dr-spectre · 1 day ago
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So it's currently midnight, I was going through some tweets and stuff because I was consuming some late night Callie angst! (Bad idea. Don't fucking consume sad media of your comfort character unless you're ready for it) and I've stumbled across an interesting titbit that's making my brain go CRAZY!!!
You guys know Callie's Alterna outfit right?
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What I'm about to say I am NOT 100% certain on! I NEED SOMEONE TO DOUBLE CHECK IF IM ABOUT TO SAY IS TRUE OR NOT! OKAY?! BUT APPARENTLY.... The Splatoon 3 artbook states that Callie befriended some Octolings and she took inspiration from Octarian fashion into her new look... which matches up with Smollusk's comments about her, as well as why the outfit looks leathery and mostly black. You what else is leathery and mostly black? HYPNO CALLIE!!!!
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OH THIS JUST ADDS MORE AND MORE TO WHAT I BELIEVE ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED TO CALLIE IN SPLATOON 2... oh this makes me happyyyyy... oh I'm SO GIDDY RIGHT NOW!!!
"Callie was kidnapped and brainwashed by the Octarians and DJ Octavio!!!" Then why would she take inspiration from their fashion? Why would she call them cute? Why has she wanted to give them a make over on two separate relationship charts? Why did she seem happy to help decorate the Octarian bases and make cute little doodles showing her plans? Why does she miss shaven Octarians? Why is there concept art of her getting comforted by Octarians? Why are there no signs of trauma or mental anguish from Callie? Why is Callie perfectly fine seeing Octavio in Splatoon 3 ROTM and the Grand Fest? She was smiling. Why doesn't Callie state herself that she got kidnapped? Only Marie does because that's what she THINKS happened. There's no mention of kidnapping in the original Japanese version of Splatoon 2 btw from my knowledge.
I WONDER WHY?!?!?! HMMMM!!!! HMM!!!!!!!!!!!!???? MAYBE... OH, I DONT KNOW... SHE WASN'T KIDNAPPED?!?!?! We can argue about brainwashing and hypnosis all fucking day long, we can have a healthy discussion there, but saying that Callie was kidnapped is basically wrong at this point. Like, I'm sorry, if you say she got kidnapped, then I'm gonna ignore the rest of your points. Sorry if that seems harsh but... I'm getting tired of it is all. You know?
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rederiswrites · 2 days ago
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Menus, Oct. 23-30
Several people were open to seeing my menu planning, and it's something I enjoy doing well, so here we go!
Notes: My dishes can all be gluten free (they are, for us) by using gf pasta (we like Rummo brand gf noodles and Tinkyada are good too). Otherwise, we're pretty generally low carb and most things are from scratch, but typically pretty simple. Most of these rely on root vegetables or beans for their carbohydrates.
Feta tomato pasta and sausage --This was viral on Instagram a while back, and I decided to try it. Now my daughter requests it pretty often. I don't make it quite like the original--mostly, I add some zucchini, double the feta, and add a bunch of Italian seasoning. This link is pretty much the same thing. They add shallots, which does sound lovely but costs a bit extra. I cooked some sausage with the meal because I didn't want to load up on pasta, personally, as I'm still staying very low carb.
"Bowl of the Wife of Kit Carson"--modified caldo tlalpeño--Pity poor Maria Carson, whose indigenous name I can't even learn, now remembered by her husband's name. That aside, it's a family favorite. We make it with the entire can of chiles in adobo, but that's a family preference. The avocados are pretty much the vegetable in this one so uhh...have plenty. I make the rice separate, both because that way you can vary it depending on your spice tolerance and because that way the rice doesn't suck up all the soup for leftovers.
Roast whole chicken, roasted mixed root vegetables, and garlicky kale. I basted the chicken with avocado oil (expensive but healthy; feel free to sub cheaper vegetable oil), seasoned it with a Penzey's mix I like called Ozark Seasoning, and stuffed it with rosemary, onions, and garlic. The root vegetables can be whatever; mine were yellow beets (slightly less "earthy" tasting than red, which might be more appealing to some), rutabaga, and carrots. Salt, pepper, and garlic powder is enough, seasoning-wise. And the kale, I blanch and then saute with a LOT of garlic.
Garlic parmesan white beans, brussels sprouts, and Gujerati carrot salad. I've not made the beans yet; they'll be a new dish for us. Sound great, though, and I'm trying to learn more meatless dishes generally and bean dishes specifically. We like to halve or quarter our brussels sprouts, depending on size, steam them, and then eat them with sour cream. And the carrot salad is a longstanding family favorite, which I got from my well worn copy of Madhur Jaffrey's Indian Cooking. This is almost the same recipe, but I don't add cayenne, and I wouldn't use olive oil, since it has such a low smoke point. I'd use peanut or canola or something. It's not spicy or "exotic" tasting, and it's been well-received at potlucks.
Pot Roast. There's no point giving a recipe for this one; just pick one that looks good to you. Just include lots of good veggies. I like carrots, onions, potatoes, and parsnips. It's fun to add a bag of frozen pearl onions, and I like frozen peas put in at the very end of cooking.
Tuna salad. I eat it over lettuce, the others eat it as a sandwich. Dinner for a tired night. My tuna salad is made with well-drained chunk light (in water), finely diced celery, finely diced green salad olives, salt, pepper, and mayo to bind. My family really likes the olives so I go heavy and also use a little of the jar liquid as a salt stand-in.
Deviled eggs and raw veggies with hummus. Another phone-in meal, or it would be if I didn't find making deviled eggs such a hassle. We all love them, but I have some inexplicable personal antipathy for how long they take to make. ANYWAY, my deviled eggs are the bestest, and you will not think so if you eat yours southern-style with (shudder) "salad dressing" instead of mayo, or sweet relish. No, mine are made with salt, pepper, mayo, and lots of finely minced green salad olives, and topped with paprika, preferably sharp paprika.
Pork tenderloin, frozen corn, and stewed apples and quince. Aren't we just POSH? Jacob got me a quince to try at the farmer's market. It's uh...well pretty much I guess it's like a rock-hard and fairly tart apple, with the granular texture of an Asian pear. They're generally eaten cooked, which is why I decided to stew it mixed with apples. So I just sliced the apples and the quince up fine (just leave out the quince if you don't have it which you probably don't, and maybe add a dash of lemon juice instead), simmered them in a couple tablespoons of apple cider (or juice; we had cider), and threw in a teaspoon of pie seasoning, a fistful of dried cranberries (the recipe called for raisins) and very approximately a tablespoon of allulose syrup. Obviously you could just use sugar instead. I topped mine with pecans and it was so so good. Oh, and also the pork: Usually two tenderloins come in a pack of tenderloins, so I put a different seasoning on each just for fun. Various blends. Lemon pepper and Montreal Steak Seasoning are favorites, but tonight I opened an unlabeled container in the pantry and discovered that it was rosemary salt the bestie made and left here, so I mashed it up with some garlic and put that on one, and did bbq rub on the other. The frozen corn....is frozen corn. Except, you know, microwaved.
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rye-bread-soda-iceberg · 17 hours ago
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hii everybody, it's my birthday! I turn 21 today :D
it's been more than one full year since I made this blog and I'm not planning to leave anytime soon, so definitely expect more art from me! I'll take the chance to say I'm overjoyed that people actually like my silly little drawings and I've gotten so many "I love the way you draw Sampo/Ratio" it's insane!! I'm glad you guys do
speaking of which, it's also been more than a full year of me drawing my sweetheart Sampo from HSR <3
I realized i had fallen in love with him hard on the 12th of June 2023 in the 1.0 version, during the museum event, though I had my eye on him ever since the very start of the story
fixating on him helped me so much, not only bringing a lot of joy into my life but getting my attention away from a certain relationship that was making me miserable and subsequently making me realize how toxic it was. it may seem silly but to me it does feel like he saved my life a little bit. if I ever stop being fixated on him, something I hope will only happen in a distant future, I will still always owe it to him
on a lighter and sillier note, some time in January I finally got to see Dr. Ratio for the first time during the livestream. and I hated him. from his design to his personality there was nothing about him that I liked, and I used to be real vocal about it too
then I just switched overnight. I realized I was in love with him on the 28th of June of this year and I have been loving every single thing about him as much as I love Sampo ever since
in a way, he also helped me a lot! I've discovered a kind of passion in myself I thought I never had in the first place and fixating on him gave me the motivation I was lacking to work hard and improve myself. I feel like he changed who I am fundamentally as a person, although a part of what I am now had been already there, perhaps dormant. I guess you could say he awakened something in me, definitely
I had never found this much comfort in a single fictional character before, much less two at the same time. I'm grateful for many things and people in my life including myself and lately i've been so grateful for these two silly fictional beings who help me keep going every day
as I've mentioned a few times, I do ship myself with both of them! I'm mostly sharing, I love loving them, I love seeing them love each other And I love seeing other people/people's ocs and certain fictional characters loving them <3
I'm very particular when it comes to receiving gifts, so the best thing I can do for myself is make my own silly selfship art :"
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but yes, not sorry for rambling, I just wanted to do a little something on this blog for the occasion :"3
hope you'll all have a great day!
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sysig · 1 year ago
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Some further TMPs (Patreon)
#Doodles#Tamagotchi#So unfortunately by this time the first lineage has passed#We managed to raise them to the final(ish) TMP! TMP 4 anyhow#Unfortunately I'm of the belief that they do actually weaken from inbreeding lol - maybe not that sophisticated but like#I'm pretty sure the further you get along the more demanding they are so if you want to raise a ''perfect'' lineage it takes some work!#For the first playthrough we got the cute chonky lads - there named Bay and Bug (nicknamed Lord and Lady for funsies)#And then their babies and then /their/ babies lol#At this point I still only had the Osutchi so I only got to see Bug and Pollina in passing but Bug was soooo cuuuuute#Such adorable little designs <3 I might like the stark mostly-black with white detail designs the most haha#The generations ended with the Mesu first and smol tapped out - fair since I was starting to get tired myself#I still raised them for a bit but I eventually failed at getting the final-final evolution while I was on track#I came back and he had died from sickness :( Poor weak immunity lad </3#But I've restarted again and am playing solo :) I'm on TMP 2 and about to move to 3! With different evolutions!#I've also set the clocks a bit differently so they're not waking me up early anymore lol - it's just nicer all around :)#And! And!! I got a Gen2 rerelease! :D#Another died to sickness >:0 But at least I got them to adulthood first and Gen2s don't reproduce haha#I'm planning to play through as many of the evolutions as I can - I really want the alien lookin' guy! Love me a good alien haha#It's a fun little game :)
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yinyuedijun · 3 months ago
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TOKYO VICE | part 2
“Do you remember,” Suo begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?” You tense. “No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs. “Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers and starts pulling the fabric down your sticky thighs—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.” (Or: Tired of your lies and self-deception, Suo takes matters into his own hands and forces the truth out of you.)
12.8k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au ft. yandere suo. mostly unrepentant smut, comedy, angst. warnings: sex work. nsft tags: afab reader, emotional sex, fingering, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, pussyjob, just the tip, creampie. suo is mean and makes you cry but there's no degradation, he's just a bastard lol. he also manhandles you a lot and you sit in his lap. dividers by @/cafekitsune!
part 1 here
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You're surprised at Suo’s indifference to your sex life.
A month has gone by, and he’s made no comment on your habit of sleeping with customers, nor on the hours during which you come home—which are now even later than usual, since you have express permission to sleep with people and have no need to rush back to the penthouse after your ‘appointments’. And it isn't as if he's ignoring the reality of your late nights either. In a stunning show of respect for your personal freedom, he now actively offers to arrange for someone to pick you up from whichever love hotel you'll end up at. (You always decline, of course—if you're going to pretend to be his wife, you'd rather pretend to be a faithful one.)
Ironically, you had initially thought that Suo’s approval wouldn't matter either way. You had found the sex with your clients to be so uninspiring that it made you miss celibacy, so you were planning on stopping. But it turned out that you were deeply affected by the experience of sitting in Suo’s lap as he talked about his expectation of deciding whose cocks you should be allowed to take. It did something horrible to your sex drive, and thus you turned to work as your only outlet.
You spent around three weeks desperately trying to find a customer to satisfy your urges—or at the very least, to fuck you in a way that could get you to stop thinking of Suo whenever you got even a little horny. You were faced with utter failure in this pursuit, and in the end, bleakly resigned yourself to the reality that your shameful attraction to your best friend is incurable. You’ve now given up on the love hotel visits and simply take care of your needs with a vibrator instead. At least this way, you can actually say Suo’s name while you cum, rather than constantly reminding yourself to say your customer’s name instead.
The freedom of letting yourself fantasise about Suo has been exhilarating, but terrible for your friendship. It’s just difficult to sit across from him at breakfast and act like you haven't touched yourself at the table while he was gone, fantasising about what it would be like if he bent you over it and fucked you dumb. But you are a decent actor—hostessing demands that of you—so you don't think Suo has caught onto your carnal desires for him. Hopefully, he never will.
Another couple of weeks pass like this. Things are so calm that you come to believe that Suo is genuinely fine with you having some degree of sexual freedom, at least at work. This, however, turns out to be nothing short of naïvete.
After all, Suo is never forceful when he's upset with your decisions—but he also never fails to redirect them.
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One spring evening, you show up at the kyabakura and are told that you’re only to see one customer tonight, and that it will be a private session.
“But we don't do private sessions here,” you say, blissfully unaware of your imminent suffering, “and we don't even have private rooms at this establishment.”
To this, your mamasan responds that the club is making an exception for this one guest, and that this guest has rented out the rooftop bar just to see you. When you ask just who this person might be, a look of mild panic flashes through her eyes. She grabs you by the shoulders and tells you to be careful. Just keep him happy and go home after, okay? she says. Don't go out for drinks, and definitely don't go to any love hotels. Don’t tell him your real name at any cost. You don't want to involve yourself with a man like him.
A sense of dread fills you as you step into the elevator.
A cool breeze greets you when you step onto the rooftop patio. Normally bustling with a raucous crowd, it almost feels eerie in its emptiness. Aside from the glow of the red light district beneath you and the city skyline in the distance, the only light is coming from the candles lighting one of the booths.
Your anxiety intensifies as you approach it.
You aren't very surprised at the sight of Suo lounging on a leather couch, dressed in full criminal regalia—infamous eyepatch, tassel earrings, and all. Sakura once mentioned that this club is connected to some colour gang, so you figure that the manager likely recognized Gui Yanzhao on sight. He probably suffered a minor angina when he did. The mamasan herself has no criminal ties to your knowledge, but she was probably informed that one of her girls was to entertain a high-profile yakuza, and she was likely worried that you'd been maimed in the process. Gui Yanzhao has a bit of a reputation for being a sadist, after all.
While you appreciate her concern, it is not Suo’s history of violence that scares you, but his history of antagonising you. On good days, there's nothing that delights him more than seeing you flustered or off-kilter. On bad days, there’s nothing that consoles him like spiteful retaliation against whomever's managed to piss him off—and you have, without a doubt, managed to piss him off.
You groan as soon as you see him, fearing the worst for your mental health.
“What are you doing here,” you say, and Suo smiles.
“Oh? You're not happy to see me?”
“No,” you moan. “How are you even here right now? Aren't you worried about being assassinated or something? Who did you terrorise to get an entire rooftop bar to yourself?”
“I have a very cordial relationship with all the major organisations on Keisei Street and was promised immunity during my visit tonight,” Suo says neatly. “And I didn't terrorise anyone. I simply walked into this fine establishment and politely asked for a private space to enjoy with my preferred hostess.”
Neither of you need to mention that the sight of the tassel earrings alone would be enough to terrorise someone. The manager probably felt like he was being extorted just from being on the receiving end of Suo’s smile. Actually, you currently feel like you're being extorted too.
You spend a good few moments giving him a look of open distress, to which he smiles.
“You know,” he says, “for a top-ranking hostess, you're not showing much hospitality right now.”
“Oh, for the love of—”
You force yourself to stop, remembering that you are, in fact, at work. Despite your mixed feelings about your industry, at the end of the day, you pride yourself on your work ethic. You take your job very seriously, and your job right now is to entertain your customer—even if said customer is your fake yakuza husband who is toying with you as a cat would a mouse.
Resigning yourself to a night of probable humiliation (one of Suo's greatest passions in addition to lying for comedy), you walk over to sit yourself next to him. And just like in Red Dragon’s lounge, Suo overturns the decision by pulling you into his lap. Your eyes go wide as he settles you on top of him—because unlike the intimate space of that crime scene, this is expressly forbidden behaviour at your club.
Also, unlike that other night, you are currently wearing the shortest dress imaginable and the tiniest thong you own.
You find yourself shivering as Suo's hand settles on your lower back, which is fully exposed thanks to the cut of your dress. You try not to focus on the calloused press of his fingers against your bare skin, but this is an exceedingly difficult endeavour, as his touch has been featured in your sexual fantasies for the past several weeks. Worse yet—your dress is now riding up your ass, and your thong isn't doing much to cover you. Whatever material his pants are made of—light, delicate—feels incredibly good against your thighs too.
If this continues, you might cum on the spot.
“Wait,” you say, and Suo raises a brow.
“Oh?”
“You aren't supposed to touch the hostesses here.”
He smiles. “I'm sure this place might be able to make an exception for me. But only if you are personally willing to, of course.”
“...”
Making an exception for him, in your current situation, would be among the worst decisions you've ever made. But after two of the most sexually frustrating months of your life, you’re ready to make horrible decisions.
“Fine,” you say. “But you better not cheap out on the drinks. The mamasan will only overlook this if you make it worth our while.”
“Of course,” Suo says. “Though I think she’d overlook a lot of things for me regardless.”
Suo makes good on his promise and orders a great deal of alcohol. All top shelf, of course. He laughs that his goal is to bring you to the number 1 ranking with his patronage alone tonight. It’s a hideous display of wealth.
As you pour him an absurdly expensive drink (a Hibiki 30 year-old blended whiskey), you reminisce on how little money you both used to have as teens. He had to be so careful with his wallet whenever he felt like visiting you—or rather, checking in on you—at work. Especially after your master passed. The two of you were very good about staying financially independent, but there was something comforting about your master’s promise to support you if anything ever happened.
With him gone, you and Suo had only financial paranoia and each other.
You guess that might have affected Suo more than you thought. Perhaps he didn't join the yakuza to spite you, but to support you. Certainly, he seems to enjoy spoiling you right now—treating you to drinks that would easily clear a year of his salary as a teen, buying out an entire night of your time at a high end club, renting out a whole floor just so that he can have you to himself. When you point out that his tab must be getting catastrophic, he only laughs.
“I did always say that I wanted to spend money on you,” he recalls. It had been a running joke during your days at the girls’ bar, when you scolded him for paying 3000¥ per hour just to visit you. You hated that he was wasting money on the red light district; he always replied that it wasn't a waste, because it was money spent to see you.
You feel your stomach flutter at the comment. You didn't think he'd remember words from so long ago. As a teenager, you had a tendency of clinging onto small, inconsequential moments with him because they brought you so much joy. You’ve always assumed he would have forgotten them, writing them off as instances of shallow teasing—but if he remembers, then surely they meant something to him too?
This would all make you feel sentimental if you weren't outrageously horny.
Suo has kept you on his lap the whole evening, even as you pour him drinks. Every movement to serve him has you involuntarily rubbing on his thigh, and you're quite certain at this point that he's been lifting your skirt up inch by inch with every casual touch on your waist. You don't bother accusing him of it, though. He'd just give you an innocent look and say that it was an accident. What a horrible man.
Accident or not though, it doesn't change the fact that your nearly bare cunt is pressed right against him. You keep trying to shift positions to pull down your skirt or lift yourself off him, but each attempt only makes it worse—brings the soft fabric of his pants right against your pussy, or makes your clit drag against his thigh, with only your thong separating your bodies. You try to suppress your arousal, but to your overwhelming horror, you can't seem to control yourself. You feel yourself getting wet, folds quickly becoming slick as you’re forced to grind on him. Your body, already warm from all the cocktails and shots, grows even hotter as you squirm on his lap.
In a desperate move to regain some control, you fully get up to reach for another drink. But then you feel a pair of hands on your waist, and Suo pulls you back onto his leg—this time forcing you to straddle it. You can't help the whimper that leaves you as your dripping cunt is spread and pressed against him, your clit throbbing against his thigh.
You pray that he doesn't notice the noise, so of course he does.
“Hm? Is something wrong?” Suo’s hand drifts over your waist and down to your thigh, where it ghosts over your bare skin. He leans in, and his voice is silky as he speaks into your ear: “You're moving around a lot. Do you need to get up?”
He’s giving you an out. It's quite considerate of him, as staying like this would not be a good decision. But for better or worse, you have a tendency to make bad ones.
“...no, I'm fine.”
“Good,” he says. “Let me know if you’re uncomfortable at all. I'm happy to move if you'd like.”
As if demonstrating, Suo shifts the leg you're sitting on, directly rubbing it against your core. You try not to shudder, feeling yourself get even wetter, clenching around nothing.
Trying to ignore how empty you are, you grasp for other topics of conversation, something to distract you. A little scrambled from the alcohol and catastrophically aroused, you of course land on the one that's been making your sex drive unmanageable.
“Remember a month ago,” you say, “how you talked about choosing who gets to touch me?”
“Yes.” His palm is warm against your thigh. He isn't moving it, so there's plausible deniability, but the amused tone of his voice suggests that he knows what he's doing. “Does that bother you?”
Of course it should bother you. It's a level of control that's appalling even to your anxiously-attached ass. But it’s also making you wetter right now. You try not to cry—from misery or sexual frustration, you're not sure.
“Well, yeah. Come on, Suo—even you should know that's really weird of you.”
“I do,” he says, smiling like he isn't admitting to deranged behaviour. “But how else am I supposed to know you're safe? Or even aside from being safe—if your needs are being met.” His hand runs up and down your thigh before settling at the hem of your dress. “I wouldn't want you to go unsatisfied. Who knows what kind of people you'd seek out if that happened.”
You actively stop yourself from putting your face in your hands. The gall of him saying this after forcing you into extended celibacy is beyond words, especially as you're being forced to rub up on him, effectively ruining every attempt you've made not to think about him sexually for the past several years. There are many materially consequential reasons for your decision to not fuck Suo—you should not be soaked through your panties, your thighs sticky with need, as you sit on his lap.
“That's,” you say lamely, “not very normal of you.” Trying for a less sensual conversation, you go for the reliable topic Sakura’s romance radar: “Also, if satisfaction was your concern, why did you choose Sakura? I love that guy a lot, but he has literally no experience. And I think he'd blue-screen trying to keep a friend with benefits. You know he can't handle a fuckbuddy.”
You are not trying to be mean. What Sakura objectively needs for his first time is someone sweet and emotionally competent and, most importantly, not an absolute freak like you. This is a failure of your character, not his.
You can hear Suo’s smile in his reply: “I don't think you're giving him enough credit.”
“He has the social skills of a feral cat.”
Suo genuinely laughs. “Sure, when he first came to Makochi. But he's much better now. Plus, you have no room to talk. I mean”—his breath sweeps over your ear—“you used to be pretty wild yourself. I've just domesticated you is all… though you've been misbehaving lately.”
His words do something horrible to you. Trying to distract yourself from the mounting sexual tension, you turn to him to give him a biting retort, but you're abruptly stopped by the look in his eye. Distinctly hungry and unrepentant in its desire, his gaze roams openly and shamelessly along the curves of your body.
You feel like you're being eaten alive.
Plenty of customers have looked at you in such a way when you wear this outfit, but none have had this effect on you—which is to say, making you clench immediately.
You try not to cry. You actually will cum on the spot at this rate, and you don't think you could be subtle about it. You're barely keeping it together right now, with how your pussy keeps fluttering and dripping. Coupled with the way that the alcohol is melting the edges of your self-control, you're shocked you haven't at least moaned yet.
In a last ditch effort to save your friendship, as well as your rental (house arrest) situation, you slap a hand over his mouth.
“Stop that.”
Suo laughs. He grabs your wrist, lifts your palm away. “Why?”
Why? Because if you keep talking like that, I'll bend over and start begging you to fuck me! you think. But even in your inebriated, horny state, it feels like a poor idea to admit this aloud. You end up saying, “Hostesses aren't paid to flirt like this. Strictly speaking, we’re paid to be conversational partners.” You frown at him. “You're breaking a lot of club rules right now.”
This reprimand backfires on you, as you are suddenly filled with intrusive thoughts of breaking every single rule in this establishment with Suo, including the ones preventing you from climbing on top of him and riding him raw. You squirm at the thought, wishing you could close your legs rather than making a mess of your underwear (now a lost cause), but Suo’s grip stays firm on your waist.
He, himself, is unbothered by your scolding. “Okay,” he says simply. “Then I won't speak to you as a hostess. I want to speak to you, seriously, as a friend.”
His smile is so disarming, it makes you nervous. But he sounds earnest enough for you to be curious, and anyway, you're desperate for something to distract you from your wet cunt.
“Alright,” you acquiesce, “What do you have to say, as a friend?”
“I just have one question.”
“Sure. Shoot.”
His hand comes to rest in your thigh again. He leans in, breath so hot against your ear that your heart jumps.
“I can accept that you wanted to see customers just to satisfy your urges. But tell me why you didn't come to me first.”
You freeze up. Look at him, wide-eyed.
“Wh-what?”
Suo just smiles. Looks so fucking innocent you wonder if you misheard, but his voice is sharp when he replies: “Let me put it another way. Why have we never slept together?”
For some reason, you’ve never thought that he'd ask you this question point blank, even though you've asked it to yourself many times. It takes you several moments to piece together a response, during which Suo’s expression turns distinctly wicked. A sign that he smells blood.
“Why would you think we would have?” you ask carefully.
“Because we’ve both clearly thought about it. You especially.”
You try to keep a straight face. “No I haven't. I don't know what you're talking about.” You raise a brow. “How would you even know?”
“Because,” he says, hand inching up your thigh, “you’re so wet that I can feel it.”
You're mortified.
Shame floods your body, first because of the accusation, and then because you know it's true. You were tipsy enough not to think about this, but now—sobering up from sheer panic— you're acutely aware of how you've soaked through the fabric beneath you. Something that Suo had certainly known, and chose to encourage.
What a horrible man.
When you don't reply, he tilts his head. “Don't tell me you haven't noticed. Do you want me to show you?”
His hand is moving so slowly, you know he's giving you another out. You could easily get off his lap. You could even slap him and call him a sleazy drunk and grouse at him to go home. You could forgive him in the morning for coming onto you and say he'd obviously made an inebriated mistake, as opposed to a very calculated decision. Your friendship would stay mostly intact. His grip on you might tighten, but that would be fine. You would still get to stay with him.
And that's all you've ever wanted. Just to stay with him.
But you're so wet, so empty, so aching. You want to be touched. You want to be touched by Suo, and only by Suo. You want to be fucked by him, to be owned by him, to be ruined by him. You’ve wanted it so badly and so long that you can't even remember when it started—only that you want it to end.
So instead of moving away, you sit there and endure the humiliation of getting your cunt inspected by him.
Suo hums as he opens your legs. You suppress a whimper as a finger moves along your folds, at the noise it makes as it runs through your slick. “Look, you’re so wet,” he murmurs into your ear. He finds your clit—swollen, neglected, and you whimper as he starts to draw slow, lazy circles around it. “Poor thing.”
“It’s only because you had me grinding on you the whole night,” you say through gritted teeth. “It doesn't—ngh—doesn’t mean I’ve been wanting to fuck you.”
You sound pissed enough that you'd convince anyone else, but you know, even without seeing his face, that Suo can tell you're bullshitting.
“You’re not a good liar,” he remarks. A fine teacher even when humiliating people, Suo can't help but add, “If you have to tell a lie, at least come up with a believable one.”
“What makes it unbelievable?” you reply, words clipped off by a sharp inhale as he starts rubbing your pussy.
“Well,” he starts nonchalantly, as if he isn't toying with your cunt, “after you were targeted in that succession conflict, I put hidden cameras in the area, and also in our suite.”
Your eyes go wide. Even in your aroused state, the implications are making you panic. “You—you what?”
“It was for security purposes,” he dismisses casually, as if he's not admitting to a serious invasion of privacy. “Only near the front door and the common areas. I just wanted to catch intruders and any suspicious behaviour from my men. But imagine my surprise”—you feel his fingers start to press into your cunt—“when I instead caught you fucking yourself on the couch and moaning my name.”
You’re mortified. Humiliated. Mind racing with every instance you were horny and stupid enough to touch yourself in a common space. You think about yelling at him about the cameras, but then you feel two fingers sinking into you, and now you aren't thinking about much at all.
Your mind goes blank as you're stretched open by him. Your cunt is so wet, so empty, but the feeling still makes you whine. Your brow furrows, and you give him a pleading look. Slowly, please.
“Don't worry,” he says in a soothing tone, “I know you can handle this. I've seen you take much bigger. Though”—he shifts, pulls you so you're in between his legs, and now you can feel the length of him against you, hard and aching and huge, what the fuck—“maybe not big enough.”
You tighten around his fingers as he grinds against you. You want him inside you so badly, it hurts. Suo laughs when he feels your desperation, and he sounds so amused that you can't help but feel ashamed. But even more than shame, you feel aroused. You take the rest of his fingers easily, down to the knuckle.
“What the fuck, Suo,” you eventually manage through your panting, though not with much bite. “You weren't—ahh—meant to see any of that.”
“Sorry,” he says, sounding deeply unapologetic. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn't watch much, and I deleted all of it. I didn't need to see that to know you have feelings for me.”
You tense. “What feelings?” you ask, and Suo stops. He pulls his fingers out of you—you breathe sharply at the loss—and manhandles you until you're straddling his lap. Forces you to look at him, into his one eye. It's knife-sharp, brutal, but familiar. You don't struggle, nor do you feel uneasy.
But you do feel like prey.
“Do you remember,” he begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?”
Fuck.
“No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs.
“Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.”
He smiles at you. Actually looks kind and even sounds earnest. What a fucking sociopath. You allow him to slide your underwear down your legs, kicking them off. Now your pussy is completely bare to him, and you can hear the way his breath stops as he touches it again. Three of his fingers push in this time, and you pant openly at the stretch, leaning against him as your body trembles from the stretch. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching your reactions—your whimpers, your sighs, the way your eyelashes flutter when he brushes that one spot inside you.
“I’ve always had feelings for you,” he starts, using that nonchalant, delicate tone—the specific one that suggests danger, “and I know you’re too smart to have missed that. I’d be fine with it if you didn't return them, but you do.”
“I don't,” you protest, and then his fingers curl and press into your g-spot. You're cut off immediately, gasping at the sudden wave of heat in your belly.
A hand comes up to your chin. He forces you to look at him. “I said I wanted to have an honest conversation, remember.”
“I–I am being honest, I—” Your voice breaks as he starts pumping his fingers. It's slow, gentle, but precise. Tension builds in you at an alarming rate, your thighs getting as slick and messy as his hand. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder, breathe in his cologne and gasp into his skin, and your mind goes hazy from the euphoria of his touch. Sure, you've hugged Suo before, been held by him before, and god knows you've been touched like this by a ton of other people before—but it feels different now. It feels different when it's Suo who's touching you, different when you’re this close to him while he's drawing all this pleasure out of you. When one hand feels so good inside you and the other one is holding you so intimately.
“Suo,” you whimper, overwhelmed by hot tension in your belly, “I-I’m close, I’m close, oh fuck—
He stops.
Before you can comprehend what's happening, he’s withdrawing his fingers, and all the heat in you is melting away. Your orgasm lost, you come down from your high—nerves frayed, emotions taut.
“Suo,” you say, “what the fuck?”
He gives you a smile. It almost looks nice. “I'm not letting you cum until you tell me the truth.”
You’re going to cry.
You're so wet, so empty, so desperate, and now you feel oddly afraid. You don't like the way he's staring you down. You don't like this line of questioning, this bullshit of engaging with other people's feelings. You’ve never liked it. But you need—need—him to fuck you. You need his fingers inside you and you need to cry into his neck while you finish.
You say, very quietly, “Please, Suo.”
“Please, what?”
It's funny. You've performed begging and crying and submission for countless clients, sometimes during annoyingly rough sessions. You've done it for years. But nothing has ever felt so humiliating as this moment, when you ask your best friend, in the smallest voice possible, “Please touch me.”
“No. Not until you start being honest with me.”
Suo's mouth curls at the devastated look you give him. You hardly even notice that he's adjusting you, having you straddle his thigh again—this time, facing him. You don't register it until your cunt is pressed into the wet spot you left earlier and he's saying, “You can move if you'd like. But I'm not touching you.”
“You’re fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, but your pussy is throbbing and you're desperate for release. So you finally do what you were desperately trying to stop yourself from doing the whole night—you start grinding on him. Like a fucking animal in heat. It's embarrassing, especially because his leg feels so good against you. The friction on your pussy makes you pant, your eyes squeezing shut as your clit finally gets some pressure. It makes up for the way he’s looking at you, which is sly, handsome, and rage-inducing all at once.
“You really do need to be touched,” he remarks softly. “You said your customers satisfied you. Was that true? Did they properly fuck you?”
“N-no,” you gasp. Your mind feels so cottony now that you're getting some relief. You can barely think, and definitely not enough to lie. “It was—it was—fuck, I never came.”
He hums, satisfied. “There—see? Telling the truth isn't so hard. You can do it again.”
He sounds so condescending. You would ordinarily hate it, but for some reason, it's going straight to your pussy right now, making you drip so much you know you've ruined his pants. You’re getting close, too, just by rubbing yourself on his leg. It doesn't feel quite as good as when his fingers were in you, but it’s something. And it’s making it hard to focus on what he's saying.
“It’s fine if you can't be honest about your feelings,” Suo continues. “Let's assume you're telling the truth, and all you want to do is fuck me. Why haven't you?”
You try to answer him, but you can't. You're too focused on the roll of your hips against his leg. There's too much tension, too much heat. You melt against him again, breathing heavily into his shoulder as you tighten around nothing. His hands come to your waist, as if grounding you, and somehow this makes everything feel even better. You start panting, babbling, I'm close, I'm getting close, Suo, Suo—
His grip tightens, and he stops you in place. You cry in frustration—no tears, but the noise you make is broken.
“Answer my question,” he says. You feel a hand glide along your bare skin, stopping at your inner thigh. “Answer me and I'll touch you.”
“Okay,” you say, as desperate as you are distressed. “Okay, I'll do anything. Anything.”
“Good.” He sounds so pleased.
You put your arms around his neck, for no reason other than you want to. Lifting your hips, you part your legs for him, and you feel so relieved at just the touch of his hand that you sigh—even though all he's doing is running a finger along your slick folds.
You shudder as his fingers play with your sex. Lean your head on his shoulder as he starts to move. You’re so desperate that you start grinding against his hand, whining for him.
“Well, then,” he murmurs. “Tell me why you didn't come to me. This is all you wanted, isn't it?” He rolls your clit between two fingers, making you squirm. “Just to get off, right? I could have done that. You'd have enjoyed it more.”
“It”—your eyelids flutter shut—“it would have been too complicated. Y-you’re my boss, and I pay rent to y-you, and we’ve been friends for so long, I didn't want to make it weird—”
Suo delivers a sharp slap to your pussy.
The contact is so sudden that you yelp. It only stings a little, but it makes your clit ache. The noise it makes is so wet, so filthy, telling of your desperation. And to your shame—even though you have never once in your life enjoyed being handled roughly by your customers—your cunt starts leaking in response.
You whimper, about to burst from frustration. You need to be touched so bad. You need to be touched by him so bad, and you need to cum on his cock or else you'll lose your fucking mind.
“Suo,” you complain, or beg, and you don't even realise that you're tearing up until he swipes his thumb under your eye.
“Try again,” he says gently, but not kindly. “The truth this time, and then I'll make you cum. Why didn't you come to me first? These past few months, or any other time?”
You don't answer him. “Suo, please—” And he moves back so that you're no longer leaning against him. Your lip trembles at the loss of the warmth, which somehow feels worse than the loss of your orgasm. An actual tear rolls down your cheek, and he doesn't wipe this one away.
“Answer me,” he says firmly. Instead of replying, you try to reach for him—wanting to be pressed against his body again, wanting him to draw pleasure out of yours again—but he stills you with his hands.
You feel devastated.
Out of horny, emotional desperation, and an all-consuming need to be fucked, you admit, “I was just scared!”
This is the worst mistake you've ever made.
The minute the words dislodge from your throat, you feel yourself choke up. You don't know why. All you know is that you suddenly can't hold back your tears from your sexual frustration, which for some reason is starting to feel distinctly like a non-sexual kind of angst, which is also strangely painful for your chest.
Because now that you've said it out loud, you can't ignore it.
You want to hide. You want to crawl out of his lap and run out of the establishment. Surely, the mamasan will forgive you for leaving a shift with such a frightening and horrible man, who is currently trying to extort your feelings out of you. But Suo’s grip is solid and unforgiving on you, and all you can do is squirm.
“Scared of what?” Suo asks. His voice has gone soft. Actually soft—not in a way that suggests danger, but a way that suggests you're loved. It makes you tremble.
His arms circle you, and one rubs at your back. It makes you relax very slightly. Or at the very least, it makes you stop wanting to bolt.
“What were you scared of?” he prompts again.
A feeling of defeat washes over you. Suo will figure you out sooner or later. He always does. So you tell him, very quietly, “I was scared that—that you'd leave me.”
You realise that you just stuttered. You stuttered because you're crying. You're actually, genuinely crying. Not from sexual frustration, but because you're just frustrated in general. And miserable. You've been chronically miserable for most of your life, and that misery has had nowhere to go until now.
You press your face into Suo’s shoulder, and he lets you. You breathe deeply in an attempt to stop crying, his cologne washing over you. It's nice, but what feels most comforting is just the scent of him. You're used to it from the days before he'd ever thought about using a fragrance, let alone a fragrance that would bankrupt the average person. It's calming, even when overlayed with ambergris and vanilla. Familiar.
Your breathing evens out a little—but only a little.
“Why would I leave you?” His voice is so kind, patient. More tears bead on your lashes.
“Because you might not want me anymore.” You sound so fragile. Shit, you are fragile. You can't stop the splintering feeling in you, the same one that ate at you two months ago when you thought he was going to leave you. “You could get tired of me or resent me or get bored with me. You could—you could want to throw me away, for no reason. Or—” You breathe in sharply, clinging to him harder.
“Or?”
“Or you could die—you joined the yakuza, so you could die. Why did you do that?” An actual sob leaves you. His shirt is getting wet. You ruined so many of his silk changshan like this in the past, when your boyfriend cheated on you and when your parents kicked you out and when you slept with your fifth customer.
And when your master died.
“I'm still so fucking mad at you for it,” you bite out around your tears. “If you got fucking killed—oh my god, I can't even think about it. I can't—I couldn't take it if—if I kissed you, and we had sex, and then I didn't have you anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re the only thing I have.” You squeeze your eyes shut, a terrible realisation hitting you. “And…”
“And?”
“And,” you say, voice breaking, “I think because I love you?”
You know it as soon as you voice it. You do love him. Not just platonically, but in the way where you want to hold his hand and kiss him and marry him. In the way a miserable nineteen year old girl is so in love with her miserable best friend that she refuses to leave him despite how terrifying he’s becoming. You loved him in this way before you realised you wanted to have sex with him, and even after that, you loved him so much that it didn't matter that he wasn't having sex with you.
You love him so much it disgusts you.
You want to hide, but Suo forces you to look at him. He brushes away your tears, cups your face. The Pavlovian response takes over: your heart rate slows, and you calm down.
“There,” he says gently. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”
He’s wrong. You bet he knows he's wrong. That was objectively one of the worst experiences of your life. You feel wrung out, tenderised. You never thought you'd say any of that. You're not sure you knew most of that.
But in Suo’s arms, plied open with his words and his hands, you actually find yourself shaking your head. You lean into the touch of his palm.
“I love you,” he continues, his tone so authoritative and calm that it leaves no room for doubt, “probably to the point that it should scare you. Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” you say quietly.
“And we won't be separated. I won't allow anything to take you away from me. Do you understand that too?”
You make a noise, halfway between a relieved sigh and another sob. This declaration should not be a surprise from a man who’s effectively locked you up in his house. Still—your heart feels so light when you hear someone say, for the first time in your life, that they’ll stay with you no matter what. It's like Suo has just unearthed a weight that you didn't know you'd been carrying.
“I’ll try,” you reply, voice small.
“Good.” He strokes your cheek. “Do you want to keep going?”
It’s absurd. You just cried and confessed something terrifying. With anyone else, this would be an experience so horrifying that you'd leave right now and never come back. Your sexual desire should not just be gone, but permanently erased. At the very least, you shouldn't feel the slightest bit horny.
But somehow, being gutted by Suo hasn't left you feeling bad. It's left you feeling lighter. Kind of like you've been purged. You feel exhausted, but in a malleable way. Dazed and relieved to be in his lap. Your thighs are still embarrassingly sticky, heart still embarrassingly wobbly, and you just heard him say that he loves you.
Now you want to hear him say it while he's cumming inside you.
“Yeah,” you admit immediately, pathetically. You sniffle.
“You're sure?” Another stroke. “I want to hear you say it clearly. What do you want to do?”
Your dignity is gone. “I want you to fuck me.”
He smiles. A fond hum leaves him. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you feel a flutter in your belly. “I'll take care of you now.”
He kisses you this time, before he touches you. On the neck, on your jaw. You bare your nape to him, shivering at the feeling of his lips on your jugular, at his nipping teeth on your skin. You realise he's leaving marks, and with each one, you shudder. It feels so intimate. You're on a rooftop bar, in a skanky hostessing dress, crying and strung out—but this is the closest thing you've ever gotten to one of your fantasies about him. Not the nasty ones that you think about when you're home by yourself, but the ones you think of when you're in bed with various salarymen. The ones where you get to lie with him in bed and press your lips to his.
“Suo,” you start.
“Hayato,” he corrects you. “You're my fiancée now, remember? We should be on a first name basis.”
Your stomach flips. “Hayato,” you try again, breathless. “Please.”
He takes a moment to reply, busy sucking another mark into your skin. “Please, what?”
You hesitate. Suo pulls back, looking at you. You whine, feeling shy all of a sudden. You flirt for a living and yet you feel embarrassed about your request. It's humiliating.
“Please, what?” he repeats. His mouth is curled in a smile, and you can't tell whether it's endeared or entertained. “Please let you cum? Please fuck you?”
“Please kiss me,” you say, in a small voice.
Suo pauses.
“What?”
“Please kiss me,” you beg. Close to tears again, for some reason you don't know. You think it surprises him as much as it does you.
It takes him a moment to recover, but when he does, he gives you a look that’s fucking ravenous.
His thumbs away the wetness from your eyes. “You're so cute sometimes. Did you know that?”
You flush. Plenty of customers have called you cute, but none have had you feeling so indignant nor shy.
“I’m not,” you reply, “and stop that.”
“But it's true. And I want you to know it.”
Suo presses his mouth to yours before you can respond. You're so eager for him that you part your lips immediately. Your instinct is to make your first kiss with him messy and desperate, but he’s in full control, and he’s taking his time. His tongue is careful and precise. Full of intention. His lips are slow, languid, and lazy, like he's savouring the taste of you. A hand plays with the strap of your dress. You feel him slide it off your shoulder—the other one quickly follows—but you’re so absorbed in his kiss, you hardly pay attention.
You're vaguely aware of the breeze against your bare chest. One of his hands moving up, feeling out your curves. He hums into your mouth when his fingers ghost over your nipples, and they harden under his touch.
“Suo,” you whine as he teases them, and he pinches one of them, watching as you squirm.
“Hayato,” he corrects you promptly, and you give him a worn, teary look.
“Hayato.”
“Yes?”
“I need more,” you say quietly.
He smiles, clearly enjoying your desperation. “Be patient,” he teases you. “I’m getting there.”
He kisses a line along your jaw, down your neck. Traces your collarbone with the path of his mouth, works his way down to your breasts. At the same time you feel the heat of his tongue on your nipple, his hand reaches between your legs. You're so wet already that he doesn't need to work you open again—just sinks his fingers inside you until you're sighing for him.
You discover that when he's not antagonising you, Suo is frighteningly efficient with pleasuring you. He learns quickly how you like your tits played with, and how to fuck you so well with his fingers until you're gushing around them and keening. He said he'd take care of you, but you think he's mostly forcing all this pleasure from your body for his own enjoyment. There's no other explanation for how he keeps bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, swallowing each of your whines and complaints with his mouth. The only time he isn't kissing you is when you're begging—and you don't miss the way his breathing deepens every time you do.
But no matter how much you beg, he isn’t letting you cum.
“Look at the mess you're making,” he murmurs as he plays with your cunt. You're sitting between his legs again, your back against his chest. You can feel the length of his cock against your ass, and you hear how his breath hitches every time you squirm against it. Except for that one tell, he sounds completely unaffected by what he's doing—forced you to open your legs wide for him, spread your glistening folds to tease you. The leather beneath your ass is wet, ruined by your need.
“Hayato,” you whine.
“Just a little longer,” he promises, “and then I'll let you cum.”
Your mind is so fogged with pleasure at this point that you can't focus on anything other than Suo’s touch. You’ve actually forgotten where you are—not a truly private space, but part of a club. The girls would normally only come up if you put in an order, but you haven't for a while now.
Long enough for someone to check on you without warning.
You tense as soon as you hear the door open. You recognize the server—she knows you well, by face, stage name, and real name. Your eyes go wide as she calls for you. You try to sit up, close your legs, but Suo grabs one of your thighs and forces it open.
“Suo, wait—”
You whimper, incapable of words when his fingers push into you again. He starts fucking you with them, and in earnest this time—curling his fingers until they're pushing into your g-spot, doing it over and over and over. Your eyes roll back and you stop struggling, and Suo takes the opportunity to touch you with his other hand too, playing with your clit. A strangled moan leaves you as the heat in your gut ratchets up. Pleasure swells in your belly; you feel like you're going to burst.
“Suo,” you cry, tears pricking your eyes, “wait, wait, my coworker—wait, I think—I think I'm gonna—”
“Go ahead,” he says into your ear, voice silky, and he pushes against your sweet spot in a way that gives you no choice but to obey him.
You cum so hard that you squirt all over the seat. Your whole body is wracked with intense pleasure—hips bucking violently, legs twitching, crying so loudly and shamelessly that your coworker naturally hears. She catches you spread wide open in Suo’s lap, his fingers deep in your messy, swollen cunt as you drench them.
Her tray clatters to the floor.
Fighting the mindless haze that your body is in, you glance at the other girl, whose hand is over her mouth. She looks appalled. She’s going to yell at you. But then you then watch, in real time, as her eyes travel to your customer’s face and she realises who he is. If she was red when she saw the two of you, she's now a pale white.
“Did you come to check on us?” Suo asks. He sounds amused. She flinches at his voice, and actually takes a step backward. “We’re fine for now. We’ll order something in a bit, and call you up here as usual.”
“O-okay,” she says, voice high and tense. “I—I’ll leave you two, then. Please—please enjoy yourself, sir. We'll be available in case you require any other services.” And she walks away briskly, almost in a run. She doesn't even bother to stop the expressly forbidden act that you're engaged in.
Once she’s gone, Suo allows you some dignity. He pulls his fingers out of you, lets you catch your breath.
“Oops,” he says. “It’s too bad they caught us. I suppose they won't want to keep you on as an employee, since you broke such an important rule.”
You stare at him, wide-eyed. Your emotional and sexual pliability quickly dissipates, replaced by disbelief.
“You—you did that on purpose,” you say between pants, too fucked out to be truly angry, but still appalled.
Suo raises a brow, gives you an innocent look. “Did I? I was just making you cum, like you've been begging all night. It was just unfortunate timing.” He then smiles, which makes him look incredibly kind despite the apparent sadism of his person. “But it's fine. They're going to fire you for this, but you know my club will always take you back.”
You close your eyes and groan. “You’re horrible.”
“I am, aren't I?” Suo puts his arms around you, kisses you on the shoulder, his voice getting low. “But this is a better arrangement, don't you think? You won't need to see customers this way. Every time you need relief, you can come upstairs and I'll give you my cock instead.” He grinds against you, letting you feel how hard he is, and you whimper. He laughs, probably entertained at how desperate you sound. “Or maybe I'll just make you take it whenever I feel like it. I think at the end of every shift makes sense, doesn't it? Since that's how often you've been touching yourself on the couch.”
“S-suo.”
“It’s Hayato now, remember. What is it, dear?”
He sounds so smug, mocking you. You should be furious. But in your fucked out state, all you can focus on is the idea of being forced to take Suo's cock every night. Despite already being ruined, your pussy starts throbbing again. You squirm and press your thighs together, trying to get it to stop—you’re so fucking tired—and you bleakly realise that you can't control your body’s reactions around him. You're getting wet again. It makes you want to cry.
“Hayato,” you whimper, on the verge of tears.
“Ah, you addressed me properly. Good.” He’s so satisfied. “What is it?”
“I…”
“You?”
“I”—your voice is so small and embarrassed, you can hardly believe it—“I want you to fuck me.”
He feigns shock, as if he wasn't actively provoking this. “Really? But you just came.” A hand prods between your legs. You obediently spread them for him, and he checks your pussy with two of his fingers. You moan a little at the intrusion, but there's no resistance at all.
Your cunt, still dripping, tightens around him, and he laughs softly.
“You really do need a cock in you. Who knew you had such a needy pussy.” He curls his fingers. Probably feeling the way it makes you gush, delighting in the gasp it draws out of you. “No wonder you have to use that toy every day.”
You're about to die of embarrassment. “Hayato. Please just fuck me.”
Suo turns you so that you can look at him. He’s wearing a kind, benevolent face when he says, “No.”
“...what?”
“I'm not going to give you my cock.” He hums, contemplative. “Not for a while, I think.”
“B-but,” you say, genuinely upset, “but you were just talking about doing that at work.”
“Sure—after we get married. It's only proper, don’t you think?”
“What?” Your eyes are wide in disbelief. “You—you just made me cum with your fingers. In a public space.”
“Yes. But that's different from letting you have my cock. It wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to do that before we’re wedded.” He can't keep the amusement out of his voice as he bullies you. “I'm sure you can wait until the summer, right? Since that's the season you chose for us. August, I think you told Nirei.”
“Hayato—”
“Actually,” he muses, easily sliding a third finger into you, making your voice clip off in a whimper, “I think you shouldn’t be allowed to have anything in you until then. Except for my fingers and tongue, of course. But no toys, and no other men either. That definitely wouldn't be proper.”
“I'm going to,” you say spitefully—and tearfully. “If you don't fuck me right now, I will sleep with other people.”
“I don't think you want to find out the consequences if you do.”
“How would you even—ngh—know?”
“Good question.” He starts pumping his fingers, and to your horror, your cunt needily swallows them with each motion, your body as desperate as he's been saying. “I guess I'll need to check your pussy every night. See if it's been stretched out by someone else’s cock. Maybe upstairs in the lounge at the end of each night, so I'll know that you haven't fucked a customer during a shift. Clearly, it's not impossible that you would.”
You try not to sob. Not only are his words utterly humiliating, they're making you wetter. After fucking so many people in so many ways, you didn't know it was possible for you to feel this much shame during sex—but then again, shaming people is one of Suo’s specialties.
You give him the teariest look possible, because by now you've figured out that he likes seeing you cry. Sadistic motherfucker. You're happy to use it to your advantage though.
He gets that hungry look in his eye again. “Please, Hayato,” you beg, voice trembling with need, “I want more. I thought I was your beautiful wife already.” You grind your ass against his cock, and he inhales sharply. “Don't you wanna cum in your wife’s pussy?”
Suo stops, deeply affected—just as you guessed he'd be. After making you his fake wife in both his criminal life and his civilian one, it's painfully obvious that the man is obsessed with marrying you. You'd make fun of him if you weren't so horny. Or humbled.
He only allows himself speechlessness for a second. He hums soon after, delicately wiping the tears out of your eyes. “You've been good enough that I guess I can reward you. I won't fuck you, but”—he shifts away, and you can hear his pants unzipping—“I’m sure you'll enjoy yourself anyway.”
Suo wasn't lying earlier. His cock is bigger than any toy you've ever used. It's pretty, too. Curved and long and flushed at the head. Glistening with prespend, which has pearled up at the tip. You think you might be salivating. For a minute, you contemplate asking if you can feel it in your throat, but then Suo’s lying down and moving you on top of him. When his cock nudges at your folds, you can’t help your excitement. You squirm, trying to sink onto his length.
His grip tightens on your waist, stopping you.
You’re about to whine at him about this, but he doesn't give you the chance. “If you try to ride me,” he says, in a voice so cold that you know he's not joking, “I'm not touching you until we’re married, and I'm not letting you touch yourself either.”
“...”
With anyone else you'd call bullshit, but you know that Suo is both crazy and petty enough to actually achieve this.
“Okay.” You sound and feel mollified. “I'll behave.”
He smiles. “Good,” he says cheerfully. “Just stay like that, then. I’ll take care of you.”
You listen to him, mostly because you're incredibly excited about getting pussy inspections and you'll be devastated if it doesn't happen. And you don't expect it to be a big deal, anyway. While your sex drive has been a constant source of grief for you throughout your life, you don't really have problems controlling any specific impulses in bed when you truly need to. You’re used to giving your customers whatever they want and, if you're lucky, getting off from it. You figure this will be the same.
You find out very quickly that it isn't.
You need to stay still. You can’t sink down on him. Two easy orders that are extraordinarily difficult when Suo is the one beneath you. You have to actively stop your hips from moving when you feel the silky head of his cock press into your folds, which are still dripping with your slick. Suo’s breath hitches when he runs the tip along your opening, drawing wet noises every time his cock head catches on your needy hole, smearing his precum all over it. All you want is to push back on him and let your pussy swallow his cock. You’re aching for it, and you know he is too. If you sank down on him now, he'd lose control and fuck you raw until he was cumming inside you. And then he'd probably keep going after that, not letting you move until you were stuffed full and dripping with his spend. Both of you know it.
But you don't do that. You're good for him. You sigh, just trying to enjoy the feeling of his length rubbing against you. How he's twitching and throbbing against you, how he wants as equally much to be inside you—but pulls back every time. Your mind goes a little fuzzy with the drawn out, low hum of pleasure, and you close your eyes.
Then he starts pushing into you.
“H-Hayato?” You whimper at the intrusion, at being made to take something so thick without warning. “I thought you weren't gonna—”
“I'm not,” he says. His breathing is heavier, his words strained, but his voice is still commanding when he says, “Don’t move.”
Suo doesn't give you the whole thing, just the tip. It is much harder to control yourself like this—when you can feel yourself getting stretched by the head of his cock, already so fat and heavy, but you don't get filled up by it. It makes you aware of how empty you are, and how wet you're getting. You bury your face into his neck and make a noise that's both tearful and pathetic.
It's not acting when you whine, in a watery, miserable way, “Please, Hayato. I need your cum in me.”
It's probably the crying that gets him. He inhales sharply, thrusting maybe a little deeper than intended. You groan at the extra inch of cock, eyes rolling back, and can't help the way your pussy tightens and drips, trying to suck him in.
“Fuck,” he says, and then he pulls out.
He lays you flat on your back. Before you can get so much as a word out, he's between your legs and pressing his cock against your entrance. For possibly the happiest moment of your life, you think Suo is going to fuck you—but instead he starts pushing the slick head of his cock right against your neglected clit.
You aren't going to complain.
You whimper as he starts rubbing against your sex, leaving his prespend all over your swollen bud. It makes you squirm, grinding yourself against it, and you press your legs together to get some more pressure for the both of you. Soon his cock is sliding between your thighs, getting them all sticky with his prespend. You can feel the length of him hot and slick against your folds, heavy and throbbing.
You've never cum like this before. It was never enough stimulation when your customers made you do this, which nearly all of them have. But the pressure on your clit and on your folds is shockingly intense as the two of you move, enough to make you whimper as a familiar tension builds. It's not as overwhelming as when his fingers were inside you, but it's enough for you to start panting at the tension in your belly. You can hear Suo’s breath picking up as you start to whine, and he watches you, almost predatorial, as another orgasm crashes over you. You moan his name as you cum, squeezing a few more tears out of your eyes.
He stares at your flustered, wet face as he pushes the head of his cock against your entrance again, fisting himself as it flutters and drips in the aftershock of your orgasm. Suo’s been hard for so long, for the whole time he's teased and bullied you—you aren't surprised at how close he already is. Especially not when you start talking about how much you need his cum in you, how empty your pussy feels without it, how badly you want your husband to fill you up. All with your mascara smeared and your lip trembling, a sight that makes him throb.
Suo groans as he finally cums. You can feel his cock twitching, warmth spurting out onto your folds, and then into your pussy as he thrusts shallowly into you. You pull him down needily as he fills you, and he indulges you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.
When he pulls out, you can feel his cum drip out of you, all the way down to the couch. You make a happy noise at the mess he's made of your hole, giving him a lovestruck, dreamy expression.
“You should do that every night after you're done checking my pussy,” you sigh.
Suo’s mouth curls, and breathes out a kind of laugh. He holds your face, and one of his tassels brush against the shell of your ear as he presses his forehead to yours. “I’ll do it if you're good for me.”
“I’ll be on my best behaviour until our wedding night,” you promise, voice affectionate.
Suo gives you a fond look. His expression is so sentimental. You think he’s going to say something sweet.
“Alright,” he replies. “Then be good for me and keep the rest of that inside you, okay? Let’s not make a mess of these floors. I don't want to get blacklisted from this club.”
You open and close your mouth, completely speechless.
“You're fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, and he laughs and kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. He doesn't stop until you're placated and horny again.
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Suo takes his sweet time pushing his cum into you as deeply as possible, saying that it's to make sure you don't lose any of it, but really so he can draw another orgasm out of you. Knowing that the mamasan might take pity on you and think that you were coerced into degrading sexual acts by a terrifying yakuza client, he makes sure to order a drink beforehand, calling up a server. (I don't want to be a bad patron, he hums as he looks at the tablet, and I said I'd get you to the number 1 ranking, right?) It subsequently looks, sounds, and is completely consensual when you're found pulling at Suo’s hair, keening as he fingers his cum into you while sucking on your clit.
This leaves you with no hope of continued employment on all of Keisei Street.
To add insult to injury, you do make a mess of the floors, despite Suo’s conscientious efforts to avoid this—though it's not as bad as the one you left on the couch. You also can't find your thong anywhere, which you guess is something else that the mamasan won’t appreciate when she finds it. Still, for the rest of the night, everyone shows Suo nothing but the utmost respect and highest quality customer service. They even ask how he found your company and if he has any feedback for you. He praises your conversational skills, karaoke abilities, and how capable you were in catering to his many needs. He also lets them know that you'll be resigning.
Hanzo and Shuuhei are waiting to pick you up, bringing the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. This time, Suo doesn't use it to interrogate you; he instead uses it to kiss you and tease you and discuss wedding plans. If it'll be indoors or outdoors. If you'll have a big reception or a small one. If it'll be a traditional wedding, or if you’ll want a Chinese one like the one your master would have maybe liked to see. You settle on having a Shinto ceremony and a Chinese-style reception. Having been raised Chinese, whenever Suo imagined marrying during his teenage years, you were always in a red qipao. His master even once told him that if he managed to win your heart, he'd organise a tea ceremony and act in the role of Suo’s father.
After disclosing these facts (the first of which makes your heart weak, and the second of which leaves it aching), he asks about any long-standing things you've always wanted to do with him as a couple. If you had any silly or indulgent daydreams about your future with him, and what they were like.
“I don't know,” you admit. “I guess after you applied to teacher’s college, I liked the idea of marrying you, and doing all the domestic things you talked about. Though you were just joking at the time.”
You don't really expect him to remember much about this particular line of teasing. Sure, the man is currently obsessed with marrying you, and maybe he daydreamed about it a little bit when he was younger—but he mostly treated the idea as a funny joke when he was a teenager. All of the teasing has probably blurred together for him over the years. Certainly, it has for you.
But you've never been able to forget this particular memory. It’s one of those small, inconsequential moments that you find yourself incapable of letting go to this day. You loved hearing him talk about getting married, even though it hurt immensely that it was probably just teasing. You loved it because you wanted it. You wanted Suo to teach people because you knew he was good at it and it would make him genuinely happy. You wanted to stop working in the red light district and make a nice and safe home for Suo, just as he'd made a nice and safe home for you. And you wanted to marry him and kiss him and have sex with him and only him for the rest of your life.
You wanted it so badly, it still makes you heart ache to think about it.
He was definitely just teasing you, though. Suo was a sane person at the time, and sane people do not actually plan a marriage and life with someone before dating them or even fucking them. Most importantly, a sane person wouldn't hold onto such a silly joke for so long. Oh, you expect him to say, laughing. You're right, I had nearly forgotten.
But all he does is give you a smile. It's one of his strange, enigmatic ones.
“No, I was quite serious about it,” Suo says, looking right at you.
You stare at him.
“Really?”
“Really.”
He's being so straightforward, so earnest. Your typical reaction would be to feel flustered, sentimental—but something about his expression and tone bothers you. But before you can suss out what it is, he continues, and the moment passes.
“Was there anything else you ever wanted to do?” he asks smoothly.
You're startled, off-guard. “Oh, um… not really. I never let myself think too much about it.”
“Come on,” he prods. “There must be something.”
“No, I really didn't think of any ideas on my own. Although…”
Your face gets hot as you trail off. Suo senses weakness, and goes in for the kill.
“Although?”
“It's too embarrassing,” you admit, looking away, and Suo looks a little too interested as he pesters you for an answer.
“Come on, it's fine.” His mouth curls in a way that tells you it's not fine. “I promise I won't judge you. I just want to know what I can do to make you happy as your husband.”
You give him an uncertain look, and say your only concrete fantasy about him so quickly and quietly that he misses it.
“Pardon?” he asks.
“...romantic, vanilla sex.”
Suo blinks. “What?”
Your face burns with humiliation.
“I used to think about having romantic, vanilla sex with you. When I was a teenager. A lot.” Said as if you weren't just thinking about it two months ago in a love hotel, and still don't want it now. You wouldn't even bring it up if you didn't think it was necessary. But unfortunately, you're professionally skilled at perceiving people’s sexual interests, and you've perceived that Suo is sexually a freak. He was definitely going easy on you tonight, and is probably actively planning to get worse. You'll never have normal sex with him unless you explicitly state a desire for it.
Suo gives you a surprised look. “That's… a very mundane fantasy.”
“It wouldn't have been mundane to me,” you reply, somewhat defensively. “I used to think about it when I slept with my customers, who weren't very romantic. Or vanilla. So I didn’t really have a good reference point or anything for that kind of sex, but sometimes I still thought about doing it with you after they had left.”
You look away after saying this, wondering why you disclosed all of that. It certainly wasn't necessary for your dream of someday taking Suo’s cock without being psychosexually tortured first. Now you feel like you need to hide. You even think about excuses for stopping the car, and ponder again how difficult it would be to live without proof of identity, if you chose to run away.
But Suo doesn't let you run. He pulls you close to him, wrapping you up in his warmth.
“It's okay,” he says gently, in a voice that reminds you of how he was in his old Furin days. “You'll be okay. I'll make sure of it.” It confuses you deeply, and you turn to ask him what the fuck he's going on about.
You don't even realise you're crying until he starts kissing away your tears.
You can’t understand why you’re weeping. Maybe something strange and hormonal happened while you were having sex, like Suo made you orgasm too hard and all the oxytocin is making you depressed now. Though you think that hormone is supposed to make you happy. You're not sure. You never finished school, so you wouldn't know.
Whatever the reason, you hastily wipe away your tears. A hand rubs at your back, and you let yourself press your face into his shoulder.
“Sorry,” you say quickly.
“Don't apologise. You don't have anything to be sorry for.”
You hesitate as you breathe against the silk threads of his shirt, thinking about how many of his shirts you've ruined with your tears. At least three changshan and one Versace summer piece, by your count. It’s not like he hurts over the money these days, but guilt tugs at your heart.
“I don't know about that,” you mumble into his shoulder. And it takes a while to work yourself up to saying it, but eventually you whisper, with full honesty, “I'm sorry for always worrying you.”
“I know,” Suo says. He sounds sincere when he says, “I’m sorry too.”
“I’ll try to be better from now on.”
“You will be. And even if you aren’t, that's fine.”
For some reason, that makes your heart squeeze.
You melt against Suo after that, listening to the steady roll of tires and passing traffic outside. There's a gentle pitter patter of rain against the car roof, tinny and rhythmic, that gradually crescendos into a proper storm. The windshield wipers squeak against the glass. All of the noise is lulling you into a kind of peace, or maybe you're just feeling that way because Suo is holding you.
Fatigue wears your consciousness, and you close your eyes. The hustle and bustle of the red light district grows distant, faint—partly from slipping in and out of your dreams, and partly from the quieting world outside. It's now completely silent other than the heavy rainfall. You think they must be taking the road through Makochi. Suo asks for it whenever he wants you to sleep well.
He probably thinks you're asleep when he says, “I’m sorry for being how I am now.”
You almost stop breathing. Almost.
“You didn't fall in love with me when I was like this, so you must not like it very much,” he continues. “I know that Master wouldn't like me much either, if he were alive. He always said that you should support your loved ones until they can stand on their own two feet. But lately, I feel like all I've been doing is breaking yours.”
He sighs. The sky groans with distant thunder.
“Sakura knows who I really am, you know,” he says quietly. “I think he's worried about what'll happen to you if we get married. Though he’s been worried about you for a while.” Suo almost sounds endeared when he adds, “Did you know he only texts me now to ask if you're okay? He really does love you.”
He’s more sombre when he continues, “But Nirei is just afraid of me. That’s why he’s never around. He’s going to call you in a week and tell you not to go through with the wedding. He’ll probably tell you to leave me too. It’s good advice.”
It's hard to keep your breathing slow, with how badly your heart hurts.
“I’ve tried to go back to how I was, to the kind of person that Master was trying to raise,” Suo confesses. “But I don't think I can get better.”
But even if you can't, you want to tell him, that’s fine. You wish you could hold him how he's always held you.
“It doesn't usually upset me nowadays,” he admits after some time, “how I am now. But to be honest, talking about our school days did make me feel bitter, because I can't give you the things I know you wanted.”
He kisses the top of your head. Gently, so as not to wake you from your dream.
“I'm sorry I never became a teacher. I'm sorry I joined the yakuza. I'm sorry I can't give you a normal life. And I'm sorry I can’t have an honest conversation with you.”
Silence. You feel his chest stop briefly, his breathing deepen.
“Maybe someday, I'll get better enough to say these things to you while you're awake. Maybe someday, I'll even get better enough to let you leave. It would be best for you.”
His voice gets even softer. Tender.
“But for now, I don't know how to let you go.”
You feel a hand shifting away, the soft noise of leather against skin. Then both arms around you again, even warmer, even tighter. He’s leaning his head against yours. You think Suo is falling asleep.
Allowing yourself a single, quick glance at the car, you peer at your reflections in the rearview mirror. You see sheets of rain sliding against the back window, his dark lashes pressed to his skin, and all the scar tissue he likes to keep hidden away.
And you can see, very clearly, tears beneath his missing eye.
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END 'TOKYO VICE'
hi everyone thanks for reading this chapter!!!! i hope it didn't disappoint after all the shitposting i did about it this week lol
can i just say. this was straight up the weirdest sex scene I've ever written HASLKFJSDF and the mood whiplash throughout this was probably the craziest i've ever written within a single piece. unfortunately, this reader copes with her trauma via humour and sex and it really shows rip. i hope it wasn't too offputting!
thank you to everyone who left a comment on part 1!! please do let me know if you enjoyed part 2 as well. <333
tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics and @stuckindreamland06!
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lovesick-joey · 3 months ago
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Good Job.
"You really went on your own?"
Billy nodded his head vigorously, grinning like a fool even as Batman wiped away the blood off his temple. The older hero shook his head, his stern expression faltering slightly.
"..Get someone to accompany you next time." He grunts, ruffling Billy's hair. "I didn't know you can get hurt.."
Billy scoffs. "You? Don't know? That's impossible!" He exclaims, getting up from the stool he was sitting on. His height nearly towered over the Caped Crusader's. If only I was actually that tall. "But that's besides the point- I've got the whole thing covered! Put those scrawny robots into the spirit realm!"
Batman let out a faint sigh, taking a step back as Billy got back on his feet. "A warning would be nice. It's reckless for you to charge into battle without the others' permission. We haven't even made a plan yet.."
"You have to admit I did pretty good though!" Billy bounced, floating just above the ground. He punches the air. "I defeated all of them on my own! No plans from the rest of the League whatsoever."
As much as Batman disliked the idea of Billy—or anyone on the Justice League for that matter—pursuing a mission without a second opinion, he can't help but smile. He always had a soft spot for the boy, after all. He placed his hand on Billy's shoulder when the false adult returned to stand on solid ground. "You did. You did a good job."
Billy's expression softens, and Batman squeezed his shoulder. "Good job." The man repeated. Then, he looked over at the couches that were set up in the room they were in. Golden Condor sat stiffly, his unmoving eyes transfixed on the both of them, watching.
"Isn't that right, Condor? Don't you think he did a good job?"
Billy knew Batman made the wrong move. Why bother interacting with that jackass?
Golden Condor got up from the couch, but he didn't approach them. Instead, he glared at them from afar. It was mostly directed to Billy, though.
He never liked me, Billy thought. Well, guess what? I never liked you either.
"Don't praise him for doing something normal." Golden Condor spoke in that voice that would always make people grimace. He really needs to drink more water.
It was hard to notice, but Batman's shoulders tensed. "..Normal?" He uttered quizzically. Billy could imagine the look Batman was giving him under that cowl. "You think him going out to fight those robots alone, is normal?"
"It's normal to our standards." Golden Condor crossed his arms, his glare sharpening. "He should be expected to do it and punished if he doesn't."
What the hell, Billy thinks, feeling his heartbeat picking up pace. Batman stiffened. "Don't you dare speak of him that way." The Dark Knight walked over to the obnoxious man with an intimidating stride until the two were a few feet apart. Batman glared up at him. "He put himself in danger to save lives. He should be praised for his initiative, as reckless as it may be. Why can't you tell him he did a good job?"
Golden Condor huffs, looking at Billy, then back at Batman. "Because it's what everyone here does, Batman. It's nothing spectacular- nobody calls us good when we do the things we do. Why should it be any different with him?"
Billy couldn't believe it. Is Condor actually that stupid? It's even more embarrassing that this man is way older than him. A grown man is acting this way.
"And as if," The vigilante continued. "that child has the abilities of the Gods. I've said it before and I'll say it again; he should be expected to do it. He's not putting himself in danger because he's practically invincible."
"Superman has his kryptonite," Batman responded, his voice on edge. "and he's weak to magic. Diana also has her weaknesses and she's a demigod. Everyone on this team has weaknesses—it doesn't matter! You saw the blood on his head! It's still dangerous, Euge- Condor."
Golden Condor took one step closer, his haunting eyes ablaze with barely-concealed ire. "You're just coddling him," He said, his tone rising a little. "he's making you soft. It's pathetic."
Billy swallowed a lump in his throat. For the first time in his life, he was speechless. Batman's eyes narrowed. "I'm treating him with the kindness he deserves, unlike you," He said, jabbing a finger to Golden Condor's chest. The man in turn swatted his hand away. Batman's expression darkened. "you just hate him because he's a kid. I know how you are, Golden Condor."
The tension in the room was palpable. There was a brief intake of breath from Billy. They're going to argue again. They always do. Why does Batman have to go through this?
Golden Condor gritted his teeth. He was practically fuming. His aggression didn't deter Batman, as he continued to face him, his head held high and his chest puffed out.
"You're a fool!" Golden Condor spat at the shorter man's face. "If you keep this up then he's going to grow up thinking he's going to be given everything on a silver platter for doing jack-shit!"
"Just because you've never been praised doesn't mean you can't praise him!" Batman snapped back, unyielding. "Really, that's all that I want you to do; praise him! It's so simple and yet you have to make it difficult! I think he's severely lacking a parent figure who lets him know that he's appreciated—"
Billy's ears blocked out the sounds of their incoherent arguing—he could barely make out the words they were saying to each other. His feet were almost glued to the ground as he watched them, looking at their gestures and their moving mouths. It was a familiar sight with these two.
He could feel ringing in his ears, and Billy averted his eyes to the floor instead.
TGCS ¦ Mr. Hermit ‣ Dragon Eyes
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redflagshipwriter · 5 months ago
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Hot Ghouls in your Area 9
masterpost
“Good morning!”
Jason winced and moved the phone a little further from his face. “Is this Doctor Fenton?” 
“It's one of them! What can I do ya for?” Jack Fenton boomed, just as bombastic as his newsletter made him seem. Jason knew, deep in his heart, that Jack Fenton was indeed the one who had selected green neon bold for his headings and borders. 
Angels wept. Jason scrubbed his palm over his eye. This man had no poetry in his soul. “I, uh, had some questions about a ghost. I've read some of your articles and your most recent published paper on the topic.”
“We love ghosts!” Fenton bellowed. “Ask away!”
“Do you know a ghost called Phantom?” Jason tried.
“...Sure do,” Jack Fenton said. “Whatcha need?” 
Jason cleared his throat. “It's somewhat complicated,” he said evasively, because he didn't need these people to know he was the Red Hood. Fuck. He should have either gotten his helmet stored away or not given his real name. Phantom knew his face and that his name was Jason. Any information that got around via Phantom might tie his face to his alter ego. If Phantom said he got married to Jason, the Red Hood, that could lead to the end of the Bat family vigilantism.
“...He cause you trouble, sport?”
Jason let out a slight laugh. “You could say that, though it wasn't really his fault,” he admitted. He cast a paranoid eye out the window to be sure no siblings were creeping on him. “No, it's really more that…” Fuck, he should have planned this better. “Is there any information you can give me about how a human could contact him?” 
Not that Jason didn't have a phone number for the guy. But it made him very uncomfortable to have any basic knowledge or way to track Phantom down if he decided to leave Jason to whatever was going on. 
“I could probably do that,” Jack Fenton said slowly, now sounding like an entirely different human being. “Say, you wouldn't be Jeremy, would you?”
Jason blinked. “...How did you know?” He went with. Phantom had contact with a human guy named Jeremy? That might be his in.
“Oh, well then, you've definitely got to come over,” Dr. Fenton wheedled. It somehow came across as shifty. “You'll be wanting a whole primer on how the Ghost Zone works, won't ya?” 
“That would be immensely helpful,” Jason agreed. “But I'd hate to take up your valuable time.”
“Nonsense!” Fenton bellowed. Jason nearly lost his grip on his phone in surprise. “Come over Jeremy, I'm dying to meetcha!” 
So, there was a plan. Jason packed for a day trip and dialed up his travel agent. 
“Fuck off,” said Tim. “I'm busy. Christ.” 
“I need an airplane ticket and a rental bike to Illinois,” Jason continued. He tossed his mostly full bag on the sofa and went digging for the socks he knew he had washed the other night. “I'm going to go see some nerds about my impromptu adventure the other day.”
Tim groaned. That was the first Jason had given any hint at all about what had happened to him when he'd been ‘sacrificed.’ “What nerds?” He asked wearily. 
Jason grinned into his sock drawer. Gottem. “Why, do you all know each other?” He asked blithely. 
“Do you always antagonize people you want favors from?” Tim whined. A keyboard clacked rapidly in the background. “Jason, I swear to God, you massive bitch. Cut the crap and communicate, or I'm hanging up.” 
Jason frowned at his socks and grabbed a random pair. “You don't gotta be like that,” he said sulkily. He slammed the socks into his bag with a very unsatisfying silence. “So, the ritual doohickey sent me to the infinite underworld, I met a guy there actually and we are magically connected because he's who that dumb ritual matched me up to. He doesn't want to be stuck with a human so we are on the same page about breaking this. We started looking for answers and he took me back to Earth since it's not good for humans to be in the green dimension for too long.” 
There was silence from the other end of the line for a few seconds. “You're fucking lying,” Tim said. 
“Only by leaving things out.” A bit stung, Jason pulled a hand through his hair and accidentally ruined his good hair day. 
“What are you leaving out?” Tim rejoined swiftly.
Jason laughed at him. “You think you're getting that kinda information in exchange for plane tickets?” He asked incredulously. 
“You are the most annoying person who has ever tried to kill me.”
Ouch. That genuinely stung.
“Fuck off.” Jason slammed the drawers shut. 
“I could guess aliens or supernatural off of what you just said.” Tim ignored Jason’s very good point. “Based off of your trip to the Gotham U campus and-”
“Are you still stalking me?” Jason cut him off, incredulous. He scoffed. “Little buddy, you already got my pixie boots, Red Robin costume, and my Dad. What else do you wanna take from me?”
“I think that you were there to assess Daniel Fenton,” Tim ignored him.
Jason was silent for a moment. There was probably no point in pretending that Tim was wrong. “You already knew about the Fenton’s connection to the supernatural.” He was suddenly tired.
“His older sister is an intern at Arkham, she stepped out of line to get a chance to talk to Jeremy Waters.” Tim didn’t seem to notice that the mood had changed. He was caught up on whatever twenty level plan was whirring away internally.
Jason looked at the wall for a moment, not bothering to think about why that name was familiar. “...and that is…?”
“The guy who kidnapped you, keep up,” Tim snarked. “Her supervisor guessed what she was hinting at, shut her down, put a note about it in the private server so there was a paper trail if she turns out to be a collaborator.”
““Private” is a strong word to describe that server.” Jason rubbed at his jawline and hefted his bag out to the bathroom to gather his shaving kit. 
“Mmhm,” Tim said blandly. “I bugged her phone. The signal is absurdly bad, unexplainably bad. She doesn’t send a lot of messages, but she had a very suspicious call with Daniel Fenton where, among other things, she hinted she had inside knowledge regarding some kind of local mystery, possibly criminal activity. Her brother accused her of supporting crime.”
Jason groaned. “I’m going to interview their parents.” He checked that the razor blades were stowed away correctly before snapping shut the travel case. Then he noticed that his bathroom mirror could use a wipedown. He left his bag for a moment to dig for the cleaner.
“Probably for the best,” Tim said, definitely misunderstanding his purpose. “They seem…” He trailed off when he couldn’t find an appropriate adjective.
“You should read a book,” Jason said, because he saw an opportunity to be an asshole. “Anyway, I wanna get out to the area tonight and see them in the morning. What’s my flight?” He spritzed the glass and watched his reflection blur. It was oddly comforting to not have to stare at his green eyes.
‘That ghost zone was the same green as the Lazarus Pits,’ Jason thought dully. He didn’t really want to think about it. But he had a pretty good idea why he hadn’t had the reaction to the place that Danny expected a human to have.
“Kon could take you,” Tim said sweetly, which was basically a death threat. It was enough to jar him back to the real world. Kon was still not feeling chill about the Titans Tower scuffle. It probably wasn’t good for him to be so petty, but Jason was not going to be the one to tell baby Superdork that.
Jason winced. “I was thinking more like United.”
Tim snickered. 
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milaswriting · 28 days ago
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Update. — 3rd October 2024
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Well, helloo. If you're following me and reading this then...you must really hate me for my lack of activity on this blog. I apologise for that. Doing a masters degree really kicks my ass, and leaves me with no time to write. But Golden has never been dead or abandoned, it's very much always at the forefront of my mind.
And, for that pure reason, I know it's a story I haven't been 1,000% happy with so the story is going through some major changes. Probably, the first is that it's being rewritten. A (somewhat) new plot written with whole new software—we're making the move to Twine.
My reasoning; I've spent over a year learning the coding which makes me want to rip my hair out. I get to have a lot more ownership over my work, the customisation options are stellar, and you guys will get to read it for free.
The reasons for rewriting has been because I want to fix the cringey writing from when the story's first demo was released. It's mostly from the earlier chapters, but then the thought of plot changes came to me and I wanted to implement those. Realistically, the majority of what's being rewritten is what I had planned for book two—so I'm just bringing that forward. I'll update the synopsis closer to the release of this rewrite.
The changes (which can be subject to change): I'm getting rid of the university idea (though you can still choose careers that are related to those degrees from the options that'll be given) (e.g., if you liked the nursing student option, then your MC can work as a nurse). I'm thinking that the MC will already know about the supernatural world to some extent—there'll still be a lot of suspense and mystery and things to unravel, that was always going to remain. And, in this rewrite, my thought is that the MC and the gang will be working at a multi-agency organisation — called The Everbrook — where the aim is to bridge the gap between humans and supernaturals. To make the world run smoothly, so to speak.
The ROs are the exact same! No changes to that—the only change is that them and the mc will somewhat know of each other already. The genre is the same. MC is still as they are, a Lehsian socialite with a pretty (yet peculiar) birthmark. The parents will have much, much less of a role, but they'll still be mentioned here and there.
This seems like a load of word vomit, but I feel like these changes will improve the story. I'm hoping that it'll make MC less of a spare part in the story, allowing them to have more autonomy in the supernatural universe, especially with their enhanced skillset.
I've done the customisation in terms of the UI layout for Twine already, and it should be mobile friendly too. With that done, I've started writing and I'm a few thousand words in. A lot of what I've written in the ChoiceScript version can still be used, but also getting back into writing a story from scratch is something I'm looking forward to.
I feel like this is a bittersweet thing because yay to a new and better story, but also the time it's going to take to get it out. I'll debate whether to release the whole ten chapters, or do a few chapters at a time, like splitting it up into chunks (releasing three chapters now, and three chapters later on).
Another reason as to why I've taken so long to mention this, other than learning code and the rewrite, is just the whole process of this being a little nerve-wracking. The whole thought of a rewrite of something I've put so much effort into is scary, but it'll be worth it.
I'll accept any questions you've got, and I'll create an FAQ regarding all of this too. But, most importantly, you're in the loop of how this is progressing. I really appreciate everyone's kind words about this story: loving the ros, re-reading it, still sticking by my writing—it means a lot. So, thank you and I hope the future of this story is what you want and more.
PLANS.
Finish introductory scenes.
Finish chapter one.
WORD COUNT.
2.2k (rewrite)
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plutoswritingplanet · 2 months ago
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All Stars In The Sky Are For You (David 8 x Reader)
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a/n: in preparation for Alien Romulus, I've watched all the prequel movies, and got rudely reminded that Michael Fassbender is... just... so fckn hot in them... my god
Warnings: Non-Con, very Obsessive and Possessive Behavior from the man (android) of the hour, Smut, technically Stalking when you think about it, gross overuse of Shakespeare Quotations (again), past Walter x Reader mentioned.
Summary: David finds a place for you in his grand creation plan. Deeply inspired by the song "Specially For You" by DakhaBrakha. Cross-Posted on AO3
Watching you dream of him, brings a twisted sense of satisfaction. 
Seeing himself, displayed on the cryo chamber screen, looking like a monster straight out of a feverish nightmare. Which he supposes, he is to you, and to many others. After all, he did bring horrors beyond imagination upon your crew, your family. And he sees it, every single moment of suffering you've experienced through his hand, through the hands of his creations. And it fills him with an unexplainable sense of fulfillment. 
It started innocently enough.
 Just a peek into your subconscious mind, a rare instance of sentimentality he's carried within himself, all the way from Prometheus. At first, he found his target in Daniels. After all, she's reminded him of Shaw the most, and as such, he has gravitated towards her sleeping chamber like a curious sort of meteorite. But her dreams were filled with happy, peaceful moments. Her husband, mostly, her time at the company. All so dull and devoid of any intrigue. 
And as such, he pushed further, stepping over towards your unconscious form, wrapped and packaged for him, by him. There you laid, eyes running wild under heavy eyelids, the muscles on your cheeks twitching, your limbs tensing in spasms. The moment he has peered into your mind, he knew. He understood your purpose in the grand plan of his. Because what stared back at him, through the fluorescent, humming screen, was his own face.
 An image of utter indifference. Eyes flickering over your features, marking them, cataloging them inside the constantly spinning data plate he calls a brain. He's considered your first meeting as something trivial. A catalyst for later, perhaps, but all in all, uneventful. And yet, despite the ordinariness of it all, your mind seemed focused only on this one moment, when he first removed his hood, when his eyes met yours over the rest of the expedition.
Fascinating, truly. 
Thus began a slow process. A dance (he liked to think of it as such), with no tangible conclusion for the present. He would frequent the cryo chamber, let his hand linger on the screen, right over your face, until your dreams manifested. And then, he would watch, absorbing everything you would've kept hidden otherwise. 
"I'm so sorry" your voice is quiet, meek, in the stuffy interior of his 'private' chamber. "I just... I saw a light, and you said to make ourselves at home"
"No need to apologize" he answers with his typical, emotionless cadence, turning around in his chair to face you. 
He can see the way your lips pull down, fighting off a smile, as your eyes glide over the half-cut strands of hair. The sheers glimmer in the low, warm light, and as if pushed by instinct, you take a step forward. 
Cherries. David opens his mouth just a little, to taste the air you carry around you. Under the unmistakable scent of humanity, there's wind, there's the dampness of his humble abode, and something else. Something far sweeter. He races to identify it, thoughts running through the memory bank.
"Do you, uh..." you hesitate, and he wonders, why that is "Do you want some help with that?"
You hand waves in the general direction of his hair, and he blinks up at you, before inclining his head. A silent invitation, the hand of the Devil himself extending itself towards you. It's quiet, as you work, cutting away the blonde until there's only brown left. Until he's almost indistinguishable from your own synth companion. 
As he watches the events play out on the screen, David thinks it's beyond ironic, how big of a part you unknowingly played in his little charade. He wonders, how guilt will look on your face, once you finally find out, the one putting you to sleep wasn't Walter. That you've helped this impostor onto the ship, unleashed tragedy upon everyone inside. That it's all by your hand, literally. 
He's never tasted cherries, never tasted anything worth noting, really. But as he brings forth his own memory of this particular interaction, he wonders, if the scent is just in your air. If he ran his tongue over the skin of your throat, would he be able to taste the sweetness?
Sometimes you dream about the crew. 
There are moments between you and Daniels, quiet ones, filled with understanding and compassion. He sees you with Tennessee, your smile pulling at the corners of your eyes, wrinkling the skin around your mouth and nose. Both of them are sleeping in the cryo chamber, awaiting paradise, which will never come. You've worked so hard to get them here, on this ship, and as David watches you dream of Daniels' wedding, he thinks about the tragedy of it all. Another thing to be guilty of, once you wake up. Another fascinating, devastating emotion for him to witness, to categorize. He feels his fingers thrum in anticipation, as he watches you dance with your friend, movements clumsy and so utterly human. 
Then, he walks away. Because as much as he loves to imagine (he likes the word, even if it doesn't apply to him) how you'll inevitably crumble, the dreams which are not about him simply bore him. So, he moves through the ship, into his personal lab. There, he studies your DNA, pulls it apart, greedily soaks up every strand, as they dance (like you and Daniels), in front of his cold eyes. He wonders, if (when) he makes his perfect creature out of her body, will you learn to love it? Will you feel the connection between your bodies, the pull of kinship? 
"David... Help me..." there's no real sound coming out of your mouth, as you plead with him, your eyes filling up with tears, spilling over your trembling cheeks like a broken faucet.
He doesn't. Of course he doesn't, because the scene playing out in front of him is that much more interesting.
There you stand, body taunt, shaking, and his creature circles you slowly. The white, bony structure of it's body slides around your calves, as it sniffs the same scent he feels at the edge of his tongue. It's already feasted quite remarkably on the dead body of your fallen crew mate, and with that need satisfied, there's only one left. Curiosity. Something David relates to on such primordial level, he feels the essence of himself in every move, every low growl his creation emits. 
"Communication" he whispers, and you close your eyes, screw them shut tightly, as the creature rises to it's full height before you "Blow on the nose of a horse, and it'll be yours forever"
He can see the conflict, the fight between overwhelming dread, and your own, subdued fascination. His breath catches in his throat, as your chest expands. But before you can cross that line, before you give in completely, that menace of a man, Oram, appears. His bullets shatter all hope for progress. 
At first, seeing you dream of Walter irritates him beyond belief. And you do that so often, for so long, it's a wonder he contains himself from ripping the cryo chamber open, and shaking every lingering thought of his brother-synth out of your brain. It's the smallest of things, that seem to linger in your mind. The cadence of his speech, as he addressed you. The coldness of his hand on your shoulder, when he steadied you after a turbulence. More daring touches, your waist, your stomach, but never your face. As if that would cross the threshold between machinery and humanity. 
David knew, from the moment he witnessed a sliver of interaction between the two of you, that Walter loved you, as much as a synth could ever hope to love. He's seen this distant, lost look on his own face a decade ago, when he travelled the outer space with Shaw. With his Elizabeth. Walter did not understand the delicate, almost translucent line between duty and love, but David did. What he did not anticipate, however, was that you loved Walter as well, in this clumsy, peaceful way humans tend to love. He mistook it as friendship, back on his planet, but now, looking through your eyes, he could see plain as day. The affection, the devotion, the thrill of feeling something which should never be felt. 
Soon, he doesn't mind watching those dreams anymore. Because as days go on, David falls into a trap of his own making, where he sees Walter's face on the screen and realizes, it's the same as his. And so, when you dream of the other synth patching up a scrape on your cheek with delicate hands, who's to say you're not dreaming of him? 
He could be kind. He could apply a bandage with as much finesse, if not more. Lips parting in a silent intake of breath, he tries to bring back the recorded memory of you, helping him patch up his own scratched up face. 
Again, you were unaware that it was David on the receiving end of your affection, not Walter, and he was painfully aware that the softness in your eyes was a product of his own lie. Still, he couldn't force himself to care, as your fingers held his chin, like he was something delicate, more than an almost unstoppable artificial creation.
"You've saved my life three times already" you muse, stapling pieces of skin together "I don't know if I'll ever be able to repay you."
"There's no need" David says, mimicking Walter's accent with perfect precision "It's my duty"
Both of you look down, at the stump where his left hand used to be, and the quiet tension between the two of you feels like a current of electricity. And by God, it takes a monumentla ammount of strength, not to reach up, throw all pretense to the wind, and taste the cherries. 
Which is why, his mind goes blank momentarily, when you lean down, fingers shifting on his chin, and press your lips delicately to his cheekbone, lingering just for a second. He doesn't know what to think, what to say, and most importantly, he doesn't know how Walter would react to such dislay of affection. So he gives you, what you want. Fakes a bewildered expression, swallows tightly, and lets his gaze linger on your retreating form, as you all but flee the room, cheeks warming up to an alarming degree. 
He could do the same to you. He could hold your face with reverence, with care. Put you on a pedestal, above everything and everyone. And, most importantly, he could do for you something, which Walter would never be able to. 
He could create. 
And, oh, does he create. Pages upon pages, filled with ink, with charcoal. David pulls out every image he has stored, every saved expression on your face, and places it on paper, until his lab is filled with the record of your every interaction. Frame by frame, every micro expression, every slight change, he draws it all, until there's nothing left to draw. Until all he can create is that same, unchanging image of your face buried in slumber. 
It's not enough. It's not nearly enough, and so, like the creator that he is, David starts to make plans.
What really cements his idea, is this one, particular dream he catches, after sauntering into the cryo chambers, as he's grown accustomed to. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor reveals your deep state of distress, as it picks up, and up, your face twisting. David touches the screen with barely contained excitement, drinking in your expressions to store them for later, to add them to the growing collection. And then, his eyes fall onto his own drawing, a memorial for his dear Elizabeth. 
"She didn't perish in the crash, did she?" you ask, despite knowing the answer, and once again, he's struck by how quiet your voice can be.
"No." he answers plainly, the recording of his voice thrumming through his brain.
Oh, how lovely does your face contort, how beautiful you look, when dread fills your veins. Those small, sharp gasps you take. The way your pulse runs wild under the skin of your throat, filling his nose, his mouth, with that sweet undertone, so unfitting to the situation at hand. 
And then you duck, surprisingly agile for a mere scientist, pushing yourself under his extended arm, slipping past him like smoke through fingers. He whirls around, hand grasping at the back of your jacket, and you scream, raw and uninhibited, as he throws you against the cabinet. The scrolls of his drawings fall to the ground with you, and he can't help, but marvel at the sight for just a second. The way your body writhes, buried under pages of his art. Like a living, breathing, binding agent for his creations. 
Absentmindedly, he reaches up, to touch that spot under his chin, where you previously stuck a sharp end of your knife, a pathetic attempt at hurting him. He's had his head ripped from the rest of his artificial body, and yet, that pang of hurt, when you stab him with a growl from deep within your chest... He shudders at the memory, and ponders over this reaction. 
Hate. Fear and hate, is what he sees in your eyes, as he throws you onto the table, crawling over you with grace, only his kind is capable of. You struggle, a butterfly in his grasp, ready for further transformation, into something completely unprecedented. As he looks down upon you, at the fire consuming your irises, he can't help himself from leaning forward. From pulling the answers he needs right from your mouth. 
A whimper escapes you, both in your dream and in the cryo chamber, and David shudders again. Although whether it's a genuine reaction buried deep within his programming, or a gesture of his own design is anybody's guess. (It's fake, there's nothing in him that requires shuddering, but it feels right to do it, so he forces his body to react accordingly)
"Is that how it's done?" he asks, gauging your reaction, and you answer with a strangled groan.
The heat of your body seeps into his own, he steals it from you greedily, chest pressing against yours harder, and harder, until your breath stutters between your ribs. He can feel the warmth of your beating heart, through your protective clothing, through the jacket. He'd wager he could feel it even through walls of solid granite.
Still, he wants more, wants to know everything there is to know about you. Wants to seek out those pockets of heat, which you try to hide from him. But he's so rudely interrupted by his brother, right as he was about to explore that one part of humanity, which fascinated and repulsed him so. 
But Walter isn't here now. It's just you, and him, and years before the ship reaches it's destination. 
David's fingers drum over the casing of your sleeping chamber, so close to that one specific button, the temptation almost unbearable. And then, after a moment of consideration, your fate is sealed. 
At first, the light is unbearable. Your eyes water, and you groan, flinching from the sudden onslaught of senses, all flooding back to you, as last remnants of cryo sleep seem to fizzle out. Your head swims, there's a tightness in your chest, which almost pushes you back into the plush insides of the chamber. But, as your body sways, a gentle pressure at the lower portion of your back keeps you upright.
A sense of familiarity floods you (a strange thing to feel, when an imitation of flesh touches you), and finally you risk cracking your eyes open, your unfocused gaze landing on such a welcome face, your heart twists in your chest. 
"Walter..." your voice is rough from the lack of use, but the fondness in it is undeniable "What happened? Are we there yet?"
David savors the sliver of hope in your tone, and crushes it in his teeth once he's had his fix. 
"I'm afraid not" he shakes his head gently, offers you a deceivingly human pull of his lips "Your cryo chamber malfunctioned, I had to wake you up"
A flicker of disappointment crosses your features, but you swallow it down quickly.
"Are the rest of the crew alright? Tennessee? Daniels?" your neck cranes, as he helps you to the examination table, letting you grab onto his arm for support, as you climb up, and settle on the edge.
"Everyone is quite well" he nods, moving across the room to a small medical table. His hand goes through motions of shuffling through the supplies, a small lie amongst all the monumental ones. "I need to check your vitals and collect a blood sample"
You nod stiffly, eyes flickering towards the syringe in his hand.
"You know I hate needles" you mutter, but extend your arm either way, and David turns to you with an imitation of a gentle smile.
His fingers slide over the warmth of your skin, quickly finding a suitable vein. Without a word, he plunges the needle into the hollow space between your upper and lower arm, and you hiss quietly at the pang of pain. He wishes he could stick it into the underside of your jaw. Repay your previous fight with a courtesy. 
"Just a second, Dearest. Easy does it" David mutters, his eyes flickering over your face, as you look at him in momentary confusion.
"Dearest?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow. He feels your heartbeat stutter under his fingers. 
"A figure of speech" David supplies, and your frown deepens
"Where did that come from?" you ask incredulously, and all he offers in response is a tight-lipped smile.
The needle withdraws from your arm, and you sigh, pressing down on the small incision with your thumb. Something within David suppresses the urge to rip your hand away, to replace your thumb with his mouth and suck, until he knows for a fact, if the scent of cherries carries in your blood as well.
"Do you remember anything before you went under?" David asks, standing next to your knee, close enough to feel the thrumming heat of your body, but not close enough to actually touch you. A staggering display of restraint on his part, he congratulates himself. 
You think for a moment, eyebrows scrunching in a way that is so appealing, so delicious, David runs his tongue over his teeth. 
"I... Uh..." you hesitate for a second, eyes flickering around the room, as if you're hoping to pull the answer out of the sterile air "I remember a planet. We fought those... Creatures..."
Your voice wavers. David tracks the movement of your throat as you swallow thickly.
"There was an android there. David" his name leaves your lips in a heavy sigh, filled with emotion, with memories he's seen displayed on the screen time, and time again. 
"Ah" the sound slips out before he can stop it, but you're still too out of it to truly notice "A right bastard, that one".
Not out of it enough, it seems, because your eyes flicker up to his face, confusion dancing on the edge between becoming suspicion. He masks the sly grin on his face, turning away from you, and walking back to the medical table, disposing of the blood sample and setting it up for analysis. He can feel your eyes burning the back of his neck, because despite perfectly mimicking Walter's cadence, the pattern of his speech, he realizes that pathetic machine would never state his opinion on someone so freely. He quite literally didn't have it in him, being stripped from the last semblance of humanity. 
And yet, you still loved him...
"...How curious" David mutters to himself absent mindedly, and you frown yet again, shifting on the examination table, your legs dangling above the floor.
"Something wrong with the sample?"
His eyes flicker towards you, but he doesn't answer, opting to hold you in anticipation for a moment longer. As long as he can, really. You shift again. He can hear the way your robe moves against the cool metal of the examination table, against the skin hidden under fabric. Eyes roaming over your form, he lingers on every individual strand, every piece of lint that clings to you. By the downward pull of your lips, the small crease between your eyebrows, he sees how close you are to finally understanding the truth. 
For now however, you're stuck with this incessant feeling, that something is wrong. A whisper, at the back of your mind, making the small, delicate hairs on your neck stand up. 
"Your results are satisfactory" he nods, finally, but it still doesn't ease the tension from your shoulders. "How are you feeling, miss?" 
Your teeth clink together as you think of an answer. David crosses the room, standing in front of your dangling legs, his head turning to the side in a too-slow display of concern.
"I uh... There's some lingering dizziness" quiet, your voice can be so unbelievably quiet, it's almost swallowed up by the beeping of the machines around you, the hum of the ship moving through space "Other than that, I think I'm fine"
David nods once, his hand moving up towards your face, and your muscles tense, as he gently rests his palm against your cheeks. Before you ask, he leans closer, his thighs brushing against your knees.
"And..." he turns your head from side to side, blue eyes gliding over your features with barely contained greed "Tell me..." slowly, as if he's boiling a frog in a pot, his fingers tighten on your face.
"When I kissed you in my laboratory, how did you feel back then?" he lets go of Walter's speech pattern completely, and nearly groans at the look on your face.
It's like a wave crashing onto a cliff side, the force with which dread fills your eyes, and David drinks it all in, lips pulling back into a cold, heartless smile. 
"Men were deceivers ever, One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never" he muses, his voice devoid of any emotion.
Betrayal is a rolling stone, taking root in your brain, from the scramble of thoughts, of little clues about the truth of your situation. It travels down, through your rapidly tightening throat, falling into your heart, the force of impact breaking it in two. Then, it swirls around in your stomach, waking dread from it's slumber, to finally pass through your legs, shaking like leaves on the wind, where it sinks into the metal floor of the ambulatory. Right where you wish you could disappear yourself. 
"Walter..." you plead, voice breaking before if even leaves your mouth. 
Your fingers grasp the soft material of his hoodie, trying to find some hope, that this is just a simple misunderstanding. A cruel joke played on you by a thing that doesn't understand humor, not really. Alas, as your nails bite into his chest, David's smile widens, the corners of his lips curling further, perfect set of inhuman canines glistening from artificial saliva. 
"Ah, Walter" he sighs the name, like it's a passing memory of the spring "He proved himself most useful. It was so easy to trick you, into thinking I was him." 
He pulls his hand away from your face, fingers sliding over the pulse running wild on the side of your neck 
"But then again, you're not exactly the sharpest tool in this shed, are you?"
Now he's got you exactly where he wants you, your eyes shining like two diamonds with unrestrained anger. With unbridled curiosity, he reaches up, thumb swiping over the thin skin under your eye, drinking in the way your lower lid jumps, as he brushes over your eyelashes. 
"Can the world buy such a jewel?" he muses to himself quietly, and you would've thought about the implications, if you weren't so completely overcome by anger. 
"Fuck you" you spit out, voice filled with venom "What did you do with Walter?"
David's lips press into a thin line, his hand abandoning your face in favor of sliding the length of your body. Cold, artificial skin traces the curvature of your shoulder, your arm. He stops at your elbow, fingers pressing into the hollow space, where just moments before, he has stuck a needle and drawn blood. Your face twists in discomfort, and he digs his nail just a bit further. 
"You miss him dearly, don't you?" David asks, his voice, albeit impossibly quiet, carries a note of condescension, that twists your insides with unbridled rage. "In my defense, Dearest, I have tried to help you. To make him realize the depth of his own feelings before it was too late."
"What?" 
David, unbothered by your question, continues to trace your body, mapping out every dip and curve, his fingers tracing down your spine, where he counts the vertebrae. His other hand, or lack there of, finds purchase on your hip, testing just how much does he need to press down, to feel the bone hidden under skin and muscle. 
"Oh don't you worry" David quips, eyes transfixed on the way your chest expands when you take a sharp breath "I've made sure he died, knowing you never loved him"
Something raw and unfiltered tears it's way out of your throat. A new sound, one, which will be documented and stored forever in David's memory disk, because by God, you sound closer to an animal than any human. Your hand winds back, seemingly on it's own, and suddenly David's head snaps back, as your palm collides with his cheekbone. The slap sounds like a thunder cracking inside the ambulatory, drowning out every beep, every hum of the machinery. 
Your hand will be bruised, that's for certain. 
Despite efforts at keeping the synthetic humans as close to the real thing, as possible, no one could deny the sheer strength hidden beneath the perfect imitation of skin. You're aware of that, aware that if David didn't move his head in a way that was so deceivingly human, you would've broken your wrist. It gives you a small pause, a moment to register this strange reaction on android's part, but any curiosity is quickly swallowed, by the most intense feeling you've ever felt. 
Hatred. 
"Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably" David sighs, shaking his head in, what you suppose, is meant to be disappointment. 
The pressure on your hip shifts, as his stump encircles your waist, and suddenly you're being pulled impossibly closer, your behind sliding to the very edge of the medical table. David tugs on your knees, forcing your legs to open, and closes the last remnants of space between the two of you. 
The smoothness of his nether regions should calm you down slightly, ease some smidgen of worry. But, as you look into those cold, lifeless eyes, which are strangely burning, your stomach twists. If there's a will, there's a way, and you're fairly certain, they way David's gaze glides all over your frame is a clear show of determination. 
And so, your hands shoot up, fingernails biting into his chest again, as your muscles tense with the effort of pushing him away. There's no give, you might as well be fighting with a metal wall. David grips the edge of the medical table, his arms creating a cage on the sides of your body. 
"There it is" he muses, nose brushing the underside of your chin, a deep rumble erupting from within his chest "Such a sweet smell..."
A shudder ripples through your body at the sudden contact, your throat constricting to an alarming degree. 
"I've wondered for quite some time, if this sweetness is more than just air" David's voice rises and falls, and before you can truly comprehend the meaning behind his words, his tongue darts out, licking a stripe from your jugular, up to the back of your ear.
The reaction is almost embedded in your bones, as suddenly you shift on the table, wrenching your leg between your bodies and kicking out with as much force, as you're capable of, and then some. David staggers backwards, finally freeing you from the confines of his arms, and you seize the opportunity immediately, pushed by rage and such deep-seated hatred, it should terrify you. 
"I fucking hate you!" you scream out, and abandoning all reason, leap forward, colliding with the android's steel chest.
The force of impact sweeps the both of you off your feet, and David lands with a dull thud on the metal floor. There's a flicker of surprise in his cold, dead eyes, and you revell in it, as your body shifts atop of his. 
You recover from your momentary confusion quickly, hands coming up to grasp at his throat, like it will change anything, like you're capable of choking the life out of him. Both of you know better, and while you're pushed further and further by an intoxicating mixture of emotions, David lets you do as you please, watching your twisted face with undeniable fascination. 
His hand start to move, grabbing your hips, running up the length of your thigh, tugging just a tiny bit on the fabric of your cryo suit. His stump brushes hair out of your face, gently.
"Don't you find it curious?" he whispers, and you can feel the way his throat works under your fingers "You loved Walter so dearly, this... Pathetic machine, who can feel nothing. And then, with that same breath, you hate me. Even though I'm closer to human than Walter ever hoped to be."
Your cheeks are suddenly wet, with tears of anger, of frustration, as they run down your face and neck, soaking into the collar of your shirt. David leans up with no real effort, pulling your body closer and craning his neck, so he can taste the salt on your skin. A whimper escapes you, a broken, quiet sound, as his tongue glides up, almost to the very corner of your eye, gathering your tears, drinking them with a satisfied groan. 
Fingers tighten around his throat, but it's as if you're trying to strangle a metal pipe. 
"What does that say about you? Have you ever wondered?" David asks, and your heart stutters. 
Realistically, you know what he's trying to do. How he's trying to twist your feelings for Walter into some sort of psychological game, some challenge you're supposed to deny. But your awareness doesn't change the pang of hurt, the broken sigh that leaves your lips at the thought. And then, before you can truly think of the implications, of the hatred for the human race hidden deep within David's voice, his lips come crashing down upon yours, so reminiscent of the time in his lab. 
This instance, however, is less like an experiment, and more like a need. Such a faithful imitation of it, your heart jumps in your throat. There's really no use in trying to push him away, as it seems he's grown tired of accommodating your desire for a fight, his arms tightening around you, pushing your body closer to his chest. Still, you're not about to give up that quickly, and pushed by sudden flash of panic, you lean your head forward, catching his lower lip between your teeth. 
He pulls back with a hiss, as you sink down into the flesh, his artificial blood leaving a strange, chemical taste in your mouth. He takes half a second to admire the way your chin glistens with white, before diving down again, and giving you the same treatment, his perfect teeth biting on your lower lip with measured force. You yelp against him, thrashing in his hold, until he pulls away again. His hand comes up, touching your face in a way that is too gentle, too reverend. His thumb collects the peculiar mixture of his blood and yours, swirls it around with the newest batch of tears springing from your eyes. 
Then, he dips his finger between his teeth, tongue lapping up the fluids, holding your horrified, and slightly disgusted gaze. 
"We taste divine together" he murmurs, and with a quickness you've not known him to be capable of, he shoves his finger into your mouth. You sputter and gag at the intrusion, at the copper taste mixed with chemicals, as it coats the inside of your mouth. 
It's a split second action, you barely register the movements, but as soon as David rips his hand out of your mouth, he maneuvers your body to his liking, grabbing your hips, and sitting you down on his leg, intention clear as day. Two things happen at once. You can suddenly feel undeniable pressure right between your legs, hitting in the precise manner you need it to. And that's the same moment you realize just how obscenely wet you are, which terrifies you more than any monster on this ship. 
David buries his head in the crook of your neck, one hand catching your wrists, as you attempt to punch him. He brings your hands tightly around your back, his grip unrelenting, his hand-les arm keeps you steady on top of his leg, where he pushes up and down, setting a rhythm against your core. Your knees slide on the floor, and he raises his leg in response, just enough to stop your attempts to wiggle away. 
The chuckle he lets out, as you bang your forehead against his shoulder is borderline offensive. In response, you turn your head and try to bite at his throat. 
He's quick, leaving your hips, and forcing your chin up, before teeth can make contact with his skin. Your eyes lock again, and you're surprised to find out, there's not a flicker of irritation inside his. If anything, he looks amused, understanding even, and you frown in confusion at his serene state. 
"Perhaps I was too eager before" he muses, more to himself than to you "Perhaps you need a gentler approach"
With that, the hand gripping your wrists climbs up, feather like touches pepper your face, your cheeks, until he cradles your head in his palm, fingers threading delicately through your hair. Your breath freezes in your chest, confusion rising to an alarming degree, as David begins to gently massage the back of your head. Feeling your tense muscles sag ever so slightly in his hold, his arm returns to your waist.
"I can be kind" he says, head dipping down, to kiss your collarbone "I can do, what Walter could never even imagine" 
The hand at the back of your head dips down, tugs lightly on the lacing of your cryo suit, loosening it just enough, for the collar to fall down your shoulders. Quickly, he covers the newly exposed slivers of skin with feverish kisses, pulling a pathetic, low whine from your lips. Your eyes fall closed, tears stinging under your eyelids, as his leg moves just a bit higher, reminding you of the momentarily abandoned pressure. 
"Let me in" David whispers against your shoulder "Let me..." a kiss to your throat, and your walls come crashing down, your body folding over his, as your hips stutter against his thigh. 
"There you are, Dearest."
For a moment, you try to imagine this is Walter. That you're safe in his arms, as his hand cradles the back of your head, fingers scratching lightly in tandem with the shivers raking your body.
 But everytime he speaks, everytime he moves, you're crudely reminded, that this is someone, something, so devastatingly worse. Doesn't stop your hips from moving though, from the tightness building in the lower part of your stomach, the wetness seeping down your thighs. If anything, slowly you start to feel yourself loose control, small gasps ripping through your lips with every movement. 
David watches you for a moment longer, committing every sound, every twitch of your body to memory, cataloguing exactly which angles make your hips stutter the most. Which part of your body to kiss, so you'll fold against him. 
It's a fascinating lesson, truly, but he feels a sudden need to push it to a close. And as such, his hand slips out of your hair, trailing a path down your body, until it reaches the waistband of your linen pants. He moves quickly, before you can break away from this strange spell he's captivated you with. 
Slender fingers wiggle their way to your front, sinking in with almost no resistance. Your entire body straightens in his lap at the intrusion, and the noise you make rivals the most beautiful of symphonies. David desperately wants to hear it again, and so, he starts to move his fingers inside, testing, which part of your core he needs to hit, to make your head fall back. 
"Everything could be yours" he murmurs into the skin of your throat "All songs in the world are for you"
As it turns out, pretty much any part will do. You're way too aroused to care anymore, and as his fingers curl inside you, in a slow, deliberate rhythm, your eyes shoot open, body thrashing against him. The promise of a release is hard to ignore, almost impossible not to chase after, and David watches with obsessive fascination, as you try to bring yourself closer to him, arms encircling him completely, head dipping into the juncture between his shoulder and neck. 
"All of the Universe" he continues, as you steadily climb towards your climax "All stars in the sky..."
While he works a series of cascading moans out of you, he revells in the way your nails bite into his skin, in the wetness of his own, white blood, seeping into the fabric of his (Walter's) hoodie. It doesn't take long for you to tumble over the edge, entire body spasming against him, his still moving fingers creating obscenely wet sounds that echo through the room. Soon, they're joined by a sharp scream, tearing through your throat like an avalanche. David holds you impossibly close, letting you ride out your orgasm, before pulling his hand away, making you watch him, as he licks his glistening fingers clean. 
"It's always cherries with you, isn't it?" he murmurs, and you don't have the strength to feel confused. 
It's completely quiet for a longer while, as you stay seated on his lap, trying to regain your breathing, and deal with the world-crushing realization, of what exactly has just happened. Shame floods you, brings you closer to his synthetic body, as your muscles relax, seemingly on their own accord. And he welcomes it, with his arms, with his mouth, with everything he has. 
A broken, shuddering sob wrecks your body, as the utter hopelessness of your situation hits you, suddenly and without stopping. David holds you through it, leaning away ever so slightly, to observe the way sorrow twists your face, a trailer of all the things to come. 
"I do so wonder" he whispers, his hand cradling your face like the most delicate of specimens "When you start to love me..." your eyes snap to his at the complete confidence in his tone "Will I become more like Walter?"
A shiver runs up your spine, every single hair standing up, as his words register in your brain. You'd never love him, you try to convince yourself, despite knowing deep down, that the only certain thing in your future is him.
"I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love" he whispers into your ear, and thus starts the end of your life. 
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nikkeora · 1 year ago
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e-42!Miles Morales headcanons (fluff) ㅡ
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Okay, so, I've seen a lot of people headcanon that Miles is going to buy you anything and everything you even look at
but while that's fine because they're headcanons, let me remind you the boy is 16. He's not gonna be walking into Gucci and buying everything off the displays like a webtoon.
That being said, if he has a little extra cash he'll most likely spend it on you.
I'm talking little meaningful things though. Flowers, books, little trinkets that reminded him of you and such,
if your hobby needs supplies, he'll discreetly scan your stock when he's over and get you a refill of whatever you're low on.
He also cherishes whatever you gift to him and refuses to throw anything from you away.
Like once, you got the both of you matching shoes. They've been his favorite pair ever since.
And also dates.
Dates are a little rare between the two of you ngl, because 1) New York is literally Gotham atp, and 2) being the Prowler takes up a lot of time.
so you mostly hang out at each other's places as a substitute.
But when you do go out, Miles will plan everything down to a T
because let's face it, he tries to act cool but boy is nervous
You're the first person that isn't family he's actually opened up to. He doesn't want you to have a single bad experience with him.
But even if your dates go sideways, either one or both of you always find a way to make it better :)
At the start of your relationship, he's not too big on PDA.
but as it progresses, he starts getting more comfortable about stuff like holding hands or chaste kisses in public.
Once he's completely sure of himself and the two of you, he's always touching you in some way;
linking pinkies, holding hands, hand/arm around your waist, etc.
Never, I repeat never in front of Uncle Aaron though.
It's not that he's embarrassed of you or anything, but his uncle will definitely tease the living hell out of him
Speaking of Uncle Aaron, he likes you.
The first time he heard about you was a week or two after he taught Miles the Shoulder Touch™
Keep in mind, this is before Miles's dad passed away and all that,
so the boy was awkward.
When he tried it out on you, you couldn't help laughing, just a tiny bit.
Then he made the mistake of telling his uncle, who made it so much worse
"Can you please stop laughing? I'm being serious!"
"I'm sorry man–"
"No you're not 😒"
Back to physical affection, Miles is a sucker for any that you give him.
hugs, cuddles, kisses, you name it.
He will literally melt into your arms.
He'll try to deny it at first but it isn't fooling anyone, so at one point he just gives up the tough guy act when it's just the two of you.
Forehead/top of the head kisses? PLEASE PLEASE P L E A S E
he needs some soft affection.
He is down bad.
You get back hugs. all the time. extra when he's sleepy.
he will literally penguin walk you everywhere.
A lot of times he'll put his head on your chest and hear your heartbeat to remind himself you're still there and his. Especially when 'work' was hard.
Speaking of, he also told you he's the Prowler.
Of course, he tried to delay it as much as he could, but once the two of you were absolutely stable he felt wrong keeping it a secret.
Especially when he had to bail on plans for some inpromptu work thing and couldn't give you a reason why.
You'd kinda put two and two together at that point, but it was nice to hear him actually tell you.
After Miles comes clean though, his protective tendancies will double.
He isn't controlling or smothering, but he has some strong feelings against you walking in the streets alone after dark and such.
And they only get stronger after he tells you what he does. If something happened to you because you knew, he'd never forgive himslelf.
So he takes precautions. Whenever he drops by your place after work, he always changes first so that no one sees the Prowler frequent some random apartment.
he'll never let you anywhere near his job. You don't need to watch all that nasty shit.
and so on, so forth.
He's also a big whiner. He will drag his words out to the ends of the earth if he has to.
"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa–"
"Miles, my paper's due in two days."
"Finish it tomorrow then. Necesito sostenerte, hermosa."
"...Fine."
Mrs. Morales also loves you. You're basically her daughter in law already.
Which is great!
Until she starts showing you the baby pictures.
"Miles had the cutest little face–"
"Má, please–"
She loves having you around and will let you stay the night whenever (as long as the door's cracked open).
You're invited to every single family event courtesy of Rio.
Miles will try to participate in anything you're interested in.
you like doing makeup? put some on him pls.
he'll also watch youtube tutorials to learn how to do it himself and do it for you.
which doesn't work too well the first few times, but now he's a natural!
his first time doing your eyeliner though:
"Miles, you've been at it for like 10 minutes. Let me see!"
"..."
"Is that– is that a wing?"
"..."
"🏃‍♂️🚶‍♂️"
"No, no, it's nice– it's so nice–"
Rio almost died laughing.
If you like to draw, he'll take you on grafitti dates !
But if you're nervous about that, then he'll just sit and draw with you or something.
don't look at his paper, he's drawing you and will be very flustered (he'll try to play it cool but blushing isn't rly something he can control)
so yea look at his paper
If you're part of a fandom, he'll study everything he can find on it so that he can understand what you're talking about.
He'll most likely like it too, and you guys could spend hours talking about it if you want.
but if he's not that into it, he'll just sit and listen contently to you talk about it with the stupidest smile on his face like :]
He has the softest spot for you even a blind person could see it.
He just loves you so much pls love him back
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probably do a pt.2 soon
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sims3fiend · 1 month ago
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Some dumb sims 3 updates/stuf
Or, how to develop severe brain damage in 10 easy steps.
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Sooo… This is going to be more of a blog post than anything of any real substance, more of a whinge with maybe a few teasers for some stuff I may or may not release (probably not). Feel free to skip if you're after hot tips or coherent writing.
Stutter "fixer"
Sooooo…. The sims 3 has some stutter issueeesss… Incredible discovery, I know! I started looking at remedying them with settings, found some hidden settings that help reduce some of the issues but that can only do so much when the game was made in 2009 for 2009 computers.
So I had a looky at some things I thought could be causing it, mainly WinAPI functions because that's the easier route (h-haha…), and started to try to "optimize" some of the more common ones:
ReadFile: Was the first, and looking at the sheer volume of like 12783972198 calls a milisecond every time you move the camera, I thought surely I can speed it up a little r-right. Not really. I tried all sorts of… interesting things, file caching in memory, implementing the overlapped flag (took ages), etc. Oh and the performance increase? Literally nothing. It's called weirdly from wherever it's called and so we must suffer.
Threads: So, I had a look at other areas that were potential targets for speedup, ran an actual profile and it showed a problem areas namely threads and some other stuff I don't remember. ZwWaitForMultipleObjects and WaitForSingleObject take up a lot of time, so I very poorly attempted to optimize them, adding some timeout optimizations (and a bunch of other failed attempts). Despite being the most insane, this actually worked, and I got like a 40% speed increase in a very very niche metric that did not noticeably effect the game one single bit. I plan to combine all my failures into a single script eventually, maybe once combined they'll do something…
Actual insanity - Memory IPC: Then I had an idea, everyone hates e12, why don't we shove the games memory into another process and that'll fix it. No brain moment. No clue what past me was thinking, for some reason I thought you could like, access another processes memory if it was spawned from it, but uhh.. no, that's not how things work… I tried a few other things in a similar vein but it just crashed and crashed, so for now I'm just gunna work on:
Alloc/free mee - Current insanity: Currently, I'm still working on VirtualAlloc and VirtualFree (which is what I was redirecting to another process), but more from an optimizing memory usage standpoint than a… whatever the IPC thing was. There's a lot of things to try, and I've had some luck in some areas and some abysmal failures in others. There's a few promising functions calling VirtualAlloc/Free that seem to be potentially pointing towards memory leaks (004e54d0), but I'm too dumb to investigate that. At the moment, I'm going mostly just gathering more logs which takes forever and hurts my brain real bad.. On testing there's like 180 allocs that we could probably yeet no problem, which is like 750mb saved… Maybe idk.
I have plenty of ideas for deduplication, memory pool implementations to reduce churn/fragmentation, shoving things aggressively into pagefiles if they're not being used, etc. etc. Basically, there's a lot of avenues to explore, and I feel like there's potential… though I've definitely said that before and been dead wrong so…
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Anyway, rambling over. I plan to release a dumb little renderer settings mod maybe-soon-ish that'll let you do dumb stuff that might be useful for reshade like turn shadows/drop shadows off and post processing off and on. I guess I could add max lots and other settings eventually too since they're static values.... Might also do a mythbusting post for some performance "tweak" stuff I see thrown around that isn't super accurate but I also don't want people to be angry at me so maybe not.
Sorry to whoever read all this, but also thanks :)
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kpopscruggles · 1 month ago
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The people are asking for more txt twt links w/ Headcons and your thoughts! Love ur writing and maybe a sunghoon nsfw alphabet? I read some and it's a bit innacurate.. Would love your opinion on it (also new follower so idk much abt if u already posted that *I'll do some reseach :>*)
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Thank you for requesting love! I decided to go with the sunghoon a-z because I've never done one and I've alr made a haechan request! 
Nsfw twt are on hold due to me finding some but soon I will bring those back! Anway's enjoy! 
A- aftercare, what he’s like after sex 
I feel he def attends to your needs, he’s at least doing the basics. Wiping you down, getting you cold water and a snack. I feel like he also does this though because he does it for himself if I'm being honest.  
Even if you didn’t care he was going to do it for himself so why not make sure his baby is taken care of too? It just makes sense to him. 
B- body part, their favorite on theirs and partner's body 
For him, his favorite body part on himself has to be his muscle. He’s not loke drooling over himself more than he is you but he does give himself good rep because he can pick you up, move you into diffrent positions with absolutely no problem. So i feel he values his muscles because of you in a sense. 
His favorite body part on you is your legs, he loves your legs. He loves how they are always in his lap, wrapped around his waist, on his shoulders. He loves kissing your ankles while ponding into you, also bonus points if you're wearing an ankle. 
C- cum, anything to do with cum 
I think he’s a clean guy UNLESS it involves a creampie. If he’s wanting you to swallow then he’s staying in your mouth, you must bribe him little to give you a facial or pearl necklace. Now like I said if it’s a creampie it’s sticky, messy, a shower after type fuck.  
Add in is I do believe he cums a lot, now realistic but he's got a nice stream going and is the type to squeeze his tip to make sure every bit comes out.  
D- dirty secret, self-explanatory  
Hoon’s got a few dirty secrets I believe but I think the main one he possesses and will never let you know unless you find out is bragging. And although this does not seem off but it's the fact, he could do the nastiest freaky things to you and has no shame in bragging about it when the boys try to tease him over it.  
This is something that he says between the boys and the boys, he doesn't get too personal with it, but he spills it by saying it’s something they should try with their girlfriends. 
E- experience, do they know what they are doing? 
I think if he had experience it's only have been one person. Hoon doesn’t strike me as the type who bounces around, for example you two could have dated months and he’s going to be sad ab it for a bit because he takes him time to know if he wants to date or not. 
So, one person but he’s mostly learned everything he’s fond of by himself, by watching porn, reading about it, etc.  
F- favorite position 
I don't think Hoon is basic, but he does use positions that slightly branch from the basic ones. Also keep in mind he finds ways to use his muscle. So, it falls under missionary, but he most has your legs on his shoulders and his moving your hips for you. It allows him to use his arm muscles, he's able to kiss around your ankles because he loves your legs. If not that then most the time it is quite simple missionary. 
G- goofy 
No, unless a simple mistake happens, he's profoundly serious cause he thinks sex is intimate. 
H- hair, how groomed is he? 
I think he keeps himself groomed and trimmed is his favorite. I think there is something about him that likes to keep the bit of hair because it is a human body and its gonna grow. Now he’s not freaking out if it grows a bit longer than planned nor is he judging you because your pussy is pretty to him no matter what. 
I- intimacy, how are they during the moment 
Super intimate, sex is a moment where in your relationship you're showing each other love and affection. Even after an argument sex is something that helps you both realize you love each other. He’ll do anything to have intimate moments with you because he genuinely does cherish them.  
J- jack off, how often? 
A lot. I am a firm believer Hoon has a perverted side and sometimes he’s too embarrassed to admit a simple thing got him hard.  
I also do believe he’s a firm believer of the fact no one can make you cum like yourself. He thinks you should even have moments where even though you have him you nor he should be ashamed of pleasuring yourself 
K- kinks? Top three 
Top three for him is Marking, Teasing, and A bit of overstimulation?  
Many people like to make these kinks rough, but they don't have to be. He likes marking because to him he loves when you nibble on his skin while he fucks you, He loves seeing you squirm a little or having you leave him with a raging boner even, overstimulation he likes because to him it kind of reveals how much or how eager you two wants each other with no shame or remorse for yourself to stop.  
L- Location, favorite places  
He enjoys just sex in the house (he may like the couch more than the bed) but if he’s out he doesn't mind meeting you somewhere private. It’s strange he has that vibe too because I also feel like he gives car sex after a few dates. 
M- motivation, what riles him up 
Anything you do sexually obviously riles him up but something nonsexual that gets him every.single.time, is when you wear certain colors. He thinks romantic colors like red, pink a dark purple, or a nice clean white takes him out every time, double points of the outfit is revealing 
N- no, turn offs 
He’s jealous that something I'll has to agree with most people on this app. Does that mean he won't share? Not technically. (not shipping when I say this) but he won't do threesomes unless it's with someone close, we can you jake as an example. But he’s only gonna do it once and all jake is getting is head. 
Another ultimate turn off is when things feel forced, not like one forcing the other but more of if he feels you are just having sex because you haven't in like a week, yeah, it’s not getting up so don't bother babe, he thinks sex takes time.  
O- oral, preference of giving or receiving 
He prefers giving, I believe. It doesn’t bother him when you wanna give him head, he just doesn’t feel that same ego boosts as when has got you whining while he’s fucking you with his tongue. So, unless he just has the urge to cut down your throat, he’s probably gonna stop your mid-way to ravish you instead. 
P- pace, fast? Rough? Slow? Sensual? 
He’ll get down with everything I do believe. I think if he’s feeling more sensual, he’s keeping his thrusts slow and deep so that orgasm just builds up by the minute. Rough, this is my opinion, but a lot of ppl do make him seem the be super rough, but I don’t think he’s like that and if he is it’s only when you're asking for it. Other than that, his rough is a lil messy and a couple marks but I also think he keeps a medium pace and just makes sure every inch of him fills you. 
Q- quickie? 
So, when I said in the turn off category, he thinks sex takes time. If you get a quickie outta him it’s a giving you head quickie because if his baby needs to cum he’ll gladly help. Other than that, I don't believe out of enha he's a quickie guy. 
R- risk, what are they willing to risk for sex with you? 
If you seem eager to do it, then he’s making his baby happy. If it’s not ruining anything in any way, he’ll do it for you. If it’s something he’s willing to risk, then it was never important is what he'll tell you. 
S- stamina? How many rounds 
I think he can carry about three rounds in his belt, if it's a needy situation 4 but if that's the case then 1 or 2 of the sessions someone is getting head so eventually your guy's breath is caught up. I do believe he spaces these sessions out if it's a 4 rounder but barely does this happen. Other than that, he’s going about three rounds  
T- toys, do they like them? 
Yes, so as said, he does think it’s healthy for you two to have sessions by yourself and you can use toys together but if you two use them when it’s just your personal time.  
U- unfair? Do they often tease? 
He thinks it builds up the need for others. He would love it if you teased him too. I see him as a competition teaser where you two see who gives in first. 
V- volume? Are they vocal? 
He’s a 50/50, what he’s always gonna do is dirty talk, no matter if it’s whispering or full-blown words. Now vocal as moaning wise, he lets out the soft moans, but only the overstimulation hit where he gets louder. 
W- wild card? Something that just randomly makes him relentless 
Knowing someone's listening or watching, or even knowing what you just did. If you are leaving your space after sex and one of the guys makes it obvious then he's getting hard again knowing there’s someone who knew he got to be balls deep inside you. It riles him up knowing he’s that lucky and that someone is jealous enough to tease and try to make fun.  
X- x-ray? What's he giving down there? 
I think he’s skinny but decently big. His tip always stays a pink, he’s got a couple semi prominent veins depending on how long he’s been edge or has held a boner. His balls are settled too, nothing rlly different there, like said he’s nice and trimmed so has a little hair patch. All around he gives pretty dick vibes.  
Y- yearning? High or low sex drive? 
High or normal. Most the time high which I feel is why he’s a guy who takes his time, this man is not thinking about being buried in your cunt 24 hours of the day just for a quick fuck.  
Z- zzzz, how fast he falls asleep after 
He’s tired but he’s not going to sleep without letting you know he loves you and that he enjoyed making you cum, sometimes even tells you thank you. Give a couple of kisses and make sure you're comfy.  
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starryeyedjanai · 1 year ago
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@eddiemonth prompt: first concert | read on ao3
The first concert of Corroded Coffin's that Steve goes to, Eddie's a nervous wreck beforehand.
His hands are sweaty and he's wringing them as he paces outside after they get their equipment inside.
Jeff takes one look at him and sighs.
He knows how Eddie feels about Steve and he knows how important it is that they make a good impression on him. He might not understand the whole Steve thing, but he gets having a crush on someone unattainable.
Well-
When Eddie first told him about it, he thought it was just an unattainable little crush. Just something that happened because they got close after the earthquake. Steve was a new friend, someone Eddie hadn't known long enough to get used to, and he's - Jeff's not going to pretend he isn't attractive.
So he understood it, kind of. And the thought that the crush would fade once Eddie knew him for longer.
But Steve hanging around them, making an effort to get to know Jeff and Grant and Gareth, being nice to Jeff's mom- that had Jeff pausing and taking another look at the situation.
Because Steve didn't have to do any of that. He could hang out with Eddie, maybe the one freak he could tolerate, and call it a day.
But he was trying, and he was being better than he was in high school. Which, if anyone asks, Jeff would say he actually wasn't all that bad in high school compared to the others.
So Jeff looked a little more closely.
And saw the way Steve looks at Eddie, his eyes tracking him as he crosses the room. He saw the way Steve laughed at all of Eddie's jokes, even the ones he didn't understand. He saw the way Steve was always looking for an excuse to touch Eddie, putting a hand on his arm, putting a hand on his back, his arm around him, hugging him at the end of the night and the hugs lasting longer than any hug Jeff's ever had with a buddy.
He saw that and saw that this isn't a passing fancy for Eddie. He saw the way Eddie leaned into Steve unconsciously, the way he always looks for him first when entering a room, the way he lights up when he sees him. He saw the way Eddie seemed to like him more and more, and subsequently talk about him more and more, the more he got to know him.
So it wasn't just a crush.
And it wasn't unrequited like Eddie thought.
But now Jeff is watching him pace a hole in the ground and he can't exactly tell Eddie that he's 99% sure that Steve feels the same because 1. he wouldn't believe him and 2. that 1% of doubt is enough to deter him. This isn't something he can be wrong about. Even if feels mostly sure, he wouldn't ever say that he should go for it when it could turn ugly for him. This isn't a crush on some girl where the worst that could happen is that she says no.
So, for now, Jeff watches.
And Jeff hopes.
He hopes that they'll be able to see it for themselves. That Eddie will catch the way Steve looks at him and realize that it's the same way he looks at Steve.
He hopes that Steve will make a move, put those rumors of his suaveness to good use and woo Eddie.
He heads inside when he sees Gareth talking to Eddie, trying to calm him down.
He sees Steve and Robin, talking at a table near the front of the venue, and he makes a beeline for them.
"Jeff!" Steve says, smiling at him when he sees him coming over. He waves at both of them.
"Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?" he asks and when Steve furrows his brow and nods, he leads him away from Robin.
"What's going on?" Steve asks, looking worried.
He says, "Just, Eddie's really nervous about performing in front of you tonight. So, like, even if we suck or you don't like this kind of music, can you not say you didn't like it? Not that I think you'd be mean about it, but like-"
Steve looks at him confused. "I've listened to your tapes before. I like your music. I wouldn't- okay, I mean I'd still be here even if I didn't like it, but I do like it. Wait- why's Eddie nervous?" he asks. And Jeff hadn't planned on Steve asking that. Shit.
He says, "Because you're his coolest friend and he doesn't want to screw up in front of you."
Steve's expression softens. "I'm not- you know what? Okay. If it makes you feel better, I won't say I didn't like it."
"Okay," Jeff says, nodding, relieved. "And don't, like, mention I said anything."
"'Course," Steve says with a smile. "You're a good friend, Jeff."
Jeff grins at him and walks him back to his table. That 1% is looking awfully less and less with every conversation Jeff has with Steve.
The manager waves him over and tells them they can start setting up on stage, so he goes to get the others.
-
The show is good, once Eddie snaps out of his nerves.
It's actually impressive, seeing him with shaky hands as they get ready to start and then seeing him turn it on seamlessly like he was never nervous in the first place.
They play and Jeff watches the way Eddie keeps looking at Steve, keeps looking to make sure he looks like he's enjoying himself.
And Jeff sees Steve smiling the entire time, singing along to the cover songs they do and also to one of their original songs.
At the end of the night, after they get their stuff back in their van, he sees Eddie and Steve talking, standing close, one of Steve's hands playing with the hem of Eddie's shirt.
And he knows they'll get there eventually, even without his help.
They'll find their way to each other and see what Jeff sees.
He's sure of it.
As he gets in the driver's seat and looks over at Grant, he can only hope he'll get that too one day.
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sweetbans29 · 4 months ago
Text
Teach Me: The Art of You (THE END) - PB
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Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader
Previous Part
Summary: You and Paige have been best friends for the last 6 years. You trust her completely. And it is because of that trust that you ask her a rather forward question. AKA - You ask Paige to teach you.
Warnings: mature, like mature - mature
Word Count: 3.2k
Sweetbans Masterlist & Teach Me Masterlist
AN: Here we go...for the last time 🫠
Paige's lips met yours for what feels like the first time in forever. The kiss starts off gentle - her hands cupping your face as your hands rest on her chest. You can taste the saltiness of both of your tears mixed in with her lips.
You pull away, resting your forehead on hers.
"Can we go to bed?" You ask.
"Of course," Paige says and helps you up from the couch. The two of you make your way to her room. You crawl in her bed and open your arms to her. She looks down at you with the biggest smile and finds her place in your arms.
"Never wanna sleep without you again," Paige whispers into you.
"You never have to, B," you say and kiss the top of your head.
Over the next few weeks, life goes back to normal - well mostly normal except for the fact that you and Paige have actually started dating. No more having to restrict touches or steel glances. Paige was free to show the world she has been and will always be completely in love with you.
The regular season is coming to a close as the team prepares for March Madness. You alongside the other coaches are spending a lot more time reviewing film and watching other teams. Paige isn't a fan of how much time you are spending in the office but can't be mad that you, without fail, come home to her.
The team decides to go out for one last hurrah before they lock in and decide to do it at their favorite bar. Everyone is over at your apartment getting ready for your fun night out. You are in your room finishing getting ready as Paige is lying on your bed and scrolling through her phone. When she sees you are almost done she gets up.
"Mmmm ready?" She asks as she comes behind you snaking her arms around your waist. Her head finds its place on your shoulder as she looks at you through the mirror.
"Yep!" You say. "It's been so long since I've been out, long overdue."
Paige would be lying if she said she hadn't been thinking about you. Ever since the two of you officially got together the lessons had stopped. She didn't mind the fact that they stopped but each day kept getting progressively harder for her to keep her hands off of you.
"S'not the only thing overdue," Paige says as she moves your hair to one side of your neck and begins to leave a trail of kisses down the other.
You sigh, leaning back into her and letting her grace your skin with her lips. She holds you firm against her front as she makes a meal out of your neck. One of your hands rests on top of hers while the other comes up and holds her head in place on your neck.
"No marks," you moan as she sucks on your sweet spot.
"Gonna show them your mine," she breathes out sucking a little harder, her teeth grazing your skin.
You try to move away from her but she isn't having any of that.
"B, no marks," you say again. "I'll show them whose I am another way, trust."
She kisses down to your shoulder. "And how do you plan on doing that?" Paige asks.
"Well, you will just have to wait and find out," you say, your eyes struggling to stay open. "But won't have to if I'm all marked up."
Paige immediately removes her lips from your skin and you want to whine but know you are the one who stopped your girl in the first place. You look at her through your mirror and take in how beautiful she is. Your eyes trace every feature of her face.
Paige feels your gave and her cheeks begin to brighten.
"Why are you staring at me like that, ma?" She asks and hides behind you. You found it to be incredibly cute when she would get nervous around you even after knowing you for years.
"Can't you just let me admire my girlfriend," you say and turn around to face her. She no longer has a place to hide. Your eyes burn into her skin. "Stunning."
"Yo, you two ready or what?" You hear one of the girls yell and you respond.
"Ready, B?" You ask.
"Could just stay here," she says. You laugh.
"Ya right, come on B," you say grabbing her hand and leading her out of your room.
The team heads to the bar. Once you are through the door Paige grabs drinks for the two of you. When she comes back you down half of it in the first sip.
"Woo, slow down there. It's not going anywhere," Paige says, grabbing the glass from your hand.
"Hey!" You say, your hand reaching for the glass she just stole from you.
"Let the girl have some fun," Azzi says. "She has been working her ass off for us."
Paige looks betrayed that Azzi chose your side over hers. Azzi grabs the drink from Paige's hand and gives it back to you.
"Woooow, I see who the favorite it," Paige says.
"I have always been Azzi's favorite," you say and lean over to the curly-haired girl and away from Paige.
"As long as I am your favorite, we won't have any issues," Paige says grabbing your hand and intertwining her fingers with yours.
"Well..." both you and Azzi say at the same time. The look on Paige's face practically has you and Azzi laughing on the floor.
You pull Paige into a hug, moving your head to whisper perfectly in her ear.
"Don't worry, B - you know you're my favorite. Always have been, always will be," you say as you bring your tongue to the shell of her ear. A move you have learned riles her up faster than most.
Paige jerks away knowing it is way too soon to be leading you out of the bar. She wants to enjoy hanging out with the team before taking you home. She gives you a warning look and you just smile up at her and take another sip of your drink, a smaller sip than the first one.
You both spend time with the team, enjoying each other's company. You are three drinks in when you start dancing with some of the girls. All of which are letting loose and having a good time. Moving your body to the music, you raise your arms and sway your hips. It doesn't take you long to find your girl leaning against the bar watching you dance. You smile at her and make your way over.
"Dance with me B," you say grabbing her hand. She puts her finished drink on the bar and follows you to the middle of the dance floor.
You face her and wrap your arms around her neck, connecting your bodies and moving to the rhythm of the music. Her hands rest on your hips as she looks down at where your bodies connect.
You turn around, making sure her hands stay planted on your hips. Your arms go up in the air again as you begin to grind on her. You hear her let out the lightest gasp as you bend over. When you come up again, you move her hands to rest on your boobs. She gives them a squeeze before running her hands down your stomach, bringing your shirt slightly higher than it already is. Your hips never stoping.
One of your hands comes to cup the back of her head, guiding it to yours as you turn your face to the side meeting your lips together. The kiss is sloppy and rushed, filled with lingering hints of alcohol from your drinks. You turn to face her cup her cheek.
Your tongues fight for dominance, Paige desperate to win.
Before she can, you break the kiss and begin down her neck like she had done in your room. You pay attention to all right places causing the blonde to throw her head back. Your free hand toying with the string at her waistband.
"Take me home," you whisper in her ear.
Before you know it you are being pulled out of the bar. Paige storms past the team, your hand firmly in hers as she makes a beeline to the door.
"Where are you two going?" Evina yells.
"Evina, just enjoy your drink. We all know where they are going," Azzi says sipping her drink.
Paige has you back at your apartment in no time. The second the door shuts she has you pushed up against it. Before her lips connect with yours, you put a hand on her chest.
"What?" She asks until she sees your next move.
You push her back, taking your shoes off in the process, and have her walking backwards all the way to the couch. You push her to sit down as you ever so slowly move on top of her, straddling her.
She watches you in awe as your hands come to her torso, moving your hands up under her shirt. You lean down and plant a kiss on her shoulder.
"Imma need a little more than that, ma," she says, her breath already rigid. Paige has never been a fan of slow - all the hookups she has had have been quick and straight to the point. But as she was teaching you, she slowed down to match your speed. Now though, now she feels like she has made a mistake as she is eager to get to the finish.
"What's the rush babe?" You ask. "Plan on taking my time, still new to this ya know."
You bring your lips to kiss all along her collarbone. She leans her head back against the couch and lets you work. Your hands move to cup her breasts under her shirt and she removes it for you.
Your lips find their way to one of her nipples, swirling your tongue around it and sucking it lightly. Removing your lips from her skin, you cup both of them and kneed them.
"I love these," you say as you continue to massage your girls chest.
"All yours, ma," Paige's voice husky as she struggles to get the words out. You smile.
You kiss down her stomach, peppering kisses over the waistband of her pants. You hook your fingers in her waistband and look up at her for approval.
"Fuck ya, ma," she says as she lifts her hips up and you pull her pants down.
She is now watching your every move as your hands rub up and down her thighs and your lips sprinkle little kisses along the inner more sensitive parts of her legs. She spreads them for you as you park yourself on your knees in front of her.
Your trail of kisses makes its way to the bottom of the last piece of fabric separating you from where she wants you most. You begin to kiss over them, inching closer to her center. When you finally get to the place Paige has been patiently waiting for your lips to meet, she jolts forward.
You look up at her and kiss it again.
"So sensitive baby," you tease her as your hands bring her boxers down. She watches your every move anticipating the next. Never in a million years would she expect you to be the first to please her, she always imagined her pleasing you first. Yet here you are, on your knees just for her.
"May I?" You ask, your eyes trained on her center. Paige doesn't trust her voice and nods vigorously.
"Need to hear you babe," you tease her again. "Can't forget the rules now."
"Fuck the rules," she says and you take that as a green light.
You spread her legs even further apart as your tongue licks a strip of her. The moan she lets out is ungodly. One of her hands is placed on the back of your head while the other shoots its way to cover her mouth. You kiss her bundle of nerves and begin to work.
"Fuck ma, so good. So so good," she mutters as you work on her. One of your hands comes up to massage her left breast. You pick up the speed as moans fall freely from her mouth.
"Just like that, YES, oh fuck," her words coming out in breathy strings. "Close," Paige yells, not able to think of any other words.
You slow your movements to a stop and Paige whines. You look up at her with raised eyebrows as she looks down at you with furrowed ones. She watches you as you bring two of your fingers into your mouth sucking on them. She bites her lip as she watches you - anticipating your next move.
You brush over her sensitive bundle of nerves and her hips jerk forward, begging to be touched again.
You smile as you slowly line your fingers at her entrance. You kiss her thigh as your fingers enter her. Paige moans your name and you watch her in awe. All you want to do is make her feel good.
Your fingers work in her as your begin to suck on her center again. Paige is fisting the couch as she lets out moans left and right.
"Don't stop. Please don't stop," she moans as her back arches off the couch pushing her core closer to you. You work her through her high as she repeatedly says your name.
When she slumps against the couch, you remove your fingers and begin to kiss back up her stomach.
"That was so hot," you say as you kiss her lips.
"You are so hot," she says breathlessly. Her hand coming to cup your face and kissing you again. She tugs at your shirt and you break the kiss, allowing her to remove your shirt.
Paige stands and tells you to jump, which you gladly do, and wrap your legs around her waist. She immediately establishes dominance in the kiss as she walks you to her room. She lays you on the bed and in one swoop has your shorts off. You stare at her with your mouth agape and she just smirks down at you.
Paige crawls over you, causing you to squirm, and comes to kiss you. Your hands come to cup her breasts as she hovers over you. She breaks the kiss and laughs.
"What?" You ask.
She looks down at your hands on her chest and you feel yourself blush, immediately removing them.
"Don't stop," she says shifting her weight to bring your hands back to them. "Touch them, kiss them, suck them as much as you want - I meant it when I said they're all yours."
You smile and bite your lip.
"Never thought you would be a boob girl," she says chuckling, lowering herself to kiss you again. She kisses down your neck leaving all the marks in the world.
"Just yours, you say. "S'cute and little."
"Hey!" Paige jokes but you just pull her back to you. Your hand s come to claw at her back as you stifle moans whenever she finds a particularly sensitive spot.
She kisses down your stomach and grabs the waistband of your intimates, pulling them down with her teeth. You watch her as intently as she watched you just ten minutes ago.
Her lips meet your inner thighs as she hooks her arms around your legs to spread them and grab your ass.
"I've been dreaming about this forever," she says as kisses closer to your center. "How you would look spread out on my bed." You moan at her words and buck your hips craving any sort of friction.
"How you taste," she says as her tongue finds your center. She then goes to work making you feel good. You are a moaning mess as she is now the one feasting on you.
She slows down, removing her lips from your skin uses her thumb to keep a rhythm.
"Open up for me, ma," she says bringing two of her fingers up to your lips. You obey and welcome them in, swirling your tongue around them.
"Good girl," she says as she removes them, sinking down to where she just previously was. Her fingers begin to work in you as her lips attach to you once again.
"Paige," you moan. "Yes, Paige. PAIGE."
You are releasing in no time. Body twitching as you ride out your high. She removes her fingers from you but Paige doesn't stop. Her tongue keeps working on your overstimulated center. Your hands come to her head as your thighs close around her head.
"Paige!" You scream but she keeps going. She doesn't care if you suffocate her - hearing your moans and tasting you has her on a whole new high she never wants to come down from.
"Paige! Ahhh!" You are now trying to pull her head from you. She is relentless. Before you know it you are on cloud 9 once again.
After your ride your second high you fall back against the bed. Paige finally removes herself and lays next to you.
"Holy shit," you say breathless.
Paige laughs and pulls you into her side.
"Babe, we are just getting started," she says and begins to kiss your shoulder.
Your relationship with Paige grows. The two of you continue your time at UConn and are now known as a couple but will always be best friends first.
The two of you walk side by side into Paige's multiple injuries - you being there every step of her recovery and keeping her sane when she feels like she is going crazy. Encouraging her to work on her mental game and not rush the healing process, knowing she wants to get back on the court as soon as possible. You keep her grounded.
Side by side when she decides to stay at UConn for a fifth year - which Geno gladly accepts and knows you would be staying on the coaching staff. He hires you full-time after you graduate but knows you will be going wherever Paige gets drafted.
Side by side when she carries the team back to the final four and then to the championship. Although if anyone were to ask you, and they did, you would say you played a major part in getting them back to the championship. Ultimately winning it all.
Side by side when Paige goes to the draft and gets drafted to the WNBA - moving to a new city and beginning life outside of Storrs.
Side by side when she asks you to marry her, with your dad's permission of course. Letting you plan the wedding of your dreams which really only included her. She watches as you plan the perfect day for both of you and always makes sure that she is okay with your decisions.
Side by side in life. When you tell people about your story, Paige tells them that the two of you have been together since before high school. She likes to say she knew you were the one for her when you walked into the gym during summer training before freshman year. This always gets you to roll your eyes, knowing she actually didn't like you until the end of freshman year but you let her tell the story her way. And you do, you always let her tell your story her way because it never ceases to amaze you how her eyes light up even brighter each time.
You look at Paige and you know. Know that there is no one else on this earth who is a better fit for you. No one who could ever love you better or be better for you than she. You know when you are side by side with her, you have nothing to fear, nothing to worry about because it's Paige. And to you, Paige is your home.
AN: WE DID IT BAN-FAM! WE DID IT! Let me know how you feel about this whole journey, I would genuinely love to know. And as always, thank you for the love and support 💙
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lexirosewrites · 3 months ago
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Happy Slick Sunday to all those who celebrate!
I've been trying to think about how I would write a modern day au and this idea has been floating a round for a while now.
So basically I'm thinking of Omega Steve who, feeling a little abandoned and aimless after his friends and the kids to off to college, agrees to marry his parents chosen Alpha. He wants kids! And a partner! And since he never got out of Hawkins he thinks that this is the best way to do it since no one else in town is interested in washed up Omega Steve anymore.
So they get married and bonded in the same night and things go alright for a little while. Alex (the Alpha) is fine if a little boring and mostly let's Steve do his own thing. Steve brings up the topic of kids, the one thing he really married Alex for, and he's wishy washy about it. Always with an excuse about timing and work and preparedness and eventually it becomes a Thing. Steve isn't going to let it go and Alex isn't giving him what he wants so they start fighting. And then Alex starts coming home later. And then he starts getting angry and pushy until he finally comes home and they have a blow out and he pushes Steve into the wall, at which point both Steve and his Omega are finally in agreement that it is no longer safe here with his mate.
Omega or not Steve isn't going to get pushed around by his Alpha, so after Alex goes to bed, Steve packs a small bag and loads up his car. He's pissed and scared and has no plan but knows if Alex wakes up and tracks him down he's going to be in a world of hurt so on his last pass through the house he picks up his old baseball bat from the hall storage closet and a handful of nails from the junk drawer. As quietly as he can Steve smashes the headlights on Alex's car and shoves nails in all four tires and then he's running to his car and driving.
He drives until his tank is near empty and then he fills up and drives again for almost 24 hours and on a stretch of road in the middle of nowhere he realizes his front tire has slowly been loosing air for miles. He gets out to check it out and, of course, there's a nail lodged in there.
The road is empty and he's going to have to drag everything out from his trunk to get to the spare and the idea is so exhausting after not sleeping for almost two days on top of the distress his Omega is feeling about their abandoned bond and he just starts crying right there on the side of the road.
Then up comes Alpha Eddie Munson, operator of the rehab ranch two miles East if where Steve's car broke down, on horseback of all things. He was just checking the perimeter of the property and happened to spot the broken down car, not uncommon in these parts and it's always been the facilities protocol to help travelers in a pinch. He calls out, startling the man hunched over by his car, and is met with the most stunningly beautiful man he's ever seen. Hopping off his horse he gets closer and smalls the acrid sent of Omega in distress, causing all his instincts to go haywire.
Without meaning to he let's out a couple little cuffs and crowns as he approaches the sniffling Omega and Steve, who would usually be incensed at this strange Alpha's familiarity chirps back, his Omega desperately needing the care.
Eddie takes him back to the ranch, insisting he rest since it's obvious Steve hasn't slept in a while, and they'll come back tomorrow morning when the light is better to fix the car.
Of course Steve never ends up leaving. Instead, once Eddie learned about why Steve is on the run, he offers Steve sanctuary and work on the ranch for however long he wants it. Eddie runs the rehap facility with Wayne and his mate Benny, but he can always use extra hands taking care of the animals and fields. Steve starts to feel a sense of identity and peace taking car of the animals and feels himself falling in love with the Alpha that brought him here and is always so kind and patient when teaching Steve a new skill. They spend their nights on the porch of the main house talking and watching the stars.
Of course there's the matter of his mating bite still at hand. As Steve gets closer and closer to Eddie he begins to notice his mating glad looking infected. Hot and red and swollen and he begins to feel light headed on the job. When Eddie asks permission to court Steve just two months after his arrival it feels too good to be true, but of course he accepts.
Unfortunately, his condition rapidly worsens until he is forced to confess exactly what's going on to a very concerned Eddie. Steve's body is rejecting his bond, a process that is extremely rare and painful. Wayne has seen this once before, and regrets to tell them that once the rejection reaches its peak it will feel like the worst detox imaginable and will likely last several days. Luckily, Steve couldn't be in a better place to ride it out.
Eddie takes care of Steve throughout his detox. Helpless as Steve writhes and vomits and cries for the Alpha his body is rejecting just to get some relief. All he can do is whisper sweet things in his Omega's ear, make sure he eats and drinks, and help him change out of his sweetly clothes.
Steve, of course, makes it through his detox and after a few days of rest feels lighter than he has in years. Eddie ramps up his courting efforts immediately, instincts on high after so many days of Steve being unwell. He sents Steve obsessively and brings him whatever small babbles he can afford on his meager salary and plays his acoustic for Steve every night on the porch.
After four months of courting, just long enough for Steve's gland to heal completely and his hormones to return to a neutral state, they bond under the start sky.
After that they're insatiable. Messing round in the hayloft, against the side of the barn, behind the old silo no one uses anymore. Eddie is always whispering in Steve's ear about breading him and giving him all the pups his Omega can handle with gets Steve keaning and begging in no time. Not even two months after their bonding Steve realizes he's pupped, and he couldn't be happier.
agahsgdve i think divorce/bond-breaking in omegaverse is so cool! what’s a more fun way to symbolize the end of a relationship than a whole process where your body entirely rejects your mating?🥰
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writingwithciara · 2 months ago
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wanna be -nico hischier-
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summary: knowing he can't be her first boyfriend, nico wants to be the first for everything else. but does y/n feel the same?
word count: 2.2k
pairings: nico hischier x reader
notes:
masterlist
"nico, i just don't understand what i did wrong this time." y/n's voice came out as strangled sobs through the speakers in nico's car.
"nothing. you did nothing wrong." nico assured her as he looked out the window. he slowed to a stop just outside y/n's apartment building and waited. "come down and we can go for a ride. i know that always cheers you up."
"i'll be down in a minute." she sniffled and grabbed her hoodie. she made sure to wipe her eyes, even though nico already knew she was crying.
nico waited by the passenger door for y/n and when he saw her, he helped her get in before going back to the driver's seat.
"so, where are we driving to?"
"out of town for a few nights, if that's okay with you."
"i don't have anything packed."
"don't you worry your pretty little head, sweetheart. i have an old practice jersey and some sweats you can borrow for the night. and i'll take you shopping in the morning." he glanced at her and smiled.
"okay." she let a smile creep onto her face. "so now that i know we're going out of town, where exactly are we going?"
"atlantic city." he smiled and handed her the aux cord. if there was anything he had learned over the past few years of knowing her, it was that when she was upset, she liked to pick the music.
"why atlantic city?"
"well i was already going to go there for a few days. in fact, i was almost out of town when you called me."
"oh. didn't mean to interrupt your fun." she sulked.
"nonsense. if anything, you being here made it fun. seriously, who goes to atlantic city alone?"
"guys who need to get laid, i guess." she glanced over at him. "wait, was that what you were planning?"
"what? no. don't be ridiculous." he chuckled, but y/n wasn't buying it. "okay fine. maybe i was hoping for it a little bit. but it wasn't my main goal."
"don't let me stop you from having your fun, then." she smiled and got more comfortable in her seat. "in fact, i think i might try to find someone too. god knows i could use it."
"what do you mean?"
"it means i'm a 24 year old virgin, nico. i've had like 2 boyfriends my entire life and only 1 freaking kiss. how pathetic is that?"
"i don't think it's pathetic at all."
"you don't have to be nice about it. i know it's weird."
"okay, maybe a little." he stopped at a light. "but weird is good. if everyone was normal, the world would be boring."
"oh how i love your never ending optimism." she turned slightly in her seat to face him. "thank you, by the way. you're the only person i know who would go out of their way to come rescue me, even if you had plans."
"priorities, dove." he reached for her hand and smiled a little to himself when she squeezed his in return.
the rest of the drive to atlantic city was mostly silent. but when nico got closer to the hotel, he broke the silence & scared y/n.
"so i know you told me you didn't want to spend another moment thinking about that asshole, but i can tell that he's on your mind right now and i want to know if there's anything i can do to make you forget about him."
"nico, you're sweet. really you are. but there's only one thing i need right now and that's to go soak in a tub for an hour."
"okay. hot tub or bathtub?"
"whatever one works. i would like some company though so i'm hoping there's a hot tub."
"it's atlantic city. i'm sure there is a hot tub. but if not, i booked a suite so the tub in the bathroom is about the size of a hot tub. we could just wear our swimsuits in there."
"oh crap. i don't have a swimsuit."
"then when we get to the hotel, i'll run a bath for you and while you're relaxing, i'll go down to the shop and pick one out for you."
"nico, you don't have to go through all this trouble for me."
"that's what friends are for, right? to cheer their other friends up?"
"you're right." she smiled and got out of the car when he parked. he grabbed his bag and looked at her.
"so, relaxing tonight and shopping tomorrow?"
"you bet." y/n waited for nico to check in and when he got the key, she followed him into the elevator.
"before i forget, there's a king size bed. you can have it. there's also a couch & for this trip, i will be sleeping there."
"nico, we have shared a bed before. an even smaller bed, might i add. so sharing a king should be a piece of cake."
"okay, fair point." nico chuckled. when the elevator opened up to their floor, nico let y/n exit first. he followed her to their room and he unlocked the door.
the room was way bigger than nico anticipated. he watched as y/n walked over to the balcony doors. she opened them and stepped outside.
"this is beautiful, nico." she breathed in the fresh air and nico admired the way her hair flowed in the breeze. he didn't want to admit it but he knew he was attracted to his best friend. always had been.
he just didn't want to say anything because he knew she wouldn't reciprocate the feelings.
he must've zoned out because before he knew it, y/n was waving her hand in his face. he chuckled and looked back out at the city.
"and he's back." she smiled and leaned against the railing beside him. "what were you thinking about?"
"the breathtaking view." he glanced over at her. "sorry about that, by the way."
"it's alright, neeks." y/n looked at him. "so, i noticed there was a hot tub. wanna go down and sit in it for a bit with me?"
"yeah, sure." nico pushed himself away from the railing and paused at the door. "we need to get you something to wear though."
"oh, right. i completely forgot about that." she scratched her arm. "maybe we should just stay in tonight then."
"are you sure?" he looked back at her and she nodded. "well, if that's what you want, i can still run that bath for you and you can relax in there for a bit."
"thank you, nico." y/n sat on the edge of the bed and waited as nico went into the bathroom and ran the bath water.
"hey y/n?"
"yeah?"
"rose blossom or lavender sugar?"
"rose blossom, i guess." she picked at her finger nails and waited until she heard the water turn off. nico walked out of the room and saw her picking at her fingers.
"you alright?" he asked calmly
"what?" she stood up and walked towards him. "yeah. i'm fine." she walked into the bathroom and started taking her clothes off.
"i'm gonna go down to the shop to see if i can find a swimsuit for you. are you good here by yourself?" nico asked through the closed door.
"yes. thank you nico." she smiled and leaned her head against the side of the tub.
30 minutes later, y/n was slowly drifting off to sleep but was interrupted by a knock on the bathroom door.
"you alright in there?"
"yeah. just relaxed and a little sleepy."
"why don't you get out of the tub and get into some comfy clothes? we can watch a movie and fall asleep."
"okay. i'll be out in a minute." she started climbing out of the tub and when she grabbed a towel, she realized she didn't have anything to change into. "um, nico?"
"yes, sweetheart?"
"i don't have anything to wear tonight."
"got my jersey and some sweats for you out here. want me to bring them to you?"
"yeah. just one second." she wrapped herself in the towel just in time for nico to open the door. he was holding the clothes in one hand and covering his eyes with the other. "thank you." y/n smiled as she took the clothes from nico. "i'll be out in a minute."
nico closed the door and went back to the bed. he flipped through netflix and found a movie he knew y/n loved. when she finally came out of the bathroom, nico tried his best to not stare at her but with the way his old practice jersey hung off her body, he couldn't help but admire her. he also found it a little funny that his sweatpants were incredibly loose on her and she had to hold them up as she climbed onto the bed. she struggled a little bit so nico held her arm to help.
"there you go." he chuckled when she wiggled herself under the blanket.
"oh, this is comfy." y/n pulled the blanket tighter, causing nico to laugh again.
"you look so adorable." nico tapped the edge of her nose and she glared over at him. her face immediately turned red and she tried to hide it.
"thank you."
"you're welcome." he turned back to the tv and pressed play.
sixteen candles
"oh, you remembered my favorite movie."
"of course i did." he smiled and opened his arms. he started second guessing his decision but when y/n made herself comfortable against him, he held her close.
as the movie played, y/n watched it intently but nico's attention stayed on her the entire time. he twirled some of her hair between his fingers and and with the other arm, he slowly stroked up and down her arm. she sighed with content and turned to look up at him.
"thank you for tonight, nico. i really needed to relax and let off some steam."
"hey. no problem. i love helping you. and if anyone deserves to let off some steam, it's you."
without warning, y/n leaned up and kissed him. but just as quickly as it started, it ended. she pulled away from him and put a little distance between them.
"oh my god. i am so sorry. i just got caught up in the moment and i just....i'm so sorry." she put her head in her hands and was not prepared for what came next.
nico gently picked her up and placed her on his lap. "you do not need to apologize, y/n. especially not for kissing me." he looked at her lips and chuckled lightly. "you're so effortlessly perfect."
"i'm really not." she hid her face with her hair and nico moved it out of the way.
"yes, you are. and i know the reason you don't believe it is because the 2 guys you dated before, and every other guy in your life made you feel that way. but it's true. you're so incredibly beautiful and you have the biggest heart of anyone i know. why nobody has realized this, is beyond my understanding. but if i have to spend the rest of my life trying to make you see how special you are, then i'll do that."
"really?"
"yeah." he whispered softly and looked up at her. before she could reject the idea, nico closed the gap between them and kissed her. it started slow and passionate but quickly escalated. intensity flowed between them as their tongues battled against each other.
y/n pulled away and swiftly removed the jersey from her body. when she noticed nico staring at her, she leaned back a little more. "i-is this okay with you?"
"of course. but only if you're comfortable with it."
"you're the only person i'm comfortable with." she leaned back in to kiss him passionately. nico's hands moved up and down her sides as she continued to press herself into him.
neither of them could believe what they were about to do, but it was obvious they both wanted it more than they've wanted anything else in their lives.
as they shed the rest of their clothes, the event that started off sweet and slow quickly turned passionate and intense. y/n may have had doubts about being a virgin at 24, but now she's glad she waited. to her, there was no one more perfect to lose it to than the man she trusted with her entire life.
after an intense hour, they collapsed on the bed. the breath leaving both of them at a rapid pace.
y/n turned to face nico and smiled. "wow. that was...perfect. thank you nico."
"if anything, i should be thanking you."
"really? why's that?"
"that was the best sex i've ever had. hard to believe it was your first time."
"r-really?" y/n couldn't help but blush at his comment. "you really know how to make a girl feel special."
"i love you." nico blurted out. "i always have and i think it's pretty obvious now."
"yes. i would say so." she giggled and kissed him softly. "in case it's not obvious enough at this point, i love you too."
"good." nico moved the hair from her face and smiled. "i'm going to take you on a real date when we get back home."
"looking forward to it." y/n climbed back on top of him and kissed him again. and again. and again.
to the both of them, the night couldn't get anymore perfect.
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