking at my bedroom door. I ignore it and respond to the pic instead. "Sorry 😬"

Raider, muffled outside my door: Think ya might need a better look. (I don't answer) Can I at least talk to ya?

I put on my robe, begrudgingly let him in, and try not to look at the bulge in his tactical jeggings.

Raider: Production told me to take it up with you.

Me: Tell me you didn't send pictures to production. (Raider is silent.) That's sexual harassment. God damnit, in the middle of your PR tour?

Raider hangs his head and seems sorry until he unzips his tactical jeggings and that's the only reason he was looking down. I'm tempted to make him jack off just because, but I shake my head no.

Raider: Be a good girl for me and it'll be over quick.

Me: are you regressing back to March over this? Don't talk to me like a reader, and don't come in here taking your dick out.

Raider nods solemnly, and I sheepishly add under my breath, "unless I tell you to." The toilet flushes and I nervously look toward the bathroom.

Trouble walks out, fully dressed, buttoning his shirt.

Trouble, to Raider: Didn't I tell you to leave this shit alone, man?

Raider: Pool house, huh? You live in the pool house?

Raider sticks his head into the bathroom and sees there's a big, lavish bedroom connected on the other side and the bed is made. Trouble mouths to me, 'want him to leave?' and I shrug like Idk what to do.

Raider: Can you give us a minute, man?

Trouble: I think you should leave, Raid. I get you're upset but don't bust up in here at 6 in the morning.

Me: Neither of you are leaving.

I put Trouble in the cuck chair, Raider sits on the bed, and I sit down at the vanity to finish talking to him. His pants are still open but I'm not looking.

Me (attempting to be comforting) Hey, anything more than 7" is a waste anyway.

Trouble (7") nods.

Raider: this ain't about sweet pea.

Trouble: that's your issue, man.

Me, to Raider: You're the biggest one either way, why're you pitching a fit over less than a centimeter?

Raider and Trouble look at each other. Trouble shakes his head at Raider like, don't say it.

Raider: We know about him.

Oh, shit. Trouble sighs. I play stupid.

Me: you know about who?

Raider: Jojo.

Me: He doesnt have an HC.

Raider: He has a bulge.

Me: I haven't even seen his dick.

Raider: You've seen his dick print.

Me: How do you--

Raider: All I'm askin' for is accuracy, that's it. Ill do ya a dick print if ya want.

Me: Lemme talk to my dick consultant (@jazziepascal ).

Raider: What'd I do? I used to be your emotional support Joel. Your mental health Joel.

I realize maybe he could've helped me through this month if I spent more time with him.

Me: You still are, c'mere.

I open my arms for a hug. We embrace, but his dick is still hard so it's awkward. After the hug, Trouble is making a face like he wouldnt mind being cucked, but I clear my throat , adjust my robe, and dismiss both of them.

-----------------

Later that day, the men gather in the kitchen. They're huddled around the table and you can't see Night Walks, but they're all talking to him. You can see balled up pieces of paper on the floor and and on the counter there's an open ream of printer paper and an open tub of vasoline.

Thighs Out: I think you've gotta really slap it down.

(loud smack)

Thighs Out: There ya go. Your turn, slasher.

#joelkémon brothel #joelkémon sitcom ☠️#meta #metafic #toxicanonymity ☠️

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spaceistheplaceart · 2 years

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Body Swap - A Job!?

First Comic (the one you're reading now is the 7th, Part One. Search #mp100 body swap on my blog to find the rest. I'll make a masterpost at the end.)

Part Two

Summarized ID: A client is supposed to come in today, and Mob accepts the job on Reigen's behalf. Mob and Reigen learn that Mob no longer has powers and Reigen now does, and Reigen tries to figure out how to use Mob's powers.

FULL ID UNDER CUT:

(NOTE: their bodies are swapped, so keep in mind that "Reigen" looks like Mob and vice versa.

Reigen Mob and Dimple all sit in Spirits and Such awkwardly. Reigen gets up.

REIGEN: "Well... looks like we got a lot of free time until this gets fixed."

He points at Mob. "Mob, start rethinking what you did yesterday. Were there any weird items you touched that could have cursed? Any spirits holding a grudge? Maybe you looked at a suspicious site...?"

Mob thinks about it. He looks up in thought. "Hmm..."

Reigen's cellphone rings. Mob looks at it and picks it up.

REIGEN: "Who is it?"

MOB: "Unknown number."

REIGEN: "Answer it."

MOB: "Hello? Yes, this is spirits and such consulting."

There is a pause, mob holding the phone up to his ear. He covers the receiver and sweats, looking at Reigen. "He says he's a client. He's supposed to come in about thirty minutes."

Reigen facepalms as his aura swells around him. "AGH! SERIOUSLY!?" He drags his hand down his face. "hh... damnit... ask him what his name is." His aura fizzles out.

MOB: "sorry, who are you?"

Reigen yells at Mob, aura spiking up behind him. Mob's shoulders hunch up and his eyes go wide in surprise. Reigen yells: "DON'T ASK IT LIKE THAT! THAT MAKES IT SOUND LIKE YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT THE CUSTOMER!!!"

Mob's shoulders are hunched up and he is sweating, the phone held close to his ear. "Oh." He responds. There is another pause, then he covers the receiver again and speaks to Reigen.

MOB: "He says his name is Hitoshi Hiroto. Should I-"

REIGEN: NO, no, NO!!!"

Reigen puts his head down in despair on the couch. "One of the most wealthy customers I've had... and THIS happens."

Reigen looks up, eyes shut, despairing. In the back, Mob is stood up, answering the person on the phone. At the same time, they say:

REIGEN: "I can't believe we have to cancel on him..."

MOB: "Yes, we'll accept the job. See you then."

Mob hangs up. Reigen looks over.

Reigen stands on the couch, eyes wide and arms splayed out. He yells: "WHY THE HELL DID YOU ACCEPT IT!??! MOB!!!"

DIMPLE: "yeah, what the hell?"

Mob looks a little sad. "Well..."

A thought bubble appears, showing an earlier comic where Mob was checking Reigen's fridge.

MOB: "When I woke up today and I had to make breakfast, I noticed that..."

Mob wrings his hands together and looks down, frowning. "Master didn't have a lot of food..."

Reigen is sharply drawn, yelling angrily: "HEY! YOU'RE MAKING IT SOUND LIKE I'M POOR!"

He calms down and looks to the side, with a sweatdrop on his cheek. He has one hand up, gesturing dismissively. "Mob, the reason I don't have food at home is because I usually go out for meals. I hardly cook anymore."

Mob looks at him blankly, with a touch of surprise. "oh."

Dimple floats up to Reigen, muttering to him.

DIMPLE: "are you sure it isn't cause you're tight on money?"

REIGEN: "Well, I mean... having more wouldn't hurt... but don't tell mob that."

Mob looks up, having overheard. He speaks up after the pause. "It'll be okay, master. I'll exorcise it like we normally do."

DIMPLE: "Uh... you're in reigen's body... I don't think you can use your powers, Shigeo."

Mob and Reigen both look shocked, a little poorly drawn on a dark background as they both say "huh?"

Mob looks at his hand, then outstretches it in front of him with a shadow over his eyes. He points his hand at a cup on Reigen's desk... nothing happens.

His hand slowly drops. "My powers... they're gone..." His eyes are wide and he has a sweatdrop on his cheek. His mouth hangs open a bit.

Dimple floats closer to Reigen with a shit-eating grin. "Waaait a minute... But Reigen, I thought you said you HAD psychic powers!"

He presses up against Reigen's cheek. Reigen is sweating and his aura is bubbling up. "You weren't lying, were you?"

"OF COURSE NOT!" Reigen yells at Dimple, who floats away still with a grin on his face.

Reigen gestures wildly, sweating and with a nervous smile on his face. The background is a red and yellow striped pattern, centering around him.

REIGEN: "Y-Y'SEE, MY POWERS AREN'T PSYCHIC LIKE YOURS, MOB! THEY'RE SPIRITUAL! so-so they work COMPLETELY DIFFERENTLY! that's why you're having trouble right now, because I haven't yet trained you in the art of spirituality!"

Dimple looks unimpressed. Mob thinks it over.

MOB: "I do remember you telling me that a while ago..."

Dimple looks at Mob in shock. "YOU'RE GONNA BELIEVE THAT BULLCRAP!?"

Reigen outstretches both arms, striking a strange pose towards the cup. "Well, I might as well try..."

Nothing happens.

"CRAP! NEITHER OF US HAVE POWERS!"

The cup begins floating. Mob points at it. "Master, the cup!"

Reigen turns around. "huh?"

The aura around the cup vanishes and it drops to the desk, shattering.

"CRAP!" Reigen makes a dive to save it, but is to late. He looks down at the shattered cup. "Damnit..."

Mob comes up behind him and outstretches his hand. "I'll clean it up."

A beat. Nothing happens.

Mob drops his hand, awkwardly looking away. "Oh, right. Um... where's the dustpan?" Reigen drags his palm down his face, frustrated.

DIMPLE: "this is gonna be a disaster."

MOB: "It'll be okay, master just has to learn how to use my powers."

Dimple thinks: "easier said than done."

Reigen stands with his hips cocked and one hand on his hips, smiling nervously. "Well, I guess the master has become the student, huh? ahaa... ok, how do I exorcise a spirit? Psychically, of course, I already know how to spiritually."

Mob looks back at him. Um..." His eyes go wide. "I don't know."

Reigen gestures wildly, hair puffing up and he is sweating. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T KNOW!?!? YOU DO THIS EVERYDAY!!!"

Mob looks down at him, with a sweatdrop on his cheek. He is holding the dustpan. "Ah... it's just become natural now, I don't really think about it."

ID AND COMIC CONTINUED IN NEXT PART

Click this to be taken to the next part.

#long post #mp100 body swap #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #comic #op art

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wildlife4life · 1 year

Text

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @forthewolves, @bekkachaos, @giddyupbuck, @lover-of-mine, @fortheloveofbuddie, @disasterbuckdiaz, and @devirnis, Thank you! And I'm sorry for the angst that I'm about to bring upon you all. (I'm actually not...)

NFL Buck... Need I say more? Yes. Angsty NFL Buck from the Eddie Begin's arc. I'm drowning that man, not only with flood waters but with the angsty feels as well. Mwhahaha. Enjoy!

The only sign of Maddie’s irritation for this ordeal was the narrowing of her dark eyes, looking at Eddie over Christopher’s shaking form. “Evan already texted me. Didn’t give me a chance to fight him on this and I can’t exactly stand up to your mother, she barely knows or likes me.” He tries swallowing down another lump of personal loathing, “Maddie I’m-.” The sharp pierce of the station bell puts an end to the beginning of his pleading for forgiveness. Christopher’s sobs become louder, and, in the background, Eddie can’t barely make out the worried shouts of Helena. Maddie glances back, features tightening further in exasperation, “Damnit.” She hisses softly and gives her attention back to Eddie, “You have to go Eddie…I’ve things under control here and I’ll…” She blows out a harsh breath, “I’ll talk to Evan, but I’m not fixing this for you.” “DIAZ LETS GO!” His captain shouts across the firehouse. “COMING!” Eddie yells back before returning to the glitching iPad screen with his crying son, his over concerned mother’s hollers and Buck’s irate sister, “I’m sorry. I love you mijo. So much.” He tries to catch Maddie’s eye, “I’ll fix this I promise. Tell Buck I love him please.” She purses her lips, but nods, “Stay safe Eddie.” The screen glitches once more before going blank. Eddie gives himself five seconds to feel the utter torment of upsetting not only his boyfriend, but his son as well. Then another five to be completely pissed at himself and his mother. After those ten seconds, he shoves the mess of his life and the emotions that go along with it, into a box and locks it away for another time. That lock is ripped off and pushed away with the flood waters that drag Eddie under less than an hour later.

I suggest listening to Carry You by Ruelle for what it is to come, to prolong to angst. Hope you enjoyed!

If you want to see more NFL Buck just go here.

Tagging (no pressure): @prosperdemeter2 @alyxmastershipper @thekristen999 @911onabc @911-on-abc @bvckandeddie @brokenribsdiaz @ladydorian05 @glorious-spoon @spaceprincessem @elvensorceress @housewifebuck @transbuck @jeeyuns @monsterrae1 @eowon @bigfootsmom @theotherluciferr @jesuisici33 @rogerzsteven @try-set-me-on-fire @buddierights @cowboydiazes @cowboy-buddie @cowboy-buck @watchyourbuck @diazblunt @eddiediaztho @starlingbite @shortsighted-owl @gayhoediaz @gayedmundodiaz @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @hippolotamus @honestlydarkprincess @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @loserdiaz And anyone I forgot. Also anyone who wants to participate! Tag me! I love to read all the snippets! (Sorry for any double tags. Tumblr has been weird with my tagging for some reason)

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ssweeterthanfiction · 3 months

Text

Wait for your love.

Content Warnings: mentions of drinking, drug use,

↳ currently playing ;

“Slut!” - 1977

0:56 ——•———————— 3:24

↺ << ll >> ⋮≡

Y/N: “Let me explain something about the whole….‘America’s Sweetest Girl’ bullshit”

“The only reason people called me that was because how I dressed and how my voice sounded.”

“It’s stupid but…it stuck.”

“Teddy said it was a good way to brand myself, that it would make me more…appealing to people.”

“Guess he didn’t want me having the same reputation that the band did. Unfortunately for him, that image of ‘America’s Sweetest Girl’ was out of the window.”

Daisy: “The pictures of y/n from that night were in every tabloid the next day.”

“Everyone saw how ‘America’s Sweetheart’ was drunk and high out of her mind.”

“Honestly….I was proud of her.”

“I was so sick of her pretending to be someone she wasn’t.”

“But not many people liked that”

Y/N: “It felt so…so freeing. I always had to keep this image up of being a ‘good girl’ and that just— wasn’t me.”

“I mean, I thought it wasn’t me. I didn’t want it to be me.”

“I wanted to be like everyone else. I wanted to party and not worry about being photographed.”

“And it’s not like I didn’t party, I did. But when I did, Teddy would lecture me as if I was a child.”

She sighs. “I mean…he wasn’t completely wrong for treating me like one.”

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

It had been two days since the New Year’s Eve scandal.

You and Billy are both sitting at a table across from Teddy In front of them is a magazine with the picture of you hanging out of a window with Billy standing above you with a guitar. Both of you look high and drunk out of your minds.

“Well, one of you better speak up now and explain this.” Teddy says, leaning back in his chair, glaring at both of you.

You cross your arms and huff. “Should I explain or you?”

Billy sighs, running a hand over his face. “I will, you were the one hanging out a window looking like a fool.” he mumbles, glancing at you.

You scoffs and roll your eyes. “You’re the one who was smoking a blunt and had a guitar slung around his shoulders asshat…” you mumble.

Billy glances at you, rolling his eyes. He puts a cigarette between his lips, lighting it. “Watch your damn mouth, doll..”

Teddy sighed, clearly becoming frustrated with both of you arguing. “For gods sake, you two. Just explain to me how you both end up in front of a damn window practically making out for everyone to see?”

You huff again, leaning back in your chair. “We got in a fight, got high, got drunk, and then…” you motion to the magazine. “That happened”

Billy laughs, taking the cigarette out of his mouth before he leans back in his chair as he looks at you. “You got pretty damn high that’s for sure. I don’t think I’ve seen you that high in my life, doll..” He says, putting special emphasis on the nickname.

Teddy groans, rubbing his forehead as if you two were giving him a headache, but you were 100% sure you were. “And you two just decided to forget cameras exist?”

You shrug in response, not entirely sure with what to say.

Billy sighs, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Oh, come on, Teddy. What’s the big deal? So what if we got on the cover page of a tabloid, who cares?”

Teddy scoffs.”Who cares? Who- who cares?” he says, going into his drawer and grabbing 4 more

magazines.

“Y/N is who should care.” he says slamming all the magazines on the desk.

You grab two of the magazines and read the headlines.

‘America’s Sweetheart or an All-American Bitch?’

‘America’s Golden Girl Gone Wild!”

“Are people really saying this stuff about me?”

Billy sighs and grabs one of the magazines, staring at the headline that’s on the cover with the photo.

He groans, running a hand over his face.“God damnit..” He mumbles under his breath before looking at you. “It’s just a couple magazines, doll. I’m sure it’s not that bad..”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one they’re antagonizing!”

Billy laughs, shaking his head at your yelling. “Calm down, princess. I’m sure it’s not that bad. Besides, you knew what you were doing when you got high and practically threw yourself on me.” He retorted, rolling his eyes at you.

“I didn’t know what I was doing asshole, you got me high out of my fucking mind!”

“And how is that my fault, princess? I didn’t force the joint in your mouth and make you take a hit.” Billy retorted, leaning back in his chair as he put the cigarette back in his mouth.

Teddy groaned, rubbing his forehead as you two continued arguing. “Oh, Jesus Christ, you two..”

“No…maybe you didn’t…but you are the one that pulled out a bag of coke, asshole”

Billy laughs dryly, shaking his head again. “Again, Princess. I didn’t force that damn cocaine up your nose. You did that yourself, not that I cared. You looked damn gorgeous doing it, might I add.” He mumbled that last part under his breath.

You groan in frustration, putting your hands over your head.

“Teddy, how bad is the damage”

Teddy sighs, rubbing his forehead once more. “There’s been quite a bit of backlash from these articles. People are calling you a slut and saying how you used to be so much better.” He mumbles.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Y/N: “Everyone was calling me a slut. They were calling me names but they didn’t say shit about Billy.”

“I wish I had done things different, but during that time, I couldn’t. My whole brand was being this sweetheart that everyone loved. And the minute I fucked up, everyone started calling me a slut.”

“If I wanted to keep my career, I had to rebrand. I had literally no choice.”

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

“What do we— what do I do? I need…like damage control right?”

“We’re gonna have to do some kind of damage control. I’m getting calls left and right. The band’s PR team are currently working on everything. It’s just a matter of time ‘til it blows over.”

You shake your head. “No…no but that’s for the band. I’m not apart of the band. I’m categorized as my own artist. What do I do?”

Teddy sighs, running a hand over his forehead again. “We’re working on damage control for you too. The PR team for you is working on the same plan. It’s gonna be alright. Again, it might just take a bit of time, but hopefully it’ll blow over in a matter of weeks..”

“And what if it doesn’t? What happens then? I just…lose everything I’ve worked for?”

Teddy sighed, he hated having to be the bearer of bad news sometimes.

“Well, if it doesn’t blow over, there’s a possibility that your career will be badly affected. The backlash might also become worse at that point. Hopefully it won’t, but we need to be prepared if that outcome comes to light.”

You put your head in your hands, you kept thinking of how stupid you had to be to mess up this bad.

Then you had an idea.

“Rebrand…What about a rebrand?” you say, picking your head up.

Teddy seemed somewhat confused at your idea, but interested to see where you were going with this.

“What do you mean by a ‘rebrand’? Like an image change?”

You nod your head. “We play into what they’re saying, just like how we played into the ‘America’s Sweetheart’ bullshit. I’ll write a new album, a rock one, for real this time.”

“You know what this means right? You have to write and produce one as fast as you can.”

“I can do it. Please Teddy, trust me on this.”

Teddy ponders for a moment.

“You think this will work?”

“It has to. Please Teddy.”

Teddy sighs, he could never say no to you. “Alright fine, but you’ll have to be working around the clock. Can you handle that?”

You nod your head. “I won’t let you down.”

Teddy huffs before nodding. “Alright, I’m putting my faith into you. But be aware, there’s no room for error with this. One screw up and it’s all down the drain.”

“I understand.”

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Y/N: “I definitely struggled writing a few songs on the album. I mean…I was trying to write, compose, and produce a single album in under 3 weeks.”

“But it was fun to write some of the songs.”

“There was this one in particular…”

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

You were in your apartment, for once. Billy was with you too.

Sitting at your piano, you were attempting to write one of the songs for the new album. But you just couldn’t. You groaned and slammed your hands and head on the piano.

Billy looked up from where he had been sitting on the couch, he’d been there for hours already as he watched you try and work on your songs. He sighs, standing up and walking over to you.

“What’re you stuck on now, doll?”

You groan. “This song…it’s stupid.”

Billy laughs, coming from behind and resting his head on your shoulder.

“Maybe it’s not the song that’s stupid, maybe it’s the songwriter who’s trying to finish in like 3 damn weeks.” He teased.

“Why can‘t songs write themselves…”

Billy rolled his eyes playfully as he rested his hands on your shoulders and started massaging them, hoping to help you relax a bit.

“It would make life a hell of a lot easier, I’ll give you that.” He mumbled.

You rest your head on his hand and look up at him. “Aren’t you a gentleman”

Billy laughs and leans down, kissing your forehead. “Only for you, doll.” He mumbled in your ear, continuing to massage your shoulders.

“Mm…I know…” you say, gazing down at the piano keys.

And almost like magic, your hands begin to play, and you start to hum a tune.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Y/N: “Billy and I definitely had our moments…but when we weren’t fighting, everything seemed right. He was just…perfect.”

She chuckles.

“I mean…I wrote “Slut!” is less than an hour. I don’t think I could’ve done it without him…”

the long awaited new chapter is done!! honestly i can’t believe it’s done, but hey, the minute i put on the right song the chapter basically writes itself! thank you so so so much for being patient with this part, i haven’t been in the best mental state, but writing is definitely helping me :) hope u guys enjoyed this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 (especially the little bit of billy fluff at the end :))

#Spotify #billy dunne x reader #billy dunne #billy dunne fic #djats fic #djats x reader #djats

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