#but its like every fucking outfit and it drives me up a goddamn wall

[charmixpower]

I think it's fine if the girls exchange colors of patterns or used things that are the signature of the other, because in real life nobody use only the same color and pattern for every single day of their life, and friends don't really go like "I can't use hearts because thats Bloom things" or "I can't use yellow because that is Stella color", and besties love to have matching things

Yellow has never been Stella's color but

I'm not gonna bitch that Flora wears a heart once, or that Musa has flowers on her cheongsam

I'm bitching because all of them are wearing the exact same pattern and exact same color which feels out of character in a show that had fashion designers come on to give each of the girls their own unique style. It just feels insulting to the audience for me to believe that they'd all decide to do that

The other thing is, it's a cartoon. No one wears the exact same outfit every single day they do something and yetttt

In drawn visual media colors and symbols become a part of a perticualr characters identity. It's part of how you recognize things related to them in a visual media. Take the Believix wings for example, those beauties only work because each girl is associated with a perticualr symbol

I don't perticually care if a character isn't wearing their assigned colors in every outfit, I'm glad they don't. I do care if they're all wearing fucking pink, because that destroys the purpose of using color strategically in visual media

I like seeing Tecna in blue, Flora in orange and red, Aisha yellow ect ect. I have no problem with color swapping, but the symbol swapping is a bit different. They're symbols are in their wings to their fairy dust charms. It's just apart of the character designs at this point and ignoring all of them so they all look like something out of Bloom's closet is annoying as fuck

Finally, the matching thing :///

Matching pajamas we're they're all in pink and have hearts, matching disco outfits where the color purple returns with a vengance, the horrible matching band outfits that don't look like anything most of them would wear, the matching cafe outfits when pink bites back, the matching salior outfits, the flower princess thing, their swimsuits all being the exact same style bottoms, the god forsaken ballet outfits where all the outfits nearly have the same silhouette??

This isn't best friends matching anymore, this is the designers either getting lazy or deciding the Winx club are all the same girl and should dress to this fact accordingly

I mean just look at older seasons. Dance class? Horrible and tacky, but by God they weren't all wearing the same style of puffy skirt. S3 Disco had them all wearing completely different outfits that look nothing like eachother outside of a vauge 70s~60s theme. Almost like the designers were aware they're different people who don't dress the exact same. They're early seasons pajamas never matched, neither did their bathing suits. But now they do

And if your wondering why this bothers me so much it's because fashion informs the characters. If a character is wearing something you can assume they like it, which is a form a characterization. If they're all wearing the same thing in different colors, what does that say about their personalities?

[worldsover]

Dal Segno ft. Chuu

length ✦ 3570

genres ✧ music making; oral fixation; facefuck; subby!Chuu

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Composition is only fifty percent of the process, you've heard, but it's closer to ten for you. For the importance of a solid melody and chord progression with the right instruments and singer, a song becomes less than the sum of its parts with bad mixing because all that effort goes to waste when you can’t hear something, or when something is too loud, or when a certain je ne sais quoi is wrong. But you do know. You don't have to be a chef to be a food critic but it certainly helps. Avoid muddling the lows as it waters down the soup. Carve space in the highs to prevent too much salt from killing the taste buds. Have at most five sounds at a time or else the flavors clash. Focus on these basic techniques to guide you as repetition wears down your mind. Funny. Repetition legitimizes especially in music yet here you are fatigued by repetition as though you weren't down four cups of black coffee. Repetition legitimizes. “From the sign,” the translation reads. Notation, simply instructing a musician to return to a certain point in a piece. You recognize it as an intro song you wrote years ago.

Glass and foam separate the undersized room. Cheap ramen and dampness in the hot air contribute to the odor. You would keep the fan on, if it were worth the extra time filtering out faint noise from recordings. The only scent that keeps you sane is a slight strawberry flavor lingering in the room. Jiwoo. Your muse. A large clock holds both of its hands near one with the lack of natural light muddling whether it’s AM or PM. Studios were always underground man-caves whether they were discount rooms or the signature workspace of the biggest producers. Here you are in the former. Look down at the Macbook and all the wires, sliders, and knobs. Deep breath. “Take 63,” you say into the cheap control room microphone.

“Not good enough.”

“Again.”

“One more.”

Look up. Jiwoo sucks on a grape lollipop. You stare. Watching her fixated on getting all flavor out of the purple sweet derails your flow state. See, work had a rhythm. Listen, volume up, hotkey to copy this clip, volume down. The obvious innuendo sends you offbeat. That perky butt bending over to get a notebook filled with lyrics entrenches the folds of your brain. She didn’t have to wear that skirt. You’ve seen that skirt already and you wish she weren’t wearing it. Oh, you really wish she weren’t wearing that skirt. Guilt sets in. You’re a trusted coworker, she, a naive girl. It takes a while to find your groove again. Your stare has yet to cease until she finally returns the eye contact with candy still in mouth. Her pink tongue laps to secure all the sugar and red pillows engulf the ever-shrinking circle. Pop. Anyone else and it would be calculated action.

“Oppa." Her voice resounds in your monitor headphones. "I don’t know if these harmonies really make sense. Why did you write the second voice to cross down below the main line? Plus it goes so low."

“To be fair, you wrote both of those melodies and you said you wanted them in the same song. Tell me anywhere else they’d work.”

“Ugh, let’s figure this out later. Next song.“

Dozens of takes later and Jiwoo’s frustration causes her to make mistakes. Sometimes she even tries to start singing with the sucker in her mouth. For the character she plays, you know she’s a professional and that she can be better. Yet hours later, she still could not get the vocal runs right. Incomplete songs bloat your project folder: "Jiwoo - Mania", "Jiwoo - Look Closer", "Jiwoo - Untitled Idea 21". Just a small side project that the company approved during another ample period of break time between comebacks. That’s why the director didn’t even let you use the company’s facilities, instead opting to rent out this cheap closet of a studio. At least no one would be mad about the amount of time you spent recording together.

You shift seats from the leather office chair to the white lovechair, the only two pieces of furniture that fit comfortably in the room. Jiwoo follows suit and leaves the recording booth, really more of a phone booth in square footage, while she huffs and puffs on her candy.

“I’m tired, oppa,” she says.

“Me too, Jiwoo. May I remind you that I’m not getting paid extra for this. Are you gonna focus or what?” your voice just a few cents down, just a bit harsher.

“I, I’m sorry.” A lick anyway. Her meek tone disappears, “Ya! You know how good your royalties are gonna be. Sole producer and all that. Plus, here you are still doing all this work for me." Why were you working so hard on this? "You know, if you just taught me how to use Ableton-”

“Then I’d be out of a job.”

Jiwoo frowns, “Wow, selfish much? You could’ve joined me as a trainee.”

“Nah, no way. Fish dance better.”

“Shut up, oppa. You would’ve easily made it with your, um, musical talent.” She clamps down on the lollipop with her mouth.

“You good? What was that?”

“Let’s," she stands promptly, "get back to recording.”

Crack. Jiwoo bites down on the lollipop and throws the stick in the trash. In ten minutes, she nails the verse she spent hours trying to get right. It'd be really nice to know what catalyzed that rally. You'd ask but driving Jiwoo back to her dorm is quiet as usual.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Make a good impression on someone, anyone, on your first day as a mixing engineer. That’s why you returned to the Blockberry Creative building with an extra bar of Melona in hand. A simple bribery. Light beamed down between two skyscrapers on a short girl with long hair and strands of bangs adorning her forehead. She stood outside the lobby, introducing herself to every passerby. You had to pinch her cheeks, the intrusive thought screamed.

She scurried up to you. “Hi! I’m Kim Jiwoo and I’m going to become an idol!”

Ah, a trainee. You already knew she was destined to become one. Well, not literally, you weren’t in charge of that. But her overflowing charm was impossible to ignore. You had to tease her though, “Are you sure?”

“Hey! What would you know about that, mister?” she said.

You bit down on your mango. “Mister? First of all, I’m only a high school senior,” her lips rounded in surprise, “And second, I’m your new audio guy, and I know for a fact they’re debuting you girls in order of talent.”

“Woooow. Well, I’ll have you know, I have a great voice!” She certainly spoke lyrically.  “Wait a minute, I didn’t know they hired people that young.” You pointed at her. “Okay, I’m in high school too. But that’s different, idols start this age.”

“I guess. I’ve been making music ever since I was a kid, and they liked what I had,” you said and Jiwoo nodded in understanding.

She fluttered her eyebrows. “Sooo, is that mango ice cream for me? Oppa?” A little surprised she already called you that, but it sounded right.

“No, I have this unopened strawberry-” Jiwoo snatched the half-eaten cold treat from your hand, and started licking it. Trouble she would be.

You spent many recording sessions together, alone after all the other members left. She cozied up to you because her little musical snippets had to become full-fledged tracks and you helped her out every time.

Something changed over the years however. Your interactions became colder. It felt like you were the only one who she would respond to in a deeper voice. Jiwoo wouldn't pepper you with silly acts or mess around. Maybe she took you more seriously which is how you managed to make more songs together regardless. Then, you stood idly by and watched her debut. Who didn't love her? But when she was with you, you missed the playfulness, the ice cream and her riffing over your playful guitar strums. It turned less of a hobby and more of a job though you never regretted any second with Jiwoo regardless.

Under the Earth's largest natural satellite, you shared a simple meal in black bean noodles. She was still in her hippie outfit from the comeback, and you handed her your jacket since it was cold. You realized, there was something else there that you were too inexperienced to notice. Your bodies' radiation replace the chill in the air, a bubble with just the two of you eating on the grass in a park near your dorm. A cliche slurping on one noodle and Jiwoo pulled away. In embarrassment, like a damn anime character, she hiccuped. Good thing you didn't close your eyes when you leaned in.

“Wanna make an album together?” Jiwoo says.

“Sure.”

You threw away the noodles’ package and escorted her home. That was all you expected anyway. Fine.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“That’s enough!”

Three goddamn weeks. It's been three goddamn weeks and you've barely made any progress.

Barge into the booth, slam the door shut and raise your tone, just below a shout, “I've had it up to here! You know how many of my songs have been mashed together in some unholy quest for your perfection? Just one unknown something is missing and either you start complaining or we move on to the next."

She backs up from the mic to the insulated wall but you continue, paying no heed to her, as you spout your piece to the artificially cold air, "You know how much time I’ve spent outside working on these songs? These are songs I’ve saved up over years. And you trash them like they’re nothing. How do you even manage to record LOONA tracks?”

Regret sinks in. This was your passion project as much as hers. Was it frustration from the recordings? Weeks of the same routine and it took until now for you to give in to your temper.

"It wouldn't even be that bad! If you could just one time, you could be cute or cheerful again with me, or,” Fuck. So stupid. You don’t have to take your friendships for granted like this. You’re lucky enough she treats you as much. “Hold on. Wait, I'm-"

Examine her face. It’s not sour and she hasn’t stormed out or even slapped you.

“No, no. You don’t have to say it. I’m. I’m sorry oppa.” She looks down. “I'm the one messing up after all." Her heartbeat a harsh snare drum. "And you. You're. Different. Looking at you always made me feel some, something funny. Not funny but? Ugh. I wish I could explain it.”

You hold in your confusion.

She blabbers on, “Like, are. Are you mad? I promise you, I,” A nervous breath, ”I like you. Okay?"

Your confusion grows like the length of your silence.

"I’m just acting how I really am with you. Do you want to maybe, I don't know, like," her voice decrescendos, "Um. Punish me?”

Your heart, your brain are deprived of blood as it all rushes down. Did you hear that right? Not an apology, not retribution, but a call to punishment? Misinterpreting her, the consequences would be dire but that damned demure tone for such an erotic request. Was Jiwoo the exact type of slut constructed in your mind? The one that made you feel sinful for even imagining. No, no, there's no way.

Too late. Jiwoo must have noticed the absurd bulge now. It had to be these Adidas pants today. Fuck it. Life can’t be lived fully without risk. Hopefully, the same switch turned in her mind. You remove all ire from your face and say in earnest, “Do you like games?"

She lights up a little. You sigh relieved.

"Let’s try…”, you say, ”Strip recording.” She lights up a little more, so you go on, ”If I mess up anything, the mix, the composition, the arrangement, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Your choice. And every time you mess up-”

Jiwoo unbuttons her denim shorts and brings them down her tight legs.

“D- did I say now?”

However, with her resolve steeled, she continues pulling them. "So what? I did mess up, right?" she says coquettish. Deliberate the turn she makes when she bows down to remove the shorts from her legs, Jiwoo reveals a hint of her innie pussy on that same little ass that ran through your mind earlier. A small trace of her thighs glistens, the only thing reflecting the single lightbulb’s glow in the microphone’s abode. She turns back to face you. "Please. Punish me."

Step closer until Jiwoo backs up to the soundproofing. She’s an eighth note away from your face, flashing her beady eyes and a coy smile, ”Where's your underwear?" A little drop spills out onto the floor, "And why are you so wet, Jiwoo-ah?”

Red on her cheeks, like she only now realized her dishevelment in front of you. “You just… Something about you snapping at me. I don’t get it either. I knew you'd do it, some day, I wanted you to," she mumbles in her best efforts to answer you.

“Have you ever worn underwear to the recordings?”

Those efforts continue to fail.

"Oh, Kim Jiwoo. What do I do with you?" One of your hands grabs her cheek. The other crawls down her back to grab her cheek.

“Oppa… Do I have to say it?”

“I want to hear every." Smack. "Word." Smack. She slips a moan.

“Can you," she says, "can you use my mouth?”

You disguise your long pause as thought, teasing the bare skin of her ass with your exploratory fingers to bide time, but it's an expression of your shock. The interruption helps you come up with a more suitable punishment however.

“How about this then. Every time you mess up, you have to give me a blowjob. Call?”

“Call!” Once more, unprompted, she kneels down in front of you and claws away your track pants. You roll with the punches.

"Oppaa," with an pronounced pop and in a sing-songy rhythm, "I've always wanted to know, if your dick-" It certainly didn't need Jiwoo's dainty hands pulling on your boxers, as it would've sprang out on its own with how like diamond your cock is getting.

"Fuuuck," the first profanity you ever hear her utter, she lilts. "Please. Oppa. Fuck my face?"

After all she said, she could still surprise you. Bring your hips forward and just as you would've her pussy, tease Jiwoo’s lips with the head of your dick. She parts them open, starved, anxious.

Hold her by the chin. "Wait."

She freezes at the command. Again, like foreplay, rub her lips with that head making them turn redder and more plump. You sweep aside her bangs to see her begging eyes. More importantly, slide your dick up to her nude forehead to slap as a first act of retribution. “A-ah!” Jiwoo stutters as you slap her face with your manhood again and again. Bring your cock back down and she's already a mess without you even having entered her mouth. A little drool from her shut lips gently massages your balls while a bit of precum drools from your slit to meet those lips.

Jiwoo mumbles as best as she can with you holding her jaw shut and your dick on her lips, "Please. Please. Shove your dick in me. I need you in my mouth."

You squint your rough eyes to command her.

Muffled still, "Oppa. Please. I. I need to taste you. You just, you're so thick and you're so long and cock is perfect and please I just-"  Loosen the grip on her chin to let her envelop the entire tip with her warm lips. "Mmmmm..." the moan resonates a saw wave and your stern resolve fades away on your first entrance into her face but it returns as her teeth rub against you. She quickly readjusts her jaw but it takes multiple attempts of you pulling out and her sucking you back until only silken lips hold your cock's head. Finally. A focused glint in her eyes. She endeavours to keep your tip in her mouth as long as possible.

You were mad at her earlier, weren't you?

Recall this anger and press yourself into her with all your hips' strength, working against the force of her lip's airtight suction. Saliva leaks to betray the seal. Jiwoo's prying tongue explores the underside of your cock but you reach an impasse while she's not even halfway down the shaft. You shove your dick deeper but to no avail and tears roll down her eyes joining the fluids coating her lips. Thus you exit back out. And back in you go to repeat and repeat and slowly increase your rate, becoming rough sex with her diligent mouth. All the positions you’ve imagined fucking her little pussy, you picture using her throat instead. Even in this compact studio, the couch, chair and desk would provide ample support for you to use her in many ways. The dirty thoughts inspire your speed right now. She slurps and gulps at every quick plunge but you realize her moans and rumbles aren't just incoherent reactions. You decelerate.

“Ah, ahhh, ahhhhhh… Ah’ve ahways- Hmph.” She slurs as she tries her hardest to communicate while her airway is blocked.

She slides up your cock to catch some air, “Thought about it- Mmm.”

“Your dick in my mouth and it’s just so pew, fect- Ahhh.” Jiwoo's lips let go gently then her tongue sticks out to lick up your cock and she shows off a trail of spit leading to your tip. A less patient man would’ve jerked himself off right there to grant her eyes and open mouth's unison request to feed on your cum.

Instead you retort, “You think you’ve earned it? Not even halfway down. Going nowhere, just like our recording sessions, huh?”

“Shut up!”

“Oof.” You’re already weak in the knees so Jiwoo's one handed shove sends your tailbone to the floor. Since you’re still dazed by her confounding strength, she takes initiative and kowtows her head into your lap to crawl down your cock with her tiny lips. Fondling your balls, Jiwoo starts from the furthest point she could muster on your shaft up to your cock head. Her tongue follows back and she starts playing under your tip to swirl that tongue around the most sensitive parts until it explores your slit. You buckle and groan. Jiwoo sucks and spits and sucks while she circles only the most minimal twisting motion of her lips on your head. This is the Jiwoo you know. Relentless. Only now your load is her magnus opus.

Her right hand strays downwards and her face on your dick blocks a full view but you can tell that hand is working as intensely as her mouth. As she strokes herself with more vigor, she starts humming a satisfied melody on your tip. In kind, your subtle grunts turn into full-bodied moans. You're a single measure away from your coda so you reach down and pull her off your cock by grabbing her neck.

You glare into her. “Desperate little girl, aren't you?”

Her breath is stilted and she's nearly shaking. “Please…” she sobs, ”You, you want it as bad as I do right?” Of course. “Won't you just cum for me?” Not now. Not when you have putty in your hands.

“You're making a mess. You can't take me all the way down. And I see that it’s not just your saliva coating the floor.” Point to the spot where she kneels, her drool joins a stain growing ever larger with a strand of juice from her pussy flowing as you continue to berate her. Then you point to her hand. Ha. “Were you playing with yourself using my pencil?”

“No… Wait!”

You back off. “Your top’s a mess too. Anyone can tell I just fucked your face.” You take off your black hoodie and give it to her. “I’ll see you tomorrow for our next session.”

“Wait, we didn’t book tomorrow, did we? Also, you can’t just leave me like this! Oppa!”

"I said, I'll see you tomorrow. I have to go,“ you remind her, ”Ha Rin’s picking you up. And give me back that pencil.”

She hands it to you, unable to meet your eyes despite hers lusting over your cock. You'll definitely use the alluring musk on it for later to save you from your self-induced blue balls. Exit the booth. Of course she barely waits to use your hoodie the same way since she doesn’t notice you lingering in the room. Instead of hiding the grey long sleeve that soaks her neck, your used sweatshirt covers Jiwoo’s face as her fingers make the mess on the floor larger.

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AFF, AO3

Swear to god I’m not just writing the cutest idols to write for. I mean maybe I am but also this answer from @nsfwtwicecatcher​ and all the subsequent pictures that I found of Chuu pouting inspired me. Also, this was a longer piece but I kept spinning my tires on it and decided to split it up, so look out for more.

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Fermata, the aforementioned sequel

[madlori]

Coming soon: “Strike Anywhere”

Sooooo like a month ago I had a fun lil plot bunny and banged out a short Schitt’s Creek fic called “Burn Out the Night.” In it, Patrick is a firefighter and David is a city engineer and they do Not Get Along, in fact they are infamous for their fights at calls. Except this night, a warehouse fire goes badly, and in the course of the situation Patrick is injured, at which point it’s revealed that these two bitter enemies are in fact married. Everyone is SHOOK. SEEKRIT HUSBANDS. It’s also super fun to have both these guys really lean in to their latent troll tendencies.

People were into this concept, and I jibed so much with the premise that I launched into a prequel story about how these two met and came to be seekrit husbands. I expect to finish it in the next few days and start posting soon (one chapter per day). So I thought I’d post a lil trailer!

Title: Strike Anywhere Fandom: Schitt’s Creek Rating: E Length: 65K Tags: David Rose/Patrick Brewer, Firefighter AU, Enemies-to-Lovers, Secret Relationship, First Responders, Hurt/Comfort, Patrick Brewer/OMC, Patrick Brewer Is Gay (and has been out for awhile), these are just temporary tags the real ones will be on the actual story with content warnings (none of the Big Four)

------

Patrick Brewer would always remember the first words ever spoken to him by the man who he would eventually marry, because they were “What the fuck are you doing? Are you an idiot?”

He straightened up, blinking dust and grime out of his eyes, a futile attempt given that he was standing in the middle of a destroyed store with a car through the front of it, holding a pneumatic cutter. The man who’d just called him an idiot was lurking on the sidewalk, peering in through the jagged hole in the storefront, dressed in expensive-looking shoes and massive white-framed sunglasses, his impressive eyebrows halfway to his hairline. “I’m baking a cake,” Patrick said, dryly, and went back to what he was doing.

-----

Once the woman in the car had been extracted and whisked off to the hospital, Patrick left the scene to the police, the tow trucks and the insurance adjusters and toted his equipment back out to the fire truck parked outside. He stowed the pneumatic cutters, spotting David Rose standing with Ronnie by her truck. Pique rising in his chest, he stalked over to them. “Okay, somebody wanna explain to me who this guy is and why he gets to barge into my rescue?”

Rose turned to face him, tipping his sunglasses up on top of his head. “Who are you, sturdy wee man? An intern, or something? Does the fire service have interns?”

“I’m Captain Brewer of the 315,” Patrick said, flatly. “I’m in charge here.”

----

Patrick went back to his truck, tossing his helmet into the back with more force than was probably recommended by its manufacturer. Shit, he thought. This is going to suck, a lot. Having someone hovering over everything he did, second-guessing every decision he made, would be bad enough. But that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was that he’d be suffering the unwanted interference of possibly the hottest guy he’d ever seen, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to make that not true.

----

“Ugh, I had the worst day. I spent three hours driving around with that snotty Captain from the 315.”

“You mean Brewer? The one you won’t shut up about?”

“Complaining about! Bitching about!”

“Sure.”

“He’s a self-righteous prick and I deserve some kind of peace prize for not flinging myself across the car and throttling him to death with my bare hands.”

“I’m sure that keeping yourself from, uh, flinging was a real struggle.” Stevie picked up David’s tablet and started Googling something. “You know when you told me about this horrible Captain Brewer, your arch-nemesis, I pictured some grizzled, crotchety old guy. You neglected to mention...this,” she said, brandishing the tablet with a flourish.

On the screen was an article from the paper with the headline “Toronto Fire Services Promotes Youngest Captain in its History,” above a very nice photo of Patrick in uniform, arms crossed, smiling and looking like a recruitment poster.

“What, exactly, did I neglect to mention? Young guys can be grizzled and crotchety.”

“You neglected to mention that Captain Brewer is a snack.”

“If he is, he’s one of those tasteless low-carb sugar-free snacks full of xylitol that’ll give you explosive diarrhea and make you wish you’d never been born.”

-----

“Why’d you do it, anyway?” David suddenly exclaimed, coming off the wall to stand right in Patrick’s face.

“Do what?”

“Save my life, you fuckhead!”

“That’s my job! What was I going to do, just stand there and let the truck fall on you?”

“Great! Except now I have to, like, be nice to you.”

“I am begging you not to be nice to me, I might drop dead of a heart attack from the shock!”

David’s lip curled in a sneer. “I don’t know what kind of carnage I committed in a past life to deserve this. Look at you with your fireman outfit and your respectably-gay undercut and you probably have a modest tattoo somewhere under there and I could axe-murder you, I really could, you just had to be the big damn hero, throwing me to the ground like some damsel in distress, and that isn’t even the worst part!”

“What’s the worst part?”

“That a guy I can’t stand saved my pointless life and it was so goddamn hot that I might have to jump off a cliff!”

------

...coming soon!

[rhysismydaddy]

Fanny Pack Sexiness (Nessian Smut)

Prompt: *sensually unclips fanny pack* this is weird, i know. but i just saw a tweet and i thought if anyone could write this, it would be you.

Laughed so hard when I read this. If this isn’t Nessian, I don’t know what is. NSFW warning because I do love a fanny pack moment ;)

_________________________________________________________

Nesta glared out the window, keeping her unspoken vow to not look over at the atrocity that was her boyfriend. 

Well, that wasn’t not fair. 

The boyfriend himself was actually pretty nice to look at. 

Broad shoulders, a tall frame filled with meaty muscle, curly brown hair, and golden eyes made him interesting enough, she supposed. 

But it was what the bastard had chosen to wear that had driven her insane all day. 

The monstrosity was strapped around his waist currently, and she could’ve sworn it was laughing up at her. 

Consider this the first and last time she would ever travel with him. 

Because since it wasn’t obvious enough they were American, Cassian had chosen to wear a fanny pack. Over an I <3 LONDON shirt. Which he’d paired with khakis. 

He looked like the cover of a tourist’s guide made for forty year-old, single men who lived with their mothers. 

And she knew it was at least partly her fault he was dressed so stupidly, but she refused to apologize. 

Last night, they’d been heading out to dinner, when she commented that almost always, he wore all black. Honestly, it wasn’t even a complaint, considering she was guilty of the same thing. 

Why bother trying to put together prints and fabrics and colors, when black looked so nice on her? 

Anyway. She hadn’t been complaining. Teasing, but not complaining. 

But noooo. He’d immediately gotten that annoying, competitive look in his eyes that both made her smile and want to strangle him. 

“What would you like me to wear, Nesta?” he’d asked, golden eyes practically glowing. 

She’d sighed, probably making things worse. “I’m just saying, we look a little goth when we’re together.”

Cassian had just smiled down at her, then walked out of their room. She hadn’t thought any more of it when he’d slipped back in later that night, but then this morning, when he’d gotten dressed in the bathroom and opened the door with a flourish, she’d almost hit the floor. 

He was not built for fanny packs and khakis. 

He was built for... well, he was built to be naked all the time, but since that would probably get them sent back to the states, tight black shirts and jeans was a decent second option.

Plus, as if it weren’t bad enough already, he’d been adding to the ensemble all day, building up to the horrendous outfit she was currently avoiding looking at. 

His faded combat boots had been replaced with flip flops. His hair was tucked under a very large hat with a Big Ben outline across the front. He’d even stopped to buy a fucking old-fashioned pipe from the William Blake exhibit they’d gone to see. 

He was trying to drive her crazy. 

But little did he know, she had a few tricks up her sleeve. After three years together, she knew how to drive him crazy, too. 

So she’d plotted and schemed all day. And as they rode back to their hotel in the cab, it was finally time for it to come into play. 

Trying to be discrete, she nodded at the driver.

Cassian’s eyes shot to her as the man slammed on the brakes. It had costed her twenty Euros, but seeing the look of shock on her boyfriend’s face was so worth it. 

Especially as she shouted, “Drive him to the other side of the city and kick him out!”

And jumped from the cab. 

It was still moving a little, but she’d been prepared and hit the ground at a run. 

Manic laughter came out of her as Cassian turned around in the now-speeding cab, shouting something unintelligible back at her. 

He wanted to dress like a tacky tourist and drive her crazy? 

Fine. 

She’d just have to show him what he was missing out on. 

~

A little over an hour later, the door to their hotel room swung open, hitting the wall angrily. 

“That asshole took me halfway to fucking Essex, then had the audacity to charge me for the ride. Next time you have someone kidnap me, at least pay the fee, woman! I swear-”

Whatever he was about to say lodged in his throat as he took a look at what she was wearing. 

It was all new, and his eyes took in every piece of the wardrobe with a predatory gleam that sent her toes curling. But she acted unaffected, even as she bent down to fix the strap of her very high, very uncomfortable shoes. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, voice rough. 

Straightening, she shrugged and fluffed her hair. “I’m going to dinner.”

“You mean we’re going to dinner.”

Finally. 

Nesta turned towards her boyfriend, enjoying the way his eyes dipped to the almost indecent amount of cleavage on display. 

She traced her eyes over his entire rumpled, touristy outfit. “I’m not going in public with you while I look like this and you look like that.” 

His eyes narrowed as he finally caught on to what she’d done. “I’ll change then.”

It was a struggle not to laugh. “Well, you seemed so intent on replacing your wardrobe, I figured I’d help you out and dumped your suitcase.”

That was a lie. It was safely hidden down at the front desk. 

“You did what?”

Ignoring the question, she said, “You’re welcome. And since you can neither change nor go like that, I guess I’ll just see you later.”

Making her way to the door, she was abruptly stopped by a hand smacking into the wall closest to her, an arm now blocking her path. “Nesta Archeron, you are not going out looking like a goddamn supermodel while I sit here with my thumbs up my ass.”

“How you fill the alone time is irrelevant to me, Cassian.”

His other hand made its way to the wall, too, caging her in. 

“I know you wouldn’t throw my clothes out. Where are they? Tell me, and we’ll go to dinner.”

She shrugged, resolve to keep the secret building by the second. 

She was aware they were both a little competitive, but she didn’t care. She was winning this, one way or the other. He’d admit he’d been wrong to dress like an idiot today, then--and only then--she’d give him his clothes back. 

“I know what you’re doing,” he told her, the tone of his voice proving that it was working. 

He was suddenly so close she couldn’t think about anything else. 

Even dressed in head to toe tacky, he somehow managed to suck all the air out of her lungs. 

One hand turned his hat backwards so the brim wouldn’t poke her, and he leaned in close enough to run his nose down her neck. 

“Tell me, Nesta.”

“No.”

His teeth nipped at her skin, and she shivered. “Do I need to fuck it out of you?”

Gods, yes. Please. 

That hadn’t been her plan at all, but her body was more than on board with it. 

Except there was a bit of a problem. 

“You are not fucking me with a fanny pack on, hate to break it to you.”

Cassian pulled back far enough to wink at her, then his mouth was on hers, dominating her in the way that she’d only ever let him do. He pressed her against the wall, chest tight against hers, as he slipped his tongue in her mouth. 

Hands on her waist lifted her, and then she was being thrown halfway across the room onto the neatly-made bed. 

Propping herself up on her elbows, she glared over at him. 

“I was being serious, Cassian. You’re not getting any while you’re dressed like Uncle Sam.”

He swaggered over to the foot of the bed, the comment not at all impacting his confidence. 

“Allow me to remedy the problem then, princess.”

The hat’s the first to go, and it was a relief to see his unruly hair finally free. She heard the slap of his flip flops on the floor and figured he kicked them off, too. Cassian tugged the horrible, bright yellow “I <3 LONDON” shirt over his head, then stared at her, eyes narrowed. 

“I’m keeping the fanny pack.”

It was adorable how wrong he was. 

Raising an eyebrow, Nesta leaned back and let her thighs fall open, keying him into the fact that she’d somehow forgotten to put on underwear tonight. 

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move to take off the damn pack. 

So she ran a manicured nail over her bottom lip, then slipped it in her mouth and sucked on it. She was pretty sure Cassian was about to pass out as she released it with a pop, then brought it between her legs. 

“Nesta.”

“Hmm?” she responded, the sound drawn out and breathy as she pushed the finger inside herself. 

“I like the fanny pack.” He sounded so sad, it was almost comical. Like a kid on Christmas who’d just been told Santa hadn’t come.

Too bad.

“Then stand there and watch.”

Oh, he did. His eyes were intent on her hands, both the one between her legs and the other that made it’s way to her breast. 

She rolled a nipple between her fingers and groaned, and he leaned down to fist the sheets at the end of the bed in his hands. “Fuck.”

Nesta refused to give first. Absolutely refused. 

And she knew what it would take for him to give in. So she added another finger, back arching off the bed, and worked herself until she was so close she couldn’t stay still. 

His knuckles were white as he gripped the comforter tight enough to threaten the strands, but it wasn’t that that forced him to lose their little battle. 

It was the sight of her coming undone before him. 

She moaned, and it might’ve been his name that fell from her lips, as release found her. When she heard the strangled, creative curse he let out, she knew she’d won. 

Forcing her eyes open, she watched as he finally unhooked the fanny pack and let it drop to the floor. 

It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. 

Cassian quickly kicked off his hideous khakis, then prowled up her body, dropping little love bights on her thighs, her hips, her breasts. 

“That was so hot,” he groaned as he settled between her thighs, bracing himself on his elbows. 

“That was the idea, idiot.”

He stopped for a moment, pulling back to give her a sour look. “I think I’m going to make you apologize for that.”

Before she could tell him there was a fat chance of that happening, he pushed into her. Nesta gasped, and his mouth was suddenly on hers, absorbing the sound. 

After a brief moment to adjust, his hips grew rough against hers, the grip he had on them almost bruising, but she didn’t care. 

“Fuck, Cass,” she groaned, arching into his touch as he drew little circles on the bundle of nerves between her legs. 

He picked up speed, pounding into her so hard she started shifting up the bed until he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, keeping her in place. 

Release started building up in her, and she could tell it would be almost too intense when it crested. But just before she got to find out, he slowed his rhythm, swirling his hips slowly against hers. 

An indignant, hateful sound left her mouth, and he pulled back enough to smirk down at her. 

“Say it,” he commanded, eyes like molten caramel as they watched her hips try to gain more friction. “Say you’re sorry, and I’ll give you what you want.”

“Fuck you,” she panted, barely resisting the urge to punch him. “You insufferable, arrogant bastard.”

“Not exactly what I want to hear, but close.”

A maddeningly slow circle of his hips had her regretting ever going out with him. 

Another had her planning his murder.

Yet another had her cursing the day he was born.

“Say it, Nesta. You know you want to.” He dipped his head to kiss the base of her throat. 

Her body was so strung out it was a miracle she didn’t burst into tears, but she somehow managed to hold off for another few minutes.

But then he grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head and all but growled, “Just fucking say it. Say it so I can fuck you like you deserve.”

And she was just desperate enough that she said, “I’m sorry I called you an idiot, you horrible asshole.”

He smiled down at her, and she glared. “Such beautiful words.”

“Cassian, I swear-”

The words became lost in her throat as he finally, finally started moving again, somehow harder and quicker than before. 

Release immediately crashed into her, and she moaned as she drew tight around him. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, and even though she currently hated him, the words just made the release that much sweeter. 

Especially as he didn’t stop. Her body was trembling underneath his, but he kept going, even dipping his head to kiss his way down to her breasts. 

His tongue swirled around the peak of one, and she groaned loudly as the wave inside her seemed to crash once more, leaving her scattered and broken in the aftermath. 

Cassian finally followed her lead, collapsing on top of her and pressing her into the mattress below as he said her name in a helpless, loving sort of way. 

Their breath was uncontrolled and loud, and it took a few minutes before either of them could speak. 

Then he asked roughly, “Now, where’d you hide my shit?”

“Front desk,” she panted, pushing her hair off her forehead with a tired hand. 

He drew back, looking over her partially-clothed body in a satisfied, male way that made her smile. “I really like that dress, in case it isn’t obvious. Want me to go change so we can eat something?”

Before she could respond, his mouth was at her ear, hot breath raising goosebumps across her skin. “Or do you just want to eat here?”

Suddenly, food was the last thing on her mind. 

Her hands found their way to his hair as she drew him back down to her. 

“Just get it tomorrow,” she murmured, lips finding his again. “And never wear that fanny pack again.”

_________________________________________________________

Like I said, I had WAY too much fun writing this hahaha. Kinda really loosely based on when Joey (Friends) went to London and dressed like a tourist :)

Tags: @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @highqueenofelfhame @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[murdersexual]

Heeeyyyy can I get an leorio nsfw alphabet 👉🏼👈🏼

6 FUCKING DAYS OVERDUE! I AM SO FUCKING SORRY! 🥲

I am terribly RUSTY at doing NSFW Alphabet. 😥😥😥 I had POSTING anxiety because of it. 😰😰😰

Feel free to challenge me to one liner fics, more alpha, and blah.

🚨WARNING MOTHAFUCKAHS🚨 (You’re all not mothafuckahs! I’m sorry 😥)

-RATED MA.

-STRONG SEXUAL CONTENT.

-NOT PROOFREAD!

-May contain HELLA mistakes.

NOW, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO... READETH THE SHIT!

And now presenting...

Murdersexual’s Leorio - NSFW Alphabet!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

After a long round of position switching, tender and breathy whispers, passionately rough love making, just know you’re in the hands of a natural caretaker. Leorio’s the type to have an atmosphere made for the absolute best of comfort. If you’re at his spot, he’ll have the finest of AC in his room, a mini fridge full of various chilled drinks for you to pick from, the most fluffiest of blankets and most plush of pillows—unless you rather his chest be your pillow—all for you to be at ease. He’s the type to lay back and relax, maybe crack a few jokes while giving you compliments to your sex game. And after you both catch your breath? A round two or three or four maybe possible~

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you? Everything is perfect. There’s not anything to love about you! And on him? Well the same goes for that matter. There’s not a day where he won’t stand in the mirror and smirk with radiant confident and say: “Hmph, I look good~”

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Facials are a yes for him! To see your face highlighted from his cum will never fail to turn him all the way on~ That and if you’re giving him the most soul-sucking of blowjobs, watching you swallow his cum is always a win. 💦 Glazing your ass in his ‘glaze’ is one of his favourites as well. Especially since his pull out game is IMMACULATE.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There’s more or less not a day where he’d come up with some pretty risky and outrageous fantasies. From the craziest of roleplays, using new props, being in very risky locations—like a dressing room in a clothing store. It’s never dull with him regardless but he rather not reveal such to you for he may or may not like to keep you guessing.

(For fucksake, I SUCK at these... 🥲)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Hell to fuck yeah he knows what he’s doing! He’s more or less the one who’s hella encouraging and motivating to you to try all of the craziest shit he’s tried during his first time.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary with one leg propped up on his muscular ass shoulder. Watching your expressions as he hits all of your sweet spots while secretly testing your flexibility is why he adores this one. Then there’s Doggystyle. He can never get enough of going to pound town until you try to put a hand on his thigh. Hell, prepare to get your hand smacked away or pinned to your lower back. That and he’ll make you throw it back~

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends! But more or less, he will crack a joke or two here and there, anything to have a quick breathy laugh. After all, not all bedroom action has to be so boring, right?

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Oohhh, he’s rather nicely set down below. His happy trail is rather light, tamed and pretty fine.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It’s always going to be passionately romantic. From touches, kisses, the low and soft whispers of genuine admiration and love… Just him having that naturally gentle sensuality is what makes every little second all the more euphoric~

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he’s far away, there’s never time he doesn’t think about you. But when you send him some rather teasing photos, the temptation can’t be helped!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Satin ribbons, roleplay and domination seems like plausible kinks. Tying you up in some satin ribbons, just to see the deep colours against your skin looks amazing to him. Roleplay? Oh my, since he’s most definitely in school to be a doctor, let’s just say you’re going to always be his favourite patient to tend to~ Domination? He’s going to always be on top unless you somehow charm your way to making him beg for mercy. He’s going to always command you to throw that ass back and so on~

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a much more of a private type of guy, so more or less anywhere in his place—dorm or whatever. That means, couch, bed, shower, hell, even the wall! Oh, kitchen table! Maybe even bend your ass over the counter~ Same goes for your place~

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Teasing is a big one as well as when you’re mad at him. It’s lowkey kinda hot to him, especially since he’ll fuck your attitude away.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Don’t tell him you want some other guy fucking you while he watches. He’ll cuss you out and probably not want to see you for the rest of the day. That and he would never do anything that you wouldn’t want to.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Watch out, his tongue game is fuego. 👅💦 He will give and he’ll make sure that he receives! There’s no half and no other half!

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Starting out, his stroke game will be slow and long with a few twists and wiggle of his hips. He may slowly pull out all the way until the tip is all that remains inside. Midway? Stroke game gets shorter and quicker, and he’ll reach even further on the inside. After discovering all of your spots, you’re going to feel every little bit of him. He wants your legs to shake, hips to quiver, back to arch and toes and fingers to curl.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies before his early morning class or before he heads out. He doesn’t mind one as long as you’re down for it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He loves to experiment! He’s open to MOST ideas! The riskier the more tempting. Ask him to fuck in public or in a car across from the police station, he’ll be down for it. 😏

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His stamina is OUT OF THIS WORLD! 😏 Hopefully you can keep up~ Rounds? Probably about 4? Maybe 5! There’s no telling. He’ll go until his balls are completely drained~

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Ah, does fuzzy handcuffs and satin ribbons count? 👀 You can T R Y to use it on him but his strong ass will break out of them~

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He teases waayyyy too much! 😤 It’s even worse when he’s far away visiting his friends, he’s always FaceTiming or Skyping you looking way too fucking good... But when he gets back to you, he’ll pay for it! Not that he’d complain right?

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Typically, he’s loud when he’s snappy, but in the bedroom? His voice is much quieter... Suave and low. His grunts and moans are pretty quiet but when he’s fucking you outta anger or if he’s drunk? He’s pretty loud~

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He has a lot of pornographic magazines and Kama sutra books. He’ll fold the pages with some key positions or outfits he may want to try with you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Beneath those clothes, you’ll come to see that Leorio is far more muscular than what he appears. He also has a ‘third’ leg down below that’s pretty flesh coloured, long and girthy. Since most of the things he wears is pretty fitted, you can never miss what’s packing in those boxer briefs and beneath that tank top and long sleeved button up.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is pretty high. (I mean duh, he’s a goddamn sex symbol. 😏) However, its controllable. You can always tell from the way his eyes scan you up and down and how he smirks with a soft bit of his bottom lip.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

YOU will ALWAYS be the first to fall asleep! There are times where he wanna fall asleep first with you but he’s more or less up doing any homework assignments or talking to his squad. Maybe even cleaning up then hitting the showers. His domestic ways are one of his biggest secrets.

You may now applaud!

Encore?

Thank you for the request! 😅 Sorry it’s not as good, I really... REALLY tried. 👉🏼👈🏼 I may actually have to come back and do this over... Because Leorio DESERVES! 😤 My little (tall) Koi Fish deserves waaayyyyy more love! (I really tried with the aesthetic omfuck...)

[dontshootmespence]

Enough Love To Go Around

Summary: At The Breeding Bench, omegas willingly lend their ‘services’ to alphas in need.

Pairing: Alpha!Ketch x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader, implied Alpha!Gabriel x Omega!Reader.

Word Count: 3,079

Warnings: Knotting, claiming, multiple alphas, bondage, nipping, light nipple play, power bottom Omega, slight bit of degradation, I think that’s it.

A/N: This fills my ‘power bottom’ square for @spnkinkbingo​ and my ‘slutty omega’ square for @spnabobingo​.

At The Breeding Bench, fertile omegas lend their services, i.e. their sweet little pussies, to alphas in desperate need of a cunt to fuck during their ruts. Some Omegas fall for their customers, some don’t. Some know who fathered their pups, others don’t. What remains is the omegas are in control. You’d be lying if you said this is what you imagined when you presented about 10 years ago, but you’d also be lying if you said you didn’t love what you did now.

As the owner of the business, Gabriel only took a five percent commission, so that he, and all his girls, could make a damn good living, which you did. Plus, he let his girls have all the power, unlike so many others in similar positions, so if you wanted an alpha to knot you, you could, but if you didn’t want to, you could forbid it, and thankfully everyone that used the establishment played by the rules.

The only Alpha you’d had so far, and the one you shared your only pup (so far) with, was Gabriel. He was a wonderful Alpha and father, and totally not the jealous type, so even after he claimed you, he said if you wanted to accept other alphas he was fine with that so long as he could claim another omega. Any other pups you might have he would help provide for.

All the girls had their regulars, the ones that would utilize the services of The Breeding Bench during every single one of their ruts. Then there were the floaters that came in and out of town. You had your regulars too; the brothers, Sam and Dean, a British transplant named Arthur Ketch, a man named Castiel floated in a few times a year and always booked some time with you and one of the other girls, Meg. You never cared to know people’s names unless they came in often, so you knew a few other names, including Gadreel, Benny and Mick.

Within the next week you had appointments with Sam, Dean and Arthur; they’d been your clients the longest and you trusted them all implicitly. Sam had no Omega. Dean had one, another friend of yours, Jo, and Arthur didn’t have one either. You’d have any or all of them if they wanted.

Walking into the back office, you bent down and gave Gabriel a kiss. Somehow, he’s able to perfectly balance being a father to your one-year-old pup, Aiden, with running this kind of establishment. “Who’s coming tonight?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Everyone who walks in the door, obviously,” you laughed. “But if you mean who’s on the schedule, Sam and Dean. I wasn’t supposed to have Arthur for a couple days, but he asked to reschedule and told him if he didn’t mind working around Sam and Dean then I’d be happy to squeeze him in...so to speak.”

Gabriel chuckled, his pen gliding over the numbers in the books. “Dirty little Omega. They’ve been going to you since we opened, right?”

“Yup, nearly five years for all of them. Arthur’s not the type to take an Omega. He’s more just in it for the fuck,” you say softly out of range of Aiden’s little ears. “But the boys I could see being interested. You’re still okay with that, right?”

“As long as you are, love. As long as everyone knows I’m your primary Alpha, you can have as many as you want.”

With a smile, you gave him another kiss and placed another on the top of Aiden’s head. In order to make sure there’s no immediate territory issues between alphas, only one alpha is allowed in a room with you at a time, so no threesomes or moresomes are allowed. Apparently, Gabriel had allowed it once upon a time but after one alpha nearly ripped another’s throat out he set up ground rules.

Despite being brothers, Sam and Dean could get territorial with you if they were both in a rut in your presence at the same time, so Dean would be your second appointment and Sam your last. First was Arthur.

Stepping into your usual room, you met his steely gaze and a shiver ran quickly down your spine at the sight of his smirk. “Hello, darling.”

“Hey, Ketch,” you greeted as you turned to close the door. Before you could turn around, he was on you, his mouth gliding up and down your neck in search of whatever sweet spot might make you squirm today. “Rut came early, huh?”

He only grunted in response before spinning you around and yanking your jeans and panties down with a few quick movements. “On the bed, head over the edge, mouth open. Don’t swallow a damn thing.”

“Wanna fuck me stupid?”

“You could say that,” he growled.

Crawling onto the bed, you let your tongue hang out and clasped your hands in front of you so that you could give him the illusion of control. Slick already dripped from you, easing the thick slide of his cock inside you. He bent down over you and bit down on your ear as he began to pump into you. “No talking. Just let me fuck that sweet little cunt.”

Whimpering, you turned toward him only to have him shove your face back into the bed. “Such a good little cunt.”  You smiled to yourself, crying out each time he thrusted to the hilt. As the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, heat spread throughout your body, nerves licked by fire until saliva was dripping onto the floor of its own accord. “Whose cunt is this?” He asked, desperation demanding an answer.

Every word was punctuated by a sharp thrust. “It’s- Your- Cunt- Sir.”

With a final thrust, he quickly pulled out and walked to where your face hung over the bed. Grabbing your hair, he yanked your head back. His knot was thick and swollen, aching for connection, but Ketch was a man of no complications and preferred not to knot, instead slipping his cock down your throat. “Swallow it all, love.”

You eagerly did as he commanded, smiling around him as he pulled out and slapped his knot against your lips, leaving a trail of spit to roll down your chin. Bending down, he tongued at your mouth and instructed you to stay still while he readied himself to leave. “Love marveling at my handiwork.”

Just before he slipped out of the room, he turned to you. “Until next time, darling.”

Smiling, you licked your lips in reply.

One down, two to go.

---

Combing your hands through your hair, you stood up and went to the adjoining bathroom to clean up for your next appointment. As promised, Ketch had fucked you stupid, so it took a few minutes before you felt like yourself again. You brushed your hair and slipped into a different outfit that you knew Dean would lose his mind over - leather pants with a low-cut red top and matching heels.

You’d be a little early for Dean’s appointment, but after brushing your teeth, you returned to the bedroom (which had newly laundered sheets thanks to the staff) and sat with your legs crossed, patiently waiting. Though your heat was likely a few weeks away at the very least, Dean’s scent filled your nostrils before he even walked in the room. “Holy shit, babe. You trying to kill me?”

You ran your tongue over your teeth as Dean shrugged his leather jacket off and practically lunged across the room, teeth nipping and biting at your heated skin. Arching into his hunger, you scratched at his skin, giving him silent permission to let himself go. “You’re always safe with me, Dean.”

He lifted you up against the wall and raked his hand up under your shirt to lift it over your head. “How long we been doin, this? Five years?”

Reaching down into your panties, you pushed them down along with your leather pants and kicked them to the side. “Five years, baby.” There was an obvious, unspoken question dancing on the tip of his tongue. “Wanna knot me, Alpha?”

“Already got one. Okay to share?”

“As long as you are.”

He grunted as he kicked his pants off and laughed. “We can be one big happy family.”

Laughter dissolved into a drive you’d never seen in him before, that pure Alpha desire and strength that most saved for the ones they claimed. As he carried you to the bed, he tore your shirt off and pushed your bra off in the most clumsy, too-sex-starved-to-care way. His cock pressed against your stomach and you palmed at it, massaging his knot before he laid you down on the bed and dropped to his knees. Entwining his fingers in yours, he licked his way up your pussy, moaning at the taste of your slick. “Goddamn, baby.” Dean’s tongue slid up and down your folds, lips suckling at soft skin.

“Knot me, Alpha,” you breathed. You whined in desperation and watched as his head popped up from between your legs and he stalked his way up your body.

When his face hovered over yours, his hunger softened for a moment as his lips met yours. “You know I’m not doing this just because I’m mid-rut, right? I might have started off as just your customer but-”

With every bit of strength you could muster, you grabbed his face and crashed your lips into his. “And I don’t let just anyone knot me. Only someone I trust. Someone I love.”

Not another word was spoken as Dean slipped his hands up your arms and into the space between your fingers, gliding your arms above your head. “You sure?”

“Fuck me, Alpha.”

Biting your lip, you sighed as his knot filled you. He was shaking, undoubtedly trying not to just fuck you like a jackhammer and actually take his time. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate it, but you wanted, needed, to see him lose control. Despite his grip on your hands, you wrapped your legs around him and dug your heels into his lower back. “It’s okay, Alpha. Fuck me. Make me yours.”

An appreciative growl rolled up from his throat as he thrusted into you to the hilt. “Not gonna last long.”

“Don’t care,” you replied, nipping at his ear. “Just need you.”

With each thrust, you dug your heels in harder and harder until he was practically grinding into you. Knot swelling, he started to rut against you and whisper in your ear about how he was going to fill you up, every word of which you soaked in as your legs began to shake. “That’s it, Dean. Fuck, fuck fuck.”

When his knot locked to you, his mouth dropped open, but nothing came out. All he could do was go still above you, thick ropes of come spilling into your pussy. Slowly, his rutting slowed to a stop, though his lips continued their sweet assault on the side of your neck. “Love you,” he said softly, smiling into your shoulder.

“I love you, too, Alpha.”

As his knot released itself, you talked about where things would go from here. Like Gabriel, he promised that whether or not any pups were his he would take care of them, just as he was doing with Jo. He also respected your decision to accept more alphas if you so chose. He only asked to know who they were. “Gotta make sure they’re good enough for you, too. Otherwise I’ll rip their throats out.”

Finally, his knot released and he pulled out to lay at your side. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. You know I have to get ready for my next appointment, right?”

“Yea,” he replied with a knowing smile. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded.

“You want Sam to be your alpha too, don’t you?”

Shyly, you nodded again and rolled on top of him. “I do. I’ve been seeing him as long as you. I love you both. I’ve got a lot of love to go around though I promise.”

“Well, Sam I can personally vet and say I trust him. Is there anyone else? Besides Gabriel I mean?”

“Not right now. I do have some consistent customers, but no one else I’m on that level with yet. Just you three. I trust you with my life.”

Glancing at the clock, Dean sat up and situated you in his lap, tonguing at your mouth. “After your next appointment, you free?”

“Yea. Have some ideas?”

“I do. Maybe Sam can join in on the fun.”

“I’d love that.”

As he got dressed, you fell into easy conversation about his work at the shop, which he owned alongside Sam. Most knowledgeable gun enthusiasts in the Midwest. “See you later, ‘Mega. Show Sam a good time.”

“I always do,” you said with a wink.

And with that he was out the door, leaving you just enough time to get cleaned up for Sam.

---

After getting cleaned up, you went back to your once again freshly made bed. You didn’t bother getting dressed. Sam normally preferred you be naked the minute he walked in anyway.

Maybe it was Dean knotting you, maybe it was the amount of sex you’d had in the past few days, but you were pretty sure your heat was going to come a littler earlier than usual, but you didn’t mind. With (hopefully) three Alphas, you’d be taken care of in any and every way. And you wanted another pup. Aiden was the light of your life.

Rubbing your legs together, you slipped your hand between your legs and inhaled the sharp smell of pine mixed with motor oil and just a dash of freshly fallen rain. You didn’t even realize Sam was there until the door closed. “Already getting ready for me?”

“I could smell you,” you replied with a smile. Feeling bold, you decided to ask Sam rather than wait. “Can I ask you something? And if you say no, it’s okay, we can continue on as normal.”

Sam’s brows furrowed. “Something wrong?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your plump lips.

“Not at all. You know I have an Alpha right?”

“Gabriel, and I’m going to go out on a limb and say Dean claimed you too.”

“Yea, because I love them both. And I love you. Would you knot me too? Claim me?”

His eyes transitioned from soft and concerned to hungry and possessive in an instant. “Fuck yes. Wanna see you round with my pups. Even if they aren’t mine. You are and they’ll be in every way that matters. Can we use the bench?”

Giggling, you opened the closet door and pulled out the collapsable bench he liked to use. Before you even laid a hand on it to unfold it, he yanked it away and readied it quickly, roughly grabbing your hips to bend you over the bench. “Wait,” you said.

He stopped immediately. “What is it?”

“I want to look at you when you claim me. Tie me up face up?” Sam bit your lower lip and smiled into your mouth before practically throwing you onto the bench, hands tied to a bar above your head. “Tie my legs too?” You asked breathlessly.

Dropping to his knees in front of you, Sam tied your ankles to the legs of the bench, his lips and teeth and tongue trailing over your legs as his hands deftly fiddled with the ropes. “You’re so damn perfect. So eager to be used.”

Your tongue darted out and washed over your bottom lip. Feeling helpless in your Alphas’ embrace - it imbued you with a strength you didn’t have in any other moment.

As he straddled the bench, legs on either side of your slightly spread ones, he pinched your nipples and relished in the way you embraced pain. You felt your slick drip onto the bench below your ass and popped your head up to see Sam stroking himself, his knot almost painfully swollen. “Fuck me, Alpha. Pound my sweet little pussy.”

Growling, Sam slipped himself inside you with one swift thrust. Had you not entertained other appointments this evening, his thickness would’ve pained you, but you were more than ready for him. Your body was eager for it and even though you could barely move due to the binds around your wrists and ankles, you tried to buck into his movements.

Sam grasped the bench on either side of your hips and used it as leverage to pump into you, his cock coated with slick with each pass into your wet heat. Each pointed thrust rattled your entire body. But it wasn’t close enough, despite how his knot was swelling inside you. You wanted him closer, covering you. “I need to feel all of you,” you breathed, almost begging. “Just fuck me. Mark me. Make me yours.”

Bending over, he placed most of his weight on you, his chiseled chest flush with yours. He was so heavy and desperate for release you could barely breathe, but it didn’t matter when you felt his knot lock to you. He breathed against your neck. “Gonna pump you full of my cum. You’re gonna take it like a little Omega?”

“Yes, Alpha. Pump me full.”

A strained groan erupted from his lips, which wrapped around your nipple. He bit down so hard you cried out and bucked upward as much as your body would allow, legs trembling so violently you could hear the bench shaking underneath you. “Fuck, Sam.”

Sam chuckled into your sweat-slick skin, rutting against you while he came down from his high. Once his knot finally released, he removed the ties that bound you to the chair and carried you to the bed. He slipped in behind you and cradled you in his embrace, every inch of his body molded against yours. Even now you could help but grab his arm and wrap it around you, craving the closeness. “Even now, such a needy little Omega,” Sam laughed.

“Always.” For a few minutes, you sat there in silence, breathing in rhythm with each other. “You were my last appointment for the night. I promised Dean we’d go out. Wanna join? I could show you both just how needy I really am.”

Sam swallowed hard and smiled into your neck, a movie’s worth of images playing through his mind. “Slutty little ‘Mega.”

“Damn right.”

[phantomrose96]

new episode. new liveblog. new episode. new liveblog.

Giyuu in the cold-open scene: -does absolutely nothing- me: Oh. Oh fantastic. I’m so glad you’re back. Oh I’d die for you.

The outfits are so goddamn pretty in this show. And Shinobu’s is the new reigning champion of “fuck thats pretty”

Spider-Dad fucking skipped Inosuke across the water. 3 times. like a rock

Yeah uh.... Inosuke acknowledging he’s injured must mean he’s truly fucked.

Inosuke is running away while waist-deep in the water. That’s like the HARDEST way to run away. Get on land with Tanjiro you moron.

Team Rocket Tanjiro is blasting off again

Like Spider-Dad just home-runned him outta the fucking forest. With a cut-down tree. The Kimetsu fight dynamics are fucking wild.

Tanjiro: “Inosuke, don’t die until I get back!” Inosuke: “...” Inosuke: “...” Inosuke: “Wonder why Kentaro wants me to die once he gets back.”

me prior to this episode: “I think that Riu spider kid is the actual member of the twelve demon moons.” Tanjiro: “Be careful Inosuke that Spider Dad is the Twelve Moon Member!” me, genre-savvy and aware of what misdirection is: “Okay so Riu is DEFINITELY the Twelve Moon member”

Yall I’m still wildly emo about Zenitsu being left to just... die alone... doing his best to resist the poison but like, fuck what can he even do beyond just lie there and hope? I’m really emo. Last episode fucked me up.

FUCK that’s a pretty aesthetic.

They’re really doing the MOST with that full moon. Like the full moon serves the functional purpose of letting the MadLad trio actually see and fight at night in the forest. But aesthetically? the most.

Shinobu: Yoo hoo? Hey buddy u fucking ded?

Kentaro’s out here pissing off powerful demons cuz he can’t keep his opinions about family to himself.

Generic looking background character: -appears- me: Oh he’s absolutely dead.

Tanjiro, seeing his 8th Extremely Traumatizing thing of the day: “I need a new job”

The way they’re playing with color to make Riu balls-to-the-walls terrifying is just... really good.

The slow and staggered creep of the camera, the music swell, the colors. Its all really good.

Inosuke:

Inosuke’s brain: 

THE FUCKING POP NOISE WHEN INOSUKE REALIZES “hey wait why the FUCK am i running away?”

THEY FUCKING GAVE HIM DENSER LINES. AND FROZE HIM IN PLACE. FUCKING POP. FUCKING NYOOM.

Inosuke, using his one sword to hammer in his other sword: I beat a mother-fucker with another mother-fucker

THE MOST. SELF-AWARE DUMBASS. NOTHING BUT RESPECT FOR IDIOCY THAT KNOWS ITS OWN IDIOCY.

He can’t READ.

Inosuke has two swords.

Tanjiro vs. Riu set to Undertale’s ‘Spider Dance’ track 

“What doesn’t hurt, doesn’t hurt!” Inosuke... honey.... that’s not healthy...

Fun fact that was revealed earlier in the manga but not translated to the anime: Inosuke’s ability to ‘sense’ out the location of enemies is due to his superior sense of touch. Complementing Tanjiro’s sense of smell, and Zenitsu’s hearing.

the blood smudge on Inosuke’s boar mask looks kinda like the typical anime blush marks, and when we only see his left half of his face it throws me every time

Inosuke literally every moment since his introduction: I’m the best! No one can beat me! I’ll fight anyone! I’ll fight you! I’ll fight your dog! I’ll fight myself! I’m never injured and I’m never hurt and I’m never tired! Anything Monjiro can do I can do even better! There’s no way to beat me in a fight and I’ll never surrender! Inosuke... in this episode:

I’m fucked up all over again...

First Zenitsu now Inosuke

And with Zenitsu it’s at least... expected of his character to want to give up. Not Inosuke. Never Inosuke. That’s fucked up. I’m fucked up. 

Again the color palette. This time the desaturation is what just... drives home the feeling of hopelessness. It’s so good.

Tanjiro: “Whatever you do, don’t die Inosuke” me, clutching my heart: “fuck”

Hey y’know extra sad how all the people who have ever cared about Inosuke, who flash before his eyes while he’s dying, are people we’ve met in series. Inosuke really went 15 straight years of his life with no one ever giving a damn about him.

Inosuke: “No... actually, I WONT lose! I wont! come at me monster!” Spider-dad: -punts Inosuke like a pinball across three separate trees-

It’s like the rock-skipping-across-water but now so much more painful.

He’s literally.... crushing Inosuke’s skull... in order to kill him... Inosuke’s been training specifically to toughen his head... Because he’s mad Tanjiro was able to knock him out with a headbutt... Inosuke might survive SPECIFICALLY because of that dumb grudge... I’m emo again.

His big pretty green eyes are still... funny.

He’s so so young in this it left me wondering “how does Inosuke remember the name his mother gave him” .... and then i remembered:

His name’s written on his fucking underwear. It’s the only piece of identity his mother left him... Fuck.

This leads me to two conclusions: 

1) Inosuke must have transferred his name - despite not even being able to read the words - onto all his clothing since then. 

2) He must have, at some point, asked someone who can read to tell him what it says...

Inosuke, moments from death, remembering the image of his mother’s face for the first time: Who... who are you? me, bawling: you’re supposed to be the comic relief.

fuck YES IT’S GIYUU TIME.

Tomioka “Cool guys don’t look at explosions” Giyuu

Inosuke: “I’ve never seen anyone as cool as this guy.” me: “bitch me too, the fuck.”

Please I just want Giyuu to stick around. If anything, as the only real adult. Also because he’s really fucking cool and I have a type. 

Inosuke: -attacks Spider-Dad earlier in the ep- Inosuke: -his blades snap- me: :0  Tanjiro: -attacks Riu’s spider thread- Tanjiro: -his blade snaps- me:

<:0 !!!!!!!!

[goodnightallwhites]

Paying Pilots by Zenalite

Chapter 1 - America, America... Asuka kept glancing out the window and shifting in the car seat. That damn Misato. Why is she taking so long? Outside, Americans were walking the sunburned streets, going about their day. No doubt EVAs, NERV, and sync tests were the last thing on their minds. And here she was, one of the few people in the world capable of handling the damned things, important enough to be brought in special to test the American units, only to be left waiting with blank-staring Rei who sat in the backseat saying nothing. All Asuka wanted was to sleep after the long flight. People came and went through the reflective doors of the hotel, none being Misato. The whole place smacked of pure decadence - just an obsidian pillar rising high into the sky, like a black middle finger flipping off the whole world. Asuka brought her feet up against the dash and knocked at the window in exasperation, hoping to summon Misato with sheer willpower. Come on, come on... At lengh, Misato came rushing out of the hotel, her hair stirring in the light breeze, her huge breasts bouncing with every step that she took. All the men either glanced or stared, but if Misato noticed it she would only smile with feigned embarrassment. What a whore, judged Asuka. Why does she always have to show off? Her hands instinctively groped at her own chest, feeling up the doughy breasts that had developed in the last few months. Mine aren't nearly that vulgar and unflattering. Misato playfully tapped her foot againt the car. "Come on, girls! Time to go!" Rei got out with Asuka, jumping when the latter slammed the door in annoyance. Her gaze remained focused on the diverse looks of the passersby. So many types of people, so many lives unfolding... They grabbed their bags from the trunk and went up the stairs that led to the entrance. Inside, Rei stared curiously at the high ceiling. The whole place resembled a mausoleum, cool and dark, with a marmoreal surface running down the floor and up the walls to the ceiling.   Misato ran up to talk to the people behind the desk while they waited by the elevator. The employees checked them out, giving Rei a long look. Asuka glared at her. "I told you not to wear your school uniform, you stupid idiot." What else would I wear? Rei wondered, uncomprehending. Misato came back and used a keycard on the elevator, then hit the button for the penthouse suites."It's wonderful here, girls, you'll see... We're privileged to stay in a place like this." Asuka made a face. "I'd rather we go out."   "Soon, soon... Maybe tomorrow. I'll" - she smiled - "try to get some funds together for us by then." Asuka clicked her tongue and leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, a deep frown on her face. "Tomorrow," she mumbled. "How can we have money to stay here but no money to go visiting?" Misato gave a shrewd smirk. "Because NERV covers the hotel bill. Unfortunately, they don't pay for booze." One apartment was assigned to Rei and Asuka, while the other went to Misato. Each had a luxurious living room that connected to a bathroom and a kitchen, with windows running the whole length of the walls. There was, however, a shared bed. "What the hell is this!" cried Asuka."All this luxury, to share a bed? Seriously?" Misato patted them on the head. "You two be good. I have some business to attend to. When I'm back, maybe we can go out together." Once she departed, Rei found herself staring at Asuka's grumpy face. "What the hell are you looking at?" snapped the ginger. She dropped the heavy bags to the floor and crashed inelegantly on the bed, falling asleep within the minute. Rei got on the other side of the bed, leaving as much space between them as possible. She, too, fell asleep. Darkness. An unfamiliar ceiling. Rei awoke to find Asuka gone, the place where she had slept now cold. The cityscape's sea of lights stretched below as far as her eyes could see, far beyond the horizon. She got up and wandered in search of Asuka, only to find the bathroom door a centimeter or so ajar, the bright light flooding into the living room. Rei padded over. Asuka stood in front of the mirror with one leng propped over the sink, inspecting herself over her shoulder. Her hand kept going down, testing the firmness of her bubbly butt. She stared at it, squeezing and kneading it between her fingers, pulling it up to check for stretch marks, then slapped and tested its wobbling potential. "What are you doing?" . Asuka whirled, twisting her leg in the process, and nearly crashed to the floor. She tottered towards the wall and pressed against it with her back, as if threatened, her blooming-red face seething with rage. "You idiot! You stupid idiot!" "Are you ill?" Asuka went and shoved her away, then shut the door. That little freak! As if this trip wasn't bad enough - as if she needed the added embarrassment of being caught by some bakayarou.   She smoothed her tank top and relaxed. With a deep breath, she headed back out. Rei stood right where she had left her. What the hell is wrong with her? "The city," said Rei, pointing to the world beyond the window. "Yeah, I see it." Asuka crossed her arms and moved her head from side to side in restless annoyance. "I want to go too. I'm bored out of my goddamn mind!" She sniffed indignantly and threw her head back. "You know what, let's just go. Get dressed." The outfit for the night would be a pair jean shorts that showed her lower ass, a tank top worn without a bra that hugged her breasts, and a pair of shiny stiletto heels that she could barely walk in. Only when she had finished applying makeup and lipstick did she look over to see Rei still dressed in her loose uniform. "I can give you something of mine to wear," she offered. Rei stared at her said nothing. 467. Definitely the right number. Asuka stood before the door and knocked. "Misato-san!" No reply. "Hey! Open up!" The insistent knocking drew the attention of a maid going by, but she said nothing. "I'm not going anywhere until you come out here!" The door opened, but what appeared was no Misato. It was a towering guy with dark skin, holding a towel around his waist and looking them down contemptuously. Long dreads wound down his bulky shoulders. Much of his chest had been tattooed with intricate patterns that writhed in the low light. Who... Asuka swallowed, somewhat surprised. But this was the right apartment. And she wouldn't let anyone intimidate her, not even if he stood two heads taller and weighed three times as much as her. He could probably kill me with a single blow, she realized. And yet, the very next moment, she yelled into his face: "If you don't get Misato here, I'll break this door down!" So much for opting for safety. He sniffed in disgust and began to push the door back, when Asuka rushed in and blocked the gap with her body. "Misato! Now!" Would he hit her? He said nothing. He simply walked off and left the door open for them. Asuka grabbed Rei by the arm and dragged her into the empty living room. A series of low cries echoed through the apartment. Asuka gave Rei a questioning look. Of course she has nothing to contribute. Was Misato hurt? Was this guy bad? But how could he have gotten in here? Heart drumming in her chest, Asuka towed Rei with her and ran after the guy. You don't scare me! They followed him through the doorway into an unlit bedroom filled by the stench of alcohol. The two walls that made up the far corner of the wall were made of glass and through them flooded the lights of distant signs and skylights. A gigantic bed crouched in that corner, surrounded by bottles, some of which rolled empty. Misato lay facedown on the bed, dressed only in some black lingerie, groaning in pain. For a split-second Asuka thought she might be in dire condition. But when two coal-black hands came up to squeeze her ass and drive it down harder on his cock, things became clearer. When the hands went down again, Asuka caught the writing in English on Misato's asscheeks: BLACK OWNED. And following that written in smaller letters: FACEFUCK $25, PUSSYFUCK $50, ASSFUCK $100. All three were marked several times over. M-M-Misato-san?... "They're here for you," the first guy, then whipped her ass to attention. Misato lifted her face to look at them. Runny makeup ran down her face, creating a black web of dried tears that reached all the way down to her glossy lips and smudged lipstick. Only now did Asuka notice that her large breasts were getting sucked on greedily by the guy below her. "Girls..." The guy that had led them into the room got behind her and let go of his towel. It unfurled from the back, taking a few seconds to run down his cock and theatrically unveil its length. A black cock as big as a horse's hung between his muscular thighs, strings of cum dripping from the engorged head. Asuka stared at it dumbfounded. W-What... A colossal pair of balls sagged and swayed beneath the shaft, dripping wet. The whole thing brought back the memory of Shinji flashing her by accident when his towel dropped. Back then, she had felt both grossed out and a little excited to see a boy's cock for real - never mind the teasing she gave Shinji for letting it happen, calling him "limp" and "too small" and whatever else she could think of to humiliate him. In truth, she had no real standard by which to compare it, she only wanted to drive him crazy. Compared to this, though, it barely reached a quarter in size. Were Asian dicks really that small, as people said? Or were these guys modified? How could they be so... so fucking big? A tingle spread from her pussy up to her stomach, making her itch and shiver all over. "I..." Misato started, but right at that moment the guy pushed his cock in all the way to the balls, slapping them against her vulnerable Asian pussy. "God..." The captain shuddered in despair her anal partner took it out only to thrust it in even harder than before. Asuka could only imagine the level of agony. Out of all the toys she kept at home, not even the smallest could fit her tight white asshole. Even the slender vibrator half the size of her pinky killed her when she tried to shove it inside... That must've been unbearable. Looking at them, Misato tried to smile through it. "Girls, what's wrong?" Asuka needed to remember how to speak herself. "We wanted some money to go out..." Misato whimpered like a puppy as the black cock splintered her asshole without care and sent electrifying bolts through her body. The guy below rushed his in and out of her pussy as fast as he could, readying to come.   "Just let me finish with these nice gentlemen, and then I'll have some money to give you... Just sit down, we'll be done soon." "But..." "Sit your ass down!" barked the guy on top of her. Asuka stepped back, her spine coming apart with terror. She glanced at the door, thinking of making a run for it. This wasn't Misato, not by any means. Drunk or not, cash-strapped or not, surely Misato wouldn't do - her eyes flickered to the fragile Asian body sandwiched tightly between the black ones - this for cash. She tugged on Rei's arm. "Let's go! Come on!" But Rei did not even turn her gaze around. She only stared at the spectacle in front of them, so taken in by it that she seemed unable to react with anything but unabashed fascination. Asuka spotted a small armchair behind them. She made Rei sit down, then took her place beside her, their two young and slender frames still leaving enough room between them for a third person. As much as she tried, she simply couldn't look away. It was so shameful an embarrassing. She might've used toys on herself and watched porn at home, but she did that alone. How could she just... watch them do it? The guy put his entire weight into his arms, using every single working muscle of his ripped body to assfuck his way into Misato and stretch her asshole bloody. Sweat glistened and flew off of his back, while his dread's got grabbed onto by a weeping Asian girl begging for mercy for her sensitive ass that in no way resembled Captain Katsuragi. This was only was only a fertile black cock slut that got what she deserved. Breeding by two strong bulls. And no mercy. They both increased the speed of their thrusts, the double penetration getting Misato from every angle and causing her entire body to twist and turn for a way out as she shrieked in indescribable pain. The two only pressed and squeezed her between them, groaning and laughing as they began to dump their seed into her ready womb and broken body. Asuka pushed her thighs together nervously, trying to fight the irresistible urge to touch herself. She lowered her purse between her thighs and squeezed it hard, letting the corner rub against the lips of her pussy, tingles spreading throughout her body all the way up to her hardened nipples. They, too, begged to be touched. A final low, drawled-out moan left Misato's lips as they pulled out, her toes curling as the biggest orgasm of her life kept ripping through her asshole and pussy. Her raw pussy and gaping asshole leaked with their thick seed. The guy with dreads stepped away and wiped the sweat from his face with the towel. The other rolled Misato over and got out, grimly excited at her current state and how far they had managed to humiliate her. Misato rolled back onto her chest, now panting and smiling like a mental patient, looking at Asuka without seeing a thing, giggling as the after-effects of the breeding continued how have an effect on her unprepared body. The towel guy stepped up to Rei. "You there." Rei found his eyes. He pointed down to his dripping cock. "Clean this up. Get on those fucking knees, and clean my cock up with that little Japanese mouth." Are you stupid? Asuka wanted to shout at him. She can't understand you! Not only that, but she wouldn't do it. How could he ask her to do something so disgusting?   Rei dropped to the floor and folded her legs under her bottom, then brought her mouth to his hanging cock. She rolled her tongue over the surface without knowing of what she was doing or how to do it.   "That's a good girl. Does your friend asshole taste good?" "Yes," answered Rei, without a hint of emotion. He cackled grimly. "I bet it is." Asuka gaped at her vile display, unable to believe it. She's licking Misato's ass juices off his cock. With me right here. Then the second thought came: Why did he choose her over me? But as much as it offended her, the intensity of her cravings only grew, and she wondered what it would be like just to touch it. It really is so big... Not a single toy of the tens at home compared to that. Not even close... He slapped Rei playfully with his cock as she struggled to clean it. "Are you a virgin? Have you ever had sex?" Asuka answered for her: "Of course she hasn't!" The guy suddenly reached down and grabbed Rei by the hair, then pulled her over to the bed. "Time you and I have a little lesson." ... while the other guy strolled happily towards Asuka, cock whipping back and forth with his steps. This was one was lanky where the other was beefy, with the long and sinewy limbs that made his already knee-down cock look that much bigger. Skin so dark that all she could see was his pearly smile. "Well, who might you be, darling girl?" He came to stand in front of her, the ebon shaft of his manhood only inches away from her face. Unlike the other, this one was uncircumcised, the head tapering down to a small point of foreskin. It still throbbed powerfully, enlarged veins struggling to keep it running. Cum dripped steadily from the tip, now directly onto Asuka's bare legs. She avoided looking into his eyes... but that only led her to stare at his cock. It's so fucking big, she thought breathlessly. At home, she had once tried to fuck herself with a dildo perhaps only a third of its size, and even that had been a painful experience. Asuka flinched as his fingers touched her skin, gently caressing her smooth cheek. "You looking real pretty, you know that?" His eyes went down to her breasts and the way they shot through the tank top. Chills. She lowered her eyes, feeling watched and vulnerable. Why did I have to dress this way... His dark fingers went through her hair, running down the ginger strands with sexual exhiliration. "You're so young and beautiful. I've always wanted to be with a redhead like you..." No! resounded the determination in her head. No, no, no, no, no! But even as she rationalized how terrible it was to get touched by this stranger, by this random guy that had just creampied Misato, she couldn't quiet her body down. Her mind might not have wanted this, but her pussy seemed to ache for it. Not that she would tell him such a thing. "Stand up," he ordered. "To hell with that!" "I told you to stand up. Do you want me to make you?" At length, she decided it would be best to stand up and get it over with. But that was it. That was the end of the orders she would take from this uncouth insect. Propped up on her heels, their eyes almost met at the same level. She could sense the intent in his dark gaze... "Take off your clothes." "What?" barked Asuka. "You must be joking." "You can take them off, or I can take them off for you." She crossed her arms. "You can try." Before she react, he reached down and ripped apart her shorts, popping the buttons with a pull and that sent them flying across the floor... So strong, she thought, feeling a little woozy. The shorts fell to the ground, leaving Asuka exposed in her undersized cotton panties. They were patterned with strawberries. But they were already moist around the outline of her pussy. Asuka looked to the bed for help, but Misato could barely be counted as conscious. Rei was on her knees looking up at the other guy with his cock in her small hand, seemingly captivated with being a subservient slut. "Take your top off," the guy ordered Asuka. Asuka swallowed. He could do whatever he wanted with her, but she would never break before him. You'll have to kill me. "Never, asshole," she dared to say. The guy nodded sagely. Then smacked the side of her with one savage blow. Her face burned. Her ear rang. Her gaze swam. He grabbed onto her tank top and tore it off with one motion, throwing the rags to the floor. "I told you to listen. Stupid white girl." Asuka stood before him, trying to suppress the tears that came, trembling as he reached up to touch her pale skin. "Awww, don't cry," he said, bringing his large hands up to cup her cheeks. The black palms slithered down, stopping for a moment over her long and frail neck, then coming down to her full breasts. Asuka could feel his rough fingers kneading the flesh of her breasts, pinching and tugging at the bullet-hard nipples. Stop... The harder he handled them, the stronger the waves of arousal came - goosebumps spreading over her weakening body. "Does that feel good?" "No, you b-baka... To hell with you!" she forced herself to say. He took her hand brought it down to his swollen cock. The tips of her fingers went over the wet skin, sensing the power the power that came with it, instinctively wanting to grab and pleasure such a beautiful big dick. "Is that nice?" "D-D-Disgusting," she stammered. "It's so big and gross. And so dark." He grinned. "You got something against dark?" "It's ugly," she insisted. He took a handful of her ginger locks and yanked her head down. A moment later he spit in her face. "You sure like that, don't you?" He dragged her off before she could respond, Asuka tottering perilously in her heels on the way to the bed. Just who did he think he was to treat her like... like this?... You asshole! He pushed her on the mattress. Within arm's reach she could see Misato, whose eyes had closed and seemed to be passed out. The stench of alcohol that came from her breath was enough to make Asuka want to throw up. You drunken whore! This is your fault! He pushed her face down against the bed, raising her ass and spreading her legs. One of his fingers brushed over her pussy, passing through the ginger fuzz spread around them. Asuka let out a soft moan. She cursed herself, hoping he hadn't heard it. She hated his guts for this treatment and wanted to ward off his attacks, but the rest of her wouldn't listen. His touch only made her weaker and wetter, spamming her with wave after wave of pleasure and bringing about a mad desire to feel his cock again... "What do you think, should I fuck you?" Asuka tittered, though she did not sound confident. "You can try, asshole. A little cock like yours is never going to satisfy me." "Oh. You've been with bigger guys, have you?" She forced the facade further. "Bigger than you can ever imagine. But I guess I can do you the favor and think of them to help you out..." His black fingers tore her panties apart. Only her heels were left now. Her soft and fertile white pussy dripped, all wet and ready for his hard cock, glimmering beads of her juices mingling through the ginger hairs. An exhilarating shudder went through her when the tip of his cock touched her lips. But instead of pushing it in, he simply left it there, making her all that much more desperate... Does he want me to beg? I won't, I.... She was an EVA pilot. Quite literally one of the most gifted individuals to have ever existed, one whose very existence humanity depended upon. And she was supposed to beg for... for... for a black cock?  "Too scared to put it inside?" she muttered. "Hmmm," he said. Then he grabbed onto her ass, and with an expert thrust, pushed it deep inside. Asuka shrieked. Rei knelt before the dark-skinned man, trying to understand this this new predicament. She kept licking and sucking on the thing between his legs, but he seemed displeased. Every so often as he drank from the bottle he would drip some down over his cock and into his mouth. Rei had never tasted alcohol before, but though its strident taste and odor burned, she could feel herself relaxing... He put a finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to him. "You need to take it deeper, do you understand? You can't just keep sucking on the head. You need to clean it all up. Do you understand?" She grabbed the shaft between her hands and held it, while her lips wrapped around the tip. The head went snugly into her mouth. Rather than force it down, she waited for the ticklish sensation at the back of her throat and the ceiling of her mouth to diminish, then went on pushing it deeper with precision. When she was about a quarter of the way down, she looked up to seek his approval. He took another swig of the bottle and fluffed her hair. "That's my girl." But the movement made the thing jerk inside her mouth and nearly activated her gag reflex. "Ah, my bad, my bad... You just do your thing. See, can you take it all the way to the base?" He tapped his finger to the scraggly bush of dark hair from where the shaft originated. I will try, decided Rei resolutely. She was not quite sure what this was all about. At home, she had received training and instructions in so many things, but never in this. Why? Strangest of all was the itching sensation that originated from between her legs and went all over her body. The only other thing comparable was when Shinji had asked her to wait for him on a bench, only for her to sit down patiently even as a host of ants began to make her way under her uniform and crawl all over her skin. But this was different. To that she had remained indifferent, while Shinji screamed as soon as he saw it happening. But now she discovered that she could not simply do as ordered and nothing else. An intense desire made its way to the front of her consciousness, an itching need to rub between her legs. Rei did so, but rather than feel release, it only worsened. Why? There was no incident in her memory that could account for this or allow for an inductive explanation. Yet the more her fingers rubbed at it to make it stop, the stronger it became, till she could not cease at all. Meanwhile, her heart drummed, and Rei realized that her whole body was entering some sort of overheated and unstable state, making her worry. She went on pushing the thick shaft down her throat, tilting and angling her head in such away to do it without any sort of malfunction. But the deeper she took it, the tighter her throat got. And now the thing itself seemed to throb harder than ever, its veins tickling the walls of her interior. "That's right, keep going..." he ordered. "You're doing great." Rei slowly brought it down till she reached the base, her face buried into the musky-smelling hairs that scratched at her face and entered her nostrils. She struggled to hold it down, till she finally heard him say, "Release." Rei came up breathlessly. Looking at his cock now, as it had swollen to a size even larger than before, she could not understand how she managed it at all, or where it could fit inside her tight Asian throat. She even choked on food at home sometimes. Yet, she could do this. An odd sense of pride came over her. "Now lick my cock again. I think there's still some juices left from your whore friend. You tell me when it stops tasting like her." Rei wasn't sure what part of it tasted of Misato, but she did as ordered. To her, it all tasted good. Though it had come out of Misato's anal hole, it tasted surprisingly wholesome and satisfying. "You like suckind black cock, don't you?" "I don't know..." "Yeah, you do. Say it. Tell me you love me to suck black cock." "I love to suck black cock," repeated Rei expressionlessly. He laughed. "Tell me you would never suck off an Asian or white dick. That they're small and pathetic." "I'd never suck off an Asian or white dick. They're small and pathetic." "Tell me you want to get black bred." Rei whispered as she sucked on the tip of his cock, cum bubbles frothing around her lips. "I want to get black bred." "Beg me to put a black baby in your Asian womb." "Please put a black baby in my Asian womb." Rei had no idea what exactly he meant by all this, but it repeating what she was told seemed like the right call. She went on treating his cock with care, stroking it up and down with her small hands. The contrast between their skins was striking and fascinating, almost otherworldly. She put a hand over his tattooed chest as she licked his shaft, watching the way it outlined her pale fingers perfectly. She could feel the muscles working under his dark skin. And yet again, the need to touch herself grew stronger still. He grabbed her hair and held her. "You gotta be a good girl now. I need to fuck your throat, and you have to take it all. You understand? Don't you dare choke or gag." Rei swallowed his cock, this time upping the speed as it went deep down her throat. But her muscles had learned from the previous exercise, and now from the second, and soon she began to take it in and out without much issue, keeping herself relaxed while he guided her head up and down. She could feel his member pulsing harder and harder against her throat, till his hands stopped moving her head altogether. Instead, he held her down as he lifted himself up, fucking her throat fast and hard from below. Every time, as soon as she felt close to choking and gagging it went out, only to come back inside even faster and harder, eager to ruin her throat and keep her guessing. Her open mouth and lolling tongue unleashed a steady stream of warm drool that oozed down his godly shaft. Then he rose and began to stroke his cock, ordering her to massage his balls, while he aimed the head over her head. A rope of thick cum shot into her mouth, followed by another, then another, and another, filling it all up. "Don't you swallow," he said between groans. At last, he milked the final drops right into the pool of cum her tongue swam in, and gave her another order.... Asuka did her utmost not to react from the pounding she received. The guy had simply stabbed into her unexpectedly, and ever since continued to pummel her white pussy hard, eviscerating her insides. The hot, wet insides of her pussy felt numb and tingly, while a soft warmth spread through her body all the way up to her desperate nipples... She could feel her resolve weakening. Her mouth kept opening on its own, looking to moan, while her eyes rolled back each time he went inside. It hurt, but she loved it. Of course, she couldn't say that... She wouldn't give this absolute nobody the satisfaction of making her feel a thing like this... I'm an EVA pilot... One of the few in the world... But the more he pushed her, the harder it became to control herself. Sooner or later a moan escaped her mouth, and once it did, the others flooded out, her self-control no longer able to combat the black cock that took control of her senses. Her heel flew off her foot as her whole leg quivered from the hard fucking, hitting the window and clattering down to the floor. "You like that, don't you? You fucking ginger slut. You love that big black cock filling up your white pussy." She panted in a daze of pleasure. Yes, I love it... Her head rested on the bed and her hands squeezed the sheets hard. He yanked her up by the hair and tilted her head so far back that he made eye contact with him upside down. Yes! Give me that big black cock! Fuck my ginger pussy me! Like a bitch in heat, she moaned wildly, giving him syrupy eyes, unable to restrain herself. But even as her body trembled from the wracking effect of that big black cock going through her, she still found enough focus to whisper, "I'll kill you for this." But first fuck me, oh, please, fuck me... Rei appeared into view out of nowhere. The front of her uniform was wet, her hair all over the place. How embarrassing... To be seen like this by such a damned baka. "Don't you look at me..." Rei took a step closer, her face drawing near. Asuka, in the throes of pleasure, did nothing to avert her face nor to close her mouth as Rei leaned in and kissed her. WHAT!!! She tried to fight her off but it didn't work. Rei used an unexpected amount of physical force to hold her in place and keep the kiss going. She could feel Rei's tongue bumping against hers, and with it... something salty and gooey, passing from one mouth into the other, slowly trickling down Asuka's throat as they kissed. Cum, it's cum!! She felt so angry and humiliated that tears came to her eyes, but there was nothing she could do. She used her remaining force to punch Rei in the side of the head, but that did nothing. Rei only went on facefucking her, raping her with her tongue, while both the guys could be heard laughing, one egging the other on to fuck Asuka that much harder and make her scream. My first kiss... The taste of black cum lingered in her mouth as she surrendered to Rei probing tentacle-tongue. The guy squeezed his hold on her asscheeks, and began to piston her pussy while the other guy bent down and tickled her feet, further adding to the insane amount of feeling her body was asked to endure. A scorching heat emanated from her lower body, swallowing her up... But just as she prepared to let go and come, the guy pulled and released her, while Rei stepped back. They left her there, desperate and close to exploding, her insides thoroughly melted, her pussy and legs glistening with ropes of his cum. She could see more of it oozing out of her pussy, and that the guy's cock still dripped, not yet done... She reached down, trying to make herself come in haste... ... but it was no use. She needed his big black cock. "You!" she screamed. "I told you you couldn't do it! I told you! You can't make me come!" He shrugged. "I don't care." Asuka got up, hopping about in her one heel, rushing towards him. "You finish what you started! Right now!" She pushed him. "Look at her!" the other guy yelled. "Feisty little thing." "Beg me and I'll do it." "W-What?!" stammered Asuka. "Beg you? In your dreams, asshole!" But even as she put on the brave pose, every part of her body ached for it. She needed it, more than anything. Just looking at his cock made her legs open up instinctively for him. So big. So black. So beautiful. I need it inside of me... At last, realizing there was no other way... Asuka lowered her head. "Please," she whispered, a deep frown scarring the overbearingly proud face. Being this pathetic put her in physical pain. Just how much of a degenerate had she become to do this... At least no one will know... "What was that?" "Please..." "Please what?" "Please fuck me with your big black cock... Please..." "You're sure that's what you want?" "Yes..." He put her on the bed again on all fours. As she waited for him to go inside, Asuka watched how the other guy undressed Rei, slowly, romantically, kissing her snow-white skin, running his black fingers over the small waist, the little butt, and her delicately small breasts. Asuka suddenly felt arms going over her legs and linking up behind her head. "Uhhh, what are you doing?" she asked, panicked. But the guy simply raised her in that hold, keeping her pressed against his chest. Asuka ended up caught in his full nelson, while she watched Rei slowly mount up her own big black cock and start riding it cowgirl style. A tickle came the area of her asshole as he tried to put it inside her. "Wrong hole!" she cried, terrified. "What are you doing..." It wasn't the wrong hole. He angled it so that it would go precisely in her ass as he lowered her. He was having none of her resistance. He simply pushed his cock into her asshole, stretching out as he went, ignoring her pleas and screams, digging deep into her insides and demolishing her virgin hole with his big black cock. Asuka shrieked as tears ran down her face, but no one was interested. Rei rode her own big black cock with uncharacteristic excitement, her hands gently caressing the face of the bull, her own having on what looked like a slight smile, her head tilting back in bliss. The little breasts bounced up and down as she rode... The bull carried Asuka towards the window, where through the tears she could see nothing but a spread of light. He began to fuck her harder, ignoring her cries, while she helplessly slapped against him, begging for mercy. "Please, stop..." she mewled. "I can't take this anymore..." How humiliating would it be if anyone saw her like this? I'm an EVA pilot... returned the crashing thought. You can't use me like this... Her asshole endured the assault, and as time went on, her muscles relaxed and the pain turned into pleasure... ...  a little while longer and she began to enjoy it fully, taking comfort in the feeling of being assraped against her will, utterly unable to move as this alpha male prepared to break her apart and fill her with every drop of his black seed.... "Please..." she started. "Faster."   She had no control whatsoever - and that's a good thing. She relished the feeling of total submission before this primal force that decided to have its way with her, before this monster that stripped her of dignity and took her virginity by pumping her violently with his black cock. "Yes, fuck my ass with your big black cock. Please ruin me however you like, master! I love your big black cock! I need it!" She learned to flex her hole and squeeze him as he went in and out, making sure he got the very best from from her virgin asshole. Only I can make him feel this way. I was made for this. I was made for his cock. This is better than being a pilot. More important... I'm the one and only... "Please, don't stop, sir..." Her toes curled and her body quivered from his crazed assfucking like an instrument in the hands of a master. Her eyes rolled back and she nearly passed out from the intensity of it all, when his hold tightened enough to make her joints pop and his cock buried itself as deep as it could go, striking parts of her she never knew existed. Every strike of that big black cock reverberated in her young being, till the last holds on her sanity came undone and her lust for him became the most dominant, central part of her personality. "FUUUUUUCK!!!!" she howled. Her pussy unleashed by itself without a single touch, showering her juices over the glass wall in a mad spray that went everywhere. She had never squirted in her life, and now she had done so only from being assfucked. "I love you," she confessed, weak and soft - white clay to be moulded and broken in strong black hands like his for years to come. For the first time in her life, Rei felt intensely about something: her newfound love for black cock. She herself was shocked at the sudden change in her mode of being. She lay on the bed kissing her bull while he held her down in a mating press, her skinny arms and legs wrapped around his muscle-bound back, caressing his beautiful dark skin as he filled her up to the brim. Each thrust of his cock spilled seed from her full womb. Around the point when she had ridden him, she realized that she loved him. That she loved being fucked by him. That she could never go back to not feeling this way. The feeling of his cock was overbearing and his body was so strong and beautiful. Rei felt so grateful to him for teaching her all of this... For giving her a real purpose.   "I want to be your Asian slut forever," she whispered lovingly, using her tongue to lick at his face. "I want your big black cock inside me. I want to carry all your babies." He thrust with all his power, sending splintering pain into her stomach and up her spine. "Doesn't it hurt to be such a whore?" "I want it to hurt," said Rei, her mouth opening in total cocklust. She licked her lips, still tasting his cum. "Big black cock should always hurt. Asian pussies were made to be broken." The next thing she knew Asuka was thrown on the bed next to her. The two were side by side, each one resting her head against a passed out Misato. The ever-angry Asuka glanced at her, blissfully zen. She seemed to have discovered the joy of surrendering as well. A moment later she screamed, proclaiming herself and her white pussy to be made for breeding. Hearing her made Rei that much wetter. Even she has found herself... She searched for Asuka's hand and grabbed it, giving her an encouraging squeeze. Asuka squeezed back. The two exchanged a loving glance, finally able to appreciate each other as total BBC sluts. The two school girls kissed deeply, happy to be in this together, to be bred at once by such amazing cocks... The bulls came inside them again and again as the teens begged for every drop of their cum, for greater pain and punishment, for a lifetime of service in the service of BBC and nothing else. "Please breed us," they said in unison, showing them the eternal peace sign. "Please let us carry your black babies." "You need to come to Japan with us," said Asuka, crying with pleasure. "We need you there so desperately..." "We don't want those small dicks!" added Rei, eyes burning with worship for their BBCs. The two bulls grabbed a marker and drew a Queen of Spades over both their wombs, officially accepting them as breedable cocksluts that belonged to BBC and BBC only. A lifetime of black breeding awaited the white and Asian duo. Their heavy balls spent every drop of cum towards that goal, lavishing their wombs with scorching seed, feeding their hungry mouths, and coming all over their tight bodies.   When all was said and done the two bulls rose and left behind a mess. Asuka lay on her side, somehow still wearing her one heel, her body twitching. She sucked on her finger and mumbled incomprehensibly about being a pilot. Rei lay face down, completely exhausted, a gooey puddle of hot cum forming at the base of her pussy, spams still wrecking her cum-covered body. The gobs of cum planted all over her ass shone brightly in the predawn gloom. Misato snored softly, just as before, too fucked up to come out of her coma blacked. The bulls dropped fluttering dollars all over the bed, covering all three of them in green, taking pity on the stupid foreign bitches. "Go get yourself a soda or something, kiddo," said Asuka's partner, then gave her a final merciless slap on her abused asscheeks.

[littledemondani]

broken promises | michael langdon x fem!reader

Warnings: hawthorne!michael, witch!reader, daddy kink, s m u t (unprotected, rough), oral (female receiving), orgasm denial, slight edging, cum eating

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Michael makes up for breaking a promise to you, in more ways than just one.

A/N: Hey lovelies, so this fic was supposed to be a Michael x Dark!Reader, but that quickly changed after rewriting the beginning. There’s not really much plot to this at all, just some self-indulgent smut. I hope you guys enjoy it <3 xoxo

(gif: @codyfernsource)

You had been waiting for what felt like hours for your boyfriend, Michael Langdon, to meet you in your dorm room. “I’ll be there as soon as class ends at 3, and don’t get any ideas of touching yourself before I get there.” With a nod of your head and a sweet, “I promise I won’t.” You agreed to obey his one rule. The time was now 3:35pm and Michael was nowhere to be found. Just great.

Annoyed as all hell, you call him, ready to give him an earful of how pissed off and irritated you were. There were only a handful of things that could upset you, and not being punctual was one of them, and Michael knew this. The phone rang and rang then went to his voicemail. Beyond frustrated you hung up and threw your phone on the bed with a huff.

Your mind starts to wander and think maybe he got held up by Behold, that man did like to talk someone’s ear off. Or maybe he went to his room to grab some items (anal plug, vibrator, handcuffs) for the promise he made to you earlier.

Earlier that morning you had walked into your first class wearing a short red plaid skirt, a black fitted button-up with the sleeves rolled to your elbows (and unbuttoned to show off a little cleavage), fishnet stockings, and black Doc Martens. Michael tried to ignore the stares the other warlocks gave you (while also trying to hide his growing erection). It’s not that Michael didn’t like you wearing outfits like that, it was more so the attention you got when you did. The unwanted attention from the warlocks who cat-called and undressed your body with their eyes.

Michael could hear their thoughts, could hear how they wanted to get between your legs, have you on your knees for them, cover you in their cum, make you scream out their name. It sickened him, made him want to slaughter every one of them and erase their souls from this world. You were more than just the “hot bitch with a nice ass” and it took Michael a while to figure that out.

(Before you started dating, you and Michael were frenemies with benefits. You both openly showed your distaste for one another, him telling you the only thing you were good for was being on your knees with his cock in your mouth, and you saying his ego was bigger than his dick. Yet behind closed doors, you both screamed sang praises to each other.)

When class was over Michael waited until everyone had cleared from the hallway to push you up against the wall, placing both hands on each side of your face and putting his knee between your legs. “You think you can come to class looking like that and not expect it to have some effect on me?” He rolled his hips into you, letting you feel how hard he had gotten from just looking at you.

You looked up at him with big doe eyes, feigning innocence that you didn’t know it would have any effect on him (but you knew damn well it would, and you hoped he would react this way). “See that’s where I know you’re lying, Y/N.” He bounced his thigh up hard, catching you off guard and making you yelp. “Did you forget that I know every thought that crosses that pretty little head of yours?” He taunts, brushing a stray strand of your hair away from your face.

You tried to control your breathing, tried to keep from grinding your hips down onto his leg, but Michael's close proximity and the scent of his cologne were driving you crazy. “Answer me, Y/N, don’t make me ask you again.” His voice is stern, bringing one hand to tilt your chin up to look at him, quirking his eyebrow.

“I- I knew what it would do,” you confessed shakily. “I want you so bad, Daddy.” 

A sly grin spread across Michael's face. “Awww angel, you know all you have to do is ask if you want Daddy’s cock. But it looks like now you’re gonna have to wait until classes are done for the day.” You let out a needy whine, and shamelessly grind down on his thigh. “Pleease Daddy, I need you noowww.”

“Go to your room after your last class is over. I’ll be there as soon as class ends at 3, and don’t get any ideas about touching yourself before I get there. You won’t be able to walk once I’m done with you, and that’s a promise.”

Finally getting fed up with waiting, you swing your door open and take off to go look for him. You head in the direction of his room, hoping that he would be in there or you were literally going to strangle him. 

Rounding the corner of the hallway you hear Madison’s laugh echoing loud, your eyes automatically rolling into the back of your head. Everything was great while she was still in hell, then Michael brought her back just to prove a point to Cordelia and she was back to being the same annoying bitch you remembered. 

She finally comes into view, but you quickly realize that she’s not alone - in fact, your loving boyfriend is there with her; with his back up against the wall and her dainty hand on his chest, giving him her best bedroom eyes. Your nostrils flare and your lip curls, this fucking bitch has the audacity to hit on your boyfriend when she knows you’re together? Not today, Satan.

You march up behind her and yank her away from Michael by her hair, practically dragging her on the floor. “Let me go, you crazy bitch!” She tries to get out of your grip but you tighten it. You throw her onto the floor, placing your foot on her neck. “Stay away from Michael or I’ll slice your goddamn throat,” you seethe. She chokes out what you think is a, “okay okay I will fuck!”

“You better, bitch.” You take your foot off and walk back to Michael. You’re about to give him a piece of your mind when he cuts you off and explains what happened: that she stopped him on his way to your room and refused to let him leave until she got what she wanted (to blow him or something?)

Of course, she would, but you’re still pissed that he left you waiting for over 30 minutes (and you weren’t going to let him get away with that). “Well Langdon, it looks like you have some apologizing to do,” you smirk, grabbing him by his maroon tie, and pulling him back to your room.

//

You’re laying down on your back, head propped up on your pillows, legs spread wide, with Michael's pink, plump lips attached to your clit. This was his idea of apologizing and you were in no way complaining. He had already pulled 2 orgasms out of you and was currently going for a third.

He softly sucked on your swollen clit, knowing you are still sensitive from the first two times you came. Small whimpers leave your spit slick lips, bottom lip puffy from biting down on it. Michael parts your lips, bringing a finger to play with your juices. “Fuck,” he murmurs. “You’re so fucking wet for me baby.”

“Mm, Michael..please,” desperation laced in your voice.

“Oh my sweet angel, you take what I give you or you don’t get anything at all. Do you understand?” He cooed. You whine in defeat, the last thing you want is Michael to leave you a soaked, unsatisfied mess. “Yes Daddy, I understand.” 

“Good girl.” He continued licking stripes up your dripping pussy, lapping at your arousal as it seeped from your entrance. His cock is hard and aching in his boxers, begging to be released from its confines. He tries to ignore it as he flicks his tongue around your clit, tries to focus on the pretty sounds coming from your mouth. You’re so close, he can sense it, can feel it in the way your moans get louder and higher, how you pull him closer to you by his messy blonde hair, how you start bucking your hips against his face, how your walls contract around his fingers.

You’re right on the edge, so close to having that blissful sensation pass in waves through your body when Michael pulls away. A sob escapes your lips, your fists bunching up the sheets, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You lift your head to see why he denied you that sweet euphoria.

He’s taking off the remainder of his clothing, pushing his boxers down his legs and tossing them somewhere on the floor. He needs to be inside you, needs to feel the warmth of your cunt surrounding his aching cock.

“W-what was that for?!”

He grabs his neglected cock by the base, hissing at the touch. “I want to feel you cumming on my cock,” he grunts as he flips you over on your stomach and hoists your ass in the air. 

You let out a surprised yelp, bracing your hands on either side of your face. He runs the tip through your wet folds, “Are you ready for me?” 

“Mhmm,” you nod.

He runs the head over your clit one last time, before slamming himself inside of you, without letting you get adjusted to his size. You let out a strangled scream, the feel of your walls stretching causes a burning sting. He pulls his cock all the way out, leaving just the tip in before slamming himself back inside you.

As painful as it feels, you fucking love the way Michael's cock makes you feel so deliciously full. No matter how many times you fuck it always feels like the first time all over again. 

He stops fucking into you, placing his hands on your hips and digging his fingers into your skin. He pushes you forward on his cock then slams you back onto him. He does this a few times before you lift your chest off the mattress and try to do it yourself.

“Go ahead angel, fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock.” he bites his bottom lip.

You place your elbows on the mattress and start bouncing your ass, practically twerking on his cock. “Oh fuck,” Michael gasps, running a hand over your ass before spanking you hard.

He takes back control, gripping your hips harshly and snapping his hips into you. Your whole body feels like it’s fire, you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, can feel a new wave of arousal dripping from your pussy, down your thighs, and onto the mattress. Your moans turn to screams when Michael grabs you by your hair and pulls you up flush against his chest, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot with this new angle.

Michael feels your walls starting to flutter around him, wrapping a hand around your throat. “Don’t fucking cum yet. Not until I tell you to,” he growls into your ear. 

“Daddy I-I don’t think I can wait,” you mewled, your body still on the edge from earlier. 

“You can, and you will,” he said sternly. “You don’t want to upset Daddy now, do you angel?” 

“No no no.” You frantically shake your head, desperate to focus on anything else to keep your orgasm at bay. Michael chuckles darkly, reaching a hard around you to circle at your clit.

‘This fucking asshole,’ you think to yourself. Michael was always one to tease you, to force you into disobeying him when he tells you to do something, he loves it - loves to break people’s wills. You bite down hard on your lower lip until you taste blood, trying to focus on the pain and metallic taste.

But Michael is close, you can tell when his thrusts start getting sloppy when he loses the grip on your throat. He won’t tell you to cum, not just yet, not until he can no longer hold back his own orgasm.

You’re brought back to the present by a sharp tug on your hair. Michael is grunting in your ear, the sweet sounds going straight to your throbbing pussy. Your walls clench around him again, but this time Michael pushes you down onto the bed and pounds into you with no mercy.

You grab a fistful of the sheets in your hands, squeezing until your knuckles turn white. Every nerve ending is on fire and it feels like you can’t breathe. You need to cum so bad it hurts, but you won’t dare disobey Michael.

He can’t hold back anymore, his thrusts losing complete rhythm. “Cum angel, cum all over Daddy’s cock.”

The tightened band in your lower abdomen breaks and you cum with a loud choked out sob. Your vision goes black as the pleasure ripples throughout your body, your hearing going fuzzy. The feeling of your cunt wildly pulsing around Michael's cock sends him over the edge, painting your walls with hot ropes of cum.

He stills for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Looking down to where you’re still connected, he brings his fingers to catch a mixture of your cum that’s leaking out of your pussy. He places his fingers in front of your lips which you happily wrap around him. You moan at the taste, sucking and licking his fingers clean. 

His cock twitches at the sight of you, “That's my good girl, suck everything off babygirl.” 

He removed his fingers from your mouth with a wet ‘pop’ sound. Slowly he pulls out of you and lays down next to you. You both stay that way for who knows how long. When your breathing finally returns to normal you try to get off the bed. Your legs shake beneath you, causing you to fall back down on the bed.

Michael laughs as he watches you try and fail, yet again, to get up.

“What?” You snap at him.

He looks at you for a moment, debating if he should even say anything.

“I told you you wouldn’t be able to walk when I was done with you, and I always keep my promises, babe.”

//

tagging:  @fckinsupreme @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @wroteclassicaly @ms-mead @lovelylangdonx @hecohansen31 @mega-combusken @1-800-bitchcraft @dvncans @lvngdvns @lathraios @goddess-of-inferno @langdonsdemon @venusxxlangdon @snixxvalo99 @rocketgirl2410

[encouleurdevie]

Both you and him are at some award show and both end up getting tipsy and end up having giggly drunk sex (after having to keep your hands to yourself for the entire night when he looked so fine) 😇

“After Party”

a/n what the fuck is up sorry i’ve been m.i.a. for the past week, i hope this really long smut will make it up to you ;)))) 

Timothee proudly held your hand as the two of you stepped onto the red carpet. Cameras flashed and fans behind the roped barricade waved and yelled excitedly. You swallowed any nervousness that lingered in you, after all, you were proud of hold his hand too.

After numerous paparazzi had caught the two of you on several dates and outings, the public eye had been closely monitoring the potential new couple. Fans flooded both of your inboxes everyday asking if the rumors were true, but the two of you were hesitant to reveal your relationship to the scrutiny of the tabloids. Though the paparazzi were quick to judge, your combined fanbase was always supportive when new photos were released, filling your feed with kind words and well-wishes. They were concerned foremost with your and Timothee’s happiness, and that was what inspired you to step onto the Oscars’ red carpet as a couple rather than separate celebrities. And you couldn’t lie, it felt good.

Timothee’s arm wrapped around your waist as you made your way down the long line of photographers. He looked strikingly handsome, and you were delighted to be at his side. Timothee had opted to wear a fitted black suit that featured detailed branches of white on both the jacket and pants. His black boots gave him a bit of the edge and spunk that drove you wild. Your dress contrasted his suit perfectly: a fitted white dress that hugged your curves, but gave you a look of effortless style and timeless beauty. The black hem landed midway down your thighs, which drew attention (your boyfriend’s especially) to your long, toned legs. While Timothee fantasized about running his hands up under your dress, you were picturing your fingers unbuttoning his jacket and feeling his chest beneath his shirt. The cameras could capture your outfits, but they couldn’t pick up on the filthy thoughts that were quickly your head.

After walking the length of the red carpet, you and Timothee were escorted to a round table, at which a small group of carefully selected actors were sitting. You said your hellos before ordering drinks and scooting your chairs a bit closer together.

The two of you were giddy, excited to be here together, but also doused in a growing spell of sexual tension.

The first round of drinks went down fast, and so did the second. Midway through the show, the two of you were on your third round of drinks and not focusing even slightly on what was going on around you.

“You’re so pretty.” Timothee breathed into your ear. Underneath the tablecloth, his hand inched up your thigh. “I want to take you home right now, baby.”

It took every ounce of power in you to slowly nudge his hand away. “Timmy, we can’t.”

He continued his quiet, slurred torture in your ear. “Wanna take you home, and get that little dress off of you.”

His words never failed to make you squirm. You whispered back to him “We gotta stay, baby, we gotta wait.”

“But I looooove you.” he said, starting to make himself laugh. Before long, you were covering your mouth, trying to conceal your own giggles. In your slightly dazed state, this was the funniest thing you’d ever heard. You leaned into him, your hand tracing the while detailing on his pants. You were already craving his touch, and the alcohol in your system was making it harder and harder to resist his pleading green eyes. Would this goddamn ceremony just end already?

Sitting still and teasing each other under the table was making you ache. You pressed your legs together, but it did little to distract you from the wetness growing in your underwear. Timothee was gripping the edge of his seat with one hand, the veins in his hands prominent. He leaned over and pressed a lingering kiss onto your cheek. As his hair brushed the side of your face, you let out a quiet sigh. If they gave out one more prolonged award tonight, you were fully prepared to find the nearest bathroom and spread your legs for the equally needy boy next to you.

Finally, after what felt like ages, you were sliding onto the cool leather seat of a limo, Timothee hot at your heels. As you leaned back on the seat, he slid in next to you and stretched his arm out around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“God, you drive me crazy,” his lips attached themselves lazily to your neck as the limo pulled out onto the road. You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning. He was such a fucking tease when he was tipsy. You could play that game too.

“Shit.” he whispered, as your hand found its way to the front of his pants. Timothee wouldn’t dare moan in the presence of the driver, but even in the dark you could see how hard he was concentrating on keeping his mouth shut as you rubbed your hand in slow circles on his clothed cock. His jaw was clenched tight, and you could hear tight bursts of air escape his nose. He kept it together, just barely, for the rest of the ride.

As the limo slowed in front of your house, you hastily thanked the driver and clambered your way out of the backseat, walking as quickly as you could to the front door.

You fumbled with the key for another torturous minute before flinging the door open with a big exhale. Finally.

Timothee slammed the door behind him and had you pinned up against the wall in mere seconds. All this waiting had gotten to the both of you, and at that point you would have fucked him right there in your entryway. However, in some feeble attempt to tease you as you had teased him in the limo, Timothee had other plans.

He crashed his lips messily onto yours, the taste of alcohol still on his tongue. You kissed him hard in return and entangled your hand in the mass of curls atop his head, pressing down so that his lips didn’t leave yours. The wet, sloppy kisses took over all of your senses.

Timothee pressed himself between your legs, the pressure setting your bottom half ablaze. He moved a hand underneath your thigh, tugging your leg upwards and pulling your shoe off your foot in one clean motion. He threw the shoe over his shoulder and you heard it collide with a pile of books that had been balancing precariously on an end table. Timothee froze, his face still millimeters from your face.

“Oops,” he said. A smile erupted across his face before he attached his lips back on yours, trying to kiss you as giggles fell from both of your mouths.

“Fuck it.” you breathed against his lips. You would deal with the books later.

His hands ran up the backs of your thighs, his touch sending a wave of shivers up your spine and wave of heat straight to your core. You couldn’t wait any longer.

You leaned forward a bit, nudging the two of you away from the wall and towards the staircase. Bending down, you wrenched your other shoe off, and scrambled up the stairs, leading Timothee, open-mouthed and messy-haired, up after you. By some miracle, the two of you made it into the bedroom without tripping.

You fell backwards onto the bed, and Timothee stood between your legs, fingers working quickly on the buttons of his jacket. The black material was flung to the floor, his white undershirt following closely after as his muscular arms worked it up and over his head.

With his shirt now out of the way, he climbed on top of you and rutted his hips against yours. You could feel the hard outline of his length through his pants. At this point, you were aching so badly, the puddle in your underwear growing by the second. He pushed the fitted material of your dress up your thighs until your lacy underwear were on full display.

“Baby, look at you, so wet for me.” Timothee whispered, dipping his fingers in your underwear and running his fingers along your heat.

Your mouth fell open instantly, letting out a long moan. “Fuck.”

Timothee pumped his fingers in and out of you, his mouth curling up in a mesmerized smile. His fingers were like magic, and in what felt like seconds you could feel a tight knot forming inside of you.

“I’m gonna, oh my god…” you trailed off, the pleasure on the verge of consuming you.

At the sound of your voice, Timothee snapped back to the present and slid his fingers out of you before you were pushed over the edge. You whined loudly in protest and he stood up once more.

You watched, breathing heavily, as he sucked your juices off his fingers and slid his other hand slowly down the front of his pants. That was your cue.

You sat up and made sure your hand beat his to his clearly outlined member. He was so hard, the whole night of teasing and kissing and touching making his dick throb in anticipation.

You pushed his pants to the floor and they landed in a pool of fabric around his ankles. His cock stood, straight and needy, against his navel.

His eyes squeezed shut as you ran a hand up the underside of his cock. His hand wrapped around yours as you pumped him up and down, moans spilling out of his mouth.

“You gotta stop, baby, you’re gonna make me cum.” he swatted your hand away. His hands moved to the bunched up skirt of your dress, which he pulled up and over your head hungrily. He ran his hands up and across your breasts, thumbs toying with the tender buds, before he pushed your shoulders back down onto the bed and hovered above you.

“God, just fuck me,” you whined, absolutely sure you would burst if you were untouched any longer.

He pushed into you slowly, filling you all the way up. Long moans erupted from both of you. Pleasure coursed through your veins as he began rocking into you.

“You like that? You like my cock inside you?” Timothee said, his lips brushing against your ears.

“Yes, fuck, harder.” you replied. The sound of skin hitting skin and loud moans filled the dim room. You ran your hands along Timothee’s back and through his hair, touching and holding on to anything your fingers found. His hands were locked under your shoulders, one on the back of your neck and the other pressed against your back. Every place his fingers touched felt like a small fire igniting across your skin.

You felt your core tightening again, this time the pleasure bubbling up fast and profusely. As Timothee sucked on your neck, you felt yourself unravel around him. You had waited so long for this very moment and it was even better than you had pictured it.

Timothee’s jaw clenched and unclenched as his thrusts became short and sloppy. He let out one near guttural groan as he came abundantly inside of you, his face contorting with pleasure. He stilled, and gazed into your eyes, his face millimeters from your own. The two of you breathed heavily with your chests still touching.

“Holy shit,” Timothee stated, letting out a breathy laugh.

“That was good.” You reached up and caught his lips in one last kiss.

Timothee pecked your lips a few more times, then fell onto the sheets beside you. He let out one more laugh: “And the award for the hottest fucking after party goes to….”

[justsomebucky]

The Three Date Minimum - 3

Summary: Reader is the last single person at her office, and while she puts on a good front, she’s lonely. Will dating apps find true love, or will she swear off romance for good?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,111

Warnings: language, drinking, sexual innuendo, lots of bad language, no elderly ladies were harmed, uh...fluff…this is fluff.

A/N: Sorry it’s been…three months?! I lost motivation. This is barely edited. But @imhereforbvcky wrote this amazing Wade story and while my Wade is nowhere near as perfect, it made me want to finalize this chapter. Thanks for the Wade help, Mee!

No matter how many times you told yourself that everything was going to be okay, you were still so freakin’ nervous.

Speed-dating was one thing…you didn’t have to put up with anyone for very long and you definitely had the chance to bail.

Your date with Wade was a real date, one that required extended alone time with one human, awkward or not. Not only that, but he wanted to go out on a Sunday…

Why a Sunday? He hadn’t bothered to tell you that.

In fact, Wade hadn’t even told you where you were going yet. His last text had said, ‘Dress casually. Can’t wait.’ followed by thirteen winky faces.

THIRTEEN!

What the hell could a grown-ass man accomplish by sending thirteen winky faces?

Anyway, you spent your morning with the nervous sweats while changing into five different ‘casual’ outfits, trying to decide which would be practical and comfortable but also make you feel less like a potato.

It didn’t help to have Natasha watching your every move, commenting on everything from your hair to your demeanor (you were not being negative, you were just feeling a little anxious!)

“Promise me that when he finally gets here you’re going to act a little more enthusiastic,” Natasha commented dryly from her seat on your bed. “If it’s already a bad date in your head, then it’s definitely not going to go well.”

“Can’t someone have more than one emotion, Nat? I am enthusiastically getting ready, after all.” You leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting the way the fabric of your shirt fell. “Do you think this –“

“It’s fine!” She stood up and pulled you away from the mirror, turning you around to face her before cupping your cheeks. “Y/N. You have to stay calm. You have to stay open-minded, okay? Wade has a lot of energy, he’s very excitable…just go with it for one night, okay?”

She was right, of course.

“I get it, Nat.”

“You can do this.” Her hands dropped from your face. “I believe in you.”

You gave a sharp nod, more for yourself than for her. “I can do this.”

Before Natasha could utter another word, the buzzer sounded.

It was five o’clock, and Wade had arrived.

----

To say that Wade Wilson was handsome would be insulting. He was gorgeous, with bright eyes and a great smile. He was also funny, sweet, charming as hell, and as Natasha had said, really energetic.

So energetic, in fact, that you were tired before you even got to the cab out front. As a self-made introvert, you just weren’t on his level anymore.

He opened the door for you, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture towards the back seat. “Ladies first.”

“Thanks,” you said, getting into the cab and scooting over to make room for Wade.

“Hello!”

You looked up at the rearview mirror, meeting the eyes of the driver. “Hello.”

“Dopinder, what did I say?” Wade chided, shaking his head. He looked over to you apologetically. “Don’t mind him, he’s just my regular driver so I asked for a favor tonight.”

“Mr. Wade, where are we going?” Dopinder asked, glancing at you again in his mirror. “Where does the young lady want to go?”

“I have plans to really wow this one.” Wade gave you a nod and a wink. “It’s 2865 West 3rd Street, here in Brooklyn.”

Dopinder looked confused for a second after typing the address into his GPS. “But Mr. Wade, that’s a –“

“Just drive!”

You shifted uncomfortably. What the hell was going on?

Where was Wade taking you?

“You know, Y/N, I feel like I ordered you off of Amazon or something,” he commented.

Your eyes met his again, and you tried to bite back a laugh. “Why is that?”

Wade’s thoughts went a mile a minute. “Well, it’s like something on my Wish List was finally back in stock, you know? And I got that little email alert, and my eyes lit up like a kid on his birthday, so I rushed over in a crappy cab to open your box. Well, not that box, maybe later though I don’t want to press my luck. Of course, maybe that’s a bad analogy since you seem really nice and Amazon is a corporate nightmare. Also Jeff Bezos is a real dickhead, he could end world hunger six times over but he doesn’t, so he deserves to have his nuts put in a blen-“

“We’re here!” Dopinder announced.

“Thank god,” you muttered, opening up your door and exiting the cab as quickly as possible. When you turned to look at the building you’d been dropped off in front of, your eyes narrowed in question.

“Shoreview Retirement Home,” you read out loud, turning to Wade in confusion as he finished paying Dopinder. “Wade, why…why are we at a retirement home?”

His eyes gleamed in the street light. “Oh, it’s not just any retirement home, Y/N. This is the home my Nana was at before her untimely passing.”

All you could do was follow him up the cement stairs and into the lobby. “But that only leads me to more questions, like, why are we at a retirement home for a date where your Nana used to be?”

The question fell on deaf ears, though, as Wade signed in at the front desk and was almost immediately surrounded by about eight different elderly women in wheelchairs, all reaching for him with big grins on their faces.

So he was popular with the elderly…big deal. It was kind of sweet, right? He clearly had a bond with these ladies, probably from all the time spent when his Nana was still around. It was really sweet that he still volunteered here.

“I don’t even volunteer here,” Wade called from the center of the granny cyclone. “I just show up to kick some old-timer ass at shuffleboard and eat all their applesauce. Greatest generation my ass!”

“It’s pudding night, hot stuff!”

“Watch your hands there, Gladys!”

His hands formed a little heart shape in your direction. “Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

----

“Okay, Y/N…the secret to being really really good at shuffleboard is to be the disc. Feel its path. Become one with the disc.” Wade reached around you and gripped your cue, making you feel incredibly uncomfortable for, oh, about the hundredth time since you arrived. “Here, let me show you in a not-at-all suggestive way.”

“I think I got it, Wade.”

“Okay, but just watch out, because that Dorothy over there, she’s a real competitor. She’s won the last five championships here, and I’ve seen her make some cutthroat moves to get that trophy.” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Isn’t that right, Dot, you fucking cheater?”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “I’ll keep an eye out for Dorothy.”

Taking a turn was nerve-wracking, because not only was Wade up your ass with every move, but the old ladies really did take the game seriously. Once you pushed the disc down the court, you sighed in relief. You’d never wished for an open bar at a retirement home before, but there was a first time for everything.

After a mediocre round where the disc didn’t even get close to the mark, you turned back to Wade, who was now seated between two elderly women you hadn’t met yet.  

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he said, nodding toward the court. “It’s totally okay that you didn’t become the disc, and now Dorothy and Agnes are gonna take me for all their worth. It’s totally fine.”

So, you guessed it bothered him.

“Sylvia!” Wade shouted, jumping about a foot away from the little woman seated beside him. “Wait to pinch my ass until after I win!”

“Stop putting it in front of me, hot stuff,” Sylvia replied, waggling her eyebrows at him.

Wade stood up and walked over to you, rubbing his backside dramatically. “That Sylvia, man, she’s a goddamn cougar. Or a cougar’s horny Grandma. Everyone else here knows the ass-pinching-during-shuffleboard etiquette.”

“Wade, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked the attention you got from these women.” You gestured around you. “And they like it too.”

“I like to keep their spirits up, Y/N.” His face grew serious, hands moving to his hips. “It’s not about me at all. I simply want to help some old women facing the end of their meaningless, stinky, diaper-ridden lives to have a little fun before they’re sent to the dirt. The men here could join too, but they just get so jealous. A shuttle with a working rocket booster can really cause some envy around here.”

“Fair enough,” you offered, handing him the cue for his turn and ignoring his last remark. “But I’m not a seasoned shuffleboard professional. If you can salvage this turn we still have a good chance at winning.”

He gave you a wink. “You’re damn right we do. Watch and learn, Y/N.”

You stood off to the side as Wade stepped up to the court, cue in hand as he stared his opponents down.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad. He liked helping others and he really did seem like the kind of guy who wanted to make the world a better place, even if it was in his own weird way. Plus, at least it wasn’t your run-of-the-mill dinner and a movie, right? It was something to talk about.

“Goddammit, Dorothy! I’m gonna yeet your fucking dentures into next Tuesday if you don’t stop cheating!”

You shrunk back against the brick wall behind you.

Then again, maybe he really did just like competing against senior citizens.

----

Once Wade was declared shuffleboard king (after challenging one of Agnes’ moves), he tried to get you to stay for celebratory rice pudding, but you insisted that you had to get home (at 7:30 PM on a Sunday).

Was it a good date?

Would you…could you go out with him again?

It would take a lot of processing and probably a lot of alcohol to figure that one out, but it was still your second-best date so far.

At least this whole ordeal would be over soon and you could go back to watching Netflix.

You narrowly avoided having Dopinder pick you up by explaining that you liked to walk, and after a goodnight hug that lasted a little too long (with an almost-ass-grab that you also narrowly avoided), you and Wade parted ways.

As you passed the 107th on your way home, a strange urge to go inside and vent to the snarky bartender filled your veins. It would just be nice to talk to someone who was calm and witty instead of crazy and…well, crazy. Plus, it was too early to message Nat or Wanda without them hounding you for details.

Just one drink, you promised yourself as you stepped up to the door and reached for the handle.

On the door, a bright yellow notice informed you that the place was closed for a private party.

“Dammit,” you mumbled, lowering your hand. With a sigh, you turned back around to head home to whatever takeout and wine might be left in your fridge.

“Hey!”

Wait…

“Snarky bartender?” you asked, turning around to see Bucky opening the door. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to creep on the bar, I saw that notice and was leaving.”

A bemused smile lifted his lips. “Snarky bartender? Is that what you’ve been calling me in your head?”

“And out loud now, ‘cause I forgot your name,” you lied smoothly.  

“Sure you did. Just like I forgot yours, Y/N.” He kept the door propped open with his foot as he stepped further outside. “Did you want to come in?”

“I thought there was a private event?”

“There is.”

“It’s not a speed-dating event is it?”

“No, it’s an engagement party.”

Your brows stitched together. “Which means it’s invite only.”

“And I’m inviting you.”

“Won’t the host get mad?”

“No, I’m the host.”

“You’re the what now?”

Bucky chuckled at your confused expression. “I mean, I own the place. This is my bar. So my invite stands, if you want.”

You eyed him warily. Why hadn’t he told you it was his bar and he was a snarky owner? “I shouldn’t. I have work in the morning.”

His head tilted a little as he pushed the door a little wider. “Come on, just stay for a few drinks, on the house. And I mean it this time.”

“Well when you put it that way.” You brushed past him and right into the party, his soft laugh echoing behind you.

----

Part 4

Masterlist

No tags

[jetsandbennie]

roger taylor - nsfw alphabet.

i was desperate to do it. honestly. that’s it. i’ll probably do more alphabets, for different people, but here ya go for now.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Roger isn’t overly sappy after sex but he’s not a dick, either. Typically he’ll roll out of bed after a minute and grab a wet washcloth from the bathroom - if he wants to tease you he’ll let it drip on your skin and laugh as you squeal - or, sometimes, he’ll bury his face between your thighs and clean up the mess himself. The latter usually leads to another round, though.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Of you, Roger loves your hands and your thighs. Your hands, because he loves interlocking your fingers - innocently or while he’s on top of you, pinning you to the bed - and he loves what they can do to him. He likes your thighs because of how they feel over his shoulders, pressed against his ear, and how when he’s grabbing your ass he can trail his hand just a bit further down and grab your thighs too.

On himself Roger would, of course, say his dick, but he likes his hands, too. Likes that they can make you come, and they allow him to play the drums like a god. It’s a win-win situation.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves cumming inside of you. He’ll be thrusting in an out, groaning into your ear about how he’s gonna fill you up, before finally erupting inside you. He also likes cumming on your tits, so he can lean down and lap it up if he wants. He, of course, loves cumming on your ass. He’s pretty indifferent to your face - he’d only do it if you asked.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

The idea of being pegged turns him on beyond belief. The thought of you, on your knees behind him as he’d been with you so many times, pushing into him in a way he’s never felt before … it was insane for him to imagine. You two haven’t gone that far - a finger, once, and you did find it curious how loud he moaned at it. Roger has been a bit too frightened to bring it up, so for now, fingers will have to do.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Roger’s been around the block many times. He’s extremely experienced.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Roger loves when you ride him. His hands on your waist, guiding you up and down. He loves when you get a bit tired, legs shaking, and then he’ll sit up, wrapping your legs around his waist, chest to chest, so he can slam his hips up into yours. He also loves taking you from behind. Roger will push your face down into the mattress, ass up, hands gripping your wrists together. When he fucks you from behind he loves cumming on your ass rather than inside of you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I feel like it’s a mix. It’s not unbearably intense, and he’ll crack jokes through gritted teeth, mostly at your expense. Jokes about how needy you are, how desperate he’s been to fuck you.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He trims but not much. He doesn’t care for grooming it much, but he’d do more if you asked.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

In the moment? It depends. Sometimes he’s purely going at it, snapping his hips against yours and groaning, but sometimes he’ll go slower, burying his face in your hair, kissing your face, murmuring into your ear.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

When he’s with you, he doesn’t feel the need, unless it’s a thing you two have going on in the moment. On the road, if you don’t come with him, he’ll get off every night. He’s so used to fucking you every night that it’s practically been ingrained into his brain.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

I feel like he has four main kinks.

Hair pulling. This is a big one. Roger loves running his hands through your hair while you’re on your knees for him. Pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail, guiding your mouth on his dick. He thrives on when he tugs too hard and you whine around him. He also loves getting his own hair pulled, while he’s balls deep inside of you, your hands pulling on his hair like it’s all you know how to do.

Spanking - he loves it. Loves when you ride him and he brings his hand down over the globes of your ass. When he’s fucking you from behind and you’re begging him for more, and the mix of a moan and a sob you let out when he smacks your ass is enough to send him over the edge.

Voyeurism & exhibitionism. I refuse to argue on this. Roger likes watching you get yourself off, whether it be by stripping you and sitting you on the bed and having you make yourself cum before he touches you or walking in on you while you’re getting off, and just standing, watching. If he knows someone is watching the two of you go at it, he’ll go harder than before, no matter who it is - as the boys had learned on a few separate occasions.

Daddy kink. Another big one, and honestly one that (jokingly) goes beyond non sexual bounds. You’ll call him daddy as a joke in public, with an eye roll after he bosses you around, and later he’ll push you up against the wall, hissing into your ear that you can’t fucking tease me like that in public. When you call him daddy in bed, it’s enough to make him cum immediately.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere. Literally anywhere. The bedroom, the bathroom, his dressing room, on stage after the audience cleared out. He doesn’t give a shit.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you in his clothes absolutely does it for him. When you wear his shirts to concerts he has to prevent himself from taking you in the middle of the crowd. Also, when you touch him in public - grabbing his arm, throwing a leg over his, hugging him. Any touch from you turns him on immediately.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would hate actually hurting you during sex. Degrading you is somewhat included in that - he doesn’t do it unless you tell him to - and he never wants to seriously harm you.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Truthfully? Roger prefers giving. No matter the position, when his face is in your pussy, he feels completely at bliss. He loves kneeling on the ground with you on some sort of surface, legs spread around him, his hands holding your thighs up. His favourite position to eat you out is you sitting on his face, though. Roger loves feeling completely engulfed in you. As for skill, he’s an absolute god. I’ve made a separate post about this, but with his experience and absolute love for eating you out? He’s the best you’d ever had.

But, like every other guy, Roger loves receiving. When you give him head he’ll pull your hair back into a ponytail, maintaining clear eye contact with you. Bucking and rolling his hips into your mouth, thriving on the noises you make around him. He loves cumming in your mouth after fucking it, especially if you swallow it.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Very 50/50. It absolutely depends on the situation. Quickies are always fast and rough, and when you have actual sex it’s generally slower. He loves both.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Roger fucking loves quickies, and he needs them, of course. When he’s at the studio and you tease him from the mixing room he’ll take you in the bathroom. When you’re at the bar or the club, he’ll fuck you in the back, in a dark booth. He doesn’t prefer quickies over proper sex but he doesn’t prefer proper sex either - he likes one better depending on his mood.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Roger will try anything once. He’s honestly down for anything.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He can generally last 3-4 rounds, and he generally lasts a long enough time for you to cum at least twice before he has once.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’ll use toys on you, but - as per his dirty secret - he’s a bit nervous about asking to have them used on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Roger Taylor is a motherfucking tease. He’ll pull you into the bathroom, get on his knees and eat you until you’re on the verge of cumming before standing up, smoothing his clothes, and leaving with a kiss on your forehead. He’ll finger you on the couch in the mixing room while the boys record, a pillow loosely thrown over your lap to ‘hide it,’ and then push you aside when he’s called in without sparing you the slightest glance. When you tease him though? He’ll grab your wrist from its spot on his thigh, giving you a ‘no bullshit’ stare, silently daring you to do more.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s loud. He’ll moan and groan and cry out in your ear, hissing and grunting and making every noise in the goddamn world no matter where you are. When you make noise, whimpering and whining and sobbing into his ear, it turns him on and spurs him to drive faster into you.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

When you came onto the set of I Want to Break Free, he fucked you in his Rogerina outfit. He ate you out and fingered you before fucking you up against the wall, and it remained one of your favourite sexual endeavors with him.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Brian didn’t call him the ‘biggest member’ for no reason.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s high. He’s a horny bitch. He’s always ready for you, no matter what. If, at any time, you turn to him and tell him you need to fuck him, he’s down and hard in an instant.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’ll clean you up and lie down with you, either talking for a little while or just sitting in silence. He doesn’t fall asleep immediately like an asshole - he generally makes sure you’re comfortable before trying to doze off.

[omgmarieux]

Love is Strange [Part 1] // Roger Taylor x Reader

WARNINGS: Few curses, was it few?

NOTES: Okay here’s the whole part 1, thanks for taking an interest with it. This isn’t a good excuse but if there’s any mistake (especially the grammar), English isn’t my first language (even though I did proofread this part 2 times, yeah mistakes are bound to happen.) Anyway I hope you enjoy this one!

WC: 2.1K

Roger leaned over the door frame in awe as he watches the woman stand on her feet with her confidence that she always wears. Even with only her white bathrobe and a towel that rolls over her head, it made her look like a goddess. She had her black sunglasses perched on her nose as an accessory as she apply her red lipstick while leaning ever so slightly over the glossy countertop of the bathroom to watch her reflection in the mirror.

“You know it’s rude to stare.” She said with a thick accent then she pops and pouts her lips, admiring just how perfect the red colour fits on her.

“Yeah but I also know how enchanting you look like now. Ethereal, but kind of devilish inside.” Roger replied smirking, walking over her side and slightly pushing her on ass away with his to fit in the mirror.

“Hey!”

“You’re not the only one who needs to get ready.” He said, fixing his tie in front of the mirror. She just watch his reflection as he snarls his own necktie and she giggled at him, taking it from his hand and tangling a proper knot to his neck.

“You’re 30 and still don’t know how to properly tie a tie.”

“Most of the men don’t, even the elder ones.” He argued.

“Well you should try to differ, you like being exotic.”

He rolled his eyes on her remark as he flips her off. “Wear your goddamn clothes lady, we’re late.” He said walking out of the bathroom. She wore her dress, a red satin one with gold embroidery details. It fits on her curves as if the dress were actually made just for her. She took her bulky yet soft fur coat, a white one that’s long as her dress and she removed her towel from her head. She walks back into the living room and found Roger tapping his finger from his left hand and holding his cigarette in another hand.

“You sure we’re late? My hair isn’t dry yet.” She spoke as she sat on the velvet ottoman in front of Roger. He rolls his eyes on her, sure enough that she will still win the shaping argument. He taps the cigarette’s butt on the ashtray and let its spirit die.

“I’ll blow dry it.” He suggested, already standing up to take it from her bedroom and she’s clapping her hand in enthusiasm as she quickly moved over in front of the full length mirror their living room has. Roger walked back, and stood behind her. She plugged the hairdryer and he started to point it on her hair.

“Careful, my make up!” She warned and Roger just nod. He focused on how her hair was still perfect even if it’s lightly wet. He combs her hair with his hands, pointing the mouth of the dryer in every handful of hairs that he grabs. She always liked it when he touches her hair; she could fall asleep then and there every time.

She already had her eyes closed when she no longer felt the heat of the hairdryer and the noise had come to halt.

“It’s done, let’s go.” He said dryly, she could sense that she got him annoyed and impatient.

“Wait I need my shoes!”

“God fucking damn it.” Roger cursed under his breath and she froze on her feet.

“What?”

“I said nothing. Go get it.” Roger replied exasperatedly but you didn’t move. Her forehead folded into thin layers and eyes are bounded to tear up. She never liked this kind of Roger. It always gets her so emotional, even if it’s just a small useless thing.

“Oh my god Y/N! i didn’t meant—“ He was stopped when she stomped her feet away from him, hastily walking towards to her bedroom and inclining to slam the door heavily, and she did.

Roger brushed his blond hair frustrated with his hand, asking himself how did she get so upset over four words. He tries to calm himself down and walk on her door to knock.

“Y/N, c’mon, let’s go.” He tried to speak nicely, in a soothing voice. He’s not about to leave her alone just because they’re both late to a very important event or maybe important to him and not to her. After all, she’s already dressed and it’s rather impractical for her to take a cab wearing such a revealing garment even with the fur coat covering the rest. Though the dress’ view in front still left a little to the imagination.

“Leave me alone.” She said choking on a sob.

“Come on Y/N, you’re already dressed it’s such a waste. We do have to go.” He pleaded, wishing she would just caved so easy and she would stop crying so her makeup would not be ruined. He knows how her confidence fails when she doesn’t look so nicely with her appearance.

“She doesn’t like me there anyway. Why bother?” She replied, her voice muffled by a tissue.

“No no, Y/N. Listen to me love, she likes you there alright? Now open this door.” He cooed and he taps her door. She gave up and unlocked the door for him. He saw her mascara had flown down on before her cheek and he shook his head in distaste.

“Now I’m ugly. You could just go.” She said but he held her chin up, taking a tissue from her hand and dabs it on her lower eye.

“No love, we’ll fix it okay?” He replied. He took the powder from her vanity and applied a good amount on her cheeks.

“Now you look fine, shall we go?” He asked and her reply was a light nod of her head. He guides her to his car and the rest of the drive was quiet. When they entered the house, one with loads of fancy and shiny decorations, they could already hear the happy birthday song, toning down on to its end.

Adalene was encircled by the crowd with smiling faces. Roger thought she still looks fantastic as ever. Especially now, dressed in for an important occasion. The decorations had matched her entire appearance, her dress ends right before her knees reflecting sparkles from the light, so did the diamonds on her neck. Too bad he was late that he didn’t even get to sing her the whole happy birthday song. She blows her candle and the loud “Happy Birthday Adalene!” was heard which followed by claps.

“Thank you all for coming, just enjoy the rest of the party!” Adalene’s voice echoed throughout the entire room, sounding so happy yet her eyes was visibly disappointed.

“Go find the rest of the guys, will you be okay?” Roger asked with concerned and she nod at him and went off. She knows that in a party, when you get yourself dressed, you look for Freddie for approval, so she did. And she instantly catches his frame, a combination of red and gold crown on the top of his head, she quickly strides to his direction and greeted him with the happiest one.

“Hello there to you too Y/N!” Freddie squealed and hugged her. As they both parted, she twirled herself in front of Freddie as he watched her and she raised an eyebrow towards him.

“What do you think?” She asked excitedly.

“Stunning as always! Where’d you got this dress from?” He said with a huge smile plastered on his face, vertically gesturing on her dress.

“Roger got it for me!” She squealed, contented with Freddie’s approval of your ‘outfit of the night’.

“Speaking of Roger, where is he by the way? Adalene was looking for him earlier.”

“Oh he’s here somewhere. We’re kind of late.” She replied, eyes roaming the surroundings in hope to see Roger.

“Late with his own girlfriend’s thirtieth birthday party? Where’s the justice!”

She replied with a tight-lipped smile and shrugged. “I’m going to get a drink.” And with that, she made her escape. She knows that she’s the responsible one for Roger being late, and she hate to admit it, she is indeed guilty.

She walked towards the bar, it’s right before the kitchen, but when she heard two familiar voice arguing inside, she stopped on her tracks.

“Where the fuck were you?”

“Adalene I’m sorry, I had to wait for Y/N—“

“Y/N? Y/N! Y/N! Y/N! It was always her! Roger! I’m your girlfriend, I’m supposed to be the one you’re living with not her!”

Her face turned red in the mention of her name, embarrassed and guilty that she’s the reason that the lovers are fighting. Everyone would be able feel her anger from her voice even without seeing her face, right then and there, she were scared but curious at the same time.

“Then what should I do? Huh? Leave her?” It was more of rhetorical question to Roger but Adalene didn’t hesitate a second to answer.

“Yes!”

Her hearing went cloudy after that, she’s not sure where will their conversation ends, and afraid that something else would end along with it too. Not that she’s that supportive with their relationship, in fact, she didn’t give a damn about them, but she never liked two or more than people are fighting because of her. She hated that.

“You know what Roger!”

“What!”

They were practically shouting each words out right from their lungs, probably delighted that the party noise outside was louder than them.

“Choose! Fucking choose between me, and her!”

There was a short silence and she didn’t know what will Roger answer, so does Adalene. She doesn’t know which side is she taking, hers or her best friend’s girlfriend, because let’s face it, Adalene has a point.

“Oh dear god Roger! Are you seriously contemplating about it? Five fucking years Roger! Five! We’ve been together for five fucking years!” She heard Adalene choked on her words.

“What do you want me to say? ‘You?’ I’ve had Y/N since forever, no I can’t leave her that easy!” He shouted back. Y/N heart beat has conquered herself, and she could feel it in her entire body. She’s frozen and dead on the spot.

Adalene let a sob out. “Wow happy fucking birthday.”She mumbled. Roger’s eyes were on her frame, watching her wipe her tears. How badly he wanted to do that himself but he cannot even bring himself to touch her.

“You know what? Maybe we should break up.” She said more quietly that made Roger fume in anger. How easy if her to let go with one mistake?

He punched the wall and walked out of the kitchen but he shortly found Y/N just right there, standing and staring at him. He ignored her and then started walking even faster out of the house and her feet voluntarily followed his trail, almost running just to catch him.

“Roger!” She called him when they reached outside. He slammed his car door close and starts the ignition but not yet leaving with his car. He still waited for her even though he is raging in anger, sadness, and disappointment.

She was shaking by the time she sat on the passenger seat and closed the door beside her. Scared of what he might say, or him driving too fast, which he did the moment she’s settled on her seat. He instantly pulled away from the curb and drove off, speeding as fast as he can and in about fewer than ten minutes, they’ve already reached their apartment building. He turned the engine off and just sat there, basking in the darkness of the night, allowing himself to feel empty.

“Roger.” She finally made herself spoke, a low sound of her voice echoed inside the car which had his head turning to you, but she were afraid to continue. He noticed her shaking hand and took it to his, tightly holding and squeezing it to comfort her.

“I... I am so so sorry Roger.” She said, a tear escaping her eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, not ready for her dramatic apology. “I should’ve known, I shouldn’t have been a brat...”

“Shh. You were right; I should’ve left you in the first place.” He replied, the small amount of light coming from the moon allows him to look at her. She was shocked, not even for the first time tonight. “Oh no, no, love. Not that. I meant I should’ve left earlier than you.” Roger cooed and lightly laughs. “Goddamn it, come here.” He said as he pulls her by her two arms towards him and he hugs her tight. He kissed the top of her head and assured her, “I’m not leaving you, understand?”

She nods while her face is buried on his chest, her left over tears are wetting his polo, but he didn’t mind. All he was thinking of was how glad he is that he chose to stay with her instead, all satisfied with just being with her best friend.

END NOTES:I hope you enjoyed reading that.

- Okay honestly, where do you think of the story’s plot is going? 

 - Interested and want to be tag? Comment/ask/message away. Do not be shy :)

TAGLIST:

@caborhapch @ohtheseboysilove @drowseontaylor @stormtrprinstilettos @brianmaybeso @loveandbeloved29 @mrfahrenhcit @rogerinathehystericalqueen @rogswhore @galileofigarog @delightfullynlove

[shewasanamericangirl]

kamen rider OOO review

a young man, having dozed off a night on security guard detail, awakens to find an odd red coin engraved with a bird motif. assuming the coin is payment for his work, he goes to change into his civilian clothes and oh fuck there’s a giant hole in the wall.

after a quick police interview revealing that our hero 1. is thoroughly naive and 2. has an unusual fixation with underwear, he puts his clothes on and goes to spend his “payment” in a vending machine and--whoops, dropped the coin under the machine. fortunately, a very strong (and CUTE) young lady is nearby to help lift up the machine...and nearly drops it when they see the monstrous disembodied arm crawling out from beneath! then the arm, who can talk and has a terrible personality, starts giving underwear boy orders. oh yeah, and i totally forgot to mention the opera rendition of “happy birthday” played over a bunch of weird monsters terrorizing civilians as a snappily dressed executive decorates a birthday cake on his office desk.

welcome to the world of kamen rider OOO! (pronounced “ohs”--like cheeri”os”.)

^ oh, the sexual tension.

plot: there’s two other fictional worlds that OOO has brought to mind for me multiple times. the worldbuilding and unique magical elements of OOO combined with a heaping cupful of absurdity and a pinch of homoeroticism reminded me quite a bit of jojo’s bizarre adventure--crazy and ridiculous stuff happens, but it’s built up in such a way that you generally understand enough of what’s going on that it isn’t too confusing. furthermore, the themes of desire, evolution, beginnings, endings, and nihilism bring to mind the dilemmas at play in the shin megami tensei games--many of the platitudes expressed in OOO could’ve easily been quoted from lucifer...and others from smtiv’s white. you’ll want to learn the truths. you’ll want to see what happens next.

characters: despite what ankh may claim, this show is not about him, as evidenced by the fact that its title is not bird greed ankh. he sure is a Character, though. heisei kamen rider is great at giving its viewers morally iffy or outright bastardy characters so unique and interesting that you wind up cheering for as much as if not more than for the heroes, and ankh is a primo example of this.

i love him, but also fuck that guy.

eiji hino definitely fits into the tradition of himbo tokusatsu protagonists. he’s not a complete dumbass so much as he is a pollyanna. like others in said tradition, he’s endearing, and i believe in him. you learn a lot about him over the course of the story, and how you see him closer to the end may surprise you.

the cast is colorful and fun. hina izumi, the super strong girl from earlier, becomes inexorably entwined in this drama of medals and monsters when her beloved older brother shingo winds up possessed. shintaro gotou, a former police officer, now works on behalf of the mysterious kougami foundation with the aim of fighting evil and protecting the innocent--but isn’t so sure how he’s going to do so. akira date, a roguish bad boy doctor and self-professed slave to desire, takes on a very special job to fulfill his goal of earning 100,000,000 yen. more oddballs can be found in service of the kougami foundation as the story continues...

oh, and the greed. or greeed. i’ve seen it both ways. i believe i’ve said a bunch of times before that i like a toku series with good fucking villains--you learn who they are and what drives them, you get how what they’re doing fulfills those goals, and you see how they relate to those around them beyond the customary shit-talking of the heroes. not only that, but the greed are a novel concept with fascinating aesthetics. i greatly enjoyed learning their secrets.

fights: instrumental to every battle is the abilities OOO has access to, which are determined by the medals he has in his possession--ancient coins which act as the DNA of the greed, and grant OOO different animal-themed powers. he equips the cheetah medal, and he can move at great speeds. he equips the hawk medal, and he can see great distances. naturally, such powerful artifacts are in high demand--OOO and the greed are constantly stealing them from each other, meaning what he’s capable of can vary greatly from episode to episode. only being able to switch out different hands is so 1980.

abilities that change again and again throughout the series make for some awesomely unique fights. mix that up with the various greed and the unique monsters they create using the power of human desire--yummies--and the fights don’t get dull.

visuals: the fact that i started watching kamen rider w with @shylax while still watching OOO made me notice something interesting: OOO appears to be the point that neo-heisei kamen rider became the bright shiny lightshow we see today in zi-o. w, while not visually lacking, still has the sort of drab, overcast quality to it that i’ve also noticed in ryuki and decade. i don’t know the technical terms needed to describe this phenomenon more accurately--just that something changed in 2011, and kamen rider really brightened up.

OOO’s suit forms are colorful and bold. many of the characters are associated with color motifs. cous coussier, the eccentric costume cafe that becomes eiji’s base of operations, is constantly switching up its theme and outfits. and as always, toei provides lots of visually striking sets.

music: the unusual opening theme, “anything goes”, will definitely make an impression; i initially found it weird, but damn, it gets me fired up now. strong inserts and moving incidentals are included too. “anything goes”, along with inserts “time judged all” and “reverse re;birth” have their own music videos, the latter two featuring the characters singing.

if you actually read all that, it should come as no surprise that i had a blast watching kamen rider OOO and highly recommend it. kobayashi knocks it out of the goddamn park once again!

as for my next series...i’m looking at a few possibilities. kamen rider 555 is one, as it’s a series @shylax definitely enjoyed. i’m also curious about other yasuko kobayashi series, seeing as they’ve proven great investments of my time so far. i’ve also grown curious about metal hero after seeing the new space sheriff gavan on kyuranger, though i’m at a loss for where i’d start with it. in the meantime, however, i’m going to watch the OOO movies!

[frightgothcar]

Gayrea 51 Chapter 2: Not the weirdest thing I’ve heard this week.

Hey yall, thanks for the great feedback on chapter 1 of this fic, I’m super motivated and excited to write this for yall!! Thanks to everyone who’s encouraged me to work on this! It’s been a tough couple of weeks with me, so this chapter is a little late, but I hope you enjoy! (You can also read it on ao3 here)

Previous / Next

“Nice to meet ya, Wes. How about you go ahead and pull that lever so I can get out of this hell-hole.” Danny gestured to the control panel Wes was admiring earlier. 

Wes’ hand drifted towards the lever, trembling ever so slightly. “Wait a minute,” He stopped and lowered his eyes at Danny, “How do I know you’re not just trying to trick me?” 

Danny groaned and pressed his face up against the glass. “You have my word as a government experiment?” He fluttered his pure white eyelashes. “What, do you need a please too?”

“... Yes.”

“What?”

“I’ll only let you out if you say please.”

“Aw c’mon, that’s so stupid-”

“Or, I could just alert the guards right now.” He glanced at the control panel again before deciding on a large red button.

Danny snorted and raised an eyebrow, “You realize you’ll be in even worse trouble than I will if you do that.”

“You think I care if I die? Ha! Do you really want to squander your one chance at escape because you didn’t want to say please?”

Danny scowled then grinned, “Damn, Wes, I’m impressed. Alright. May I please be let out?”

Wes pulled down the lever before he had a chance to hesitate. All the lights in the hallway began flashing red. An alarm blared from the intercom. Danny reached through the glass, grabbed his arm and yanked him into a wall. Oh god, was this really how he was gonna go? Beaten to death by an alien? He held his breath and waited for the impact, but it never came. He cracked open an eye and realized they were outside. Danny grinned up at him. 

“Surprise!” he exclaimed before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped against Wes’ chest. 

“Oh, god what just happened?” Wes whispered to himself, his arms instinctively catching Danny and shifting his unconscious form into a bridal carry. The alarm was still blaring, it was only a matter of time before someone realized what was happening and took him out with a well-placed shot. Without giving the situation a second thought he took off, towards the gate. As he got closer to the front of the building he realized something seemed off. The previously endless rain of bullets had stopped, the noise replaced by the triumphant shouts of the mob. The gate was ripped off its hinges as more and more people flooded into the compound, destroying everything that stood in their way with sheer force. 

It was almost beautiful, the chaos of it all. But Wes didn’t have time to admire the sight. He shifted Danny in his arms and began pushing through the mass of people, most of which made way after seeing what (or rather, who) he was carrying. He felt as though he was back in school almost, moving through the desert like pushing through droves of Freshman on his way to class. The crowd finally began to thin out, giving Wes enough space to break into a sprint. His mind was so focused on getting out of there he barely even reacted when he reached his truck, automatically unlocking the doors and settling Danny inside. His door wasn’t even shut all the way when he peeled away from his parking spot, weaving through parked cars and coolers to the main road. He barreled down the stretch of concrete, at least 20 miles over the speed limit. His only thought was to get as far away from there as possible. 

Once he reached the freeway he began to calm down. He turned on the radio and fell into a sort of lull as he drove. His mind remained on autopilot, stopping to get gas once then driving through the night. Every once in awhile a memory of bloodsoaked hands or flashing lights would try to get through but he shut them out, instead focusing on the road and the static-y pop music blaring from the radio. A hand landed on his shoulder and he jerked to the side, almost veering off the side of the road. He pulled into the shoulder and glared at his passenger with bloodshot eyes.

“What?” He hissed.

“Are you okay?” Danny asked, his sarcastic demeanor was gone, replaced with genuine worry, “When did you last sleep?”

Wes shrugged and closed his eyes to shut out the rising sun, “Does it matter?”

“Well, duh. You look like shit and I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be driving if you’re… compromised.”

“What do you know, Alien?” 

Danny rolled his eyes, “Clearly more than you, Human. Why don’t we take a break and then you can take us- Where are we going?”

Wes shrugged and dragged a hand across his face, “No fucking clue.”

Danny groaned, “Great. Out of all the people that could’ve busted me out it had to be you.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” He shot back. 

“It means,” Danny propped his elbows up on the center console and stared into Wes’ eyes, “That you are fucking stupid! What kind of idiot breaks into a highly guarded government facility without a fucking plan?”

Danny collapsed back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring out the window. The sun was just beginning to come up, sending a pale orange light across his face, emphasizing his cheekbones. It was almost enough to make Wes forget about the angry words he’d just said to him. Almost.

“Not very fucking grateful, are we?” He bit back, “ I saved your goddamn skin and I don’t even get a fucking thank you?”

“Considering you’re probably going to get us killed, no.” 

“Great. Fucking great. Well then, what’s your brilliant plan, Mr. Smartass?”

Danny turned back to Wes and shrugged. All the anger drained from his face, leaving him with a more neutral expression. “I dunno, believe it or not, I’m not exactly an expert with the outside world.” 

Wes sighed, “I suppose that makes sense… you’re right. I should get some sleep, I’m sure this whole situation will make more sense in the morning.”

“Afternoon.” Danny corrected.

“Huh?” 

“Well, it’s already morning, so if you sleep the typical 8 hours, you’ll be waking up in the afternoon.”

“Pretty bold of you to assume I have a normal sleeping schedule. See you in the morning.” Wes reclined his seat and turned on his side, facing the door.

“So that's just it? You’re leaving me, a guy you met like 3 hours ago alone in your car for an undetermined amount of time with no guarantee that I’m not gonna just drive off without you?”

“That depends. Can you drive?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Cool. Try not to die without me, see you in the morning.” Wes began fake snoring obnoxiously loud, his eyes squeezed shut. 

Danny rolled his eyes, making a mental note to get back at him for their whole exchange and looked out the window. It had been a while since he’d seen the sun, and he’d really forgotten how beautiful it was. The pictures online never really did it justice. 

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

Wes woke to a knocking on his car window. A police officer stood on the other side of the glass. A scowl painted her face, her eyes were covered by dark sunglasses, but if Wes had to guess he’d say they held the same disdain. He sat up his chair and rolled down the window. 

“How can I help you, officer?” He said, anxiety twinging his voice.

“Are you aware that you’re parked illegally?” She looked him up and down, sizing him up.

“Um, well, uh-” He stuttered. 

“Actually, Ma’am, our engine shorted out,” A voice came from behind him. Wes’ eyes went wide. Not only were they parked illegally, but he was harboring an alien prisoner. They were so screwed. “Me and my friend here were on our way to a cosplay contest and got a little lost. We’re waiting on triple-A, but they’re taking a while. W- William decided to take a little nap to keep his energy up while I waited on them.”

Danny handed the Officer Wes’ phone that he had somehow managed to not only steal but unlock in the short time Wes had been asleep. She lowered her glasses to the bridge of her nose and glanced at the screen. 

“Everything seems to be in order,” She nodded begrudgingly, “Do you boys need a lift?”

“No thank you, Ma’am,” Danny smiled warmly, showing off a pair glistening pair of white fangs “We’ll be fine.”

They waited for the officer to get back into her patrol car, talk to her partner, then drive off before talking again.

“What the fuck was that?” Wes glared.

“Gee, thanks for saving our asses, Danny, you’re so brave and handsome-” Danny imitated Wes in a squeaky voice.

“Yeah, sure, thanks for almost getting us killed!” 

“Oh, really, and you had a much better plan than me how?” 

“I dunno! But you didn’t have to talk to her! You should’ve hid, I’m surprised she didn’t kill us! After what happened yesterday we have to be careful, there's probably a fucking SWAT team after you!” Wes shouted.

“As far as I’m concerned, there is no ‘us’.” Danny crossed his arms, “Plus they wouldn’t kill me. I’m too valuable. Maybe you, but not me.”

“How reassuring,” Wes said dryly. 

“Now, let's get out of this godforsaken desert!” He commanded.

“It’s too fucking early for this.” Wes groaned and hit his head against the steering wheel with a soft thunk.

“Oh, no, you are NOT falling asleep on me again!” Danny scolded, “We are going to eat some food and then we’re gonna go our separate ways. Sound good to you?”

Wes nodded, slowly raising his head and starting the car. “But before we go anywhere, you’re gonna need a change of outfits, my friend.”

“What’s wrong with what I have on?” Danny asked.

Wes drove onto the freeway, “Other than looking like you just escaped space prison, nothing.” 

“Well I don’t see how a costume change will make all of this,” he gestured to himself, “less suspicious, but by all means, try.”

“You really have no faith in me, huh?”

“Nope,” Danny said, popping the p. 

Wes pulled into the next exit, stopping at a Shell station. The neon sign flickered, as if it was winking at them, warmly inviting whatever visitors happened to pass through the abandoned stretch of road. He climbed out of the cab of his truck and stretched, his bones cracking loudly. Danny followed suit, swinging open the passenger door and planting his bare feet on the hot pavement, then immediately yelping and retracting them, opting to instead float a few inches off the ground. 

“What the fuck?” he murmured, staring at the ground.

“Oh, right, shoes. Add that to the list.” Wes remarked, reaching into the bed of his truck and pulling out a black duffel bag. He slung it over his shoulder and walked towards the small convince store. The glass door swung open with a cheery little jingle. Wes held open the door for Danny, placing his arm around his shoulders and gently pushing him so his feet touched the white tile floor.

“Humans don’t float,” he whispered.

Danny shifted uncomfortably, rising onto his tip-toes to regain some of the height he’d lost, “Fine.”

Much to Danny’s annoyance, Wes kept his arm around his shoulders as he guided him effortlessly past the lone employee, who clearly wasn’t getting paid enough to deal with the rather strange pair, and into the bathroom. Once the door was locked, he unceremoniously dropped his bag to the floor. He spent a few minutes scrubbing his hands and arms clean of the blood from the previous day off, which felt almost as good as a shower. Once he had dried himself off he knelt down to go through his clothes.

“I’m kinda broke, so you’ll have to borrow some of my clothes for now,” Wes said, unzipping his bag and pulling out a pair of wrinkled jeans for himself, pulling them over his shorts as he continued talking. “Though, baggy clothes might work better, considering the whole blue skin thing.”

He dug through the bag for a few seconds, then handed Danny a Black hoodie, blue jeans, and a pair of well-worn flipflops. 

“I’m gonna give you some privacy, open the door when you’re done, okay?”

“Huh? What, why?” Danny asked as Wes reached for the door handle.

He turned back toward Danny, “Because you’re changing?”

“Oh, this is a cultural thing, got it.” Danny nodded, grinning like he knew a secret, “I was worried you didn’t want to see me naked there for a minute.”

“And that’s my cue to leave.” Wes slammed the door shut behind him, his face dusted with a soft pink blush. He didn’t have to wait long, not even 5 minutes had passed when the door cracked open. He walked into the bathroom, the door automatically locking behind him as it shut. 

“Need any help?” he asked, trying his best not to stare at Danny’s bare legs. Apparently the jeans hadn’t been a good fit, hopefully, he was wearing underwear.

“This is stupid.” Danny groaned from under the hood of Wes’ oversized jacket. The garment covered him like a cloak, drooping around his shoulders and falling about to his knees. The heavy black material held a fairly unpleasant smell of Cheeto dust, sweat and an excessive amount of deodorant, as if someone had worn it for a few days without washing it. His antenna were tucked behind his ears, his eyes glowed softly under the hood. Even the way he walked was distinctly non-human, he almost glided across the ground, though a bit more clumsily than he had before in a pair of much too large dollar store flip flops. “Nobody is ever gonna buy this.”

Wes adjusted the hood to cover a bit more of Danny’s face, “Oh, trust me, if they’re as ignorant as the people in my hometown, nobody’ll bat an eyelash.”

He raised an eyebrow, “And if they aren’t?”

Wes shrugged, “That whole cosplay excuse was pretty smart, we could just use that again.” He paused for a minute, “Hey, come to think of it, how’d you even learn about cosplay? Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of Super Solider?”

“I wouldn’t say Super Solider, however flattering that is,” Danny’s eyes seemed to flash a tad brighter when he rolled them, “And, even though it’s none of your business, I have an internet connection. I know things.”

“Huh. Not the weirdest thing I’ve heard this week.” He shrugged. “So, uh, the pants didn’t fit?”

“I think this is as good as it gets. Wanna grab some breakfast?”

“Not until you put on pants.” 

Danny huffed, not in the mood to argue, he grabbed the jeans off the floor and pulled them on roughly, one leg at a time. He was definitely not wearing underwear. He held them up around his hips to stop them from falling down. 

“Ok, I can deal with this.” Wes thought out loud, digging through his bag and pulling out two long ratty shoelaces knotted together. “Alright, so if I just…”

He strung the dirty yellow chord through Danny’s belt loop, pulled it tight and tied it in a bow in front of his stomach. “Here, you can let go now.”

Danny released the faded blue denim, allowing the hoodie to cascade back down to it’s resting place right above his knees. The pants slid down to his hips, but didn’t sag any further. The pant legs ballooned over his feet, making him look vaguely like a toddler in footie pajamas. Wes squatted down and rolled the legs up to Danny’s ankles, leaving them still covering most of his feet, but not as much of a tripping hazard. 

“That's about as good as it gets,” Wes said, standing up and looking Danny up and down. “Ready for some food? Actually... come to think of it, what do you eat, anyway?” 

“I’m not entirely sure. I have pretty large canines, so maybe meat? I doubt nutrition sludge is very popular among the populace.”   

“You’d be surprised,” Wes deadpanned, “Ok, I have…” 

He dug through his pocket, depositing a five-dollar bill, two ones, and six pennies. “Oh, score! I think there’s a McDonalds around the corner, we can get whatever looks good to you, yeah?”

“Sounds fine,” Danny responded, pulling open the door to the single-stall bathroom and stepping back into the gas station convenience store. The attendant didn’t even glance up from her tabloid as the two of them walked out the door, only looking up once they’d left, catching a glimpse of Danny’s feet hovering about a half-inch over the parking lot. 

Wes slung his bag into the back of the truck, got into his car, and put his key into the ignition. 

“Shit!” He swore, “We’re almost out of gas. Shit!” 

Danny’s stomach grumbled loudly, “Can’t it wait? I think my stomach is eating itself from the inside out.”

Wes groaned, but got back out of the car, locking it behind him and taking his duffel from the bed of the trunk. He opened the passenger door for Danny and led him across the street. He didn’t bother to look both ways, a bad habit picked up from growing up in the calm neighborhoods and safe streets of Amity Park. 

Entering the McDonalds was like entering another dimension. Although the sun shone brightly outside, none filtered in through the large windows. The room was lit by yellow LED lights, the ones by the bathrooms flickering menacingly. A chill went down Wes’ spine. Something felt off about this place. Danny pranced inside, seemingly oblivious to the eerie atmosphere in the restaurant. 

“What’s that smell?” Danny asked dreamily, following his nose up to the counter. 

“Uh, food,” Wes answered, shaking his head to snap himself out of his trance. “Go ahead and order, I’m gonna go check something.”

Wes pressed the wadded up bills into Danny’s hand. Danny giggled like a toddler and began muttering to himself while studying the glowing menu above the counter. Wes followed, looking behind the counter suspiciously. Nobody was in the restaurant, the kitchen was completely empty. Actually, he walked towards one of the gaping windows and surveyed the parking lot. Nothing. The only car in sight was his red truck and what he assumed was the gas station attendant’s blue jeep. 

“Hey, Danny,” Wes said, turning around, “I don’t think-”

Danny was sitting on one of the tables in the kitchen, scarfing down a hamburger. He paused mid-bite and looked at Wes. 

“Whha?” His voice was muffled by the food, the action sent soggy morsels flying everywhere. Wes held up a finger, getting ready to tell Danny off when he decided, to hell with it. He had already broken the law once (or twice) today, what could a little food heist hurt? He vaulted over the counter and pulled another cheeseburger from where it had been abandoned. It seemed like the employees had left in a hurry, half-filled out orders sat in rows on the prep table. Some of them were still warm. Wes selected a two double cheeseburger meal and hoisted himself up on the table next to Danny, who had finished his burger and was starting on a large fry. He was eating it like it was all one thing, holding the wrapper and biting all the fries at once. 

“Have at least a little class!” Wes said, grabbing Danny’s wrist, “What kind of sociopath eats fries like that?”

“Me,” Danny answered, spraying flecks of fry all over Wes’s face, “Now hand ‘em over, I’m hungry!”

“Not until you start acting normal!” Wes snorted, plucking one of Danny’s fries from the container and chomping down on it. 

Danny made a screeching noise, not unlike an angry seagull and dove for the food. Despite only weighing somewhere in the low hundreds, Danny was crazy strong, easily pinning Wes to the floor and snatching his meal. He leaned into Wes’ face and hissed, showing off the chunks of food stuck in his teeth. He went back to sitting on the table, his legs crossed and one of his clawed hands clutching Wes’ burger. He stuck his tongue out as Wes got up, dusted himself off, and sat back down on the table, then took another bite of the fries. Wes stuck his tongue out in return and grabbed the second burger, wolfing it down in record time.

A siren shrieked in the distance, Wes flinched. “What the fuck is that?”

Danny shrugged as he ate a chicken nugget, “Who cares?”

Another bout of piercing sounds broke out, louder now.

“I dunno Danny, it sounds like it’s getting closer, I’m getting a bad feeling. Let’s go…” Wes began shoving food into a bag, resisting the urge to cover his ears with his hands.

An impossibly bright light pierced through the window, another siren began, right outside this time. Danny shoved another handful of chicken nuggets and grabbed Wes’ arm, pulling him towards the employee’s entrance. As they stepped back into the heat Danny’s form began to flicker, eventually turning entirely transparent. Wes decided not to ask questions, instead allowing the (invisible) hand to continue pulling him away from the restaurant, looping around about 20 black cars pulled in a circle around the McDonalds. His legs began to falter as he saw armed men climbing out of the cars, surrounding the building. One man began to shout into a megaphone. Wes’ blood rushed in his ears, his vision was blurring in fear. Danny might’ve been see-through, but there was no guarantee Wes would be getting out of this alive. 

“C’mon, Wes, pick it up, do you want to die?” Danny hissed, yanking Wes’ wrist, forcing him to take another step. 

“He’s not in there!” A voice sounded, “The tracker’s pointed over here!”

Wes froze. The man was pointing straight at him. He lifted his gun. It was at that moment he knew, he was going to die.

[awfully-sadistic]

Week 1: Oct 2nd

The Adventures of Dottie and Dodger A series of linear prompt one-shots.

I kind of broke my own rule and couldn’t resist adding in a little something-something special. You’ll know it when you see it. I just hope it’s not too strange. But what the fuck, I can mold this story any way I want.

It was very early morning in the second day of October and Dot was on her way to the office building she and Dodger had purchased just yesterday. Driving down the road, Dot could see that various Halloween objects have been put out decorating yards and roofs with over-sized grim reapers, inflatable and real pumpkins, and strings of lights celebrating Halloween colors, but that wasn’t a surprise. It was as early as mid-September when she began to see signs of Halloween and it excited her.

Halloween was her favorite holiday and the entire month was already promising to bring along the spirit as soon as it could. With the appearance of the Poltergeist yesterday (and the paperwork that followed, but we don’t talk about that), Dot thought that Halloween had definitely come early. She wasn’t complaining. She wished it was Halloween all year-round, but with the spooky month comes attached their busiest time of the year.

It was expected that Human and Supernatural alike call upon the Agency in a tizzy about hauntings, possessions, and other spook factors that wouldn’t normally make an appearance any other time of the year. Obviously, Halloween lowered some sort of barrier that allows the things that go bump in the night liberated freedom this time of year.

She remembered last year; she didn’t think she’d survive much longer running their business out of her home. There were people coming and going and she didn't like the unexpected visitors who would appear in the dead of night for an emergency. She would not admit this, but it was also kind of freaky hearing about all these spooky stories and then having to go to sleep in the same house. There were times when Dodger had been called and invited to stay the night simply because Dot had heard something she wished she hadn’t and her overactive imagination had convinced her that everything was out to get her.

In those times, Dodger was nice enough not to question her intentions as if he had already known what had been bothering her. Then he’d attempt to bore her with interesting tidbits he might have learned that week. It normally had the opposite affect; they’d both stay up all night talking.

Dot finally pulled up to the office space. The building on the outside looked as abandoned as it had on the inside. But Dot figured with a little TLC, the place would brighten right up. A little bit of rose bushes lining the sidewalk to the front doors could work wonders and baby’s breath with some carnations and other filler flowers as accents would make the place seem cheery and fragrant. Someone to take care of the grass would flush this place with some much-needed color instead of the concrete jungle in its place. Trees were scattered about but they looked like they were dying; granted it was in the middle of fall, perhaps they’d look a little different come spring.

It was all one story, (thank god because who liked to climb stairs?), with the parking lot in front right off the road with enough space for the employee range given in the office. There was about twenty-four rooms and Dot knew because she had made a quick run back and forth from her home to make good on the promise about filling the rooms with her old outfits. She had her very own personal dressing room and it felt real fancy if anyone asked.

She just didn’t know what to do with the rest of the rooms. Rooms with more than enough space than an employment of two.

Well, three now with Armand, Jr.

Armand, Jr. or from this point forward known as Armand was the ghost that lived in the Grandfather Clock Dot had named Armand. So, in reality, the clock would be Armand, Sr. There was honestly no reason to tack on a Jr. to Armand, Jr’s name but for the sake of this on-going inside joke now, it was there now and Dot didn’t want to change it. Perhaps it hinted at her personality that she was resistant to change, no matter how little. Dot wouldn’t give it another thought now especially since she was pushing her way through the glass double-doors that would sweep her into the receptionist and waiting area.

Her eyes widened as she took in the receptionist area. It was like a whole new place. Yesterday, there had been cobwebs and dust settled on surfaces and white sheets over various furniture pieces that had been left behind. It had given the place a gloomy look.

Now, there was no sign that there had ever been a speck of dust. The area was brightly lit and felt welcoming. The walls were painted, she now realized. A light, baby blue. She could see there was also an assortment of hanging pictures and magazines laid out on the coffee table nearby and stocked with one of those wooden holders you’d mostly see at an official looking doctor’s office or a dentistry. She was taken back by the presence of a water cooler; she hadn’t seen that yesterday. Perhaps even more surprising was a working 32” flat screen television on the wall opposite the assembly of chairs and it was switched on, mute, showing various flashing pictures about Ashbourne; News. Local stuff. Captions on.

Looking at her feet, she could see that the carpet had been vacuumed recently and perhaps possibly cleaned but she couldn’t tell. But it surely seemed like it because it wasn’t this color yesterday.

Holy fuck, this place was actually functional.

She bumped against the receptionist area, the cutout window reminded her something of a shell and she hung in, trying to take a peek in the back. From what she could see, the police station area with its cubicles was arranged, straightened out, and she thought she could hear voices further back.

“Helloooooo?” she called out.

The voices stopped. Dot strained to hear if Dodger or Armand had been talking to each other but when she felt a light tap on her back, she nearly shrieked. Pulling herself out of the cutout, she whirled around and saw that both Dodger and Armand had come in from the outside with grocery bags in their hands.

Dodger had been the one to tap her. Dot placed a hand over her racing heart, taking in a deep breath to steel her nerves. “Goddamn it, Dodge. What did I say about doing that?”

“Announce ya’self.” Dodger repeated using the same inflection Dot had always used on him.

“Cheeky bastard.” Dot scolded but she had a grin on her face. “Don’t just do that. It’s a good way to get smacked one day.” her gaze trailed down to the bags they held, a question already forming in her eyes even as she finished speaking.

“We thought we’d stock the break room.” Dodger met her halfway, nodding his head beyond the door separating the waiting area from the rest of the office building. Dot followed his gaze before coming upon a sudden reminder. One that sent little shivers up her spine. It had suddenly clicked that she had without realizing, subconsciously noticed, she was the only car in the parking lot.

“I thought I heard voices back there.”

“You probably did,” Dodger said, looking at Armand. “there’s a television set in the breakroom, too. At his insistence.”

“I tried to get one put in the bathroom but I remembered, I do not have to use one.” Armand smiled.

“I reminded you of that.”

Armand’s smile never wavered even as he amended, “Dodger reminded me of that.”

Dot still didn’t feel comforted for some reason but it might have been her overthinking everything. But the banter between Dodger and Armand did a good job of distracting her enough to push that uncomfortable feeling away.

“I didn’t know you could eat, Armand.” Dot said, giving him a rub on the head. In his corporeal form, Armand was physical to the touch which allowed him to hold on to the groceries and appreciate Dot’s gesture. He was also taller than her and she had to stretch her arm up to even do that much. Armand ducked his head and the look on his face was similar to the look he had when he was praised.

“I can eat. I can taste flavors. But it doesn’t do anything for me. I cannot gain any nutrients or get the same satisfaction of feeling full. I think it does help me with energy, but I don’t know for sure.”

“I suspect it helps him keep his corporeal form for longer.”

Dot looked surprised at Dodger’s input, “He can’t hold onto this form for very long?”

“He can go about a full day but needs to rest the next so he’s told me. So, every other day. To see if eating restores any energy to allow him to hold onto this form for longer, I would have to test this theory by feeding him and then checking against how long he can previously hold out, if there’s any change at all. It’s going to take weeks to gain a definitive answer.”

“How exciting.” Dot said dryly before adding, “You do know, he’s not a science experiment. Right?”

Armand, silent through the exchange, finally spoke up, “It’s alright, Dottie. I told him he could try. If it helps you guys, I would love to be in this form for much longer. It just feels right.”

Dot could feel that Armand meant that with every ghost fiber of his pure being. She could feel her heart melting at his resolve and knew he earnestly meant to do anything he could for them. It had been radiating off of him in waves. Armand almost seemed desperate to be of use to them.

For what reason, she still had to find out but she wasn’t about to make him bend over backwards in the meantime. It was even harder to tell if he was mistaking this corporeal form as to partake in being alive again. His comment about trying to use the bathroom was funny but the undertones seemed depressing. He was doing live things or entertaining the thought, but what for? Because Dot and Dodger were alive and he was trying to fit in? Was he staying in this form because it helped them or him?

And was it wrong to encourage him to stay in this form longer in case it feeds into the fantasy? Dot wasn’t one to turn away from anything fantasy related because reality sucked. She daydreamed all the time. She didn’t want to tell Armand to face reality. He shouldn’t have to especially if she didn’t want to.

And why was his personality as eager to seek out praise as often as he did? Was this part of his unresolved business? Ghosts were tricky because there could be many reasons they stayed behind. Armand showed no indication that he was disgruntled or regretful in anyway. If anything, he seemed happy-go-lucky and incredibly naïve. Trusting. Perhaps, too trusting.

She searched Armand’s expression; he stared back at her with a smile that looked hopeful. She knew she couldn’t help him if it turned out he missed being alive if only because she didn’t know how to bring back the dead and the day when that realization hit him was going to break her heart. She hoped that wasn’t the case. With every fiber of her being, she hoped so dearly.

She took the groceries from Armand’s delicate looking arms, signaling the men to follow her as she pushed through the doors to head for the breakroom.

“What would help us is you being yourself, Armand. I don’t expect anything from you except to do what you want to do. If you want to help us, that’s great! And if you want to help Dodger with his weird experiment, you can do that, too.”

Dodger made a discontented noise at the back of his throat as they settled the groceries on the counter in the breakroom. Dot made a note to check the television; to her relief, it was still turned on. To her ‘not relief’, the volume was turned down so low, you could only be in the breakroom to hear it. She hoped to god sound traveled in this building.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been part of an experiment. Do you think it’s fun?” Armand asked, looking between Dodger and Dot. Dot was pulling apples out of the bag before she turned to look at Dodger because she didn’t know how to answer this one.

“It’s fun for me.” Dodger replied, pulling out a hand of bananas.

Armand pulled out a toilet brush scrubber, “How do you eat this one?”

Dot took the scrubber gently from Armand’s long, graceful fingers. “You don’t eat this, honey. And Dodger is going to try to make this experiment as fun for you as he can or I’m going to make him eat this.”

“Noted, love.” Dodger murmured, preoccupied with his groceries to worry about what was in Dot’s hand. Armand had a look of realization on him.

“Oh, it’s Dodger food.”

“Exactly.” Dot laughed.

Putting away the groceries was longer than usual if only because Armand kept asking how to eat everything. And not everything Dodger had bought was for consumption. But Dot had the patience to teach him what was and was not safe to eat. Basically, anything in the fridge but if Armand was unsure, he was to get Dot’s approval first. Dot also had to hand it to Dodger; he did a good job of stocking the breakroom with lots of snacks and he didn’t forget her creamer and fixings for her coffee.

“After five years paired with you, I better remember.” He said, taking a sweep around the breakroom. “I’ll have to write a thank-you note to the Agency for giving us their old equipment.”

“Ah, I was wondering where we got half this shit.” Dot commented. “Can’t believe Chief Aldric would part with any of it to help us.”

“He specifically told them to give us the stuff they had in the storage room. If they attempted to give us anything new, they could start working for us. At least, that was what Agent Hartwin told me while sounding very apologetic.”

Dot’s face grew a discontented look about it, “Mm. He’s always been a little cowardly. But that’s the same storage where everything gets thrown in once it outlives its usefulness? That sounds more likely. Yeah, thank them for me too.”

“I kept telling them I could repair almost anything. Everything they’ve given us I was able to repair with no real cost. I had most of the spare parts I needed at home.”

“Well, like you’re fond of saying, their loss.” Dot said, wondering what the inside of Dodger’s house looked like. “It certainly looks like everything works like new. I wouldn’t have thought we got hand-me-downs whatsoever.”

Armand looked lost, “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Free stuff usually is,” Dodger pointed out. “but they meant to give us their broken and out of date equipment. Perhaps as a way to haze us. Or thumb their nose at us.”

“I don’t think anyone’s used that saying since the 1800’s,” Dot cracked.

“Actually, my dear, the first usage was recorded around the 1920’s. It made a reappearance around the 1930’s but since then I’ll admit it’s a little out of date.”

Dot and Armand stared at Dodger who didn’t say anything after that, content that his lesson had gotten across. Learning something new was never expected or planned as far as Dot was concerned. However, Dodger’s matter-of-fact way of speaking and on a rare note, when he went on spouting facts about word usage or anything else he seemed to be an overnight expert on, she would let him babble on about the little factoids because she would learn something new whether she asked for it or not.

For the most part, he could come across as a know-it-all for those who didn’t know him.

Dot did know him and understood he wasn’t just showing off. He was genuinely sharing something with her and she often replied like a proud mother. “Thanks, Dodge. That’s really interesting.”

“That sounds silly,” Armand said next. He placed his thumb on his nose, “What is the point of this?”

“It’s a gesture that’s meant to disrespect,” Dodger replied. He took a moment to extend Armand’s fingers so he was doing the gesture correctly. “wiggle your fingers. That’s how it’s supposed to look.”

Dot placed a hand over her mouth to conceal the giggle wanting to escape. Armand looked confused, seemingly still not understanding how it’s supposed to be an insult. But he seemed to realize that he was currently gesturing towards them and gasped at the sudden revelation. “Oh no! I didn’t mean any disrespect!” His hand flew off his nose and straightened to his side. “I’m so sorry!”

Dot laughed this time, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Armand. It’s just a silly little gesture and if you want to do it, go ahead. But always at Dodge and never at me.” She gently teased. Armand seemed shocked at the insinuation that he could ever thumb his nose at Dot. The very idea of insulting her whatsoever seemed to pale him more than his ghosted form.

“I’d never!”

The sentiment was sweet and filled Dot with a warm feeling that surely showed in her smile.

“I’ve had the business cards renewed, “Dodger brought up, calling their attention. In a separate bag that Dot hadn’t noticed, Dodger pulled out a cardboard container the size of a medium jewelry box. The top came off like lid and Dodger pulled out a single card. It was a matte black cardstock with their new address and phone number pasted under the name of their office in sprawling gold script. It looked incredibly fancy, Dot was afraid to touch it.

“Sanctum Sanctorum?” Dot asked, looking up at Dodger. “Isn’t that that one place where you-know-who lives in New York or… something? It was all over the news years and years ago, we can’t get away with something like this.”

Armand quirked his head, “Is something wrong with the name? When Dodger explained it’s something you really liked, we thought it was the best idea to go with.”

Dot could feel herself grow soft at the thought they put in for her especially since Dodger remembered a passing comment from more than a year ago. But she shook her head, “You probably don’t know this, Armand, but it’s a really big world out there. Aside from the Agency, there are organizations out there that do bigger work than what we do with a lot more pull and power.” Then she turned to Dodger, “We’re going to get sued.”

“It’s alright. It’s a Latin phrase and the last time I checked, there was no copyright on it. There are plenty of places that use the same phrase. By its very definition, all it means is a sacred place.”

“You really have an answer for everything.” Dot remarked but she couldn’t believe they were actually getting away with calling their new office building a Sanctum Sanctorum. As long as they didn’t put “the” in front of it, maybe it’ll be okay. That way it didn’t seem official and they didn’t step on anybody’s very important toes…

“Well, we better start calling it the Sanctum for short before we get a call from… disgruntled but really impressive superheroes.”

“Superheroes?”

Dot and Dodger glanced over at Armand. In a lot of ways, he really was like a baby. He remembered some things from the time he was alive but other things, you had to explain to him. It was a good thing both Dot and Dodger exhibited patience well beyond their years. Dot cleared her throat taking the lead on this one. After all, she’s been following the history and accounts ever since their appearance.

“Years and years ago, like way before Dodge and I were born and before our parents were born and perhaps even their parents, so we’re talking about grandparents and maybe even great-grandparents, there was a really scary war. Like, we’re talking throw everyone back in medieval times, end of the world as we know it, war. Back then, relations between Humans and Supernatural beings were non-existent as proof of the Supernatural was more or less unverified. Things like Ghosts, Vampires, Weres, Witches, or anything else like that was deemed legend and at most, urban legends. Other times it was fuel for scary stories on camping trips and scaring little children into behaving.

But it was near impossible to prove the existence of anything Supernatural and for the most part, Humans didn’t have anywhere near the impressive range of abilities they have today so everything was really boring and mundane. Even so, Humans were pretty advanced. I mean, the stuff they had back then doesn’t hold a candle to what we have now, but they were pretty advanced in technology and space exploration and in those times, it was pretty impressive especially when we look back in the past and see how far we’ve come. Back then, they could only get to Luna. Now, we have a colony on Luna. See the comparison?”

“Luna?”

“The moon, love.” Dot laughed. “So, circling back to the Supernatural, Humans had sightings, superstitions, and sometimes proof like video and pictures but that eventually ended up as hoaxes most times. They didn’t have the equipment we have today that can verify Supernatural presence without a doubt or equipment that detect latent power in Humans. Furthermore, people liked feeding into the fear that there might be something wandering on this planet other than themselves. Yet, ironically, Humans were, and some could say still are, really arrogant in terms of their chain of command in life. Even if there had been something out there, they would always deem themselves higher than anything else that came along. They’ve just been in charge for so long, it was unthinkable that anything greater could challenge that. And in a lot of ways, Humans were right. They have the capacity to think a lot bigger than they are and when they band together, they can pull off some of the most incredible spectacles. But Humans are also very prideful creatures which prevent them from reaching their full potential.

Or so it’s been hypothesized. After all, they did fight with each other over territory and stupid shit like that impeding their own progress.

In a lot of ways, the Supernaturals should have expected it. But one day, there they were. Tired of hiding, tired of their cultures and beliefs being ridiculed and turned into insulting myths, they just emerged. As I remember every account in the history books have put it, it was like an invasion. However, no one could tell who was put on the planet first. Humans thought they had the right to the world because they’ve been the ones to dominate it. Supernaturals felt they’ve also been there just as long but were forced into hiding because of the discrimination and hatred Humans fueled into their stories turned them into hideous things. Monsters, honestly. They would have been hated.

But everyone hated each other. There were clashes, skirmishes, wars. Cities were decimated because despite the Humans claiming to have dominated the world, they were still Humans. They bled easily, bruised easily, weren’t as psychically or physically gifted like Supernaturals were known; enhanced strength, telekinesis, flight, shapeshifting—as you can imagine, it really tipped the scales in the Supernatural’s favor.

But one day, there was a point where Humans were able to somehow turn it around. If you ask anyone their opinion, there are many guesses as to what happened. Some say that at a certain point, to save themselves, Humans just evolved. In high stress situations or faced with extinction, it awoken something in Humans that allowed them to push back. Others say a miracle took place bestowed upon whatever God they worshipped that saw the Humans suffering and decided to help. And if that were the case, whatever God touched them never fucking appeared again. Kind of ridiculous if you ask me—”

“Dot,” Dodger cut in, steering Dot back into the story. He turned to Armand and explained, “Religion is a touchy subject. Every case she’s had at the Agency concerning the religiously imbalanced turned everything upside down and inside out. She’s never had a good experience dealing with them.”

“Don’t forget they are often the most judgmental and preachy assholes to ever deal with. Sorry.” She cleared her throat, finding her stride again. “Anyway, whatever had happened imbued the Humans with the strength to fight evenly with the Supernaturals. The powers that Supernaturals exhibited were suddenly shared with Humans. If a Vampire had super strength, so did Herbert the Human. If this Werewolf can run very fast, so can Susan the Human. It was both a good thing and a bad thing; that meant Humans wouldn’t be extinct but it also meant it fueled their idea that they were the true inheritors of the World. I mean, what else could convince them if not that moment that they evolved or were God-touched on the butt or whatever.

The fights and wars escalated and this happened all over the World. Human and Supernatural homes and cities and lands were absolutely fucking wrecked. Civilians that didn’t have supernatural abilities, and that accounted for Supernaturals and Humans alike, were housed in safe zones; it was about the only truce Supernaturals and Humans honored. People or Beings who couldn’t fight back to defend themselves should be given protection was the one thing they agreed upon, it was a fucking miracle. Now that I think about it, it might have to have been who was in power back then, honestly.”

“That sounds so terrible,” Armand said. He looked like he was about to cry. Dot was starting to regret telling the story. “everyone really hated each other.”

“Well, I mean, it sort of gets better.” Dot pointed out, “I’m not done yet. I promise the superheroes are coming in.”

Armand’s eyes brightened, “Oh yes! Superheroes! What are they?”

Dot laughed, “Now hold on. Before they came along, we need to get to the part about the aliens.”

Armand looked confused for a second before he finally asked, “What is the aliens?”

Dot and Dodger exchanged glances. Dot seemed worried and Dodger just looked perplexed. The things Armand did and did not know were astounding sometimes. It never failed to throw them for a loop when he asked.

“You don’t know what aliens are?” Dodger asked. Before Armand could reply, he explained, “Extraterrestrial life. Or, a person who is not a national of the country they are living in.”

“Or a movie franchise,” Dot input.

“What is extraterr—”

“Something that did not originate of this earth.” Dodger quickly explained. “Aliens come from outer space. Outer space is the big thing above our heads past the sky with many stars and planets.”

Dot laughed, smacking Dodger on the arm playfully. “I’m sure he knew what outer space was.”

“I, for one, am not quite sure, love.”

Armand replied, “I know! I know now.”

Dot gestured, pulling attention back to her so she could continue with the history of their planet that apparently Armand might need another run through with. She hoped she hadn’t lost him somewhere along all that explaining.

“The aliens. Okay, with the Humans and Supernaturals fighting each other, it seemed like nothing could have been able to stop this on-going war that would surely have pulled us into it years down the road. But we were either very lucky or unlucky because Aliens appeared out of nowhere and blasted all of our collective asses.

The sorry thing about that was the Aliens waltzed into a war that they weren’t even concerned with. They were running away from their own stupid shit. Apparently, history reports from an Alien POW had revealed they were on the run from a fleet from another freaking dimension. It shocked everyone to the core hearing about different dimensions and seeing Aliens that the war against Humans and Supernaturals seemed so… petty, now.

In the meantime, Aliens killed without discrimination. Remember the safe zones that both sides had agreed were untouchable? Aliens struck there first. Humans and Supernaturals alike were being targeted and even dragged into a war that wasn’t theirs. An even larger war on a scale that no one could fathom. We eventually figured out why we were being hit so hard. Aliens had the technology to brainwash their prisoners to use themselves as canon fodder so they’d lessen their own causalities and since the World was ripe with many shields, Humans and Supernaturals found out really fast it didn’t matter what they were. As far as the Aliens were concerned, they were the same.

I remember reading that it was the point where Humans and Supernaturals banded together to fight a common enemy to save themselves. By then, about one-third of the population had been wiped out.”

“To put it into perspective,” Dodger interrupted, “That’s two billion people. Total, our population including the Supernatural was about seven billion. Our history’s worst genocide before the Alien invasion is about six million. Doesn’t even come close to the damage of almost wiping us off collectively as a species and without a certain intervention, we would have been wiped out without a doubt.”

Armand’s brows were furrowed as he tried to imagine what two billion people looked like. The numbers were huge, he understood that much at least. “What is this certain intervention?”

Dot continued with a smile that stretched widely. This was a subject she knew all about as it fascinated her. “This is where the superheroes come in. In this other dimension, people with incredible gifted abilities who use them for good and justice were fighting the Alien race on the other side. Our planet didn’t know at the time and assumed the Aliens were just fighting other bad, stupid aliens. But that wasn’t the case. This Alien race who were crystalline and spindly were called the Dovirs. They had been trying to take over another earth-like planet coincidentally… named Earth-616 but bit off more than they could chew and were chased off. That didn’t mean they were retreating. They were desperate as it had been explained to us. In the midst of this chase, they ripped a tear into another dimension to cheat and bolster their numbers—which they accomplished coming here—to one day go back and try taking over once more.

If my memory serves correctly, and it always does, we’re Earth-6969. Which, by the way, we came away as the winner for coolest planet name. The representatives from Earth-616 landed here and explained it for us. It’s all over history books and by now is common knowledge.

In a lot of ways, Earth-616 is like our planet; same geographical lands and climate. We even have the same cities give or take a couple of small towns that differ between us. Oh yeah, and they weren’t in the throes of war waged in the name of discrimination but for the most part, yeah. We were pretty similar. Granted, they were more advanced in terms of technology but with the appearance of the Dovirs and our access to their technology, we’ve bolstered our own. Earth-616 even shares some of its technological advances with us which was pretty cool of them.

But comparing the two worlds, the Human races are the same, the Supernatural races are the same, we were just lacking our own Superheroes. And Armand, that means they are a band of people that come together despite their differences to make the place they live a better environment for everyone.”

Armand smiled, finally understanding. “So, they’re really important.”

“I’d say that they were. I know there are people who don’t share the same sentiment. It’s stupid and surprises me that this is coming from both sides.” Dot took a deep breath before she went down that road. It was clear to anybody listening that this was a passionate subject for her.

“I’d say we’re getting close to the ideal of living together in harmony, slowly. That’s why organizations like the Agency and what we do popped up. The Dovirs made us realize that we were entirely unequipped to handle an outside invasion. At the same time, we can’t keep fighting each other.

Taking a page out of 616’s example, their Superheroes and Supernaturals and Humans live together in a way that we’re trying to pull together nowadays. I’m not saying their side is perfect; if you pay attention to them, you’d see they just as well have their own issues with discrimination and blatant racism. Their government can be corrupt just as any political power, but we’re all trying to fight that and have been for a long time.

If it’s going to end in our lifetime remains to be seen, but I’d like to think we’re closer than five, ten years ago. It took a long ass time for our present to happen. I mean, the effects of that war are still very present today; tensions between the Humans and Supernaturals are still tense in some situations but for the most part, we’re getting there.

Plus, there’s still that nasty tear between our dimensions that now connect us to Earth-616. Isn’t it cool we’re neighbors?”

Armand was silent for a very long time, his expression reflecting a thoughtful gaze. Dot wondered if she had lost him along the way somewhere. She winced, glancing over at Dodger, “I might have gotten a little preachy at the end, there.”

Dodger shook his head, “Nonsense, I think you’ve pulled together a very beautiful summarization of our history. There wasn’t anything in what you said I disagreed with.”

Smiling, Dot gave Dodger’s hand an affectionate pat before Armand finally spoke which took them both by surprise as he asked, “How do we visit Earth-616? Do we have a very long ladder we climb to get there?”

Dot remained in a stupor for another second before laughing almost in disbelief, “Oh, no, honey. Haha, that’s where the Sanctum Sanctorum comes into play.” She further explained as soon as she saw the confusion in Armand’s features, “There’s a Sorcerer who lives down in New York that bridges the connection between our two worlds otherwise it’d be dangerous keeping that tear unsupervised. It’s complicated. Something about not having our own guardian. From what I know, he spends his time between the two worlds; we’re sort of like his vacation house.”

Then it clicked. Armand’s mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ as his eyes rounded in unison. “That’s why we’re going to get sued!”

“We’re not going to get sued.” Dodger argued.

Dot turned her head to face Dodger, almost jumping when she came face to face with a terrifying red expression. It took her a moment to realize he had pulled something out of a grocery bag and put it on his face.

“Take off that mask,” she scolded before adding, “that is a mask, right?”

“Ah! My Halloween costume!” Armand exclaimed, taking the mask from Dodger’s hands. “Dodger explained in the store why there were so many skeletons and witches on display. Hellowoon.”

“…Why would you think that was my face?” Dodger asked but went unheard as Armand continued.

“You’re supposed to dress as something scary, so I thought this was scary.” The ghost lifted his pale hand up to cover his impressive face with the unimpressive red mask. It had a long nose and angry eyebrows, its mouth furled down in the snarliest of snarls. Dot eyed it wearily.

“That’s great, honey. But you don’t have to be scary if you don’t want to, you can be anything you want. Also, did you say Hellowoon?”

“That’s not what it’s called?” he asked, pulling the mask to one side. He peered out with an amethyst hued eye expectant of Dot to correct him. But she didn’t have the heart.

“Well, it’s official. Happy Hellowoon, everyone!”

“I’m serious, did you really think that was my face?”

“Dodge, I swear to god. Any god.”

There was ring from the front which caught Dot, Dodger, and Armand’s attention. Their heads turned towards where the receptionist desk area sat before they looked at each other again.

“Do we have a literal doorbell?” Dot asked.

“Mm, I think there was a little “ring for service” bell somewhere on the desk. Armand was ringing it incessantly earlier.” Dodger replied.

“I had to make sure it would ring the next time, too.” Armand whispered.

“I’m not sure what that means.”

“What do we do?” Dot asked Dodger lowering her voice to a conspiring whisper. “It can’t be a client, right? You just printed the cards out today.”

“You might have, but I asked around and found out where you relocated. In any case, I let myself in. I hope that’s okay.” The new voice spoke with an authority that told anyone listening that he had every right to be there. It didn’t fail snapping their attention to the doorframe where a tall man stood as if he belonged there clad in a red cape that seemed to have a mind of its own. It moved where there was no wind and occasionally, the man would brush back the flap of the collar out of his face. The breakroom never had a more important guest. In all of her life, Dot never expected to come face to face with anyone as extraordinary or significant as Doctor Stephen Strange.

Dodger leaned in, whispering, “On second thought, we might be getting sued after all.”

“That wasn’t quite the idea I had in mind.” Stephen smiled. It looked like he was confronting a group of guilty children. Well, two guilty children. The third was quite obviously unusual. A flicker of recognition sparked in Stephen Strange’s gray gaze before it landed on Dot. “I was hoping you could take on a case for me.”

Dot swallowed dryly and she gripped the sides of her shirt, then ran her palm down the side of her leggings. She was nervous and it wasn’t coming from Stephen. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Stephen Strange, THE Stephen Strange, visiting the planet just to enlist her services? From what she could remember, she didn’t know how often he visited 6969, but it couldn’t have been that often, right? He had his own responsibilities on his own planet, didn’t he?

“O-Of course,” she put cautiously. She couldn’t help the stutter in her voice mainly because she had never expected in her lifetime to ever run into a Superhero from 616. An encounter was supposed to be rare. Even if their planets were connected by the rupture the Dovirs were responsible for, that didn’t mean the two planets could interfere with one another unless absolutely dire. Unless, that had changed? “What could we do for you, Doctor Strange?”

There was a brief moment when it looked like Stephen Strange looked in approval at being recognized. He all but purred the next statement, “Good, so we know of each other.”

“Y-You know me?”

“Dot Dreadful and Dodger Ainsworth Mac Alister of the private eye institution, Supernatural Investigations. Previously employed by the government sanctioned organization known as The Agency, real creative name, hm? You guys obviously have the superior one.”

Dot laughed nervously.

“You two were employed by The Agency for ten years, partnered for five because you, Ms. Dot, weren’t compatible with anyone who didn’t overload your empath abilities and Mr. Dodger stayed at entry level because he just liked doing the paperwork.”

Dot and Armand looked at Dodger who shrugged. Doctor Strange continued.

“You two quit a year ago and partnered to create your own business citing irreconcilable differences for your departure with the Agency to mask the fact you two were really unhappy there but it was an open secret considering how much Dot was known to push the cases deemed too “unimportant” by The Agency to favor the ones with more publicity to shed the project in a better light. In reality, you understood the corruption taking place once the previous Chief was replaced with Aldric, the mayor-elected official with a discrimination against Supernaturals. Another reason included being tired of being tied up by bureaucracy and wanted to make a genuine difference. Starting yesterday, you relocated to this site after operating out of your home for the last year. I hope I didn’t miss anything.”

“We hired a ghost as a receptionist.” Dodger pointed out. Stephen’s gaze trailed from Dot, then to Dodger, and last to Armand. “His name is Armand.”

“Yes, of course. That’s how he fits in.”

“And this is my Hellowoon costume,” Armand added, lifting the thing to his face. “It’s spooky, isn’t it?”

Stephen pointed, almost doing a double-take. He seemed genuinely taken aback by the outburst but covered it up as soon as the emotion flickered across his face. “Did he just say Hellowoon?”

By this time, Dot stepped up to Stephen, floored by how he knew so much. And it seemed everyone she was meeting lately simply towered over her. She extended an arm out towards the main office space.

“Why don’t you tell us the details of this case, Doctor?”

Stephen glanced down at Dot, giving her a charming smile that Dot could sworn was her imagination. Only in her dreams could someone this amazing exist, right? She had many fantasies about meeting any of the Supers in 616 but to actually be meeting one right now? …Maybe reality didn’t suck for once.

She led the Doctor to a random desk hoping it was to his taste. Maybe she should have paid more attention to the furniture. Once seated, she took out a legal pad and grabbed a pen. She had no idea where the invoices were but it was a good thing Dodger had her back. He grabbed an invoice while Dot recorded the details for any pertinent information.

Doctor Strange had the presence even while sitting to intimidate her. He seemed so regal and she could feel the pen feel warm in her hand. It took a while to realize the warmness was coming from her own hand. She just seemed so flustered! She hoped she looked composed on the outside at least.

“This peculiar case is located in the small town of Whitecrest. I’m sure you know it.”

Dot nodded, getting down to business. She ducked her head and wrote down Whitecrest as she spoke, “I know it. It looks like a little village from a medieval fantasy. Has a tavern and inn, even a functioning blacksmith. Everyone likes to ride horses to get around. It shouldn’t be too far from Ashbourne.”

Armand, seated across from Dodger who was copying the information for the Invoice asked, “Is Whitecrest that different?”

Stephen smiled, approval glinting in his eye. “After the Great War, as your planet calls it, a lot of towns had trouble rebuilding. Or more correctly, the people of states and towns all over had trouble deciding how they wanted to rebuild. Some had the finances to support their ambitious renovations while other towns like Whitecrest ended up looking like a piece of the past.”

“Way past,” Dot input with a smile, looking at Stephen. It was amazing how much of their history he bothered to learn. “Towns like Whitecrest have a lot of problems. It has nothing to do with the people most times. Ah, Doctor, what would you like for us to do while we’re there?”

“I’ll be honest,” Stephen suddenly said in a serious tone. His face took on a pensive expression and he seemed hesitant on admitting something. Up close, Dot could see that there was a gathering of wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and with the addition of the white at his temples made him seem a little older than he appeared just a few minutes ago. Whatever he wanted to say weighed heavily on his mind for a while before he finally continued, “I don’t usually put off my tasks like this but I don’t trust going to The Agency to carry out what I’m about to ask you. I can’t do it myself as I’m needed back home, in fact, as soon as I’m done here, I’ll be heading back to my New York.”

“You’ve traveled a long way to see us,” Dot encouraged. “Whatever you have to ask, I promise we’ll do our best to carry it out.”

Stephen looked up giving Dot a little jolt as their gaze connected. He still looked grave and serious. “I don’t like passing the tasks I can do myself onto anyone else, especially if I don’t know them. But I’m taking a chance on your business.” He paused and his next statement lightened up his features, “What can I say, I have a soft spot for it.”

Dot tried her best to quell the blush that was threatening to rise to her cheeks. She cleared her throat and took her legal pad to fan herself, “Ah, haha.”

“The reason we don’t trust The Agency are possibly the same as yours,” Dodger put quite bravely. Dot was often surprised by the way he spoke as if he knew everything. By the way Stephen nodded convinced Dot that Dodger probably did know everything. Dodger continued, “Then all we have to do is prove that we’re not The Agency. We can complete this job. I’m sure of it.”

Coming from any other man, it may have sounded like boasting and Stephen said as much. “But there’s something in your tone that could reassure me that’s the case,” he admitted with a slight chuckle. “It reminds me of someone else I know. A little egocentric, likes his name on tacky buildings that he owns.”

“That’s not just a little.” Dodger said.

Stephen’s grin widened a little, “And much like that egotistical man, I like you.” Stephen took a glance at his watch and realizing he was pressed for time, decided to wrap it up. “When you get to Whitecrest, there’s a person I want you to see. The name I was given was Fitzsimmons. Word is that he hangs around the tavern or the inn.”

“We talk to him?” Dot asked, writing down the name.

“I’d like if you could. I wasn’t given much information myself but to get to me, it must have been significant. I’ll find out what that is as soon as I get back and you can report to me what that was.”

“Is this case was giving to you and is so significant, would it be dangerous?” Dodger asked. Dot was thinking it but she wasn’t sure she could pose the question without insulting Stephen. She cautiously looked up, thankful for Dodger who always said what was on his mind.

“It could very well be dangerous. But I had been digging around and came upon the conclusion that I could pass the task on if I didn’t have time for it. That is what I’m doing as much as I would like to solve this myself. I was told The Agency had the equipment handled to deal with almost anything but I don’t exactly approve of the publicity my name brings in this world.”

“We have the same equipment The Agency has,” Dot interjected quite confident herself. “so you don’t have to worry there. And we have no problem keeping your name out of anything, anywhere. Even out of our mouths. No one say Doctor Strange’s name.” Dot put a hand over her mouth then mumbled, “Starting now.”

“Can we call him Doctor Cape?” Armand asked.

“That’s insulting,” Dodger said.

“We have to call him something, right?”

Stephen surprised them by laughing. “That’s alright. I meant in newspapers or in any media where the public can get to it. I’m sorry to ask as I’m sure the exposure could help your company—”

“No no no! Don’t worry about that!” Dot exclaimed, wide-eyed. She had almost reached across the table to take his hands but restrained herself and her emotional self by sitting back in her chair and gripping her pen with both hands, longways. “That isn’t why we’re here. We really want to make a difference, doesn’t matter if our names are attached or not. If the people of Whitecrest can benefit from being helped by us or even Doctor Stephen Strange, it’s the outcome that’s important.”

“Besides, if we’re good at our job, our name will get out there somehow.” Dodger added.

Dot was nodding in agreement. Stephen chuckled again, quite entertained by this little group. If it wasn’t the strange ghost that didn’t know how to say Halloween, it was the blunt Dodger and the compassionate leader of the group, Dot, that made up Stephen’s mind.

“Alright then, I’ll entrust this task to you.” he deemed. Dot was filling out the last-minute details such as the date and time as Stephen stood up. For the first time, he took a good look around. “It’s just the three of you, right?”

“Yeah,” Dot said, looking up and following Stephen’s gaze. “it’s big, huh?”

Stephen sent her a wink that sent Dot’s tummy flipping. “I think it’s about the right size. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to take my leave. Do you mind if I meet you here the day after tomorrow, around the same time?”

“Oh, definitely!” Dot smiled. “So, the fourth at around seven-thirty.”

“It’s a date.”

Dot blinked, feeling herself flush this time. Before she had a chance to reflect on it, Doctor Strange opened with a strange gesture with a swing of his hand and an orange portal flickered to life in the middle of their office. From the other side, she could barely make out something that looked like an office and dark wood.

“From one Sanctum to another,” Stephen mused. “Good luck.” He finished before stepping into the portal. It disappeared as soon as his cape had cleared.

Dot, Dodger, and Armand were left gaping.

“Whoooooa! I can’t believe it!” Dot shrieked, throwing her hands up. Legal pad going with them.

“Fascinating. I wonder how he did that,” Dodger sounded just as thoughtful as Stephen had, moving around the spot where the portal had been.

Armand was the only one who wasn’t saying anything. Instead, he was looking at his mask. Dot, noticing, frowned and asked, “What’s wrong, love?”

“I wonder if it’s too late to change my costume.”