#but either because I wasn't paying attention or because I'm accustomed to it I don't notice it'

[adiradirim]

Now that I think about it, the problem isn't that three boys can stand at a street corner and cry "Death to the Yids', but that the cry goes unobserved and unopposed, like the tinkling of a bell on a tram. Sometimes, sitting alone at home, I realize I can suddenly hear the ticking of the clock. It has been beside me all along but, either because I wasn't paying attention or because I'm accustomed to it, I don't notice it. It has got lost, along with many other familiar little noises, in a kind of silence that swallows the sound of things around. Out of this stillness, you get suddenly caught off-guard by the clock ticking with unsuspected violence and energy. The ticks strike in short, clipped beats, like the blows of tiny metal fists. It's not a clock any more, it's a machine gun. The sound covers everything. fills the room, grates on your nerves. I hide it in the wardrobe - it resounds even from there. I smother it beneath a pillow - the sound continues, distant and vehement. There's no cure but to resign yourself. You have to wait. After a while, by some miracle, the attack is over, the cogs settle down, the second hand relaxes. You can no longer hear it: the ticking has blended back into the general silence of the house, merged with the general hum of all the other objects. Exactly the same thing happens with that age-old call for death, which is always present somewhere on Romanian streets, but audible only at certain moments. Year after year it resounds in the ear of the common man, who is indifferent, in a hurry, with other things on his mind. Year after year it rumbles and echoes in street and byway, and nobody hears it. And one day, out of nowhere, behold how it suddenly pierces the wall of deafness around it, and issues from every crack and from under every stone. Out of nowhere? Well, not really. What is required is a period of exhaustion, of stress, of tense expectancy, a period of disillusionment. And then the unheeded voices are audible again."

Mihail Sebastian, Two Thousand Years (trans. Philip Ó Ceallaigh), originally published 1934, Romania

[pressureplus]

Can I request a sebastian x scene fem!reader? At first I was going to choose gyaru but someone already made it. Reader often visits Sebastian's shop to talk and Sebastian often asks about her scene style.

I got you brother, as a lover of the Scene/Gyaru styles myself, I'm gonna have some fun!

Your Name

Pairings: Sebastian Solace x Scene!Fem!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: Romance, Sebastian is bad at feelings

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜

“Its you again.” His voice is smooth and calm, hands clasped together the way they always are everytime you wander into his shop. You manage to wiggle your hips right on through and finally crawl into his shop. God these vents are an uncomfortable squeeze sometimes. You stand up, running your hands through your hair in a weak attempt to fix the mess as you walk over to Sebastian.

“Yeah, hey. My bad I know I promised Id be here sooner but my hair has been a-”

“Let me.” He hums and swats your hands away gently, you two more than friendly enough for him to touch you. Even though he wasn't particularly an overly touchy man he still allowed himself to reach out for you every now and then. Plus he didn't just shoot or throw you whenever you reached out to touch him either. What was special about you? You had no idea. A part of you assumed it had something to do with his curiosity. It seems he had never really seen somebody with your style before. The fluffier and ‘weird’ hair, the multicolored charms and jewelry you had on. He’d found you strange to begin with but eventually grew very very curious. All his questions leading him to requesting you come back so you could answer more at a later date. Now you come in whenever you can, now that you think about it, maybe its the familiarity he likes?

“You really should be more careful- I don't exactly have hair ties and hairspray laying around. Expendable or not, don't be clumsy and stupid.” He notes as his hands comb through your hair. His touch is gentle as he tries not to accidentally claw your scalp while fixing it for you. You're certain the position he’s bent himself into to do this for you can't be comfortable. Still you allow it. For a while you both remain silent, the closeness leaving you a little pink, not that he seems to notice.

“Ah, Im trying my best, but I swear Pandemonium has it out for me.”

“That bastard again?” You can almost watch his eye twitch as he huffs. His hands finally moving away from your head to reach into his bags. He sort of messes around with the items in there before managing to pull out a hair tie. Odd how despite claiming he doesn’t have one, he has one available for you? You're half expecting him to hand it to you, but no. He spins you around himself to tie it up for you.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting your hair out of your face. You want to survive, don't you?”

“Of course I do, but I mean…why are you putting it up for me? I have hands you know.”

“Your bracelets get caught sometimes. Don't think I haven't noticed that.” You pause.

“Youve been paying attention to me?”

“Whenever you're in my shop? Yes. I've got to watch everyone's hands, Y/N.” You sit in a shaken silence. He seems quick to join you and for a moment his hands still. He’s gone and called you by your name. You're fairly certain, based on the sudden stillness, that he didn't want you to know he knew it. At the very least he hadn't meant to call you that. You'd gotten aggressively called Expendable since the moment you signed up for this job. Honestly, your own name sounded foreign on his tongue. He clears his throat and finishes up with tying your hair back.

“Its done, you can leave now.”

“No wait- Dont you have questions for me today?”

“Nope.” He turns his head away, face red. His arms quickly crossing over his chest. A silently defensive position you've grown accustomed to whenever you push one too many buttons.

“Oh come on, don't be shy just because you called me by my name. I'm not gonna tease you for it!”

“Dont care. Get out.”

“Sebastian, come on! You were so happy to learn about my belt collection back at home just yesterday!”

“And I'm not today. You may leave, escort yourself out, remove yourself from the premises, or whatever terms you want to use.”

“You know considering I never told you my name in the first place, and you never cared enough to ask, you must've been looking for it.”

“No-”

“Have you been trying to find out my name, Sebastian? Clearly you managed it. Is it safe to assume you like me?” You attempt to tease him and he’s quick to shift himself down to your height again. A hand grabbing you by the front of your gear and tugging you up towards his face. A low rumbling growl emanating from him, teeth bared.

“I didn't go looking for it, and I certainly don't like you. Remember who you're…talking…” He trails off. His eyes locked on yours. He can't help the almost doe eyed expression he makes, his teeth no longer fully exposed and his mouth slightly ajar. As though he’d entirely lost his train of thought. From this close you could see every little fleck of blue in his eyes individually. Even glowing you could see the slightest of color changes.

“You uh…you alright?” You mutter as he stares. He’s slow when he releases you, his face pulling away a bit. A silence settles between you two for a moment before he speaks up again.

“Your eyeliner.”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you uh, always do it like that?”

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

hello >_<!! Since this account made me obsessed with Geo i found the courage to ask a request :3 (imsorryifit'snotcomfortableforyou😭)

Geo x Clumsy GN!reader (like, falling into the thinks you would least expect, so me frfr)

Bumblerbee (Geo x Clumsy! MC/Reader)

First and foremost, welcome to the Geo cult appreciation blog, Anon. Secondly, do not be shy to ask me whatever request you desire, I'm happy to be getting anything, and the fact you entrust me with this is an honorary privilege in itself. ❤️ φ(*⌒▽⌒)ﾉ

Anyway! I hope you enjoy Anon! d=(´▽｀)=b

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Bumbler: someone who makes mistakes because of incompetence.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

Geo was mildly concerned when you fell down the stairs. Then you smacked into a pole. Then you tripped on a branch.

All in the span of 13 fucking minutes.

It was honestly mildly respectable, how often one can simply bumble, trip and tumble around like you did.

You always seemed to be elsewhere mentally, not focused on your surroundings, or daydreaming away in that gorge- pretty head of yours.

People often made fun of you for it, labelling you as the school's klutz.

Unfortunately, said people who targeted you were also the same girls who liked to pick on Brittney; so when she and Crowe made you the groups' newest appendage (due to the fact Brit felt protective over you), he then began to bear witness to your marvellous collapses every time he saw you at lunch.

He expected you to cry when he first saw you fell, scraping the skin off your shins, but you instead winced and seemed to take in the fact you were an existing, living being; and you'd try to not slip away into your thoughts again.

He decided after a while that your mettle for falling must be sturdy, if you don't simply learn to pay attention to your immediate vicinity after each time it happened.

Eventually you and him held a conversation, and he acknowledged that you were...surprisingly capable.

You were intelligent, witty and even mildly attractive.

And you didn't make him want to commit arson everytime he saw you, so he grew accustomed to your existence.

Then he started enjoying it. A bit too much.

The amount of times you're either reading or otherwise preoccupied and on the verge on slipping, bumping, or falling into/onto something is astonishing.

So he eventually pulls you aside and bluntly tells you to pay attention to your surroundings, lest you one day get hurt. "You're an idiot. What happens if you bludgeon your head in? Get a concussion?" "Ohoho! Is Geo worried about my safety?" "No. I am simply tired of watching you make a circus out of yourself." "So you do care!" "I do not." "Liar, why did you pull me aside then?" "Shut up."

Anyway, he decides if you won't take care of yourself, he's gonna supervise you.

Then he notices the little skips in your step, the faraway glances you give at the sky when you deem it pretty (which is fucking always, to his dismay).

That's when you got stung by a bee.

And also when he started referring to you as a bumblerbee.

His bumblerbee.

People were obviously discombobulated at the fact he was essentially tailing you everywhere you went, but all he had to do was gift them the most malicious side-eye he would conjure.

(Geo would side-eye so hard though holy shit).

If you were distracted, he would make you tell him about your day, desiring for you to start rambling to him so he can take notes find out more about this clumsy bumblerbee that he's invested in.

Eventually your charm gets to him. He starts becoming more and more fond of you (pff, as if he wasn't already).

He now basically is always ready to firmly stop you from falling/bumping into something.

Until he realises you also get pushed down stairs for shits and giggles.

And these people already harmed Brittney, so obviously he already knows their addresses, credit card numbers and their workplaces.

If they end up temporarily disappearing/hospitalised, he had nothing to do with it.

And Geo has no reason to lie, now does he?

(Don't answer that).

Likes to watch you read, or better yet, tell him about your thoughts, he wants to know every single little detail about you what you like, dislike, want to set on fire, etc.

Acts nonchalant, but is secretly trying not to melt into a puddle.

His desire to protect you from other worthless people (and inanimate objects) is inhumanely strong. Expect him to start showing it more often as the months go by.

Asks you out when you give him a potted plant. He didn't even realise he did, he was too excited.

(You said yes. Obviously. I mean, you don't have a choice; but do you care? No! You love him too).

Will probably accidentally call you bumblebee at some point (you never let him live it down, dw). Geo really likes making sure you don't trip, after all, it means he can be close to you for as long as he wants. Which is forever. And you're more than happy with that.

[rosalindwrites]

Chained Emotions

Word count: 675

I don't think there are any warnings, but if there is, let me know! Maybe some jealousy?

The halls of the Duel Academy echoed with the footsteps of students, and Zane Truesdale was no exception. His sharp gaze scanned the bustling surroundings until it landed on you, chatting animatedly with a fellow classmate, fellow Obelisk Blue student Ethan.

Zane's heart tightened as he observed Ethan leaning in, a bold smile gracing his face as he asked you something. The intensity in Zane's eyes flickered, replaced by a subtle, unfamiliar emotion—

Jealousy?

He was not accustomed to these feelings, especially not for someone like you

But there it was, clawing at the edges of his usually composed demeanor.

As Ethan walked away, leaving you standing there by yourself, Zane approached with an unreadable expression.

"What did he want?" he asked, his voice betraying none of the emotions swirling within.

You looked up at Zane, a bright smile on your face. "Oh, he just asked me if I wanted to grab lunch sometime. Nothing serious."

Zane's jaw tightened imperceptibly, and he nodded, seemingly indifferent. "I see."

The next few days were filled with an unusual tension. Zane found himself paying more attention to your interactions with others, but particularly Ethan. He couldn't pinpoint why it bothered him so much, but the mere thought of you going out with someone else made his chest tighten with unease.

One evening, you found Zane alone on the rooftop of the Obelisk dorm, staring into the horizon. The sunset painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, a stark contrast to the turmoil that battled within Zane.

"You've been acting a little strange lately," you remarked, breaking the silence.

Zane glared at you, his expression guarded. "I don't know what you're talking about."

You sighed, taking a seat beside him. "Zane, I’ve known you long enough. Something's bothering you, don’t bullshit me."

He hesitated, then finally spoke. "It's just... I saw Ethan asking you out the other day. It bothered me."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Zane, it's not like that. I turned him down because I'm not interested."

Zane looked away, a mix of relief and uncertainty in his usually calculated eyes. "Why does it bother me so much, then?"

You chuckled softly, reaching for his hand. "Maybe you're not as unfeeling as you pretend to be, Zane."

He pulled his hand away, his walls still intact. "Feelings are a distraction, (Y/N). They make you vulnerable."

You sighed, realizing that breaking down Zane's emotional barricade would take time. "You don't have to be invincible all the time, Zane. It's okay to feel."

Days turned into weeks, and the tension between you and Zane lingered. One day, as you dueled in the academy arena, Ethan approached afterwards, wanting to congratulate you on a well-fought match. Zane watched from a distance, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

After Ethan left, Zane approached you with an uncharacteristically determined expression. "Let's go out tonight. Just you and me."

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the impromptu invitation. "Alright, Zane. But,” You smirked, “What's the occasion?"

He glanced away, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Consider it... a strategic move."

That night, as the two of you strolled through the academy gardens, Zane found himself opening up in ways he never thought he would to anyone, especially not you. You began to discover the complexities beneath his cool exterior, and as the night unfolded, so did Zane's realization—he wasn't just protecting his pride; he was guarding his heart.

As the moon cast a soft glow on the two of you, Zane took a deep breath, his gaze locking onto yours. "I may not understand these emotions completely, but I know one thing—I don't want you with anyone else."

You smiled, a warmth spreading through your chest. "I don't want that either, Zane."

In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the night, Zane and you forged a connection that surpassed the boundaries of the Duel Academy. The chains around Zane's emotions began to loosen, and perhaps, in the midst of his jealousy, he had found something worth fighting for.

[fluffy-deer-bunny]

09/30/2022. 22:20 - 02:00.

You know, it really helps me personally to look from time to time not only at artists whose skill inspires me, or even amazes me, but also at those whose skills seem less impressive due to the lack of compliance with certain rules of drawing.

Someone says that his anatomy is weak, someone says so for the design, someone for the color or shade, but in fact they all talk about one thing: about observing some laws to the right extent. We are very accustomed to these "laws of accuracy", as I would like to call them. Watching them everywhere, especially among professionals, we constantly absorb examples of not only the beautiful embodiment of ideas, but also the correct design of advertising. Because, in fact, what we draw now advertises us, and advertising, in turn, must be brought under certain criteria, which we may not pay attention to at all, but they either attract the eye and interest of the observer, or not very much.

So that's what I'm talking about... Understanding in our time how to work with advertising, it's very important; I would even say that this is one of the most important skills for those who live in the current society.

It's also important to understand that I don't mean "following the rules of drawing" as the main aspect for achieving quality advertising. Drawing has no rules, it is a free field (copyright is a separate issue), except for those with the help of which art is perceived by the mind as something particularly interesting. And it's precisely on this thought that all the teachings on attracting attention to the necessary material object stand: thanks to the correct use of certain techniques, this result can be achieved.

But that's not the most important thing either.

I've been trying to draw in recent months, keeping "my" style in order to have more examples of my own "brand". By this I developed the presentation of myself, that is, I studied advertising. And I liked it and like it, but sometimes I began to experience a stupor before when I just didn't understand how to draw further.

I got this feeling because I was fixated too much on advertising as a presentation of myself through my ideas, which in its own way reveals my current problem. For it now consists in the fact that I'm very susceptible to change because of someone else's influence from outside. I notice that I copy people where it wasn't only not necessary to do this, but where I already begin (without realizing it) to be hypocritical. And when a moment arises when I can’t draw or finish something, relying on my own style or certain techniques, I notice how two seemingly incomparable desires manifest in me: to draw freely, like a child, and not to lose criteria for presenting a picture as an advertisement.

Not that it's impossible.

Such a combination is absolutely achievable, and you know how? Namely, as do those artists who managed to become famous thanks to their work, while continuing to be free in their field.

They are free. Consciously or not, they know that they can draw not only for the sake of advertising, but also for themselves, who simply want to create. For the sake of pleasure and for the sake of calming the nerves, consoling yourself &/or others.

Success in your favorite profession is built on the balance of these two things.

But my personal mistake is in the perception of myself from the outside, where I deliberately judge and belittle myself as a person who always does SOMETHING WRONG. Therefore, I sometimes feel the impossibility of creating. This stupor arose because of the fear of perceiving oneself from the outside without a feature taken from someone, but with its own. That is, it's just self-loathing!

What I considered mine, I doubted in every possible way due to the fact that in the thoughts of others (as it seemed to me) this could be considered wrong (because of a DOUBT – is an absolutely alien opinion), and obediently caved in under certain criteria of behavior that she thought up for myself.

So I didn't notice that I was still being hypocritical to myself.

So...

What led me to these thoughts? In addition to thoughts about the relation of oneself to the Mirrors.

Seeing myself from the outside every time I get out of bed and live another day, I voluntarily-compulsorily saw in myself a feature that relates me to the Mirrors from The World of Terra, who truly perceive the world as it is. The world is a reflection of me, as well as vice versa.

To perceive the WORLD, that is, literally EVERYTHING, is impeccable, remaining steadfast and calm, wise and prudent, free, not afraid of death, as an immortal being that knows the processes of the world, because it knows, and does not believe, and be alive, that it feels all living things and saves it – it is possible only when you can look at yourself with the same look as the world looking at us.

The Habitants and the Guardian is the Alive.

[s-the-seething-songbird-2]

Logs for Thomas, Part 2. Log #2

Song stuck in my head: "On & On" by Cartoon (ft. Daniel Levi)

Disclaimer: Some (a lot of) details will be omitted/skewed both in this log and any upcoming ones because, however unlikely it might be, I don't want one of my abusers to find this blog and trace it back to me (and because of how personal this blog is, I'm not sure I want ANYONE to find this except for you (and, honestly, maybe not even you either, because if you really do hate me, you might use whatever you read here to hurt me)).

I'm a fucking mess.

I've turned 26 very recently, and while things have been mostly good--I got a free pastry and drink from a restaurant I frequent, I'm going to get sushi with my family tonight, and I was even able to stop at a holiday-themed store I really like, meaning I got to collect some things for my Halloween costume!

I'm not terribly focused on my costume this year compared to previous years. Instead, I've taken to decorating our house and making that look very spooky. I suppose I've become old enough that I'm become accustomed to the giving end of Halloween instead of receiving, which does make me a little sad, but it's a thousand times more practical considering how my life is built lately. I feel doubly old because the thought of seeing all of my neighborhood's kids in their cute lil costumes and how excited they'll be when they see how much candy they can get from us (we're going to be LOADED this year) sound infinitely more appealing to me than dressing up and going door to door.

So, anyway, there I was, at the holiday-themed store mentioned earlier. Someone very close to me really wanted a giant, fuck-off sword for our local RenFair, and I found the perfect one in the weapon props section. I had already collected some parts for my costume, and I was just double-checking to make sure there wasn't anything I missed that would be useful.

I was crouched down, looking at one of the dark black cloaks for sale, and then, as I reached out for the price tag, I heard a familiar melody on the radio.

Dun, dun, dun, DUN-dun-duh-duh duhhh, duh… dah, dah, dum, DA-DUM…

Oh no. No, no no no! No, fuck this, no, stop it brain, it’s just a song, don’t pay attention, just get your shit and go, just get your shit—!

I like that you’re broken, broken like me Maybe that makes me a fool

But I was already frozen. I was frozen, and my fingers were so cold.

Before I could stop myself, I closed my eyes, pulled all of my items to my chest, and held them tight. And then I relived everything.

November. Doing laundry. You call, I answer. Talking, dreaming, promising. Connecting, laughing, smiling. I could feel you in the room, but I knew you weren’t there. Secrets, fears, mistakes. I could feel you in my dreams.

I let myself feel the joy, the warmth, the closeness, pretending the fabrics and plastic packages were your arms.

I like that you're lonely, lonely like me

I could be lonely with you

December. Excitement, hope, terror. Do we tell him? Do we come clean? But what if I lose you? I won't, you said. We'd never lose each other. We loved each other. You said you wouldn't leave and I believed you.

I met you, late night at a party

Two days before Christmas. Confusion, desperation, betrayal?

Worry. Pain. Fear. Self-hatred. Hatred for him her. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Gone.

Gone forever.

Gone forever, but I still know the lyrics.

Some trust-fund baby's Brooklyn loft

I couldn't let myself cry in the store. I especially couldn't let myself cry about this. Not again. So I didn't.

But I closed my eyes harder and held you tighter, fighting against reality for just a couple of extra seconds.

November, laundry, call, talk, love, dream...

Talk, love, dream, smile, warm...

Warm...

And then I let go.

Gone.

And then I was in the real world again, and I realized how silly I must have looked. No one near me said anything, though, so maybe they didn't notice.

Stupid song. Stupid pain. Stupid long line at checkout. Stupid stupid stupid.

Just buy it and leave. Buy it, act normal, thank the cashier, stay normal, smile, and leave.

Smile...

It's all so blurry now. Like all other memories from my childhood, it only exists in a series of white-hot snippets filled with emotional whiplash.

I hate that it's all that's left. I hate how strongly it still makes me feel, and how little of it I remember. I know there are things I saw, heard, and thought that are permanently lost to time.

I'm so angry. I'm so fucking angry, Thomas. I'm so angry that this still hurts, and I was getting so much better, and then Shay came back, and I thought maybe it would all be okay again, and then it wasn't okay, and the wounds reopened, and god, I wish I was never born.

It hurts, it hurts, it fucking hurts, JUST COME BACK, fuck, fuck, fuck

I'm not asking that we be together again! You guys are happy together, and I'm happy for you, I really am! But spending all of this time believing that you missed me and still cared about me and were proud of me was helping me move forward.

And then...

I can't cry about this again. I can't. This is so unbelievably embarrassing.

It seemed like Shay was developing some kind of crush on me, and I thought the most recent pictures of her were pretty attractive, too, and she wanted you and I to talk again, and... At worst, maybe things would be weird between you and I, but over time, the weirdness would dissolve, and maybe you and Jack would even start to talk again, and you'd apologize to him, and he'd forgive you, and my son could get closure, and... At best, maybe... maybe you and I and Shay could have become a thrupple, with my partners' permission? And then I'd learn about everything that happened while we were apart, and I could help you two heal, and we'd cry and hug each other, and I'm crying again god fucking damn it!

I MISS YOU. I miss you, Thomas. The things you've said and done over the years have really hurt, but I've never stopped caring, even when I thought I had. Do you realize that I still think about you every day? Wondering what you're up to, if you're okay--

Hang on, sorry, my girlfriend called.

Sushi plans for tonight have been confirmed! Yay!

I'm not asking to be with you again. That's not what any of this is. I just want you to be fucking nice to me again! That's all I want, that's all I want! Why? Why is that impossible?

Look, I have to go. This thing is long enough as it is, and I'm going to try and enjoy the rest of today.

I hope you're okay. I hope you're happy. I really do.

- S

[coquelicoq]

Hi! If you're still playing the lab/elevator/McDonald's game, would you do Natori, Matoba and NHS? Thanks! 🐰💛

fuck, marry, kill but instead it’s get them randomly assigned as your lab partner for a whole semester, get trapped with them on a broken elevator for ten hours, and they’re your employee trainer for your new job at McDonalds

oooh, intriguing. right off the bat i know i want nie huaisang in that elevator with me. you might think he would be freaking out and i'd have to spend the ten hours comforting him, but his freak-outs are, for the most part, a calculated act to either a) get something or b) get out of something, and having a breakdown in an elevator in which there is only one other person present and that person also can't do anything about it would just be a waste of effort. so we'd probably just generally commiserate for a bit and then start shooting the shit, and after ten hours we'd be the kind of friendly acquaintances who forget about each other unless we're passing in the hallway or see each other across a crowded room, in which case we immediately act like we're best friends who have been tragically separated for decades by cruel and fickle fate and go into a performative reunion routine featuring a lot of air-kissing. that's always a fun type of relationship.

natori for lab partner because he works hard when he has something to prove. granted, that may not apply to science lab, because that's not his family's legacy or whatever. but i would be working hard and i feel like he would see that and he would get it. even if he didn't personally care about the class he'd be like same hat and that would rouse him into action. the thing about natori is that turning his charm, which he uses as both offense and defense, onto me would backfire because i'm immune to men who are accustomed to women finding them charming. so i think we might have a bit of a rocky start, because i would hate him on sight. but i think he might actually find that kind of refreshing, and once i felt like he wasn't trying to manipulate me via the dazzling brilliance of his smile, i could warm up to him.

i guess that leaves mcdonald's trainer for matoba. if what we've seen with him and natori is any indication, he would be absolutely infuriating in any kind of knowledge exchange where he has the upper hand. but i think part of that was that he was legitimately intrigued by natori and lowkey wanted to be his friend but went about it in the worst way possible, and i don't think he would have any similar feelings towards me. he'd probably just pay somebody else to do it and we wouldn't even have to interact that much. the only way he would care is if he found out i was natori's lab partner, because then he might think that being in a mentor role with me could somehow serve him in his ongoing quest for natori's attention. but natori would not be as protective of me as he is of natsume, because in this scenario we are presumably the same age (and i am not as adorable and precious as natsume anyway, i will freely admit), so it probably wouldn't work very well and matoba would give up on getting to natori through me eventually. and the drama would at least give me something to write home about. my friends live such interesting lives and i like to have something to contribute to the conversation every now and then.

[your-daily-biaswrecking]

Needy

pairing: Kim Namjoon x female reader (guest star Yoongi)

genre: smut, established relationship au

word count: 4.3k | reading time: 20 min

summary: Dating Kim Namjoon comes with its advantages and disadvantages. The later mainly being working so much all you get to see of him is in his studio. But you're a needy bitch. And if you have to get what you want while he works, you will do just that.

warnings: hard dom namjoon, bratty sub reader, cockwarming, daddy kink, dirty talk, degradation, praise, choking, spanking, unprotected sex, oral m.receiving, orgasm denial, studio sex, slight exhibitionism, aka the one where namjoon discovers he likes public sex and exhibitionism.

A/N: Amy=Army=reader because I prefer using a name instead of y/n

Masterlist | Read on AO3

Time slipping closer to the comeback dates meant missing-your-boyfriend hours grew more frequent. You never complained, just like he didn't either, but you were clingy by nature and finding any way to be even in the same room as Namjoon had become your top priority. At first, sleeping in his arms at night was enough. In about a week it became apparent that waking hours were paramount, so you started joining him for lunch. No matter how short and rushed it had to be. But the more he worked on the group's comeback, the less attention he could pay, always distracted and keeping your interactions to small talk. Eating with him wasn't sating your hunger anymore.

"I'm sorry, baby," he would say when he would realize you had been talking this whole time.

You honestly didn't mind. Simply wanted to be by his side. "It's okay, sweetie. Everything alright?"

He sighed and caressed your hand laying on the table. "I just miss you. I have to stay to work extra hours again and I won't see you again and I miss you. That's all."

You replicated his small, soft smile. "I can stay with you. I'll bring my laptop and we can both work together. That way we won't be alone."

Namjoon smirked. "You know I can't concentrate with you in the room," he declared with a low tone in his voice and slightly squeezed your hand.

Suddenly, you were fighting a smile on your lips while your eyes raced to the floor as if you were too shy to face your own boyfriend. Then you pouted. "No, we'll just work. I will be working too, I'll be so quiet, you won't even know I'm there."

And so you did. You took the small couch while he had his back to you, working on his computer. The sound of both of your keyboards was filling the room, along with the slight whispers of the music playing through Namjoon's headphones. It was after-hours and they went by mostly uninterrupted, except for the occasional visit by a manager or a member –usually the rappers– to deliver some type of message. The boys would smile softly at the sight of you, and you replied with a raise of your shoulders to state the obvious.

"Can I sit on your lap?" You asked Namjoon once after you had given up on your work and were battling falling asleep on that comfortable couch while you waited for him to call it a day, or more accurately, a night.

He pulled his headphones to the side and turned to look at you. "My lap?"

You nodded. "I'll just sit there and you can work."

"Don't you want to work?"

"No, I want to be in your arms."

He bit his bottom lip. He eyed you up and down and then looked at his monitor. He knew it wasn't a good idea, but he figured he would just sound like a straight douche if he declined cuddle offers from his girlfriend, after she had been patiently putting up with him distancing for the past few weeks. So he turned back to you and patted his lap.

"Okay, hop on, kitty. But if you don't sit quietly, you'll be in trouble."

You had to bite back that shy smile again. Namjoon was asking you to sit quietly yet just by the way he asked, he made you crave that trouble he promised. But no, you were a good girl. You didn't want to disturb his work, it would only stress him out more. You straddled his lap and huddled on his chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible so as not to restrict his movements in the least. You felt his big hand stroking your hair as you planted your head on his left shoulder, your nose close to his neck, tickling him with your warm breath. Before you knew it, you were asleep.

So now you almost didn't even bother pretending to work on that laptop of yours. Since Namjoon had been convinced that you could sit on his lap without causing trouble, and you had discovered how easy it was to relax when you were wrapped around him like that, you basically jumped in his lap right after you two settled in his studio. Namjoon played with your hair or gently squeezed the softer parts of your body every time he paused to think. He found it helped him work even better. His own little stress relief toy.

"Oh- uh… Sorry- um…" Yoongi squealed when he walked into the studio and saw the two of you tangled like so.

Namjoon turned to face the older member and simply shook his head. "Oh, she's just sleeping," he whispered.

Yoongi now opened the door more widely and stood up straighter to take a better look at you. "Oh…" he exhaled with a smile. "Like that?"

"Yeah… she can't stay away from me."

"Cute…"

At that, you decided to lift your head and look at Yoongi's general direction. "I'm awake!" you stated loudly then immediately dropped your head back down.

The other man chuckled slightly before he informed Namjoon on something about their manager, this and that, and left. Anyone walking into the studio was met with what appeared like an adorable scene that they quickly became accustomed to, and even your boyfriend seemed to think completely innocently of it now. Which meant you were the only one quietly suffering because of his cologne and the warmth of his crotch under yours.

You tried to sit there quietly. You tried to fall asleep. But it had been days since you and Namjoon had done anything other than work, and that promised trouble was becoming more and more appealing. You circled your fingertips at the base of his neck, contemplating whether you should grid yourself on him to get him to fuck you on that desk as a punishment, or be a good girl so that you don't lose your lap privileges.

But you wanted more than your lap privileges. You truly were so clingy, it wasn't enough that you were sitting on him like that; you wanted to feel more of him. You bit your lip and controlled yourself, catching your breath on purpose so that he wouldn't notice it had gotten heavier and warmer on his neck. You could practically hear his deep voice vibrating something like "you little minx" in case you exposed yourself, which in turn made your struggles even harder.

You squirming on his lap was probably registered as you squirming in your sleep by your boyfriend. Indeed, you kept your eyes tightly closed to play the role, too. You swallowed, again and again, excess saliva flooding your mouth from all the dirty thoughts passing your mind, like a dog dreaming of a delicious meal. But you stayed put. You sat quietly, just like he had asked. Because you were a good girl and you knew you would be awarded for that eventually.

"Baby…" you whispered with a pout in your lips. Today you had worn a skirt and as you sat on Namjoon's lap, the only thing covering your heat was your lace panties. Today you would get that award you craved the whole week. "Namjoon, baby…" you whined again to get your boyfriend's attention.

He looked at you with wide eyes, pausing whatever he was doing and sliding his headphones off. "What's that, kitten?"

Your eyes dropped down as your fingers played with the hem of his shirt. "I–" you gulped, "I want you inside me."

You heard nothing, no reaction. So you looked up again and Namjoon was just staring at you. "You know we can't do that here, kitten…"

You bounced slightly on his lap in protest. Luckily for you, you found out your boyfriend had already started to get hard under you. So you continued. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed yourself on him, making him suck in a breath.

"Ohh... I'm not asking for anything too much. I just want you inside me."

"Inside you?"

You nodded. "Yes, yes. I just want to feel you. Can you just… just put it inside me?"

Namjoon laughed. "Baby, if I put it inside you there is no way it won't lead to something more…"

But you shook your head frantically. For good measure, you ground yourself on him, too. "No, no, I promise! I won't even move. I'll just go right to sleep like I do every day. You know, you've seen how quietly I can sit like that. You can trust me, right?"

Namjoon bit his bottom lip aggressively as he watched you act all innocent and cute while talking about putting his dick in you. He took one too many seconds to answer, so you took the initiative to move your hands to his pants and unbutton them. His hands grabbed your hips. Not to stop you. Just to hold you forcefully as he processed what was happening.

"So you– you want to do… cockwarming?"

In response, you took one of his hands and guided it under your skirt, to your already wet core. His fingers felt your arousal through the lace. Suddenly, all signs of demur disappeared from his face.

"Hm, does your little hole feel empty without me, kitten? You want me to fill you up?"

You bit your lip as you nodded, your hands moving again to completely undo his pants and pull them down just a bit. You palmed him through his boxers and his fingers massaged your clit over your panties. You pulled his dick out and saw how it sprang up, almost to full hardness already. Quickly, you spat on your hand a generous amount and used that to pump him up and down a few times. Namjoon groaned and pushed your panties away, two fingers teasing at your entrance.

"Do you need prepping? Or can you take my cock as it is?" he asked you as he slipped his two fingers easily in.

"Namjoon," you moaned his name quietly. "Don't get me too horny, just put your dick inside me." He raised his eyebrows at your commanding attitude. "Unless you don't want me to be good," you added with a raised eyebrow of your own.

Chuckling, he pulled his fingers out and grabbed your hips again. He guided you over his dick. "Alright, kitten. Sit on that cock and don't. Move."

You sank, taking him in inch by inch, the thickness stretching you out so much it burned. You allowed yourself to moan out as quietly as you could, still struggling to fit all of him inside you. Namjoon kept a hand on your hips to guide you down, while the other caressed the side of your head.

"That's right," he praised you. "Take all of me, baby. I know you can."

With his encouraging words, you took a deep breath and moved down until your pussy had swallowed him whole, his head now nudging at your cervix.

"There, there… that's great," Namjoon cooed. He brushed his palm over your cheek and made you look at him. "How does this feel?"

"Oh, it feels good…" you said, dragging out the last word while letting your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your boyfriend gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead.

"So, did you get what you wanted, kitten?"

"Mm, yes, daddy, thank you," you moaned.

His thumb ran over your lips and he pinched your chin. You opened your eyes to look at him. "Now… will you sit there quietly and let me do my job?"

You nodded lazily. "Yes. Yes, daddy, I will."

Namjoon smiled and gave you a quick peck. He looked down, pushing your skirt out and adjusting it so that it covered both of you up. He put his headphones back on and you, just like you promised, laid your head on his shoulder again and sat there quietly. Your position ultimately not changing at all and it still seemed very sinless, with the only exception that you were now so deliciously full and finally sated.

You tried to calm your breathing down. You clenched and unclenched around him involuntarily and he released a warning groan in response. It was hard to stay still at first, but once you got used to his length stretching your walls, it was surprisingly relaxing. He was big and warm and the most comfortable thing you had experienced in your life. You had never felt closer to your boyfriend than at that moment. You loved it in a very possessive way.

From now on this would be the only seat you'd ever take.

Namjoon loved it too. He didn't expect you to actually sit still, secretly wanted you to act out so that he could teach you a lesson afterwards. But now you looked as peaceful as a baby breastfeeding. It was funny how something so dirty made you look so chaste, and how that in return made you look, well... hot. He sighed. He really didn't think he would be the one having trouble controlling himself. Your pussy was moving slightly around him every time you squirmed, and he felt every single thing. Yet you had managed to drift into a light sleep, your cheek pressed on his collarbone, your lips apart, your breaths long and warm on his neck.

So pretty… So cute. Namjoon would make sure to fuck you so well when you two got home.

"Hey, Namjoon!"

Namjoon jumped right as the studio door opened wide. He hands quickly grabbed your hips, ready to push you away and pretend nothing was happening.

"Oh, is she sleeping?" Yoongi whispered and walked closer to them.

Namjoon froze. He looked down, your skirt was still covering you up. Then he looked at the other man. He seemed blissfully unaware of what was going on in there.

And that, for some reason, made Namjoon's dick throb.

"Um, ye-yeah."

"Heh, she's so cute when she sleeps on you like that."

Namjoon bit the inside of his cheek hard. His hips moved forward on their own accord, pushing further inside you so slightly that the moment went by unnoticed. But not by you. A tiny whine echoed from your throat.

"Hm, yes. What's up?" he answered, his voice husky.

Yoongi started talking, but if Namjoon were to be honest with himself, he didn't hear a thing he said. All he could register was his dick getting even harder while your pussy got tighter around him. He tried to stay still as he stared forcefully into his friend's eyes. What if he realised?

God, the thought alone made him suck in a deep breath.

"Okay?" Yoongi's voice was barely made out inside the younger's foggy head. But he managed to nod. "Can you do that for me?"

"Hyung..." Namjoon sighed. Just as Yoongi frowned at his friend's odd voice, you moved around, clinging closer to Namjoon, cutting off his oxygen supply completely. "Yes! Yes, I will!" he literally choked out.

The other rapper gave him an up and down and Namjoon would never dare admit how his eyes on the two of you made his stomach shrink. But he would admit to how he felt ready to combust and if you weren't left alone within the next thirty seconds, he would no longer care about details such as privacy.

"Cool," Yoongi mumbled, moving back towards the door yet still facing you. "Thanks, man. I owe you one."

The moment the door clicked closed, Namjoon gasped hard, taking in all the air he was missing. His hands -still on your hips- held you tighter, tight enough to leave bruises, as he panted and moved his hips slowly into you.

"Stop pretending you're sleeping," he demanded. A couple of seconds of silence passed, and then he felt your lips gently land on his neck in a small kiss, trying to play innocent. He snorted. "You–"

"Everything okay, daddy?" you asked in the purest voice you could master.

"No!" he exclaimed, dropping his head back on his chair. He thrust up as much as he could, but since he was already buried to the brim, there wasn't much space to move. "No, I'm not okay!" he growled. You immediately bit your lip, pulling your head away so that you could finally face him. He leaned slightly forward but the moment his eyes fell on you, his head hit his chair again. "Move!"

"But, daddy, you–"

"Fuck, Amy, if you don't– move!"

His hands pushed you slightly off him, and he immediately thrust into you. Hard. You had no choice but to cry out. Another thrust and you felt like you couldn't hold yourself up anymore, falling on his chest and clinging to him desperately.

"Nam-" you tried to talk, but the man had found his position and was drilling into you at a never before seen speed. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and all you could do was have your jaw hung open and a moan escape freely with every hit on your spot. He was animalistic, growling and groaning loudly with no regards to the public building you were in, and most importantly, without even noticing your attempts to slow him down. You pushed your palms on his shoulders, trying to lift yourself, but in response, he just bit down on your neck and made you moan harder.

This... This is exactly what you wanted. Wasn't it?

"Namjoon, the door is unlocked," you managed to whisper while he was licking your neck up and down aggressively. He just hummed in response. At least he heard your voice. "What if somebody comes in?"

Your boyfriend moaned. He slowed down, his right hand leaving your hip to move higher up, ruffling your shirt, squeezing your breast and wrapping around your throat. You gasped right as he tightened his grip.

"Let them see," Namjoon mumbled. His grip around your throat tightened even more and his hips picked up the pace again. But now, you had no way of making any sound other than choking. Namjoon moaned louder. "Oh, let them watch."

He finally let you breathe and right away he crushed his lips to yours, pulling you deep down on his dick and grinding inside you. You had never seen this side of him before and you couldn't help but drip arousal around his base. Just seeing how into it he seemed to be made you get closer to your climax.

"Bounce on my cock, you slut. Isn't this what you wanted from the beginning?" your boyfriend growled in your ear and you whined, immediately obeying. Jumping up and down.

"Daddy..." you moaned for his attention, getting closer and closer.

A hard slap on your right butt cheek. "Faster. Do it how you know you wanted it." Another slap.

Leaning forward you found a new momentum to slide up and down his dick faster, and his breathing instantly changed. You looked up through your lashes at him, gawking at his expression, face hot with coy and pride.

"Like that, daddy?"

He groaned, staring right into your eyes. "So needy," he mumbled. "Such a desperate slut, constantly wanting praise. Is that what you want, baby? For me to praise you?"

You almost missed your rhythm due to the effect his words had on you. "Da... Daddy..." was all you could say.

He held you from the ass, helping you move since you were so close to cumming it was getting hard. "Hm? You want me to praise that warm, wet pussy of yours that takes my dick so well?" You had to moan. "So well-" he repeated, "-that I can't resist it?"

"Daddy, I'm gonna-"

"You fuck me so well, baby. Hm, is that what you want me to say?" Namjoon continued teasing. "You're so good..."

"I'm gonna cum!"

Suddenly, you were empty. Namjoon had pulled out of you and pushed you away.

"Oh no, baby. You don't get to cum."

Your mouth dropped open, the sweat that glistened all over your face probably evaporating at how hot it suddenly got. "Wh- what?"

The man in front of you gave you the most shit-eating grin you had seen in a while. He got up from the chair and stood in front of you. "What? You really thought you would be rewarded with an orgasm after everything you pulled?"

You pouted. "But..."

Namjoon held your chin gently and smiled down at you smugly. "You've been too naughty, sweetness. Now, if you get on your knees for me, I might make you cum when we get home."

You bit your lips so hard it hurt. "Daddy..." you whined in the most seductive voice you had in you, giving him your big, puppy eyes. But he just released your chin and raised his eyebrows.

"On. Your. Knees."

Gulping, you lowered yourself down. If Namjoon said knees then knees it would be. You looked up at him and he sighed heavily at the attractive sight.

"Now, open up for me, baby."

You opened your mouth and drew your tongue out as far as you could, which seemed to please him a lot. Grabbing his dick at the base, he ran his head over your tongue. Getting desperate again, you closed your lips around him and sucked the head. That earned you a hiss. His fingers were suddenly all in your hair, his head fallen back, as he picked up right where he had left. He pushed the first couple of inches of his dick in and out of you fast until you were used to it and you swallowed more of him in. You couldn't take all of him, but you didn't need to: the tightness of the back of your mouth was all Namjoon needed to feel from you.

"Oh, God…" Namjoon moaned and you knew the moment the atheist started to call out to God, was the moment he was getting close. You grabbed his hips to halt his thrusts and instead just suck. Suck him hard enough to slurp his own soul if he had one. Hard enough to swallow his warm cum right as it was released down your throat.

You opened up your mouth with a satisfied "ah" to show him it was empty. Namjoon smiled and fell back on his chair, exhausted. Knowing you needed to be as good as you could in order to be rewarded afterwards, you gently tucked him back in his trousers while still on your knees, looking at him proudly.

"Did I make you feel good?"

Namjoon chuckled, ruffling his hair. "I swear all you ever–"

A knock on the door followed but a member right away. "Hey, Namjoon-ah, when-"

You both turned with dread to look at the door, finding a mortified Yoongi standing to it. His wide eyes moved from the fucked out looking man on the chair, to the girl on her knees in front of him, and he very wisely decided to disappear behind the closed door again without a word.

"Ah, shit…" Namjoon mumbled, but you just laughed.

"You know, he's probably still waiting for that translation," you said, which made your boyfriend look at you puzzlingly.

"What translation?"

You bit your bottom lip to prevent you from laughing again. "Babe! Earlier… he said he e-mailed you some lyrics he wanted you to translate to English. You said you'd do it."

His face scrunched up to the saddest 'oh' you had seen. "I h– I didn't– I..."

You showed your teeth in an 'oopsie' way. "Oh, well... At least now he knows what took so long."

Namjoon moved off the chair and pulled you up with him. "I need to– I mean, I should probably talk to him. I don't know, say it wasn't what it looked like? Would that sound believable?"

You chuckled again, getting on your tippy-toes to try and fix his hair. "Looking like that? Not so much."

Namjoon looked at his reflection on the black screen of his computer to fix what he could. "You should go home, baby. I'll stay here to make this right."

"What? No, but you promised to make me cum when we get home," you whined like the spoiled brat you were.

But your boyfriend grabbed your jacket, waiting for you to wear it. "Yeah, but that was before you got me in trouble, you brat."

You pouted. "No, I'm not going."

He rolled his eyes and grabbed your arms to push them through your jacket sleeves. "Get home now, Amy, before I change my mind and not let you cum at all."

You were ready to throw a tantrum, but as you were guided toward the door, you just turned and looked at him very seriously. "Namjoon, I swear to you, if you let me go now I'll find a better way of getting myself off tonight," you threatened.

But he laughed. "Oh, okay. Tell me, do you wanna go apologize to Yoongi perhaps?"

You shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps. At least he'd let me cum, wouldn't he?" you commented as you opened the door and were ready to leave. But Namjoon slammed it closed again. His arms caged you against it as he loomed over you.

"I have a better idea. You go home right now, undress, get in bed and wait for me without touching yourself at all, like a good girl, and I'll make you cum until you beg me to stop," Namjoon whispered darkly. You seemed to consider it. "There is no alternative, sweetness. You'll do as I tell you."

So you smiled. You gave him a little kiss on the cheek and agreed. Well, at least he thought you did. Because you were definitely going to disobey him by touching yourself back home until you had wet your bed waiting for him. Waiting for the punishment he'd come up with then...

[minaslittleone]

Fission & Fusion (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: How did the refined and proper Wilhemina Venable end up working for two coked-up tech bros out of the back of a van?

An origin story of sorts, dedicated to the amazing @lucyintheskywithxanax who has developed such a beautiful and nuanced depiction of Mina. This was inspired by her incredible story “And I failed to climb the mountain”.

Word count: ~2500

Professor Thompson was not surprised that she had to go searching for Wilhemina the following evening. Part of her had hoped that the young woman would have been waiting for her, a sign that she was allowing herself to accept the genuine support proferred to her. That was not to be. It was only natural, she supposed, as she made her way through the concrete wasteland that served as the hotel's parking lot, that after a lifetime of being belittled and dismissed, of being told she was nothing but a burden, that Wilhemina would find it difficult to accept help. To even believe that the offer of help was genuine.

The older woman shook her head as she raised her her hand to knock on the door indicated by the disinterested girl working reception. The world, and people, really could be so cruel.

When her initial knock went unanswered, she tried again slightly louder this time. Again she was greeted by only silence.

"Wilhemina." she called out, as she knocked for a third time. "Wilhemina, it's Professor Thompson. Can you let me in dear?"

In the beat of silence that followed, she could feel Wilhemina's indecision - her pride balking at the idea of reaching out to accept the tender care that her heart so dearly yearned for. For now, pride relented.

There was a jangle of keys as nervous fingers fought against the lock and deadbolt. The door eased open a crack to reveal Wilhemina, shoulders curled in on themselves, head bowed, face obscured by a curtain of red hair and supporting a significant portion of her weight on her cane. Her form fitting dress from the previous day had been replaced by black leggings and a loose fitting faun jumper which dwarfed her slender frame, sleeves extending well past her wrists where her fingers toyed anxiously with the cuffs. As the older woman eased the door slightly further ajar she couldn't miss the way Wilhemina flinched, obviously uncomfortable with any kind of physical proximity.

"Wilhemina?" the older woman coaxed. Glassy brown eyes peaked from beneath swollen lids, tentatively meeting her gaze. As she did her long hair shifted just enough to reveal the array of grazes decorating her right cheek and temple, chronicalling the previous night's events like braille across her skin. Wilhemina fought against the instinct the pull away as the older woman gently lifted her hair to inspect the damage. And as much as she hated allowing anyone to bear witness to her weakness she couldn't help but wonder when she had last been touched with such tenderness.

And maybe that was what gave her the courage to recount the events of the night before, those soft, caring touches that spoke more than words ever could, that whispered insistently that she deserved so much more. From the grinding weight against her fingers to the sickening crunch of her skull on the concrete, the smell of stale alcohol and tobacco, and the taste of dispair as calloused fingers rifled through her book bag and located the money that was supposed to be her lifeline. And more than all of that, the shame of laying sprawled out on the concrete unable to move.

Eventually the sound of the steal capped boots had disappeared into the distance, apparently deciding she wasn't worth any further humiliation. You're too ugly even for that, her mother's voice cooed. Slowly, she had managed to lever herself from the ground, bracing herself between her cane and the wall. Her trembling fingers had finally managed to overcome the lock but all too late. She stumbled across the threshold, collapsing onto the bed, curling in on herself in a futile attempt to prevent any further pain.

Professor Thompson's fingers were back at her cheek, tenderly chronically the array of scrapes and bruises that were beginning to blossom across her pale skin. How hard had she hit her head? Did she lose consciousness? Does it hurt if I push here? Any blurred or double vision? Any other injuries? Her hands? Her knees? Her back? No. All just bruised, like her ego, and her heart.

Wilhemina remained fascinated by the cuffs of her sweater throughout Professor Thompson's assessment, fingers picking at small imperfections in the fabric. By the time she raised her eyes the older woman was already moving busily around the room collecting her meagre possessions into her discarded book bag. "Have I missed anything dear?" Wilhemina could only shake her head dumbly in response though her confusion must have permeated her features for Professor Thompson quickly added "If you think for one moment I am letting you stay here on your own Wilhemina, after what happened, you are very, very mistaken".

The older woman slung the sum total of Wilhemina's possessions easily over her shoulder, before extending her hands to the younger woman to help her to her feet. And for once Wilhemina felt no pity or judgement in the gesture, only genuine care.

It felt good to let go for a moment, she thought, as she allowed herself to be escorted to the older woman's car. To hand over the reins, even if momentarily, to someone who genuinely had her best interests at heart. She had always been independent, self-sufficient, mature; garnering praise from countless adults for how grown up she was ever since she was tiny. There had been other words too - bossy, control freak, frigid bitch - a need for order and precision in the small parts of her life that she could control. But she was so tired after trying to hold it all together on her own for so long. Because in reality she wasn't in control at all.

Wilhemina jumped as the driver's side door opened, having not really registered that Professor Thompson had disappeared, let alone returned. The older woman shot her a sympathetic glance in apology for having startled her before starting the car and pulling out of that god damn parking lot.

Not long after she found herself seated at her professor's kitchen table, a warm mug of sweetened tea once again pushed into her hands whilst the older woman cooked. She managed to only feel slightly guilty about that. The room reminded her a lot of the woman herself, no frills and practical but with an undeniable warmth, full of mismatched crockery rather than complete sets, as if each piece had been hand picked for its bawdy colour or intricate pattern. Like her office, Professor Thompson's home seemed a little worn around the edges in the best of ways, it spoke of memories and a life well lived. From the rings on the wooden table from endless hours of conversation over tea, to the dings in the plaster from exhuberant grandchildren the house could not be further from the modernist sterility Wilhemina had become accustomed to.

The next thing she knew a steaming bowl of stew was being placed in front of her and the older woman was joining her at the table. "I hope you don't mind, dear, I know it's nothing very fancy" the older woman added as Wilhemina stared fixatedly at the bowl in front of her. Don't be so rude you ungrateful idiot. "No of course not, it's smells wonderful, it's just that I don't think anyone has ever cooked anything for me before. Thank you."

The older woman paused at that, spoon left resting against the side of her bowl. "Surely your mother did, at least?" Wilhemina scoffed at that, the very idea of Fleur Venable undertaking a task a menial as cooking was almost amusing. "No, my mother never had much interest in cooking, especially when she could pay someone to do it for her." A wry smile passed over the older woman's face "Maybe I should have listened when everyone told me to go into private practice rather than academia, it certainly seems to have worked out well enough for your father. Though I don't think I would have found much contentment in commercial law, I don't think I would have been particularly fond of spending my professional life making rich people richer."

"I don't think it brought my father much contentment either, though that might have been living with my mother" Wilhemina muttered, drawing unapologetic laughter from the older woman. After that the meal was finished in comfortable silence.

Wilhemina was about offer to help with clearing the table when something fuzzy brushed against her leg drawing an embarrassing squeak from her, which she quickly clamped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to muffle. "Oh it's alright, my dear, it's just Miko. Hello my sweet boy" the older woman cooed to the grey tabby cat rubbing affectionately at her ankles. "Oh I know sweetheart, I missed you too."

Miko, seemingly satisfied that he had greeted his mistress appropriately, took that moment to return his attention to Wilhemina, who's anxious gaze flicked between the cat and his owner. "Oh I'm sorry my dear, you're not allergic are you?" the older woman asked in response to Wilhemina's obvious apprehension. "No, I'm just not very good with animals" Wilhemina replied as Miko began sniffing at her ankles.

"He likes it if you scratch behind his ears" the older woman suggested.

So, slowly, Wilhemina allowed her right hand to unfurl from it's safe home in her lap downwards towards the inquisitive feline, or at least as far as her spine would allow. Miko craned his neck upwards to bridge the gap, first sniffing at her fingers before quickly beginning to nuzzle against them. Hesitantly Wilhemina began to trail her nails along the cats scalp, concentrating her ministrations behind his ears as his owner had suggested. She was rewarded by purrs of contentment, as Miko nuzzled into her hand with increased vigour. She couldn't help but smile at that.

Soon after Miko raised his front paws onto the bottom railing of the chair in an effort to get closer to Wilhemina, and began nuzzling into her thigh in earnest.

"What is he doing?"

"Oh don't worry, dear" the older woman replied. "He's just saying that he likes you. Well I suppose to be more correct he's transferring his scent onto to you to claim you as his, just in case any other cats get any ideas."

"I don't think anyone has ever claimed me as theirs before" Wilhemina whispered, fingers still threading tenderly through Miko's fur.

"Well Miko certainly has and so have I" the older woman replied, "and we both happen to have excellent taste."

Wilhemina could only reply with a small, trembling smile.

"Now come on dear, you've had quite an eventful few days and I doubt you slept much last night"

Wilhemina nodded and allowed herself to be escorted up the stairs towards the guest room, Miko following closely on her heals.

The room which Professor Thompson showed her to was already bathed in warm light from the bedside lamp and her book bag had been placed upon the quilt covered bed.

"Now the bathroom is just across the hall, dear, and I've put out fresh towels for you. If you need anything during the night my room is just down the hall, ok?"

"I'll be ok, but thank you" Wilhemina offered the older woman a shy smile.

Professor Thompson made to leave for the night before turning back unable to stop herself. "Forgive me asking dear, but haven't you heard from your parents? Surely they must be worried where you are?"

Wilhemina did not share her certainty. "I haven't checked my phone." Perhaps childishly she didn't want to check, because until she did she could cling onto the slim hope that maybe her parents did want to know where she was.

"You should check, my dear" the older woman coaxed. "I'll give you some privacy, but I'll be downstairs if you need me"

"Actually" Wilhemina blurted before the courage abandoned her, "would you stay?"

Professor Thompson took a seat on the bed beside her as she rifled through her book bag for her cell phone. One missed call. She almost couldn't believe it when her father's cell phone number blinked back at her on the LCD screen. With trembling fingers she retrieved the voicemail.

"Wilhemina, I understand that your mother can be difficult but surely all this fuss isn't necessary. If this was about making a point, you've made it, you can stop with this childish fit and the two of you can discuss this like adults. Honestly Wilhemina, you know I don't have time for this right now, the McMahon case goes to trial in less than a week, I have better things to be doing with my time than be refereeing some petty squabble between you and your mother. Just sorted it out."

Professor Thompson killed the voicemail halfway through the pre-recorded list of options, they certainly didn't want to listen to the message again.

"I'm so sorry, dear, I shouldn't have pushed you to check."

Wilhemina shrugged. "If I'm honest with myself, I didn't really expect anything different. I just hoped that maybe, I don't know..." she sighed. She did know, she had hoped that for once her parents would show ounce of love and affection, or even just anything more than apathy. Anything to indicate she was more than a burden or the fulfillment of a tickbox in the game of life.

"You would have thought that by now I would have stopped getting my hopes up" Wilhemina muttered, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks.

"Never" the older woman asserted. "You get your hopes up because you care and you have such a capacity for love, which makes you so much more than either of them will ever be."

She reached up tenderly to wipe the tears from the younger woman's cheeks, careful to avoid to avoid the dark purple bruising now staining her right cheek.

"Besides, their loss is my gain and you have a place here for as long as you need it"

[lovelywingsart]

Dealbreaker

-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/They)--

I was looking at the storyline and was wondering to myself, what happened at the very beginning? How did these two idiots start off? How did they come this far?

How did the little Umbrella employee come to work with the notorious metal man?

Well... read to find out!~

//Yes I know the title is kinda counterproductive but I liked it so it's staying, fight me//

**Remember, check out the Masterlist for more! <3**

-----

*Warnings?: Mention of torture/abuse

Summary: After entering the factory, Emelia quickly realizes she now belongs to a much different world than the one she doesn't remember. A small tour and some explanation later, a deal is made... and her new adventure begins.

It was... loud. Incredibly loud. Emelia stuck relatively close to the side of the man she walked with, her eyes moving between every wall and corner and in-between. There was too much to even look at... The sounds of the constant machinery assaulted her ears in a rather unpleasant way, but she could still hear other things... It was as if her hearing was... stronger.

She could feel herself grow accustomed to the noise surprisingly quickly despite the noises as they walked, hearing him speak every once in a while as if he were a tour guide explaining everything she saw. She heard his words, of course, but wasn't focused on them. How could she be?? How could anyone focus with so many overwhelming sights and sounds?? The factory itself may have been dimly lit, but it was still... busy. There were just... so many things around... And she'd be LIVING here from now on???

A nudge to her arm brought her out of her trance as she flinched, and she looked to see Heisenberg staring at her.

"Did you hear a single word I just said?" He asked, his breath coming out as smoke as he puffed on a cigar he kept between his fingers. She stared at him for a moment before clearing her throat.

"I... S-Sorry, no. It's... It's loud, and... difficult to focus..." she admitted, tearing her gaze from his now somewhat annoyed expression. "This is... massive. Entirely... I've never seen anything like it..."

"That's because there IS nothing like it, now pay attention Emmy. Can I call you Emmy?" He said casually, not even waiting for a response before he continued to speak as she gave a light huff. "It's constantly growing and production must run smoothly in order for that to happen, and YOU will be assisting with that now that I know some of what you're capable of."

"What I'm-" she started, only to shake her head. "Bloody hell- I don't even know what I'm capable of, how can you group me in with all this??"

"Well, seeing as that bitch sent you here without knowing you had control over the Cadou, albeit minor, you're capable of far more than you realize."

He took another puff of the cigar before glancing over, his brow furrowing as confusion crossed her features.

"'Cadou'...? What is a 'Cadou'...?" She asked, making him frown.

"... You don't know?" He asked, his voice suddenly low. He stopped walking as she did, watching as she shook her head.

"You attacked me as soon as I woke up, I had no time to ask other questions...!!" She replied, her tone growing annoyed. "I can't remember what happened to me before then, only that I woke up and my chest felt... weird. With a scar I've never seen in my life. And then whatever happened to my arm... If I knew how it happened, don't you think I'd have any damn clue of why I'm here...??"

The man stared at her. Now it was rather evident to him that she was just like the rest, just like him. He only wondered if she could sleep at night.

"You don't remember... anything." He said carefully, starting to walk again. Emelia shook her head.

"No..." She frowned. "I don't know where I am other than this... 'factory'. I don't know who 'Miranda' is, and I sure as hell don't know what a 'Cadou' is or why it's so important to either of you. So I'd appreciate some bloody answers for once instead of being led around like a dog...!"

Heisenberg was silent before letting out a low chuckle.

"I like you." He played, taking another drag from the cigar. "Alright. What do you want to know? I'll answer what I can."

"Thank you..." Emelia grumbled, rolling her eyes slightly. "First of all, where am I? Who is Miranda and why am I here?"

"'Here' is a village in bumfuck nowhere Romania. Nothing but mountains for miles." He replied simply, earning a surprised stare. "Miranda is the reason any of us are here and how we are. 'Mother', we call her, though it's more like a sick joke... She's the heinous bitch who started all this." He gestured to her chest. "Lost her original kid years ago and is working on trying to get her back. She's been at it for years, and has come close very few times. Seems you're one of her... unfortunate victims that was almost there. Science experiments, all of us. Lucky you're alive, really."

"... Why?"

"Because most have a slim chance surviving the Cadou, and even less so of remaining 'human'. Typically the 'survivors' lose any and all humanity;" he tilted his head, "We call them Lycans. Poor, fucked up bastards who had an 'adverse reaction', now they're like mindless animals. The other survivors are... 'adopted'." He ground out the word from between his teeth. "There's four of us from Miranda's personal doing, now five, including you. But she doesn't know that, and she won't know at all if you know what's good for you."

Heisenberg glanced over, meeting her much more confused gaze. But he couldn't help but smirk, finding amusement in her now undivided attention.

"The Cadou is a fucking parasite, no matter what she says about it or what we do with them." He continued, sticking the cigar between his lips for a moment to pat his stomach. "We each have one. We're the 'lucky' survivors of her damn experiments, tossed to the side like expired meat while she claims to love us and call us her 'children'."

Emelia stared at him before looking down, her hand running along her own chest. Would she have been considered a 'child' to this Miranda too, if she knew...?

"Why does she call you her children...?" She asked carefully, looking back up to see a scowl appear on the mans features.

"Because we were close enough to becoming successful vessels that she decided to keep us around. Supposedly the history of this place, too." He replied bitterly. "It only took kidnapping and brainwashing... The other three worship her like an actual mother or a goddamn God."

"... And you?"

She jumped as he forcefully laughed.

"Me? I want her dead." He growled. "Years of being forced to work under her, years of tolerating those worthless 'siblings', I want nothing but to be free of it all. That's why I have THIS." He walked in front of her and gestured to the factory around them. "I'm building an army, Emmy. An army that'll be enough to take her out, and more!"

She stared at him.

"... How long will I have to stay here?"

He grinned.

"Until she's dead and gone, and we won't have to worry about her."

"How long will that take...?"

Heisenberg simply shrugged, and Emelia looked around once more. There WAS a lot... Assembly lines, moving parts, engines and so much more. She could tell he had put thought into every moving part, hus purpose for them glaringly obvious once she thought about it. It was still a lot to take in, and she couldn't help but feel... small. She had a parasite... A parasite in her chest by this woman who, now that she realized it, simply cast her aside without a second thought. It was then that a thought entered her mind, and it made her stomach turn.

"... Heisenberg..." she started, the name feeling strange on her lips, yet oddly fluid. As if she had known him for much longer than she did.

"Hm?"

"Is that why she sent me here? For you to actually kill me for being a... a 'failed experiment'...?"

He didn't even hesitate as he nodded.

"Yes." He replied. "But I knew there was something about you... You weren't a Lycan. You could still speak and think, yet you still had a Cadou. What I didn't know is if the Cadou had done anything." He tilted his head slightly. "She knew I had no need for humans here... I assume she knew I'd try to kill you immediately had you been remotely tied back to a human existence. And I almost did had your Cadou not been alive."

Emelia stared at the ground. She felt sick... He WAS trying to kill her when she woke up...

"... So you're using me? Or, going to?" She said finally, her voice quiet.

"Well, yes and no." He chuckled. "No, because unlike being stuck with Miranda, you'll still have some semblance of freedom here. I don't know why she tossed you here to me specifically, but I fully intend on finding out." He then shrugged. "Yes, because if that power of yours can be controlled, and it'll be far more useful to the both of us when it is. You can learn to utilize it in work so I can use it in production, and you won't get killed. It'll be a win-win for the both of us."

There was silence between them as they walked. She didn't know how to feel... On one hand, she was grateful she was even alive. But on the other... at what cost? It didn't seem like she had much of a say in the matter. And with the man admitting to trying to kill her... However she got here, it had to have been more bad luck than she could have imagined.

He glanced over at her, the corner of his mouth twitching into a frown as he saw her face. He gave a huff.

"Look, I said I'd tell you the truth, not make you feel better." He said simply. He then shrugged, lifting his arms in a showman-like manor to flick the ashes off the cigar. "Truth hurts, don't it? You were taken like we were, fucked with like a sick toy, and dropped off like garbage when she considered you not good enough." He saw her flinch and set her jaw from the corner of his eye, but only snorted. "Don't be upset at me. I'm trying to work to prevent this from happening again. That's what all of this is for, to reclaim my life and end hers so her fucked up games will be no more. Be angry at her for causing this, not me for telling you."

Emelia still kept her gaze to the ground, reaching to rub at her arm. She had every right to be upset with him! She was pissed!! But... For some reason, she felt more hatred towards this Miranda person than she did towards the man in front of her. Hot tears threatened to fall as they gathered around her eyes, and she took a breath. No... She'd be angry at him later. If she were staying here now, she'd have plenty of time to be angry at him. But right now, her mind went to getting out when she could, if it was even possible. She took a deep, shaky breath, gripping the sleeve of her shirt.

"... If I do help you to take down this... 'Mother' Miranda..." the name made her stomach turn, "What will you do for me?"

Another pause, this time making Heisenberg stop moving entirely. But he couldn't help the sinister grin that began to form on his face.

"Oh? A bargain?" He asked, turning his head slightly. "You would've been helping me anyway, what makes you think I'd accept a bargain, hm?"

She looked up at him, her face that of anger.

"Because I could run to her." She said simply, making him fully face her with interest. "I could run to her and tell her your plans... Give her a chance to get rid of you first."

"You do that and I WILL kill you." He offered, tilting his head slightly. This girl suddenly interested him more than he initially thought. Smart... What was she getting at...?

"You kill me and you won't have hope for decent help if what you've told me about this... 'Cadou' is true. I can move, speak and think on my own without control." She said simply, lifting her chin. The realization seemed to set in his face, and it was like a lightbulb went off in his mind. She continued. "So... Either you lose me entirely and potentially not have another chance of help like this... or you give me an incentive to stay and work with you."

He was silent before suddenly starting to laugh, startling her with how genuine it was. She was far more strong willed than he would have given her credit for by just looking at her... This would be interesting.

"I DO like you! Ah, we'll get along fine." He grinned, letting the laugh die down before speaking again. "I can offer you protection and free will, Emelia. It's all I have."

"'Protection'...??" She questioned, now confused. "Protection from what?"

"From Miranda, herself." He said simply, walking to her. He stopped in front of her and kept his eyes on her face as his expression grew darker and more serious. "If she knows how powerful your Cadou is, there's no doubt she'll take you again for more 'experimentation'. It could be far worse than what you've already gone through, and you could potentially be killed without a second thought if she found you useless again. You have a better chance of dying if she were to take you now than you would if you stayed with me." He frowned at her confused expression that slowly turned to that of fear as he spoke. "She won't make the same mistake of letting you 'loose' again if she knew. You'll be stuck in a cage and poked and prodded until she was done with you and you wished for death. Hell, she might replace the cadou and leave you to die anyway... Or she might kill you immediately to take the thing and use it on some other poor bastard. They may call me a brute or even a monster, and I may be feared on my own, but what I do is nothing compared to what that bitch is capable of."

There was mild horror on her face, but part of her didn't want to believe it. Was it a ploy? How could she know he was telling the truth? She had absolutely no reason to trust the man other than the fact he let her live THIS long.

"... How do you know?" She finally asked, almost regretting it as his face changed.

He moved slowly, sticking the cigar in his mouth and holding out an arm. His movements seemed almost hesitant as he began to push up the sleeve of his jacket and shirt, revealing the skin of his forearm underneath.

The very heavily scarred skin.

Some scars looked newer, sure. But others... Emelias hand twitched as she refrained from reaching forward. Some scars were old... Far too old and small to be related to the factory around them. As if he had received them while much, much younger. He pulled the sleeve past his elbow and kept it there for a few moments.

"I may not be the easiest when working, but I'm not that careless." He said quietly, noticing her small twitching movements. He frowned. "She was more rough with me than the others. Still is, in a way... Only because she knows I hate her guts. I wasn't brainwashed like the other three, but my Cadou took on a more powerful state than the three of them combined." He brought the sleeve back down as she averted her eyes. "If she knows yours is that powerful, no matter if you can control it entirely or not, she WILL take you. She calls the Cadou a 'gift', but has no issue taking that away if it benefits her in any way even though we never wanted it in the first place."

He adjusted the sleeve back over his wrist, clearly uncomfortable with showing off as much as he did. She noticed the movements of his arm as he let it rest by his side, and she understood.

"... And if I try to run from both of you?" She asked quietly. He shrugged.

"If you don't go to her, I might not hunt you down. Maybe. But I can't guarantee what she'll do if she gets wind of the Cadou." He shook his head. "She's always searching for that one perfect vessel. If she finds out that your Cadou has molded perfectly as mine did, there's a greater chance of her finding you."

"So... I help you... And you protect me from her." She said carefully, weighing her options in her head. To stay meant living in fear, though it was simple labor from what she saw. If she was here, there was a good chance that she was able to do something to help, or she'd find something either way. But if she ran... it potentially meant more pain than she new possible, of not certain death. Heisenberg nodded.

"You help me and I give you near immunity from her knowing." He confirmed. "She may know you're alive. Hell, you might see her. I know I unfortunately do. But she won't know of the Cadou or its abilities."

"... And you can guarantee my safety?"

He chuckled.

"Not entirely. From the factory, no. There's alot of things in here that can kill you, me included. But from Miranda?" His grin returned, giving a small, joking bow. "You have my word, Emelia."

Emelia stared at him, though couldn't help but feel somewhat oddly at ease. She found it hard to trust him... Of COURSE it was hard to trust him. She had absolutely no other reason to other than pure circumstance. But if he was telling the truth... If he kept his word, she felt like she would be the safest being on the planet so long as she didn't make HIM angry. Another thought entered her mind, and she looked at him.

"If I'd be stuck here... What did you mean by 'free-will'?" She asked. He laughed.

"I mean exactly that." He gestured around. "You would be free to wander as you please. Explore. Even come and go, if you so wish."

"You... You mean, 'leave'???"

"Yes and no." He started to walk once more, urging her to follow. She did, still staying at his side.

"There is a village not far from here with everything you could possibly need should your... 'human' side take over." He continued. "Items, food, drink, men, women..."

"I don't believe I'd go THAT far..." she muttered, earning a chuckle.

"Still. You may leave, if you want. Do whatever you want inside the factory and out. The only stipulation is that you must come back." He led her onto a large elevator. "I can only suggest where not to go in here, simply for more safety on your end."

"I think I can figure that out for myself." She said simply, crossing her arms as he chuckled and pressed the top most button.

"Your funeral." He joked.

She rolled her eyes as the elevator started moving, but couldn't help but look over the edge. From here it seemed even more massive than she previously thought... She could see assembly lines in the distance, as well as other structures and builds carved into what she now noticed was a large cavern. A cavern... It suddenly struck her that this was all underground, and her eyes widened with the realization. No WONDER why she'd be safe down here... Did ANYONE know this was even here?!

"Bloody hell..." she muttered, staring forward as the elevator moved slowly. The man behind her chuckled.

"Grand, isn't it?" He said, meeting her at the edge. "So what do you say, Emmy? You help me, and I'll protect you and give you the chance to live without being a slave. It's a great deal, really. I wouldn't offer it to anyone else."

She managed to tear her eyes away from the factory to look at him for a moment.

"You can really keep me safe here?" She asked. He nodded.

"She doesn't know about any of this. Hell, none of them do." He shrugged. "They all believe I hole myself up here like a goddamn recluse because I can't stand the sight of them. Which is more or less true, but I digress."

Emelia looked back out to the factory, remaining silent. Well... it wasn't like she had much to lose now. She didn't know where she had come from or what this factory had in store, nor did she really even trust the man next to her. But part of her felt staying was the best option... This was a new world to her. New with nothing to her name except for her clothes and new, strange abilities she knew absolutely nothing about. She didn't even have family, as far as she knew... She could have already lost everything by being taken by Miranda and wouldn't know it until she finally remembered. It was worth a shot...

Right?

She finally took a breath, making Heisenberg perk up slightly.

"... Alright." She said quietly.

She could almost feel the excitement of the man next to her as he shifted on his feet.

"Is that a yes?" He asked, his feelings confirmed simply from the tone of his voice. She nodded with another breath.

"Yes." She turned to face him. "I'll help you."

A slow, broad grin formed on his face, that of pure glee and mischievous intent for the place around them. He then held out his hand for her almost expectantly. While she stared at it as if it would bite her, she slowly reached to hold onto it in a light shake. His grip was firm, and she could tell it was decently sincere. She looked up to his face again, finding his delight intriguing as he spoke.

"Excellent."

[saviorinsilk]

Again

Ship: Wilhemina Venable x Fem!Reader

Description: Wilhemina Venable is your College English Professor and on a particular night you learn your lesson for speaking out in class. This is an AU!

Words: 1869

Warnings: Punishment, professor x student, strap on sex, spanking, domination and discipline.

A/N: You guys wanted more of Venable spanking reader so here you sluts go!

Tears clouded your vision of the textbook that was laying open on the desk in front of you. Your body jerked forward when yet another harsh slap rang loudly through the Victorian styled office. Ms. Venable had delivered another brutal hit on your already red, welt covered ass. You didn't make any noise, you wouldn't dare. Your professor had taught you better than that. But oh how you wished you could vocally express yourself.

"Again Miss Y/L/N." Ms. Venable spoke from behind you, her bruising grip loosening up so she could ghost her hand up your lower back and back down. She caressed the sensitive skin of your burning red ass in slow circles as she pushed your dress that was already hiked up, even higher and out of her way.

You supported yourself on one of your shaky elbows as you wiped your eyes with your free hand, the words on the page in front of you now clearer.

"First Person; In the subjective case, the singular form of the first person is "I," and the plural form is "we." "I" and "we" are in the subjective case because either one can be used as the subject of a sentence." Your voice was small, the half-hour of canning you had already endured because of your slip up in Ms. Venable's English lecture, having already caused you to sink deep into your submissive headspace. You braced yourself for the impending attack, making it easier to hold back the whimper that dared to escape.

Ms. Venable's delicate but deadly cane collided with your ass for what felt like the hundredth time, your weak legs beginning to shake as your full ass bounced with the force of the hit.

You took that as your cue to continue and once again began reading over the next paragraph on the page she had been making you repeat, this time your voice shaking as she hit you once, twice and three times.

"Second Person; You use the second-person point of view to address the reader, as I just did. T-The second person uses the pronouns "you," "your," and "yours." We use these t-three pronouns when addressing one, or more than one, person." Your voice was beginning to falter and you wished you had just kept your mouth shut and hadn't made that stupid snippy remark in class.

"Actually Ms. V, wouldn't you want to use first person?" You regretted opening your mouth the moment the classroom fell silent. You knew you had fucked up and everyone else did as well, giving you sympathetic looks as Ms. Venable slowly made her way over to your seat, her cane clicking loudly against the tile floor as she did. She didn't stop until she was standing directly in front of your desk at the front of the class, her piercing dark gaze locked on you. You couldn't bring yourself to meet her eyes as she spoke.

"If you are going to try and correct me Miss Y/L/N, at least do it right."

She snapped back, the class straining not to erupt in laughter, fearing her wrath. A hand shot up at the other side of the room but Ms. Venable took a moment before she nodded at the girl.

"I believe the correct answer is actually second person Ms.Venable." Stupid Casey. You hated Casey. She was such a kiss ass. Always offering to help Ms. Venable after class, purposely being the last one (other than you of course) to leave the class so she could steal a few extra moments with your professor. You hated how jealous the blonde, skinny College girl made you; but you couldn't help it. Even the knowledge that Casey thought of Ms. Venable in that way made your blood boil. And Ms Venable knew it too.

"Very right Casey. Glad to know some of you are paying attention. As for you Miss Y/L/N, we will discuss your behaviour after class."

There had been nothing you had been able to do but clench you're fists and get through the rest of class.

"You will be in my office by 11:30pm sharp." Was all she said before directing her attention back to her computer.

She didn't need to ask. Only You and Ms. Venable knew the truth. That this was exactly what you had wanted. When you didn't move she glared at you, making you blush and quickly pick up your books and throw your bag over your shoulder. Your plan was progressing perfectly and her furious gaze only made you squeeze your thighs together harder, biting your lip the way you knew drove your secret lover crazy.

Her office was connected to the small apartment she lived in on campus. It was a 5-minute walk from your dorm, one you had gotten quite accustomed too.

You still remember the first night you spent in her office. Ms. Venable had offered to tutor you through the writing project she had assigned. She had sat across her desk from you and for the first time you had witnessed her smile, telling you that your outline looked perfect. It was something that didn't often happen from the tough grader. That had been the first night. A tutoring session gone sexual.

Today had been no different, except you knew what was awaiting you and it wasn't praise. She barely had spoken to you before she had bent you over her desk, slamming the textbook down in front of you and making you go to page 62, paragraph 23, demanding you begin reading.

Ms. Venable had seemed to have found a tad of mercy in her cold heart, as she lowered her cane, instead gently tracing the welts and light bruises that had already begun to form from the assault from her cane.

You took the chance to catch your breath, squeezing your eyes shut, demanding that the salty tears that dared to spill down onto the pages below to stay put.

That's when you heard it, the light sound of her skirt dropping, the delicate lavender fabric pooling at her feet before the woman stepped out of it and slid it out of her way. The sound elicited both excitement and fear in you. It made your stomach twist and the warmth that had built up in your core was becoming painful.

That's when you felt it, smooth and rock hard against your ass. She had been wearing her strap the whole evening and by weight of it, you knew it was your favourite one.

Ms. Venable leaned down over you, the dominance she radiated causing you to press your thighs together, desperate to quench the painful arousal that the dark woman had caused. Her strap pressed again your wet cunt as she snatched your long hair that was already pulled up in a ponytail (convenient for her) in her fist. You couldn't help the high pitched squeak that slipped past your lips as she yanked your head back. You could feel Ms. Venable's hot breath against the shell of your ear as she used her foot to kick your legs wider apart; granting her access to the part of you that only belonged to her.

"You enjoy being a brat? Embarrassing me in front of all my students?" She sarcastically asked, slapping your cunt roughly with her impossibly large cock. You bit your lip to keep your moans locked inside, drawing blood as Ms. Venable delivered a few more slaps to your aching cunt. You shook your head frantically, crying out as you opened your mouth to answer her.

"No Ms! I'm a bad girl! I'm sorry!" You whimper as she pulled your earlobe into her mouth.

She hit you with her hand harder than you were expecting and simultaneously slide her large, thick cock into you. The impossible stretch you felt as Ms. Venable buried herself completely inside of your dripping, warm and throbbing cunt, made you moan deeply, fresh tears pricking your eyes. You arched your back painfully and dropped your head to the wooden desk, smashing against it loud enough to cause Ms.Venable's predatory expression to falter for a split second. The concern faded quickly though when she felt you began to grind your hips back, desperate for your professor to give you what you needed.

She moaned in pleasure as she watched your tight hole stretch perfectly around her cock, like you were made for it. Made to serve her.

Ms. Venable's hand came down on your right ass cheek and then the left, her dark eyes blown black with lust. She could tell you were close, noticing the way your whimpers became more desperate, the textbook falling flat on the desk, your head resting on top it.

"Ah, ah, ah don't be a greedy little slut. You better not cum until you're finished." Ms. Venable warned you in a calm tone as she stayed still inside of you, as torturous as it was for her, the stimulation of the base of the strap had begun to make her clit throb but she knew you wouldn't last if she didn't.

Ms. Venable may have been a cruel Mistress and a strict teacher but she knew how sensitive you were after a spanking. How the pain lit your body up like a live wire. Plus, after how good you had been for her, she truly didn't want to have to punish you for cumming without permission.

"Third Person; The third person is the most common point of view used in fiction writing and is the traditional form for academic writing. Authors of novels and composers of papers use "he," "she," or "it" when referring to a person, place, thing, or idea." You practically screamed the last sentence, bucking your hips back roughly, trying to get Ms. Venable as deep inside of you as you possibly could. You were sweating, crying and shaking like a pathetic mess, exactly how Professor Venable liked you.

"PLEASE! Fucking hell! Please, Ms. Venable! I won't forget again!" You sobbed, becoming frantic for something, anything that would soothe the burning and twisting sensation in your lower abdomens

Ms. Venable chuckled to herself, proud of the effect she had on you. If she were honest, she was glad you had finished up as she couldn't stand the intensely of her own arousal another second longer.

"Good girl. Such a smart slut. Now cum for me" You barely had time to register her words before Ms. Venable began thrusting into your roughly, a sure-fire way to have you cumming around her cock.

When your orgasm does snap in your belly Ms.Venable pulled you up, your back crashing into her chest. Your body went ridge, fire washing over you and Ms. Venable held onto you tightly, supporting your weight as she fucked you through your orgasm. "Thank y-you Miss!" You barely got the words out as your body shook with the aftershock of your orgasm.

Ms.Venable smirked wickedly as she shoved you back down on your elbows, cock pulled from your cunt with a sharp spank on your ass cheek. When she finally spoke again, you froze, hearing the three words you dreaded the most.

"Again Miss Y/L/N."

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[tokyoghoose]

something that never was

pairing: daisuke kambe x reader

playlist: even if it's a lie - matt maltese*, a soulmate who wasn't meant to be - jessica benko, the less i know the better - tame impala, id rather go blind - beyonce ( cadillac records ), the house we never built - gabrielle aplin*, i cant make you love me - dave thomas junior, i go crazy - orla gartland, blow my brains out - tikkle me, hidden in the sand - tally hall

warnings: angst, mentions of cheating,

summary: the coldness he radiates gets the best of you, ultimately leading to the end.

announcements!

i dont really see daisuke cheating unless it was a misunderstanding or smth, but i liked the idea of this fic. Let me know what you think!

you can tell i didnt write this in a sitting lol. Im vv sorry if it's hard to follow!

feedback is welcome and appreciated! requests are open!

There's a warm body beside you, yet the bed feels cold. The arm around your waist feels almost as foreign as the face in front of you. It hurts to look at him, to feel him. It hurts to even be around him. He's so beautiful but he feels like half the man he once was. It's disheartening.

Maybe the saying, what you don't know can't hurt you is correct because you were feeling the repercussions right about now. Curiosity really did kill the cat, and at this point, you don't even know how to get satisfaction from it. How does one bring up cheating to their partner? Especially when the partner is like Daisuke.

He likes to brush things off without paying a price except for whatever was in his bank account, the type to hand you a card and say 'go get yourself something pretty.' And it wasn't like he was a bad lover, in fact, it was very easy to fall in love with him. He has a charm about him that's magnetic, one glance and suddenly it's impossible to look away. Or at least that was your experience.

With the final confirmation that closing your eyes will do nothing other than bringing pictures into your head, you turn your back to him and try and distance your body from his. It doesn't do anything to help when he pulls you closer subconsciously, except for maybe it makes you want to cry.

You'd confront him tomorrow, you decided.

If you need to.

———

The pace you set is leisure and if kt wasn't for the poor nail bed quickly coming to nothing, it'd seem like you weren't completely losing your head. It's all you can think about. Daisuke out with some girl—who you know for a fact isn't his sister, and who is all over him. He didn't even make a move to push her off! He hates that kind of attention so if he didn't object it, then he was asking for it. He wanted the girl on his side. In fact, for someone who insists the other person sits across from him at a restaurant- he looked quite comfortable with her nearly in his lap.

Maybe you're overthinking this, y/n.

The door clicks open and your ears strain to hear the sound of Daisuke's dress shoes. He's rather indulgent when it comes to dressing wear and the shoes were practically silent, even with the short heel on the back.

"I'm home." He says to no one particular, taking off his trenchcoat and hanging it on the rack beside the door. He stops his path to the bedroom when he sees you frozen in place and staring in the living room. He merely quirks a brow, going to take off his suit and tie.

Suddenly you can't speak and you have tunnel vision. It's unfair how calm he always looks—it's almost smug like he knows everything about you and more. Like he can read your mind and tell you your darkest thoughts and when you'll die because let's be honest, it'll probably be by his hand. Maybe you should back out now before you can say anything. Forget it all because what if you're mistaken? The more you think, the more weight is added onto your shoulders and the more it pushes you down, down further into the hole you want to crawl into. Maybe you should let it because all you want to do now is escape his piercing gaze. His eyes are studying you, taking in your form and the cogs in his brain are turning to find an explanation as to why you are standing there like a psychopath and not welcoming him home like you usually do.

You feel like you're drowning. Is the light getting dimmer? The black around your vision only seems to close in around Daisuke and you try to look anywhere else but his face. There's water in your ears, the popping of them only intensifies until you can feel it pounding into your head with faint static.

Am I going to pass out?

It's not until his hand comes down gently on your shoulder that the closing circle of vision widens out and suddenly all the imaginary water rushes from your ears. You glance down at his rings before back up him, barely catching the end of his words.

"Are you alright?"

He's never been one to beg, so you would have to answer now or he'll leave it be for the rest of the night and probably months after until you're like this again.

"I-can we talk?"

He eyes you suspiciously, narrowing his eyes and keeping his brow raised before nodding, slipping his tie off around his neck, folding it neatly into the palm of his hand. He gestures for you to start the conversation, going to the minibar curving around the kitchen and living area.

When you don't reply he urges you on, "Why so tense? Did something happen, darling?"

It'd seem like he didn't really care from how cold his voice was, but you've grown accustomed to the monotone to know that he truly is concerned for your health. He genuinely wants to know why you're acting so odd. It only makes this so much harder? You're wrong- you have to be. This must be a sick trick your brain has played on you. Or he must be playing some sick trick.

Anxiety settles itself into your gut and it seems like it won't leave anytime soon.

"Daisuke, are...- are you cheating on me?"

His eyebrows finally go lax but he doesn't look up from unbuttoning the cuffs of his white button-down. His fingers fidget at the buttons and instead of the previous loose form, his hand forms a fist.

"I- "

"Why—exactly, are you accusing me of this?"

His gaze sends chills down your spine. He's offended but he doesn't offer a defense. Suddenly your mouth is dry and you lose all your words? How exactly were you going to tell him you stumbled across him and some woman in a restaurant and practically stared them down for fifteen minutes.

You decide the bear it and swallow a lump that has formed in your throat.

"You were with a woman earlier this week snd well, the displays of affection that I saw were not very like you. You've been gone for long hours and even if you blamed it on the new job, Daisuke—you never tell me anything. Is she for a case? Are you using her for information? Go on, tell me about it. Give me a reason not to accuse you."

You regain your confidence but it falters when you meet his indifferent expression. You'd prefer it if he looked angry and the silence that fills the room is deafening and the tension suffocating.

"I can't tell you anything about our cases-"

"I'm your partner! What am I going to do? Rat you out to whoever is breaking the law? Why would I even how those connections, Daisuke?"

Daisuke inhales deeply through his nose like this whole conversation is a burden on him and you can't help but feel like a burden too. Was this relationship not worth the time to talk this out? One hand grips the bar and the other pinches the bridge of his nose.

"You aren't my partner, you're my fiance. My partner and I work together. So, no. I can't tell you about the cases."

You want to rip out your hair. This isn't about his stupid job or his stupid partner. This is about the dumb fucking restaurant and the dumb fucking woman who was hanging off him.

He can't actually be this dense!

"It's not about that! Either you aren't getting the point or you keep changing the subject because it's true!" Your voice rises in pitch, your confidence failing and turning more so into desperation. But you aren't crying yet. There are no tears and your eyes are dry and you absolutely refuse to cry in front of a Kambe.

It's like the beginning of your relationship all over again. A protective barrier around yourself so you don't get hurt and offended by his cold shoulder. Was it so bad to think you've moved on from that feeling? Why is it so difficult for him to just comfort you and push back those fears? Is he that emotionally stunted? You may not know much about his past and his family, but damn— at least you're trying to work through it with him. Can he put out a little more effort?

All he does is pour himself a glass. All he does... is pour himself a glass.

"You know what- forget it. If you're so entitled and so emotionally reserved that you can't even talk to me without a drink first, then I guess we'll talk about it another time—when you don't look like my voice gives you a headache."

Daisuke actually looks taken back by your words and you suddenly feel bad for hitting a sore spot. He may not have shown it often, but he doesn't particularly like not being able to show his true emotions; no matter the reason being.

"Y/N, wait.."

But you're back on adrenaline just as soon as he felt a drop, pushing past him to get to your coat. You just needed to calm down before you said something you'd truly regret. Words tended to stay in his mind much longer than they were intended to.

"I'm staying at my mother's. Don't call me, don't text me, don't come near me until you're ready to tell me what the hell you were doing with her. "

When he doesn't say anything more and you can practically hear the cogs in his head turn, you make your way out there door, making sure to slam it shut.

You slip on the coat angrily, slamming open the door without sparing him a glance but waiting for him to say something. Anything. Were you being too rash? You shake your head and scold yourself, mentally. You can't just turn around now, not after an outburst like that. He has to learn something from this.

Irrational or not, hopefully, his true colors would show.

[italks2]

A bit more venting since this is my only safe space apparently. I clearly remember having another acc but I can't find it now and I'm on a new dumb phone. This junk wasn't expensive compared to other phones but it definitely is a waste of money and could've been spent on a quality phone instead. But, my phone problems are sincerely the least of my worries.

I've been taking a medication for acne and one of the side effects clashes with my antidepressants. Though I wouldn't call my psychiatric drugs anti depressants since they're technically called something along the lines of mood stabilizers. I've been taking them for over 3 years and it's crap, I'm practically a zombie.

I'm writing before I have to go to my psychologist. I tend to overly complain about my life but many would be happy to switch places with me. That does not help me get out more out of my life since I'm stuck in a loop of self pity. I don't think I want to die but I'm sure I'm sick of living. I keep asking all the wrong decisions and my anxiety gets the best of me most days. I try to feel better by making others feel better but I'm not sure how that's working out. I know people are grateful for me but is that enough of a reason to keep living? I strongly believe people are replaceable. Yeah, grief isn't a desired emotion but it passes. Time doesn't heal all, it just helps to lessen the volume of your pain. But that too is something people move on with. I think it's nice that in Judaism there are 7 whole days dedicated to grieving unless there's a holiday in-between and then you're forced to be happy, which obviously isn't ideal.

I'm supposed to be excited. I'll be starting my university life in October but I can't handle the thought of moving on in life. I was so so sure I'd die before 18. I've always wanted to be a kid forever. Now I'm just a stupid young adult. No one gives a shit about 20 year olds navigating through life. Absolutely everyone cares when a tragedy happens to a minor. I'm not sure if I wanted people to pay attention to my death since I didn't feel useful while living. It's stupid since I won't be able to see it. Why would I care so much? Oddly, thinking about my death has kept me living longer than thinking about my living while living. Thoughts like my reason for choosing death shouldn't be anger kept me going during the full year I didn't speak with my dumb brother. Even though I felt like I went through hell with that experience. Am I stronger now after opposing and resisting his threatening presence for a full year? Have I learned something useful that would guide me in my future? I don't know since it's very very hard to imagine a future right now. I hate how I have "friends" that continuously say how they're in a difficult time right now. A difficult time is a period of time where you are overly stressed, have to deal with something difficult or making big changes in your life. It isn't a phrase to go around saying your whole fucking life. It's a period of time. That does not say the person is having it easy but always having a difficult time is just a basic lack of understanding that life isn't breezy. Having a good time is so temporary and it's okay to acknowledge you aren't. This probably makes me so mad because this one friend I have from my national service is always complaining about herself.she never takes the time to check up on me and if I try opening up to her, she just gives me advice and compares how she has it more difficult. She isn't a mean person just not one I'd like to hang around with so often. I thought I had fun with her but our last meet up was just exhausting. I'm definitely not a good judge of character and not very good at keeping friends close but to my defense they don't try to be close to me either. No one has the energy to make new friends. I used to travel around so much as a kid because of my father's work so I grew accustomed to it.

I used to think quite highly of myself. I never put down others in order to feel that way, just used to work really hard and my results spoke for themselves. I wear glasses and people think I look smart. I do have some knowledge but I wouldn't call myself smart. I think critical thinkers are smart people. I think curious people are smart people. I think humble people are smart people. I feel like I don't fit in these categories. At best I'm nice but a person saying about themselves that they are nice is kind of a red flag so I don't know anymore.

[saeculumaeterna]

@angel-fxced

[ DEBATE ]  our muses are arguing because sender is worried and overprotective of receiver,  but when they get up in each other’s faces they end kissing and groping at each other. have fun

@angel-fxced

It wasn't like Dagon wasn't aware how terrifying both he and his job truly were. What he did and endured to keep the wheels turning? It would and had broken lesser beings plenty of times before. He knew just how unsettling at best and nightmarish at worst his day-to-day minutiae really was.

The problem is that while he was used to it, his partners were not. How could they? They were mortal more often than not and they were not often those who has a bigger understanding of the cosmos than most of their peers. In other words, he was speaking a different language.

This instance was no different. Was Dagon accustomed to returning to his bar with his facsimile flesh having been flayed off his form and the body beneath being actively ablaze? Yes. Was Toni? No. It made for quite the scene of the rather morbidly looking Dagon stepping out of a portal like usual, and being greeted with screams and a fire extinguisher to the face.

It didn't work.

Heaving a sigh, Dagon healed himself to put an end to the issue. Except it didn't work out that way. Toni had been babbling about something the whole time, some mix of 'you scared the fuck outta me!' and 'how are you even standing right now?' The ageless wasn't really paying attention, it was just noise right now. He was tired, tired for him anyway, and he wanted to just collapse in somewhere comfy.

Really Dagon let Toni blather on without interruption, even when he had flopped into one of his booths to rest his sore bones, until his spider said something that was ill-advised at best and suicidal at worst.

"You can't keep doing this! You need to stop!"

Leveling an annoyed glare at the demon, Dagon didn't need to say why that was a bad idea. Toni knew better, they were just being emotional and hysterical right now. Yet the arachnid did not back down, folding one set of arms across their chest, the other resting on their hips.

"Shove it busta. You're not coming back home looking like a zombie again. I'm doing this with you from now on."

That made Dagon bark out a laugh, a short and loud thing dripping with mockery. "You'd be permanently dead in less than an attosecond without my powers protecting you. Furthermore your presence isn't needed there." There were rules. Things had to happen a certain way or it was all undone. He hadn't lasted this long letting undisciplined amateurs into his operations.

"That wasn't a request."

"That wasn't a criteria. You're not coming because you'd be useless, dead weight at best and an active hindrance at worst." Sure Toni could handle themselves in a fight, but this was a much different league. Fighting demons in hell? Easy. Trying to help Dagon in his work? Impossible.

His paramour did not like that comparison. Their mouth opened again, likely to shoot out some kind of insult or retaliation or something and Dagon just did not care. He moved back to his feet in a flash, advancing on Toni and quickly pushing them so their back was against the bar counter.

The godkiller loomed over his lover, hands slapping down on the wooden counter behind them with more than enough force to splinter and crack it.

"You're scared, you're worried, I get it. But this isn't changing. I will do what I must, regardless of what that is, and there is no changing that. If you can't handle that, either get over it or there's the door."

If looks could kill, which they can but he won't grace Toni with that power, then he'd be permanently dead himself right now.

"Don't delude yourself Toni. You can't even stop me. How do you expect to keep up with my ordeals?"

If Toni wasn't mad before, they were fuming now. The spider pressed right up against Dagon's face, nose to nose with snarling fangs bared.

"Prove it."

And so he would.

The kiss was rough and bruising. Not exactly something they were unused to individually but from each other? That was a rarity. It was the kind that asserted dominance and control, one that neither were going to give up so easily. One that Dagon was free to cheat at for once. After all, it wasn't like Toni could stop him. And cheat he did, sending a strong paralytic force into his spider’s body. 

It worked as expected, with Toni stiffening up and their body becoming completely unresponsive. Dagon drew back with an unimpressed glare, arms crossed as he had proven his point so absurdly easy again. 

“Look at that. You’re wrong. Shocking.” The ageless returned to his booth, flopping down back into the cushioned seating, before snapping his fingers and undoing the paralysis. As tempting as it was to leave Toni like that, he wouldn’t. The demon on the other hand had clearly not learned their lesson. Once the paralysis was gone, they marched right back up to Dagon to get some revenge.

“Stop.”

The voice was booming, rattling the glass in his bar like a clap of thunder. And it did the trick, Toni halted in place like they were frozen stiff. Their eyes still darted around, confused and still very angry about the whole thing. Dagon stared up at the spider with still that unimpressed glare.

“Submit. Kneel.”

Any trace of resistance Toni could have mustered there had vanished at the first word, and their body had mindlessly complied with the second. Dagon simply crossed one leg over the other, his hands folding atop his lap.

“The voice of command. It’s been ages since I’ve used it, mainly because it’s not the best method of control that I have. Still it does the job against such...lesser opponents.” He leaned back in the booth. It was time to play with his conquest.

“Play with yourself.”

Dagon didn’t need to be specific, the voice did the real work. Translating even vague commands into fully understood orders. And as expected, Toni obeyed. Of course they knew what they were doing. Dagon wouldn’t have been surprised if Toni had had to take care of themselves after more than a few unsatisfying partners. 

The ageless simply watched on in silence, enjoying the display before him as his lover (though for how much longer was anyone’s guess) continued on with the impromptu performance. Though the venomous glare was not helping matters much.

“That won’t do. Enjoy this my dear. Openly and wantonly.” This time was different. Dagon hadn’t used his voice power, and yet Toni had complied. Perhaps they weren’t aware, perhaps they were resigned to it, or perhaps they were enjoying themselves as well. There was a faint blush on that cherubic face and Dagon doubted it was from embarrassment. 

The show made for a lovely bit of entertainment and it would make for an equally lovely portrait later on. But for now, the masterpiece had yet to be finished. Dagon could see that Toni was being deliberate in their actions now, doing what they knew they loved best to orgasm quickly. Probably suspecting that after that, this whole game would be done.

“Stop.” The ageless interrupted with a smirk, and the shock on Toni’s face quickly morphed into an utterly livid look. But Dagon didn’t care. He stood up, reaching down to run his fingers through his paramour’s ever-soft hair. The action was soothing, but his smirk was not.

“Every time you would achieve your release, you will stop and let yourself calm back down to nothing. Then you’ll do it all over again. You’ll keep doing this until I return.” And there was that look of shock again. 

Dagon simply winked at Toni, opened a portal, and laughed as he went through it. He’d say Toni would not be forgetting this encounter anytime soon.