#most of the time we’re nasty assholes and the other half of the time we’re soft bitches | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sukirichi · 3 years

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acquainted

You had no intentions of becoming acquainted with the clan your family had cut ties with, but when Naoya Zenin himself is willing to teach you a lesson and you’re determined to show him what you’re capable of, it becomes a silly game of power and dominance.

REQUEST. naoya putting reader back to her place

WARNINGS: Naoya Zenin, rough sex, orgasm denial, face fucking, slight voyeurism, degradation, slight bondage, cowgirl riding, manhandling, spanking, hate sex

WC. 5.4k+

NOTES. Because Naoya is my favorite, his fic is the only one I’ve ever edited, LOL. Even though this is requested, this is written out of self-indulgence, purely because I love Naoya and even though he’s nasty, he’s my comfort character. And freaking FINALLY I have written more for this man. I worship this King 👑

There were so many ways this day had gone wrong. First, your shower broke. Second, the maintenance men couldn’t come until late in the afternoon, so you had to drive all the way to school looking like a half-mess. You weren’t a slob, of course, but you were beyond irritable at the thought your hair felt greasier than most.

So when an unfamiliar mop of blonde hair sat at your place, the sight of pierced ears meeting your gaze as you smiled at the young man, you had to clutch your bag tighter. No need to be harsh to anyone; you reminded yourself.

“Hi,” you greeted as politely as you could.

The young man in your seat was handsome — terribly so — feline eyes emphasized with an eyeliner, and stunning green eyes that peered up at you with utmost boredom. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint where you’d seen him before.

“I believe you’re in my seat.”

You expected he’d kindly take another seat since the hall was empty, but he only leaned back in your seat, brow raised with a slight smirk. “So?”

Your mouth fell agape, hands falling at your sides. Who was this guy? “What do you mean, so? Get the fuck out of my seat.”

“Women,” he rolled his eyes, “Always so tempered and dirty mouthed,” the words felt like stinging slap in your face, and he easily read through you when he snickered to himself, waving a hand in the air as if he was swatting a fly away. “I’m already sitting here, so go find someplace else. I came here first.”

“You little — who do you think you are?”

“Who do you think you are for speaking to me? Did I give you permission?”

His condescending voice made you lunge at him if not for your friend’s hand wrapping at your arm, shooting worried glances over the guy. His smirk deepened when your friend pulled away, the words mutter under her breath. “Come on, let’s go,” she tugged you away despite your protests, pushing your shoulders down to make you sit. Once out of earshot, she rolled her eyes. “I seriously hate that guy. Don’t you ever involve yourself with him.”

“Who’s that prick anyway? He acts so high and mighty like he’s some rich daddy’s son. Look, he’s totally claiming my seat as his!”

“That’s Naoya Zenin, and yeah, he is some rich daddy’s son,” she confirmed, shivering at the mere mention of his name. “He’s an absolutely big misogynist. Don’t be fooled by his pretty face — he’s the worst fuckboy to ever exist. That dick of his isn’t worth getting fucked over. He’s already made half the women in school cry and run after him like a horde of lovesick zombies,” your friend gagged with a shake of her head, “It’s terrifying, actually.”

“Fucking asshole,” you hissed under your breath, sending side glances at the corner of your eye.

That stupid guy was still in your seat, a bored expression on his handsome face, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks at every blink. He just had to be a sexist pig with that gorgeous face — no good men existed anymore. “Whatever. He’ll get a taste of his own medicine soon.”

“Whatever it is you’re planning, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“I’m doing this for all of us,” you announced with your spine straightened. “I’m not letting a man walk like that acting like he’s got the whole world at his feet. I’ll teach him a lesson or two.”

“You do know he can sue you if you punch him right?”

“Who said I was going to punch him?” a smirk painted your lips at the same time he felt your eyes burning holes at the side of his face, your expression even more triumphant when he tilted his head to the side, eyebrow cocked at your gaze. He must’ve assumed you’d fallen for his looks judging by the satisfied smile on his face, making you laugh because it would be fun to teach him a lesson. “No, I have a much more interesting plan in mind.”

It turned out that Naoya wasn’t that much of a stranger.

You had his reputation to thank for — people spoke his name left and right that it was nearly impossible not to know of him. It had you wondering how you managed to live through university so long without knowing him when the name drowned you; he was a Zenin.

No wonder that name was so familiar.

The Zenin’s were a close business partner of your family, but they cut off ties with their company years ago due to them having an intolerable attitude. Clearly, it ran in the blood, and their heir manifested it so well.

Thoughts of Naoya and his stupid face were soon drowned out by expensive champagne, the golden liquid sparkling in your hands. You had to attend this dinner gala where businessmen and powerful families alike conjoined for a formal opportunity of forming connections and solidifying deals, pressuring you to be at your best behaviour lest you wanted your black card to be cut off.

You made your way through the crowd to get another one of those hors d oeuvres, opting to just sit in the corner while you watched your family plaster on big, fake smiles with even louder, faker laughter.

It was quite sad, really, that people had to do stuff like this, but who were you to complain when it was what fed you on a silver plate all the time?

For now, you just wanted to enjoy the new dress your mother had gotten you, the silk black material hugged around your curves delectably. Pearl drop earrings hung to frame the sides of your face, legs lengthened and accentuated with stiletto heels.

You felt sexy — especially when you got lingering gazes from men who were slightly older and definitely richer, though you made no move.

The last thing you wanted was to become someone’s trophy wife when you could become so much more. Plus, only your parents had the task of befriending people and building trust with others. You were only here to help represent the name somewhat with your pretty face, not really having much of an intention to be acquainted with anyone.

You swiped another glass of fizzy alcohol from the waiter that passed by, glossy red lips pinched around the glass when a sultry voice mused at your ear, “Still can’t find a seat?”

Swirling around so fast that the contents nearly poured out the glass, you weren’t surprised to see Naoya fucking Zenin stood before you, his tall stature draped in only the finest and hand-stitched three piece suit.

He looked absolutely delectable this way, earrings glimmering under the golden chandeliers and eyes lined with kohl, the aura of elegance that perfectly concealed his less than pleasing personality excessively charming.

You were beyond appalled.

“Still can’t find a brain?” you retorted with a roll of your eyes, eyes still narrowed at Naoya’s displeased ones as you dunk your drink in one go. “What are you doing here, pig?”

“I’ll let that comment slide once — only because you look hot tonight,” his predatory gaze ran over your form, the careful pattern of him pausing at the swell of your breasts sliding to the curve of your hips heating up each inch of your skin. “And it’s Naoya for you. Naoya Zenin, the rightful heir of the Zenin Corp—”

“What’s that scent you’re wearing? Baby powder? Fitting for your cute face, actually.”

Naoya’s jaw clenched, clearly unaccustomed to people cutting off his holiness, and you had to bite down on your lip to prevent the chuckles from slipping through. “It’s Tom Ford.”

“Hmm, why am I not surprised? My horrible ex also wore the same scent. Maybe it’s a trademark for all limp losers, huh?” Naoya opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it, stepping forward to grab at the space between his tie to pull him down. His face was mere centimetres away from you, close enough that his breath ghosted over your lips, the intense anger flaring through those eyes hot enough to burn you. “You act so smug and defensive, Naoya. Trying to have a big man personality to conceal a small dick?”

“I have nothing to prove to you.”

“You don’t need to prove me anything,” you glanced down at his pants with a smirk, ignoring the heat pulsing in your veins because the sight contradicted your words. There was a noticeable bulge inside those shiny black slacks, though the last thing you wanted him to see was the way your mouth watered in anticipation. “I already know what I need to know.”

“Yeah? You and your shitty girlfriends can’t stop talking about my dick?”

You shrugged sarcastically, “You know women. We’re tireless complainers.”

Naoya’s jaw ticked upon you using his words against him, his hands coming up to caress at your neck, his nails scratching behind the thick silver chain you wore.

From afar and in the eyes of others, people would’ve thought you and Naoya were simply getting a little too heated, his lips dipped to graze your ear while his slender fingers pressed a little tighter into your air pipe. Your positions could easily be mistaken for Naoya seducing you, and you supposed he was, since your body responded differently from your verbal protests.

“You should watch what you’re saying,” he warned, voice low with warning. “I could easily dump your body into a river and no one would even notice. In fact, maybe the world might even thank me for doing them a service and ridding them of a spiteful woman like you.”

“Oh, pretty boy,” you chuckled back and stood to your tippy toes. One of your hands wrapped around his neck to forcefully tilt his neck to yours, nose pressed above his collar to inhale the intoxicating masculine scent he wore. “You’re all bark and no bite. Why don’t you show me what you’re capable of? If you’re as awful as they make you out to be, maybe I’ll shiver enough to drop my panties for you.”

You didn’t miss the way Naoya’s hands gripped at your waist to pull you close, enticing you to continue with your insults because maybe Naoya liked this a lot more than he let on. Could it be his superiority complex didn’t always like submissive women, after all?

Well, it would make sense; everyone always liked a little challenge, didn’t they?

If that was what he wanted, then you’d be generous enough to grant it to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to get a chance to put me in my place, to teach me a lesson for defiling the oh-so-mighty Naoya Zenin?” you purposefully toned your voice down to a more breathy tone, your chest swelling with pride when Naoya sucked in a sharp inhale beside your ear.

God, he sounded beautiful — and you hadn’t even fucked him yet. Now, you were eager to hear what else those disgusting lips could be capable of other than degrading you.

Pulling away from him just to bat your lashes at him, heat pooled straight into your core when Naoya’s gaze had completely darkened, dark orbs pooled with lust and anger. Only he could make such an expression look so good.

“You don’t scare me, Zenin. You’re nothing but a small boy wearing big man pants.”

For a moment, your smile widened, believing that you’d won this time around. Naoya was still breathing hard at each brush of your stomach to his now hardening erection, but then he smirked and gently pushed you away from him. “I’m not fucking you here,” he stated calmly, not even bothering to keep his voice low. “You’re a lot dumber than I thought you’d be if you really think I’m whipping my cock out during this dreadful dinner.”

“This dreadful dinner you speak of is an opportunity for people like us to establish connections. I would’ve assumed you wanted nothing more to impress others but it seems I was wrong. If you hate this event so much, why bother coming here in the first place?”

“Just had a feeling I was going to meet a little minx,” he watched you seductively, his smirk adorned with his tongue peeking out to lick his lips — in turn wetting you in places he promised to make his by the end of the night. Curse him, you chanted in your head, curse him for being so attractive. It would’ve been easier if he was ugly. “And as always, I’m right.”

You tilted a brow, slightly impressed. “So you’ve done your background check on me. That doesn’t explain why you’re still here though. Surely a woman couldn’t be enough for a reason to make a man like you go all this way?”

“You’re right, a woman would never be a good enough reason, but I wanted to put you in your place,” his eyes flickered back up to you, now twinkling with danger and something else entirely. “Bad little girls need to be a taught to a lesson.”

“So what’re you waiting for? Go ahead and show me your ways, Zenin.”

“I will,” he nodded to himself, “I’m about to,” Naoya was nothing but confident as he strode your way until his arms was locked with yours, his breath tickling your collarbones that had unknowingly exposed itself at each heated touch. “You’re not that bad for a slut. You look like one, smell like one — I bet you also feel like one.”

A dry laugh left your lips as you fisted his shirt, mirroring his smirk to show that if a match was what he looked for, then a match he’d find indeed. Only this time, you would be worse.

“Why don’t you go ahead and find out?”

Naoya, despite being an absolutely poor excuse of a human being, was somewhat redeemable for being a man of his words. Find out he did, and he wasted no time into shoving you inside his McLaren, barely able to keep his hands off you the whole way up to his penthouse.

It was a blurry mess from there.

Moans spilled from your lips while he ripped your clothes off, not bothering to apologize that he’d just ruined one of your most prized possessions, his lust-clouded haze mumbling that he’d just buy you another one.

It was the last thing you expected to hear from him, but you couldn’t protest, not when he’d angrily snapped the buttons of his shirt away, a low growl mixing with your breathy whines as he loosened his tie.

Your eyes widened at the sight, legs rubbing together as you imagined what else he could do with that pretty tie of his.

Would he tie you to his bed, fuck you stupid and call you useless? Or perhaps, you could do it?

Naoya cut off your train of thought by pushing you back to his mattress, his hands tugging at his belt before he pulled his boxers down, his thick length slapping at his abdomen. Your mouth immediately watered at the sight. You were beyond wet from nothing but your sloppy make-out sessions, but would he fit?

Just the thought of him giving you that burning stretch made your legs spread beside his sides, the sardonic laughter ripping from Naoya’s lips absolutely disgusting.

“Fucking pathetic. You’re just like everyone else; submitting to me at the sight of my cock, but that’s not true, is it? Moment you saw me, I knew you were clenching around nothing,” he gripped at your jaw to force you to look at him. You glared up at him from his bruising hold, your cheeks squished under his rough hands. “But that’s okay; wanting me is not something you should be ashamed about. Although you should be thanking me I’m even letting you near me like this.”

“I’m so honoured. Come on, Naoya, let me feel you — let me make you feel good.”

Naoya, too lost in his ego, missed the sarcasm dripping in your voice. “So eager to be my cock sleeve, huh?” he grinned, tugging at your hair to push you deeper into his mattress. “Get on your knees. Now suck.”

He was too harsh in his pace, determined to exert his dominance over you. You could feel every ridge of his vein as he continued fucking into your mouth, his abs rippling above you. It felt like witnessing a Greek god come apart, and you took pleasure in being his ruin, prompting you to hollow your cheeks and bob your mouth up and down on his cock harder.

Naoya’s chuckles were broken and often mixed with curses of fuck, you feel so fucking good, his nails now scratching at your scalp.

Soon, Naoya stilled inside you, his hold around your head deadly to keep you in place. Tears flowed down your face as he kept thrusting inside, making sure to hit the back of your throat before his muscles tightened. Spurts of warm cum followed after that, but instead of swallowing it like you expected he’d command you to do, Naoya whipped out his cock and came all over your face, his seed shooting all over your cheeks and lips.

You took it all obediently, just enough to give him the false pretense of submissiveness that he was so willing to force from you.

While he was occupied pumping his still rock hard cock, eyes closed and massaging your scalp almost soothingly, Naoya failed to notice your hurried movements of standing from the bed, fingers looped around his tie.

A small wail resonated from him when you shoved him down onto the bed, knees locked at either sides of his waist before you tugged at the cloth wrapped around his neck. Naoya kicked his legs behind you as you tied his wrists to the bed hard enough that Naoya winced, the tie only forming tighter at each lame grapple of his.

You looked back at how he got more beautiful laid out in front of you like that, chest heaving up and down while he struggled against the restraints, face flushed with anger — no, this wasn’t anger anymore — he was furious.

“What are you doing?! Get this off me — how dare you!”

“How dare you,” you spat back, discarding your lace bra off to wipe his cum away from your face, gagging when the bitter cum left a tang on your lips. “I just got my skin appointment last week and you came on my face like that?”

Naoya kept fighting back before he realised it was a futile attempt, leaning back down onto the pillows, though that didn’t soften his heated eyes on yours. You cooed at how adorable he submitted to you, running a finger down the sides of his jaw. “Aw, don’t look so angry, baby. I’m just starting my fun,” you purred, “You should’ve known better than to mess with me, Naoya. I’m not as nice as the others. And I’ll show you just how awful I can be.”

Naoya’s breath hitched when you shimmied out of your underwear, a dark glint in your eyes as you stretched the elastic into a fake arrow until it snapped into his face.

“You fucking bitch,” he growled, turning his face away from your panties soaked with arousal. “Once I get out of here, I will ruin you.”

“Huh, yeah, sure,” you mumbled incoherently, too lost in the pleasure as you sunk down on his cock. You were right, he was fucking thick, stretching you out better than any of your toys could. Plus, he was warm and leaking with pre-cum that he slid in easily, erotic groans leaving both your mouths once he was finally seated inside you.

Naoya was growling at you to let go of him when you laughed, lifting your hips up slowly before sliding back down on him just as slow, almost as if you made love to his cock the same passionate way you did with a lover. “You do have a wonderful cock, though. I’ve never felt this good in my life,” you leaned down to lick a stripe down to his neck, allowing him to hear the needy pants you graced with him. “You feel so good, Naoya, oh. If you weren’t such an asshole, I might even fall in love with you.”

“Go faster. This is unfair!”

Naoya tried thrusting deep into you, evidently unsatisfied at this torturous pace you set, but you only gripped at his thigh in warning, your eyes no longer sweet as you glared at him.

“Nothing’s ever fair in this world, sweetheart,” you reminded him, shivering every now and then as you bounced on his cock, his length slipping past through your walls magically. “Like how such a gorgeous face and amazing dick is paired with the most disgusting personality ever. No, it’s not fair, indeed...”

You closed your eyes with your head thrown back, placing your hips flat on his pelvic bone instead, fingers rubbing at your clit while Naoya throbbed inside you, desperate for release.

The little whines you gave were nothing but mocking. You knew that Naoya suffered through this position, but did you care? Absolutely not. With Naoya’s cock stretching you full and his tip kissing your most sensitive spots, in addition to your fingers rubbing and tweaking at your clit, this was the most pleasure you’d ever gotten from sex.

You were stimulated everywhere, your other hand reached up to tug at your hardened nipples.

Your walls clenched around him, signalling him that you were close and you let out a broken moan, falling forward to gyrate your hips around his cock to push you over the edge. It wasn’t enough to get him off since you were mostly still fondling with your clit, the sounds of your moans like torture to his ears.

“No, don’t you dare cum, I swear if you—” Your orgasm washed over you comfortingly like a warm blanket. Instead of seeing white, it was like your vision cleared, the sight of the sweat that made Naoya’s hair stick to his forehead in clumps crystal clear. You prolonged your orgasm by thrusting your hips in a sickening rhythm of thrust, pause, thrust, stop — and by then Naoya was losing his mind.

Naoya lost control as he snapped his hips upwards inside you hard enough that you winced in pain, pushing off his dick until he’s left humping the empty air, his body drenched with perspiration. “No, no, no, fuck you! Get back here you useless slut!”

You lay beside him, giggling in post-orgasm bliss. Just to tease him, you rolled to his side to press a kiss to his cheek, laughing harder when your lips came in contact with his flushed skin.

“You’re so adorable like this,” you cupped his face tenderly, perfectly aware that Naoya had begun to growl, his wrists almost bruised from how hard he brawled against his tie. “If I didn’t hate you so much, I would’ve let you cum inside me,” you offered with a pat to his chest, moving off the bed with wobbly legs.

“Well, whatever, that was fun. I would say we both had the most sensual sex of our lives, but that would be a joke for you, don’t you think?” you snorted as you inserted your arms to his discarded suit jacket.

Naoya stayed still on the bed, his cock still painfully hard and slick with your cum. “Don’t look so angry, Naoya. You had it coming for you. Don’t worry, though, as a thanks for letting me cum that hard — though I mostly did all the work — I’ll keep this between us so you at least get to keep whatever’s left of your dignity,” you blew a kiss his way, “Bye, sweetie. At least now I know people weren’t exaggerating when they called you a good fuck.”

Not bothering to slip your heels back on, you looped your shoes into the curls of your fingers, about to button Naoya’s jacket as you made your way to his door.

You never got halfway across the room when strong arms suddenly lifted you off the ground, your vision transitioning from his door to the pads of his feet, your body slung across his shoulder. Naoya gripped at your ass in warning when you kicked your legs, leaving him with no choice but to hug your thighs with one arm.

The next thing you knew, he slammed the balcony doors open with one hand and slammed you on the pool table. His rough hands yanked his jacket away from your body, the chilly night of the air bringing a shiver down your spine as it hit your drenched core.

Naoya had pinned your arms flat on your back in a painful angle, making you cry out just as he kneed your legs open, his free hand that wasn’t pinning you down aligning his cock against your hole. You were a moaning mess underneath him, the pain only an intoxicating addition to the pleasure he was pounding into you. Naoya then leaned to whisper your ear, the sudden movement making his cock slide deeper into you, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Oh, Naoya, fuck—”

“I am not just a good fuck,” he corrected you, “I am Naoya Zenin — and you will do well being silent and submissive while I fuck you, do you understand?” You were too lost in the feeling of him rutting deep into you that he had you seeing white this time around. When you didn’t answer, Naoya slapped your ass, your yelps echoing from the dead night. “I asked you a question.”

“No,” you bit back, “I refuse to—” you were silenced when Naoya hit your sweet spot, laughing at your state that you were too fucked out to give him a proper answer.

Naoya’s pace was merciless as he fucked deeper into you, the hand on your ass moving up to grab at your waist to keep slamming you back to his cock. He watched as your lips sucked him in so tight that he didn’t know whether you were pushing him out or refusing to let go. Turning your head to the side to gasp for air, you opened your eyes, only to be met by the sight of men crowding on the building across yours to witness your undoing by Naoya’s hands.

“I’ve barely started and you’re already so wet for me,” he mocked in your ear. As if on cue, squelching sounds accompanied your desperate moans, hands grabbing at nothing in particular. “Shall I try upping my speed?”

“N-Naoya- there are people looking.”

“Let them see,” he seethed, using one arm to lift your other leg up to the table to gain him more access into your warm, wet cavern. The sudden stretch made your muscles ache until you lay there limp; jaw clenched at the pleasure Naoya drowned you with. “Let them know how much I’m making this pussy mine. Gosh, can you hear yourself? You sound like a dirty fucking slut,” another slap landed on your ass, hard enough to leave a mark there for tomorrow. “You claim to hate me, so then why are you dripping all over me, huh? Pathetic whore. You women are nothing but cum dumps to me.”

Naoya spread your butt cheeks open, laughing at the silly way you clenched around him every time he pulled out, your puffy lips sucking him back again until Naoya buried himself to the hilt. His dick did wonders in letting out the most erotic whines and whimpers you never thought you’d be capable of, leaving you a drooling and panting mess under him.

“You little fucker, don’t even think about cumming inside me, I will literally castrate you and feed your balls to yourself.”

“Such a dirty mouth. Though that’s expected of a nasty woman like you,” he sassed, his thrusts faltering while his hand clenched your flesh tighter. That was enough to send you over the edge when Naoya slammed his hips harder and more desperately this time around, his cock twitching against your walls. “You wish I would cum inside you. But I have a better plan in mind.”

All it took was one rough hand for him to pull you before him, pushing you down into your knees again as he came inside your mouth. You could feel your cum and his dripping onto his dark marble tiles, the white pool of liquid shining.

Naoya thrusted lazily into your mouth, a sickening grin on his face while he kept you down there. His glare deepened when you tried to pull away from him. “Swallow, you slut. Or I’m fucking your face until I break your jaw.”

Furiously, you swallowed around his cock, Naoya groaning at the feeling of your walls convulsing around him. The moment you gagged from when his tip poked the back of your throat, Naoya pushed you off him until you were left choking on the ground. You gasped for air, hands clasped around your neck, sure that you were going to have a sore jaw and a fucked throat tomorrow.

You kept glaring at Naoya, but this didn’t deter him from gripping your chin down, humming to himself upon seeing that his cum was now gone in your mouth. “Hmm, so you did swallow it like a good girl. I’m glad I’ve disciplined you well.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’m King there already, baby,” Before you could retort, his arms encircled your waist until you were heaved in his arms again. You pounded against his back because you were too done, you couldn’t do another round. Naoya sighed as he threw you in the bed as if you were a ragdoll, disappearing in the bathroom for a while before coming back with a wet towel, which he rudely flicked your way. “Clean yourself up and then leave. Take the back elevators. I don’t want the staff to see a whore leaving my place.”

“You’re the one who brought me here.”

“Only because I had a duty to put you in your place,” He stared at you with his smirk now permanent in his face, admiring the bruises he left on your body.

“We’re not over yet, Zenin. I’m going to break you one way or another.”

You rolled your eyes at him, walking to his closet to wear one of his shirts. Naoya was silent the whole time as he watched you button his shirt with trembling hands, his presence hot on your heels as he followed you out the large room.

As you were about to leave, you picked up the towel you used to clean your cum with and threw it right at his face.

Naoya dodged it easily, eyeing the towel with a scoff. “Still resilient, I see,” settling down on one of his lounge chairs like it was a throne, Naoya rested his cheek on his fist as he stared you down. “But fine — I accept your challenge. A true man never backs down from a challenge, after all.”

“Oh, honey, I’m more than just a challenge,” you sneered.

Naoya’s gaze left your eyes to stare at your perky nipples that poked through his shirt, feeling his cock swell all over again. But he was a man of control and dignity — he wouldn’t do anything more with you, not when it was clear you’ve had enough for tonight.

It didn’t bother him though, he knew he’d have more opportunities to put you in your place.

“We’ll see about that. I’ll be the one to decide your worth,” he declared oh so smugly, the mere sound of his voice pushing you to slam a fist to ruin that pretty face of his, though you held your ground, far too tired to move a muscle. Naoya saw this too, and he smiled to himself, head tilted to the side as he studied the mess he’d made of you. “Tomorrow, same time same place?”

There was no telling what pushed you to agree, but the words left your lips far too confidently for you to even wonder why.

“Be ready for me, Zenin.”

“I always am.”

All the way back to the back elevators that Naoya had directed you at, you pondered on how you’d be able to tell your parents you suddenly needed a ride home when they had no idea you left the dinner gala in the first place. But most of all, how were you supposed to tell them you’d acquainted yourself with the Zenin clan all over again?

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luminnara · 3 years

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The Silent Treatment | Omega!Bakugou x Fem!reader

Request:

CAN I PLEASE HAVE OMEGA BAKUGOU X READER PLEASE WHERE SHE MAD AT HIM AND IGNORES HIM And he has to get her attention on him his main mission so he like bother her so she doesn’t be angry at him no more

um YES YOU MAY I have a secret massive soft spot in my heart for omega bakugou lol.

My askbox is open!

Warnings: swearing? Bakugou is a brat, uhhh needy emotions and stuff, not too angsty tho

Word count: 1,210

He deserved this. He really did. And deep down, he knew that. Even Bakugou, who acted high and mighty and angry all the time, could occasionally tell when he was being an asshole deserving of punishment.

He didn’t like it one bit, though.

“Babe, come on,” he growled one afternoon, facing his girlfriend as she cooked dinner with her back to him.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t even bother to look at him, and it made his blood boil.

“Oi!” he snapped, teeth bared in a snarl. “Pay attention to me!”

His alpha continued ignoring him, humming as you stirred the food you were preparing. The scent you were giving off was calm, seemingly unperturbed, whereas Katsuki’s was growing more and more distraught.

“Baby, please?” he whined. He actually whined. He was stooping so low as to whine and beg for your attention, and yet, you were completely unmoved.

He tossed his hands up in defeat. If you weren’t even going to see how far he was willing to go for you, then fine. He could find other things to occupy himself with. He didn’t need you, even if you were his alpha, and his girlfriend, and the love of his life, and...ugh, whatever.

With a huff, he stalked away, going to sulk on the couch. You noticed, of course; no matter how angry you were with Katsuki, you weren’t about to stop keeping an eye on your moody, rowdy omega. You knew he was a handful, and you were all too familiar with the way he liked to throw tantrums whenever you put him in his place. He deserved it, anyways, and he needed to learn that he couldn’t rage and yell at you without consequences. Katsuki might have been an omega, but he snapped and snarled like the toughest, meanest alphas there were, and often, he managed to make you feel like your roles were reversed.

Dealing with Katsuki wasn’t about being firm, though. You got along with your omega because you were flexible enough to weather his stormy temper, and most of the time, you were gentle and accommodating, giving him the space to rant and roar until he tired himself out and came crawling into bed with you. Sometimes, though, even you got fed up with his nasty words, and unfortunately, this was one of those times.

You knew how much he hated receiving the silent treatment, and while normally you cared about his feelings, tonight, you didn’t. He had been outright mean when he got home from work, and honestly? You were tired of the way he thought he could boss you around. You were the alpha, you were the one who took care of him when he was in heat, you were the leader here. Katsuki needed to cool his jets, and until he apologized for being such a dick to you, you were perfectly content with ignoring him.

“For fuck’s sake,” you heard him grumbling.

Peering over your shoulder, you saw that he had grabbed a few blankets and begun making himself a tiny nest on the couch, curling up under them. The scent he was giving off was grumpy, but there was nothing in it that rang any real alarm bells in your head. Your inner alpha wanted to comfort him, to croon and purr until he wasn’t upset anymore, but no. He could make as many little nests around the apartment as he wanted and sleep in them on his own. It was pretty cute, you had to admit, but you weren’t swayed. Not yet. He was going to have to do a lot better than just being adorable.

You ate dinner in silence, setting a plate out for him. You considered saying something, but when he fixed you with a hostile, bratty glare, you rolled your eyes. Nope. You were going to hold out for as long as necessary.

What followed was an evening of Katsuki’s whining from his couch nest, the high pitched sounds interrupted with angry growls and huffs. He called your name, he chirped, he trilled, he even tried altering his scent to make you think that he was in mortal peril...and still nothing.

He was going to completely lose his mind.

“So we’re really doing this, huh?” He hissed as you walked past him to get into bed.

When you didn’t answer, he followed at your heels, walking into your shared bedroom with his lips pulled back in a grimace. You were silent, changing out of your day clothes right in front of him without so much as a moment of hesitation.

You were absolutely killing him with this.

When he tried to sidle up to you, his hands brushing over your bare hips, you simply stepped out of his grip to grab your pajamas.

The sound he let out was absolutely pitiful.

“Y/n, come on!” He practically howled.

You pulled a shirt on, walked around him, and climbed into bed.

“This is ridiculous!” He snapped, his temper flaring.

You rolled onto your side, your back facing him.

That was the final nail in the coffin.

He whined again, climbing onto the foot of the bed. He needed attention from you, needed it the way he needed to breathe. Even though it had been less than a day, he was miserable, and the half of him that wasn’t upset by it was angry at the way he was so incredibly distraught over this.

“Please just talk to me,” he crawled over you, laying his chin on your shoulder as he stuck his face right up in yours. “Oi. You can’t keep this up forever. We both know it.”

You kept your eyes closed, determined not to cave.

He nuzzled his face in your neck, trying to get you to scent him and reassure him that you still liked him. “I already said please. What more do you want? This is bullshit.”

Your eyes snapped open and you glared at him. “I want an apology, Katsuki.”

“What?” His head shot up. “For what?”

“For all the mean shit you say to me!” You closed your eyes again, settling in against your pillows. “Until then, I’m not speaking with you.”

He stared down at you. An apology? That’s all he had to give you? He could do that. That was easy, right?

“Y/n...” he said quietly, putting his weight on you. “Alpha...I’m sorry.”

You glanced back at him. Wow. Had it actually worked?

“I’m sorry, alpha, just...please pay attention to me...” he rubbed his head over your scent glands, desperate. “I’ll...be fuckin’ nicer.”

Though he was terrible with his words, you could hear in his voice that was actually trying. It was more than you had expected from him tonight, honestly.

“Oh, Katsuki...” you sighed, turning slightly and slipping an arm around him. “What am I going to do with you?”

At the sound of your voice, his heart soared, and he clung to you. With his face stuffed into the crook of your neck and his arms wrapped around your waist, you finally gave him what he wanted, purring deep in your chest until his scent calmed down into something more like his usual smoky cinnamon.

Yes, Bakugou, was a handful...but at least he was your handful.

#omega!bakugou #omega bakugou #omega!bakugou x alpha!reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bakugou imagines #a/b/o dynamics #request

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klausbens · 3 years

Text

i am so mad at decknine for how they treated ryan lmao i knew they were going to fuck it up and like i got the perfect ending so i’m personally ok but i know most people got the ending where he doesn’t believe you and since practically everyone romanced steph so very little people actually got closure about it and i hate it what the hell. what the hell, decknine. i don’t want to even get started on the blatant favoritism because steph believes you no matter what no questions asked but ryan (who’s already the automatically less-picked romance because the other option is steph and not only is steph steph which. i absolutely get but also fans are always just begging for lis references they can’t ever stop wanting to bring chloe and max back somehow they’ll take anything that reminds them of pricefield even a little and i also can get that but yeah ryan wasn’t in a good position to begin with), ryan - as i was saying - despite everything you’ve been through has like at least a 70% chance of saying “nah. can’t be”. and i get it, it’s his dad we’re talking about and i don’t blame him for hesitating, i don’t blame him for being the last to actually say he believes alex and confronting his dad because he needed that extra time to process and he was visibly shaken and tell you what, i to some extent even don’t blame him if he doesn’t believe you at all; kinda weird that he wouldn’t, sure, kinda weird that anyone wouldn’t because like... look at alex. she’s literally... half-dead. multiple broken bones. blood. what, do you think she just launched herself off a roof to ruin jed’s day for no reason? idk but like... at least i get that he wouldn’t be able to go through such a massive amount of emotions in such a short span of time, because that’s his father and his role model and he’s lived his whole life respecting and looking up to him and, first and foremost, loving him deeply.

but i do blame decknine. i do blame decknine for creating such a loveable character, one of my favourites in this specific game but more generally even in the whole lis franchise, and fucking him over so badly at the end. not only because, as i said, steph is portrayed to be the superior romance because she stands with you and backs you up no matter what and ryan doesn’t (so he has to be an asshole, or at least not deserving of alex’s love, most people will surmise), but most importantly because if you do not romance him and he doesn’t believe you, there is no way for neither alex nor him to get closure on the matter. he sends alex a text where he says sorry, and alex, alex who has the super empathy, alex who loves him and has found a home in him as much as she has in steph, alex who knows he was gabe’s best friend, she doesn’t even answer. and that’s that about that. the end. so you’re telling me, decknine, that they deserve closure only if they were involved romantically? that a friend isn’t as important as a significant other, so it’s fine if we leave things as they are? it’s okay if you can see that he’s sorry over fucking texts but you cannot actually see him say that to alex’s face and you can’t see alex say she forgives him? all of this is a privilege you only get if you had previously romanced him and it’s seriously making me go a bit insane because why would you do that. neither of them deserves that, we players do not deserve that.

i really do not know why they always do this with male love interests. warren wasn’t even much of a romance at all and people still hated him for some reason, finn in lis2 has extremely negative connotations and potentially (or, like, just generally lmao) leads to very troubled situations, now ryan is very likely to treat you like shit and if he does he won’t even be able to explain himself (and when he does, when he says “maybe deep down i knew, but i couldn’t accept it” that’s really all the explanation needed. he knew, he knew he should’ve believed her but he couldn’t deal with that at the moment. that’s very raw and very real and very, to me at least, forgivable) unless you’ve kissed him on the roof, which most people, according to stats, didn’t. i am so tired. i am so tired.

i have nothing against steph, or the romance with her. i love steph to bits and i wish i could just let alex be with both. personally, i am a big fan of them being poly, alex has two hands and all that. but i hate that decknine had to go and make me feel like most people will leave lis true colors thinking that one of the two romances is worse than the other, or that they will go so far as to hate on ryan or look down at him for what he did or didn’t do. i’ve already seen some pretty nasty comments and i don’t know, it soured the game a little for me, i wanted to hope they wouldn’t go there this time since they did such a good job with mac.

#lis spoilers #lis true colors #listc #ryan lucan

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

The Seven Demon Lords’ Pet Human

So I’m quite fond of the idea that the lesser demons see MC as the brothers’ dumb pet human up until MC is revealed to be a five star badass who can control the brothers on a whim. But Himiko isn’t okay with being referred to as anyone’s “pet”, and after a very bad day, she’s going to let the brothers know that.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Genre: Half Crack Half Fluff

Warning: This story features my MC, who uses she/her pronouns, if that makes you uncomfortable no harm no foul, see you next time

“Just their pet human,”

“Aw, they let their cute widdle pet walk around all by herself~.”

“The brothers’ new pet looks so delicious…”

Himiko Nanami was not one for demeaning nicknames. She had told Luke over and over again that the reason people kept calling him a chihuahua was because he gave them a reaction, but she just couldn’t follow her own advice. A pet… the brothers’ pet… what complete and utter shit.

She had forged pacts with the seven lords of Hell. She had escaped death more times than she could count. On her first day at RAD, she had gouged out a demon’s eye with her headband for trying to eat her. She had walked Cerberus and survived. Himiko was no dainty little pet.

It was a tragedy that some of the demons that wandered the halls of RAD couldn’t see that. Not all the demons were irredeemable anti-human trash, some were quite sweet. But it only took one weird squishy grape to make Himiko refuse to eat the rest of the bowl. That’s how that saying goes, right?

It was supposed to be a good day, it was a Friday for Christ’s sake! But no, the world at large was conspiring to make Himiko’s forehead vein burst.

First period with Satan went normally for the most part, until the two paired up for an assignment and Himiko decided to give Satan a few pats on the head. A few snickers coming from a few rows behind her drew her attention, and right after Satan left to use the bathroom, that’s when she heard it. The first comment of the day.

“Aww, a pet petting her master, how sweet.”

When Satan returned, Himiko was holding a broken pencil.

To her credit, she didn’t dignify those idiots with a response, but their comment managed to burrow its way into her brain and settle there right when she snapped the pencil.

Second period shouldn’t have been so shitty, Himiko had friends in that class. Friends other than the brothers and the other exchange students, but no. Everything sucks in the Devildom.

Paimon had so sweetly offered to share some of his chips with her when he heard she had skipped breakfast. Himiko was in the middle of happily chowing down when some asshole decided to ruin the cute friendship moment.

“Geez Pai, I thought you’d be more responsible than that~.” A demoness a few rows ahead cooed. “Feeding other people’s pets without asking~.”

Paimon choked on the chip he was chewing on while Himiko gave the demoness a bone chilling glare.

“Sh-she’s not- I’m not-”

“How about you mind your own fucking business?”

The demoness only rolled her eyes and turned back to giggling with her friends. It was truly a shame that at least 60% of all the demon ladies in the school were incredibly mean and/or homicidal, a shame for Himiko because she’s a raging bisexual.

With her appetite lost, Himiko forfeited the rest of the chips to Paimon.

Lunch went by as normal as it could have gone. She sat with the brothers as usual and happily watched their antics. When she left the table to throw her trash away was when all hell broke loose.

“-Pet,”

“-Pet…”

“-Pet.”

“-Pet!”

All those damned whispers reached Himiko’s ears and if she had any less patience she would have pulled her hair out and screamed. When she got back to the table, she spent the rest of her lunch period in silence.

What’s worse was that her next class was with Solomon, and the only seat available was next to him. Great…

“Grouchy today, ms. Nanami?”

“Annoying today, mr. Wizard?”

Solomon let out a quiet and carefree laugh and rested his head on his hand. “Oh Himiko, you know I’m always up for being a little annoying.”

Himiko rolled her eyes and tried to pay attention to the teacher. “Whatever…”

Class went on, but Solomon didn’t let up on his quiet pestering.

“Himiiiiii, tell me what’s wrong, I won’t laugh.”

“Go to hell.”

“Poor choice of words, you’re there with me.”

“I hate you.”

“So mean, I’m just trying to help. Solomon the Wise is known for giving great advice!”

Himiko turned and looked at the immortal sorcerer next to her and saw his pitiful attempt at what looked like puppy dog eyes. She rolled her eyes again and turned back to her work.

“I thought you were known for ordering a baby to be sawed in half.”

“Hey!” Solomon huffed, crossing his arms. “The baby did not get sawed in half. The saner of the two women got to keep the baby, I was being smart.”

“Sure, sure.” Himiko couldn’t hold back a bit of a smile. To her own surprise, Himiko began to weigh the pros and cons of actually telling Solomon what was going on. Hm, on one hand, Solomon was the only other human that might possibly understand what Himiko was dealing with, on the other hand, Solomon was a known shifty bastard and could barely be counted as human at this point. In the end, human solidarity won out.

“Solomon,” Himiko began. “Have you ever gotten called a pet before? Like a demon’s pet..?”

Solomon thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Probably. I’ve been alive too long not to have been called every name under the sometimes lack of sun, but I’ve always been more widely known as someone who makes demons into his pets.”

“Mmm, sure.”

“But fret not Himiko, those closest to you know the truth. You’re no pet.”

Not exactly the heaps of comfort Himiko wanted, but at least Solomon answered truthfully and didn’t say anything that would get on her nerves-

“I don’t know why you’re so upset about that nickname though, you’d look amazing in a collar.”

For what happened to poor Solomon right after he said that, let’s just say a palm reader could read Himiko’s future off Solomon’s face.

In fourth period, Himiko had to hold herself back from bitchslapping someone else who decided it would be a good idea to test her. A quick word of advice to anyone in the Devildom who would like to survive an encounter with Himiko, never, ever, fuck with her headband.

“You fiendish demon!” Luke yapped, trying to help get Himiko’s headband back from the nasty awful no good demon who decided to pluck it off her head and hold it out of reach. “Give that back!”

“N’awwwwww, pet buddies!” The taller demon laughed and dangled the headband a little closer. “So cute! Someone get a picture for Devilgram-”

Luke slammed his foot directly into the demon’s kneecap. The demon practically shrieked and doubled over only to be met with Himiko’s knee in his gut. She daintily plucked the headband from his grasp and quickly pulled Luke out of the room.

“Are you okay?” The moment the two were far enough down the hall, Luke began to fuss over Himiko like a tiny nurse. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

“No buddy, I’m fine.” Himiko held out her hand for a high five. “Up high,”

Whack!

“Down low,”

Woosh!

“Too slow.”

“Hey!” Luke whined. “No faaaaaiiiiir!”

———————

No one wants their human to be grumpy, especially not the brothers, so when Himiko spent the rest of the time until dinner holed up in her room, they were a tad concerned.

“My human’s all saaaaaaaaad,” Mammon rested his chin on the table and whined. The rest of the brothers sans Asmo were sitting at the table awaiting dinner. “Himiko said she didn’t wanna play the Game of Life, and it’s like, the one game she’s good at…”

“Yeah, she’s been pissy all day.” Belphie added before quietly yawning. “What’d you do, Mammon?”

“Me?!” Mammon sputtered, practically scrambling out of his seat and pointing an accusatory finger at his brothers. “I didn’t do shit! What about you idiots?!”

“Well, let’s look at what we know,” Satan said, waving off Mammon. “During first period we partnered up for a project, I left to use the restroom, then when I came back she looked upset. During lunch when she left, she came back and didn’t speak the rest of the lunch period. Any theories?”

Beel raised his hand, and Satan nodded to him. “Himiko has terrible separation anxiety now, she can’t go too long without us.”

Satan gave Beel a few nods, then turned to the others. “That’s one guess. Anyone else?”

Mammon raised his hand, and Satan promptly ignored him.

“Oi! Pay attention to me!” Mammon stuck his hand in the air and waved harder. “She’s angry because she’s failin’ a class! Every time we’re not distractin’ her, she remembers!”

“I would have heard if she was failing a class.” Lucifer finally piped up from the head of the table, his face was buried in RAD’s newspaper. “You on the other hand, Mammon, are failing three of your four classes this semester.”

Mammon slid back into his seat and scratched the back of his neck. “About thaaaaaat, I need money for uh… for new books n’ pencils n’ shit. That’s why I’m failin’, you’ll lend me money, won’t ya big bro?”

Lucifer didn’t get to respond as Asmo burst into the door of the dining room with a pot of pasta that was almost half his height. “DINNER IS SERVED~!”

As everyone settled in to eat, Himiko finally made her appearance and plopped herself down in her usual seat next to Mammon and helped herself to the pasta with rosé sauce.

“It’s good! It’s good right?” Asmo peppered the group with questions about the food and how good he did. Himiko had to admit, this was damn good pasta. Smooth, creamy, cheesy, all that was missing was garlic bread. In a matter of minutes Himiko had cleared her first bowl and was going in for seconds.

“So Himiko,” Satan said as Himiko continued to shovel pasta into her face at a pace that could rival Beel. “We’ve noticed you’ve been looking a little upset today, care to satiate our curiosity?”

Himiko paused mid bite, which wasn’t doing wonders for her appearance considering she had sauce on the tip of her nose. But still, how sweet of her boys to notice, it made her cold dead little heart swell with love.

“Oh you know, just idiots at school not worth my attention.”

“What have they been saying?” Asmo asked, his voice unusually stiff.

“They’ve been calling me you guys’ pet.” Himiko grumbled. “How ridiculous is that?”

The clattering of forks and the chewing of food halted as the boys went completely silent. Himiko shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she looked around. Had what those demons said been a greater insult to the boys than she-

“Pfff- HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Mammon erupted into laughter and the rest of the brothers followed suit.

“G-Geez,” Belphie snickered, feigning wiping a tear from his eye. “Humans are so sensitive.”

“Excuse me?!” Himiko gripped her fork so hard she was sure it would leave indents.

“I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, Himi,” Levi said between bouts of cackling. “But you are a teeny tiny little normie human surrounded by well… us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?! That I should just roll over and take it!?” Himiko immediately turned and pointed at Belphie. “Don’t you dare.”

Belphie’s mouth was open to make a comment about Himiko’s poor choice of words, but the pact activated and any words died in his throat. Belphie flipped her off and Himiko returned the gesture.

“Himiko,” Beel was sweet enough to not laugh at Himiko’s predicament. “It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, people love their pets.”

As sweet as Beel thought his words were being, Himiko really wanted to send him to bed without dinner.

“Yes, yes, Beel’s right.” Satan took a deep breath and collected himself after his laughing fit had finally ceased. “It’s nothing to worry about, Himiko. It shouldn’t be bothering you. Just don’t listen.”

Himiko somehow gripped her fork even tighter as she levelled her ice cold glare at Satan. “Thank you so much for demonsplaining how I should deal with and feel about the very human problem of people seeing me as some toy.”

The venom in her words seemed to snap the rest of the table out of their giggly stupor, and Mammon gave Himiko a few pats on the back.

“Ah don’t worry about it, Himiko. I’ll fight any bastard who says anythin’ like that.” Suddenly realizing he hadn’t been a tsundere for five whole minutes, Mammon went red and snatched his hand away. “Ya know, just because you’d probably use the pact and order me to anyway…”

“I’m not a dere~” Levi began to softly sing, Himiko perked up and grabbed Mammon’s cheek.

“A tsun-tsundere~”

“Not that song again!”

That should have been the end of that whole debacle. Himiko’s decent mood had been restored and all was well! The gang chatted amicably for the rest of dinner. Himiko made sure to heap loads of praise on Asmo for his amazing pasta. She felt a part of her die when she went in for fourths and the spoon scraped the bottom of the pot.

Too bad nothing ever goes smoothly in the Devildom.

Since it was Asmo’s night to cook, it was Himiko’s night to do dishes, so she got up and began to clear the table. As she began to collect the unused knives, Lucifer, not looking up from his newspaper, handed Himiko his plate.

“Thank you, pet, that’ll be all.”

Himiko stopped dead in her tracks and her grip on the plate tightened. “Repeat that, Lucifer?”

“Thank you, pet, that’ll be all.”

A tiny smirk spread across Lucifer’s face, which only served to make Himiko’s blood boil. If he thought he could make a joke about that while she was still mad he had another thing coming.

As quick as a flash, she had whipped the plate straight at the ground, shattering it into dozens of tiny pieces, before Lucifer even had a chance to say anything, Himiko was standing in front of him with a frigid glare on her face.

“Lucifer, put your hand flat on the table and spread your fingers. Keep quiet.”

With no choice but to obey, Lucifer slapped his hand down on the dining table, though, the glare he was giving her wasn’t any less murderous. Not caring, Himiko’s gaze remained cold and calculating, she turned to the other brothers, who were rooted in place from sheer shock. “Stay.”

“I’d just like to get something out there to you seven,” Himiko said calmly, holding one of the knives in her right hand and waving it around like it was the most casual thing in the universe. “I, am no one’s pet,”

Himiko turned and slammed the knife right between Lucifer’s middle and index fingers, imbedding it deep in the table.

“Arm candy,”

The second knife was slammed right in between Lucifer’s middle and pointer finger.

“Or accessory.”

The final knife went between his index and pinkie finger. Himiko’s next words were slow and deliberate as she stared the strongest of the brothers directly in the eyes.

“I am your friend, and equal, I won’t accept being anything less, whether it’s a joke, or not. You agreed to those terms the day we made our pact, didn’t we Lucifer? Have you changed your mind?”

It was so quiet you could hear Henry 2.0 swimming around in Levi’s room upstairs. No one dared to breathe as the seconds ticked past.

Finally, Lucifer responded, his voice tinged with exasperation. “No Himiko, I haven’t.”

“Good,” A small triumphant smile appeared on Himiko’s face as she removed the knives from the table and finished up cleaning the table. “That goes for the rest of you boys too, got it?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Mhm.”

“Yes…”

As Himiko walked into the kitchen to do everyone’s dishes, they quietly reminded themselves exactly who they were dealing with. Himiko Nanami was no dainty little human, no no no, she was the one master to rule them all, and by god was she going to make sure no one ever forgot.

——————

AAAAAAAA THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!!!! I really need to write more stuff with Himiko! Inspiration struck at like… 10 this morning and I just ran with it.

Now on one hand, I can see that people might think that Himiko overreacted to Lucifer’s little joke a tad. Buuuuuuuuuuut she’s gotta shut down that shit early, right? She doesn’t want “pet” to be the next “chihuahua”.

Lucifer’s probably trying to stick his nose back in his newspaper as he wonders whether he’s incredibly enraged or unbelievably turned on.

Hope you all enjoyed! Now back to the regularly scheduled shitposting.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #Obey me fic #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Satan #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me Solomon #Obey me Luke #obey me OC

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ganymedesclock · 3 years

Note

These are questions I've had for some while and it's hard to find someone who'll answer with grace. This mostly relates to disabilities (mental or physical) in fiction.

1) What makes a portrayal of a disability that's harming the character in question ableist?

2) Is there a way to write a disabled villain in a way that isn't ableist?

In the circles I've been in, the common conceptions are you can't use a character's disability as a plot point or showcase it being a hindrance in some manner. heaven forbid you make your villain disabled in some capacity, that's a freaking death sentence to a creative's image. I understand historically villains were the only characters given disabilities, but (and this is my personal experience) I've not seen as many disabled villains nowadays, heck, I see more disabled heroes in media nowadays.

Sorry if this comes off as abrasive, I'd really like to be informed for future media consumption and my own creative endeavors.

Okay so the first thing I'm going to say is that while it IS a good idea to talk to disabled people and get their feedback, disabled people are not a monolith and they aren't going to all have the same take on how this goes.

My personal take is biased in favor that I'm a neurodivergent person (ADHD and autism) who has no real experience with physical disabilities, so I won't speak for physically disabled people- heck, I won't even speak for every neurotype. Like I say, people aren't a monolith.

For myself and my own writing of disabled characters, here's a couple of concepts I stick by:

Research is your friend

Think about broad conventions of ableism

Be mindful of cast composition

1. Research is your friend

Yeah this is the thing everybody says, so here's the main bases I try to cover:

What's the story on this character's disability?

Less in terms of 'tragic angst' and more, what kind of condition this is- because a congenital amputee (that is to say, someone who was born without a limb) will have a different relationship to said limb absence than someone who lost their limb years ago to someone who lost their limb yesterday. How did people in their life respond to it, and how did they respond to it? These responses are not "natural" and will not be the same to every person with every worldview. This can also be a great environment to do worldbuilding in! Think about the movie (and the tv series) How To Train Your Dragon. The vikings in that setting don't have access to modern medicine, and they're, well, literally fighting dragons and other vikings. The instance of disability is high, and the medical terminology to talk about said disabilities is fairly lackluster- but in a context where you need every man you possibly can to avoid the winter, the mindset is going to be not necessarily very correct, but egalitarian. You live in a village of twenty people and know a guy who took a nasty blow to the head and hasn't quite been the same ever since? "Traumatic Brain Injury" is probably not going to be on your lips, but you're also probably going to just make whatever peace you need to and figure out how to accommodate Old Byron for his occasional inability to find the right word, stammers and trembles. In this example, there are several relevant pieces of information- what the character's disability is (aphasia), how they got it (brain injury), and the culture and climate around it (every man has to work, and we can't make more men or throw them away very easily, so, how can we make sure this person can work even if we don't know what's wrong with them)

And that dovetails into:

What's the real history, and modern understandings, of this?

This is where "knowing the story" helps a lot. To keep positing our hypothetical viking with a brain injury, I can look into brain injuries, what affects their extent and prognosis, and maybe even beliefs about this from the time period and setting I'm thinking of (because people have had brains, and brain injuries, the entire time!) Sure, if the setting is fantastical, I have wiggle room, but looking at inspirations might give me a guide post.

Having a name for your disorder also lets you look for posts made by specific people who live with the condition talking about their lives. This is super, super important for conditions stereotyped as really scary, like schizophrenia or narcissistic personality disorder. Even if you already know "schizophrenic people are real and normal" it's still a good thing to wake yourself up and connect with others.

2. Think about broad conventions of ableism

It CAN seem very daunting or intimidating to stay ahead of every single possible condition that could affect someone's body and mind and the specific stereotypes to avoid- there's a lot under the vast umbrella of human experience and we're learning more all the time! A good hallmark is, ableism has a few broad tendencies, and when you see those tendencies rear their head, in your own thinking or in accounts you read by others, it's good to put your skeptical glasses on and look closer. Here's a few that I tend to watch out for:

Failing the “heartwarming dog” test

This was a piece of sage wisdom that passed my eyeballs, became accepted as sage wisdom, and my brain magnificently failed to recall where I saw it. Basically, if you could replace your disabled character with a lovable pet who might need a procedure to save them, and it wouldn’t change the plot, that’s something to look into.

Disability activists speak often about infantilization, and this is a big thing of what they mean- a lot of casual ableism considers disabled people as basically belonging to, or being a burden onto, the able-bodied and neurotypical. This doesn’t necessarily even need to have an able neurotypical in the picture- a personal experience I had that was extremely hurtful was at a point in high school, I decided to do some research on autism for a school project. As an autistic teenager looking up resources online, I was very upset to realize that every single resource I accessed at the time presumed it was talking to a neurotypical parent about their helpless autistic child. I was looking for resources to myself, yet made to feel like I was the subject in a conversation.

Likewise, many wheelchair users have relayed the experience of, when they, in their chair, are in an environment accompanied by someone else who isn’t using a chair, strangers would speak to the standing person exclusively, avoiding addressing the chair user.

It’s important to always remind yourself that at no point do disabled people stop being people. Yes, even people who have facial deformities; yes, even people who need help using the bathroom; yes, even people who drool; yes, even people whose conditions impact their ability to communicate, yes, even people with cognitive disabilities. They are people, they deserve dignity, and they are not “a child trapped in a 27-year-old body”- a disabled adult is still an adult. All of the “trying to learn the right rules” in the world won’t save you if you keep an underlying fear of non-normative bodies and minds.

This also has a modest overlap between disability and sexuality in particular. I am an autistic grayromantic ace. Absolutely none of my choices or inclinations about sex are because I’m too naive or innocent or childlike to comprehend the notion- disabled people have as diverse a relationship with sexuality as any other. That underlying fear- as mentioned before- can prevent many people from imagining that, say, a wheelchair user might enjoy sex and have experience with it. Make sure all of your disabled characters have full internal worlds.

Poor sickly little Tiffany and the Red Right Hand

A big part of fictional ableism is that it separates the disabled into two categories. Anybody who’s used TVTropes would recognize the latter term I used here. But to keep it brief:

Poor, sickly little Tiffany is cute. Vulnerable. How her disability affects her life is that it constantly creates a pall of suffering that she lives beneath. After all, having a non-normative mind or body must be an endless cavalcade of suffering and tragedy, right? People who are disabled clearly spend their every waking moment affected by, and upset, that they aren’t normal!

The answer is... No, actually. Cut the sad violin; even people who have chronic pain who are literally experiencing pain a lot more than the rest of us are still fully capable of living complex lives and being happy. If nothing else, it would be literally boring to feel nothing but awful, and people with major depression or other problems still, also, have complicated experiences. And yes, some of it’s not great. You don’t have to present every disability as disingenuously a joy to have. But make a point that they own these things. It is a very different feeling to have a concerned father looking through the window at his angel-faced daughter rocking sadly in her wheelchair while she stares longingly out the window, compared to a character waking up at midnight because they have to go do something and frustratedly hauling their body out of their bed into their chair to get going.

Poor Sickly Little Tiffany (PSLT, if you will) virtually always are young, and they virtually always are bound to the problems listed under ‘failing the heartwarming dog’ test. Yes, disabled kids exist, but the point I’m making here is that in the duality of the most widely accepted disabled characters, PSLT embodies the nadir of the Victim, who is so pure, so saintly, so gracious, that it can only be a cruel quirk of fate that she’s suffering. After all, it’s not as if disabled people have the same dignity that any neurotypical and able-bodied person has, where they can be an asshole and still expect other people to not seriously attack their quality of life- it’s a “service” for the neurotypical and able-bodied to “humor” them.

(this is a bad way to think. Either human lives matter or they don’t. There is no “wretched half-experience” here- if you wouldn’t bodily grab and yank around a person standing on their own feet, you have no business grabbing another person’s wheelchair)

On the opposite end- and relevant to your question- is the Red Right Hand. The Red Right Hand does not have PSLT’s innocence or “purity”- is the opposite extreme. The Red Right Hand is virtually always visually deformed, and framed as threatening for their visual deformity. To pick on a movie I like a fair amount, think about how in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the title character is described- “Strong. Fast. Had a metal arm.” That’s a subtle example, but, think about how that metal arm is menacing. Sure, it’s a high tech weapon in a superhero genre- but who has the metal arm? The Winter Soldier, who is, while a tormented figure that ultimately becomes more heroic- scary. Aggressive. Out for blood.

The man who walks at midnight with a Red Right Hand is a signal to us that his character is foul because of the twisting of his body. A good person, we are led to believe, would not be so- or a good person would be ashamed of their deformity and work to hide it. The Red Right Hand is not merely “an evil disabled person”- they are a disabled person whose disability is depicted as symptomatic of their evil, twisted nature, and when you pair this trope with PSLT, it sends a message: “stay in your place, disabled people. Be sad, be consumable, and let us push you around and decide what to do with you. If you get uppity, if you have ideas, if you stand up to us, then the thing that made you a helpless little victim will suddenly make you a horrible monster, and justify us handling you with inhumanity.”

As someone who is a BIG fan of eldritch horror and many forms of unsettling “wrongness” it is extremely important to watch out for the Red Right Hand. Be careful how you talk about Villainous Disability- there is no connection between disability and morality. People will be good, bad, or simply just people entirely separate from their status of ability or disability. It’s just as ableist to depict every disabled person as an innocent good soul as it is to exclusively deal in grim and ghastly monsters.

Don’t justify disabilities and don’t destroy them.

Superpowers are cool. Characters can and IMO should have superpowers, as long as you’re writing a genre when they’re there.

BUT.

It’s important to remember that there is no justification for disabilities, because they don’t need one. Disability is simply a feature characters have. You do not need to go “they’re blind, BUT they can see the future”

This is admittedly shaky, and people can argue either way; the Blind Seer is a very pronounced mythological figure and an interesting philosophical point about what truly matters in the world. There’s a reason it exists as a conceit. But if every blind character is blind in a way that completely negates that disability or makes it meaningless- this sucks. People have been blind since the dawn of time. And people will always accommodate their disabilities in different ways. Even if the technology exists to fix some forms of blindness, there are people who will have “fixable” blindness and refuse to treat it. There will be individuals born blind who have no meaningful desire to modify this. And there are some people whose condition will be inoperable even if it “shouldn’t” be.

You don’t need to make your disabled characters excessively cool, or give them a means by which the audience can totally forget they’re disabled. Again, this is a place where strong worldbuilding is your buddy- a handwave of “x technology fixed all disabilities”, in my opinion, will never come off good. If, instead, however, you throw out a careless detail that the cool girl the main character is chatting up in a cyberpunk bar has an obvious spinal modification, and feature other characters with prosthetics and without- I will like your work a lot, actually. Even if you’re handing out a fictional “cure”- show the seams. Make it have drawbacks and pros and cons. A great example of this is in the series Full Metal Alchemist- the main character has two prosthetic limbs, and not only do these limbs come with problems, some mundane (he has phantom limb pains, and has to deal with outgrowing his prostheses or damaging them in combat) some more fantastical (these artificial limbs are connected to his nerves to function fluidly- which means that they get surgically installed with no anesthesia and hurt like fuck plugging in- and they require master engineering to stay in shape). We explicitly see a scene of the experts responsible for said limbs talking to a man who uses an ordinary prosthetic leg, despite the advantages of an automail limb, because these drawbacks are daunting to him and he is happier with a simple prosthetic leg.

Even in mundane accommodations you didn’t make up- no two wheelchair users use their chair the exact same way, and there’s a huge diversity of chairs. Someone might be legally blind but still navigate confidently on their own; they might use a guide dog, or they might use a cane. They might even change their needs from situation to situation!

Disability accommodations are part of life

This ties in heavily to the previous point, but seriously! Don’t just look up one model of cane and superimpose it with no modifications onto your character- think about what their lifestyle is, and what kind of person they are!

Also medication is not the devil. Yes, medical abuse is real and tragic and the medication is not magic fairy dust that solves all problems either. But also, it’s straight ableism to act like anybody needing pills for any reason is a scary edgy plot twist.

(and addiction is a disease. Please be careful, and moreover be compassionate, if you’re writing a character who’s an addict)

3. Be mindful of cast composition

This, to me, is a big tip about disability writing and it’s also super easy to implement!

Just make sure your cast has a lot of meaningful disabled characters in it!

Have you done all the work you can to try and dodge the Red Right Hand but you’re still worried your disabled villain is a bad look? They sure won’t look like a commentary on disability if three other people in the cast are disabled and don’t have the same outlook or role! Worried that you’re PSLT-ing your main character’s disabled child? Maybe the disability is hereditary and they got it from the main character!

The more disabled characters you have, the more it will challenge you to think about what their individual relationship is with the world and the less you’ll rely on hackneyed tropes. At least, ideally.

Ultimately, there’s no perfect silver bullet of diversity writing that will prevent a work from EVER being ableist, but I hope this helped, at least!

#disability #writing ruminations #readmore

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skellebonez · 3 years

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So, I have a weird request: Mei, Jin and Yin with 28 and 50. I fell victim of my own au and now I just want these three to be friends and cause mayhem.

Ok, you both sent me these SO CLOSE TOGETHER BY CHANCE that I had to combine them. This is the most prompts I have shoved into one fill and I consider this an achievement.

You call this luck? No, this is all skill./That cute act is all just a lie./I was not expecting that to work as well as it did./Ok, who gave out my number? I have 12 missed calls, 4 voicemails, and 75 unread texts!/No, listen, hear me out. All we need is some really good disguises.

“Ok, who gave out my number?” Mei asked as she slammed the door to Jin and Yin’s workshop open with a harsh kick that sent it slamming into the wall, a scowl on her face. She wasn’t particularly angry, just annoyed, but they didn’t have to know that yet. “I have 12 missed calls, 4 voicemails, and 75 unread texts! I had to change my number because before I cleared the first set of notifications I had over 80 each!”

“How do you know it was us?” Jin asked defensively from his spot sitting on the nearest table, and Mei allowed her face to fall into an deadpan expression, raising just one eyebrow.”... ok, fair, it was Yin.”

“Hey!” Yin yelped as he rolled out on a skateboard from... whatever in the world it was he was working on. “Why are you calling me out like this? I thought you were my brother!”

Mei watched at the two got up from where they sat, getting in each other’s faces and arguing about “brotherly betrayal” and if she was being honest Mei almost thought that this would have been nearly enough to make up for her needing to change her number for the first time in years. Almost. It was when Jin yelled “That cute act is all just a lie!” and Yin gasped in offense that she decided she had enough amusement for the moment and whistled as loud as she could to get the twin’s attention.

“Alright gentlemen, may I ask why my phone number was leaked in the first place?” Mei asked slowly, gaze firmly centered on Yin.

“... In my defense, I didn’t post it publicly,” Yin said as he held up his hands in surrender. “I only gave it to one person and they said they were a friend of yours because I needed some tech they had and they said it was payment for the favor!”

“One person made 82 calls?” Jin asked with a look of disbelief and horror on his face. “Who has time for 82 phone calls?”

“They’re all spam bot calls and texts, it isn- Wait, go back a second,” Mei held up a hand, gesturing for Yin to speak again. “Who said they were a friend of mine?”

“A streamer guy, Bo-something?”

“BoFullStrike,” Mei said with venom lacing her words, a low growl sounding in the depths of her check. “Of course it was Bo, he’s been trying to get back at me for beating him at his best game for like 2 weeks now since our crossover stream like the sore loser that he is. He’s been trying to spam my email this entire time, apparently spam is how he gets revenge.”

“Is his name actually Bo?” Yin asked in curiosity.

“No, it’s just his screen name, but lets not get distracted!” Mei smirked, walking up to the twins and putting her arms around their necks in a half hug each. “To make up for ruining my phone, and because you like me, you two are going to help me get back at him so he will just leave me in peace.”

“Uh,” Jin and Yin looked at each other, then back at Mei and Jin continued. “Is, you know... Macaque gonna have to know about this? We’re already kind of in deep water with him as it is and-”

“No, listen, hear me out. All we need is some really good disguises.”

“And why am I being pulled into this?” Jin asked with a sigh.

“You two are a package deal.”

Mei had to admit, when the demon bros had someone who knew how to make a plan for them? They were scary good at what they could do. All three of their technological knowledge combined was a terrifying force to behold, and Mei could see they weren’t too shabby with designing things they weren’t tech itself either. The three of them, both Jin and Yin in their human forms, were disguised so well that Mei almost didn’t recognize her own reflection in her wig and make up. It was perfect!

What was also perfect was the absolute chaos erupting in the internet cafe they had tracked BoFullStrike down to. He really should take internet security a little more seriously, it was far too easy...

Just as it was far too easy to remote connect to the computer he was using to practice his gaming in on an alt account and completely mess with all of his controls and download some nasty nasty viruses onto it from the other side of the building. They weren’t anything too hard for the cafe to get rid of, and it wasn’t anything that would affect the entire computer network, but it was just enough to make the cafe owner pissed off enough to kick him out (that would have made her feel bad if she didn’t know Bo also lived on his own in his own house on his parent’s dime and only came here so no one would track his ISP to alt accounts, and that there were 20 other such cafes in the city for him to move to).

Now the other streamer was angrily stomping out of the building passing by the chaos trio and would have not even been aware of their involvement had Jin and Yin not yanked him half a foot into the (admittedly brightly lit and easy to see into) alleyway beside the cafe.

“Hey, BO,” Mei said with a smirk as the twins held an arm each for extra security. Like bouncers. Or very strange bodyguards she didn’t actually need. “Still angry I beat you in front of all your followers huh?”

“You!” Bo, or whatever his actual name was Mei didn’t care enough about this to remember that, said after a moment of confusion when he recognized her voice. “You humiliated me on purpose! Just like last time!”

“This time yes, that time? No, you humiliated yourself behind the scenes when you started trying to sign me up for car insurance scams,” Mei said with a sigh. “Look, guy, just leave me alone. No one except you cares that I beat you in a few matches at a game I was already on the leader boards for.”

“You just got lucky!” He scoffed, pulling his arms and tensing with a fearful look as he realized he couldn’t move.

“You call this luck? No, this is all skill,” Mei said with a smirk as she held up her phone and Bo’s face went white as a sheet at the information scrolling on the screen. “Yeah, you should probably invest in something. Like a firewall. A VPN. Literally anything. This was not hard to find at all. Dude, I kinda feel bad that you’re so bad at tech security so I am doing you a favor, just leave me alone and I will literally give you a high tech security system and never speak to you again.”

“Or... what?” Bo said with a shake. “You’ll post all my info online?”

“Hell no!” Mei winced with a disgusted look, shaking her head. “You’re being an asshole, but I’m not evil! I was just gonna sign you up for spam too until you took my offer. Ew.”

“Oh... well... I guess... sure?” The man looked mostly confused more than anything else, shrugging as much as he could before Jin and Yin let him go. “That’s... really it?”

“Yeah, dude, I didn’t want that much revenge just a little bit. Like I said, stop signing me up for spam and I will never speak to you ever again.”

“... OK,” Bo said, and yelped as Mei tossed some kind of USB drive at him. “Uh-”

“You have everything you need in there,” Mei said with a shrug, waving him off.

Bo shrugged again, still looking incredibly confused as he ran off, muttering something like “ok maybe that was kind of badass I guess” under his breathe.

“I was not expecting that to work as well as it did,” Mei said with a laugh, holding up both hands to either side. “Good job, my dudes, you are off the hook.”

Both twin’s palms met her own in very satisfying high fives, and all three thought they should totally team up for stuff like this more often.

(The next day BoFullStrike sent her an actual email with a proper apology.)

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #cursed au #gen fic #mei #long xiaojiao #jin and yin #the chaos trio #that is what i am calling them #prompt fill

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catty-words · 3 years

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you seem to have really good grasp on nhie so i wanna ask you about ben's character. i guess my question is,,, why do you like him ?? LOL i dont really know how else to say it akljsfdjf. but ive always had a hard time reconciling with his character bc while i understand he & devi are supposed to be set up as a (lowkey affectionate) rivalry, sometimes some of the stuff his character says seems way off base to me. Like, the whole UN thing in the first episode which made devi cry & some of the comments he makes about her looks. i don't hate his character and i dont want to hate his character, so i guess i just want your perspective on him. hopefully so it enhances my enjoyment of the show. (if you dont feel like it its totally okay)

this is the most polite question of this nature i've ever received, bless your heart.

right off the bat, i'd say that part of my affection for ben is simply about natural inclination. i have a predisposed fondness for asshole characters who make me laugh with their assholery, of which ben is just one example. devi herself is another. and regardless of whether or not that archetype does it for you, you shouldn't feel like you have to logic yourself into liking ben in part because you enjoy my takes on the show and wanna understand them better. don't get me wrong, i'm incredibly touched and honored that you've come to me looking for more perspective on ben, but sometimes there is no getting around a knee-jerk reaction to a character. and i'll have no less fun interacting with you if you never end up seeing ben with the same affection that i do. basically what i'm saying is, there's no one right way to appreciate the series, and if your appreciation excludes ben gross entirely, i'm not gonna hold it against you.

that being said, since you did ask - a lot of, if not most of, my initial fondness for ben was because he's a reflection of devi. their whole rivalry isn't lowkey affectionate, i'd argue - at least not from the start. their dynamic for the first half of the season is much more about recognizing the self in the other (derogatory).

i mentioned above that they fit the same character archetype of loveable asshole - i get feeling more uncomfortable with the shitty things ben says to devi because she's our protagonist and, therefore, who we're aligned with and rooting for (plus there's also a racial component to ben mocking devi about her looks that does not reflect well on him) but there can be no denying that devi does give as good as she gets. on top of that, they both value status and a sharp wit, and they share an image consciousness that shapes their relationships - the ben/shira relationship is the shadow version of devi's pursuit of paxton.

because they have so much in common and because they've been locked in scholastic competition with each other for so long - paying such close attention to everything the other does - they accidentally know each other intimately. so, seeing the other for all that they are, they recognize a shared desperation to rise above their loserhood and have turned that, too, into a competition. who can do it better? who can do it faster?

it's especially fitting, the way they've set themselves up in competition for popularity, because their insecurities are also a mirror of each other. ben shouts as often as he can and as loud as he can about his wealth because that's the one thing that affords him access to the appearance of popularity. it's also, ironically, the thing that keeps any of his classmates from truly knowing him or enjoying his company. meanwhile, devi's overarching goal for the season is rebranding. she, too, wants to appear popular so she has a reason to stop listening to the voice in her head that tells her she's an unattractive loser. and seeing as ben rises quickly to any and all bait devi dangles about his appearance (ex. "i'm not skinny. i'm jacked" and "my doctor says [i'll grow a mustache] any day now"), it's not a stretch to read that he's so obnoxious about what little ground he's gained with the popular kids because he has the same voice inside his head saying he's an unattractive loser.

so, right. the UN thing. i'm not saying i see it as acceptable, but i do see the pathology underlying it - it's a self attack as much as it's a way to undermine devi's attempts to beat ben in the race to the top.

more than even that, though, it's not about ben at all. the only reason the comment can make devi cry is because ben said something she already fears is true about herself. it's the way ben reflects devi back to herself while pulling no punches - that special antagonist/protagonist relationship where they're specifically designed to get under each other's skin my beloved - that's the important component of the storytelling, not some essential nastiness in ben's character.

of course, ben's pov episode does a lot to reinforce that read - that it's not mean-spiritedness motivating the character, rather an unmet need for unconditional parental support - another way ben parallels devi. though for devi it's a new development and manifests in her grief and erratic behavior in the wake of mohan's passing, ben's situation is implied to be more long-term. it's the underlying reason for his constant obnoxiousness, this desire to be paid attention.

if there's one thing ben can always count on in his life, it's how being obnoxious at devi immediately earns him attention. so he plays up his role, because being devi's rival is a consistent touchstone of identity for him, more so than being howard and vivian's child. which is not to say that he gets a free pass for saying mean things. just that, saying mean things for the sake of being mean isn't who ben is. he wants to matter to someone, even if it's in a negative way.

so yeah. i don't agree with ben's methods, but i do find his motivation sympathetic. and i find his relationship with devi narratively compelling, particularly for the way it drives devi's actions. on top of that, i find his quick wit amusing, and - on a more shallow note - his ridiculous wardrobe endlessly endearing. he's my wretched, social-climbing son, and i love him. 💙

#anon #replies #ben gross #nhie meta #never have i ever #this ended up being more #devi x ben #than i meant it to be #but i do love devi first and foremost #so it makes a lot of sense that i can't help thinking about ben in terms of her relationship to him #otp: difficult personalities

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ben-barnes-is-my-husband · 3 years

Text

Together We're Toxic

Billy Russo x Reader (you)

I wrote this for another fandom and I kept thinking how fitting it would be for Billy. So, I did some editing. *grin* Hope you like. Definitely explicit.

Billy Russo was not a man to be reckoned with. One would have thought that out of all people, you would know that. But then, you were no longer his girlfriend. You were his ex - a fact that he was not at all pleased about and planned to fix.

Tonight.

The club was hot, the music pumping. He could feel it through his body, an incessant beat. The club was dark even with the random mix of colored lights, and it smelled of sweat and perfume.

It felt like impending sex.

Some were going to get laid tonight. Some were hoping to. If all went according to plan, he definitely would be.

His eyes narrowed in on his target. On you. You were with a friend who wasn’t a fan of his all the time, and you had your hands clasped above your heads as bodies moved to the beat.

You and your friend were attracting attention from the men in the crowd, which was the point, and it pissed Billy off to know that this was probably what you did all those nights you wanted to go out with friends and “let off some steam.”

The sharks were circling closer and Billy’s jaw clenched as he took in the men whose faces he’d have to break later for staring at his woman with lust written all over their faces.

You were stunning, so it wasn’t like he could blame them. All that shiny hair that flowed down your back - he liked to wrap it around his hand when he fucked you from behind. And those eyes - they could look so wide and innocent, and then turn black as night when you made it clear you wanted him.

And your lips, those lips you painted red. You left streaks of it on his cock when you sucked it.

Your smile, fuck, your smile and your laugh, and the way you spoke so intelligently about everything. You were so fucking smart and he felt so fucking dumb next to you sometimes.

There was that little bit of Billy that worried you had partly broken up with him because of it. But he knew other things - things like how to change your oil, put in new brakes, and how to beat a man bloody for touching you.

Once, some asshole had groped your ass on the subway and he’d knocked the guy straight out. You’d blown him good and proper after that. He went nearly cross-eyed just thinking about how it felt when you took him down your throat.

Finally, you and your friend took a break from your frenetic dancing and one bold shark inched his way close to you. Billy held back from charging over and punching him dead in the face.

No one touched what was his. No one.

It was that sort of thing that you said was one of the reasons you broke up with him, and Billy had a funny feeling that your friends had something to do with that. You sure didn’t seem to mind when he got, as you put it, “growly and possessive”. And what really burned him is that you would get just as “growly and possessive” right back.

When an ex made contact with him to ask if he still had her hatchet, he’d ended up exchanging a few texts with her about how things were going. When you saw the text come through on his phone you’d simply grabbed your purse and walked out the door, claiming you were going for a ride. You didn’t return for three days and he had no idea where the fuck you went. When you returned you hugged him like no time had passed and nothing had happened. Then you whispered in his ear, “If you talk to her again I won’t come back next time.”

But then, was that worse than when he witnessed you smiling and laughing with someone you had dubbed your “work husband”, and he’d ended up locking you in the bedroom that night for two hours and not letting you leave?

Apparently, it was.

What about the time you slashed one of his tires when one of his (female) customers from Anvil asked for his number?

No one pointed fingers at you, but when he went a little mental and tossed your phone in the toilet, everyone was all up in arms.

Your twisted relationship was your business, and it wasn’t like Billy didn’t know it was twisted. You both were. You knew it, too. You were both passionate and fiercely in love with each other.

He knew you loved him. He <i>knew</i> that. It was in the little things you did - cuddling up to him on the couch, making him dinner (when you had the time), and trimming his hair and beard for him. You also held him and loved him when he needed you the most. And he always, always needed you.

And he took care of you. He changed your oil when it needed it, rubbed your feet at night and listened when you complained about work. He offered to take a few co-workers out for you, which always made you laugh even though he was only half-joking about that.

You were both better together than apart. There was only one woman for him on this godforsaken planet and that was you. And there wasn’t another him that could give you what you needed. He felt a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. Little freak that you were.

You and your friend shooed the men away and headed for the bar, giggling together. While you and your friend planted yourself on one side of the freestanding bar, Billy made his way to the other side. He made room for himself, much to the annoyance of the guy beside him.

“Hey!” the guy protested when some of his drink spilled over the side from Billy hitting it with his elbow.

Billy just looked at him in the way you claimed could make grown men “piddle on the rug.” The guy certainly appeared as if he just might. He picked up his drink and walked off quickly.

Then, Billy leaned on the bar, elbows on top and stared at you, willing you to look his way. It was your friend who saw him first. She made a face and nudged you, pointing at him.

When you looked his way, your mouth fell open and you met his gaze. When the shock wore off, he caught the hint of something in your eyes. Something he knew quite well from having spent almost two years with you: excitement.

You covered it quickly with a look of annoyance and said something to your friend that made her frown, but then your friend nodded and you started around the bar.

Feeling pretty victorious, Billy pushed away from the bar and smirked at your friend who glared at him. Good, let her be pissed. You could no more stay away from him than he could stay away from you.

He moved away from the bar and inched toward the hallway where the bathroom and the back entrance was located. He had a plan after all.

You stormed up to him, fire blazing in your eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?” he drawled. “You didn’t think I’d let this breakup stand, did you?”

“You didn’t fight me when I ended it.”

Was it his imagination or did you sound upset about that?

“You changed the locks and put all my shit out on the lawn. You also called Frank for backup. What was I supposed to do?”

“Just...go.” Now you sounded sad. Defeated. “Leave me alone, Billy. It’s over.”

He grabbed your arm. “No.”

You yanked your arm from his grip. “Don’t manhandle me.”

“Come outside with me,” he said, changing tactics. He fully intended to manhandle you and though you might protest at first, he knew what a little freak you were and what got you hot. You’d be putty in his hands in no time. But for now, you needed to act like you didn’t want him there. Maybe you even had yourself partly convinced of that. Billy knew better though.

“Why should I? What for?” you asked.

“Just to talk. I think I deserve a conversation that doesn’t involve Frank, don’t you think?”

You pursed her lips together and studied him with suspicious eyes. He didn’t move. Just waited. Finally, you sighed. “Fine. Let me tell Friends Name.”

He nodded, smiling inwardly and pointed to the hall. “I’ll be waiting for you right there.”

“Fine, Billy.”

“And don’t think about ditching me,” He warned you. “I will find you.”

Your lips parted and you turned on heel quickly and stalked off. Oh, you wanted this. He knew it.

Five minutes later, you were outside in the cool air and you shivered and wrapped your arms around yourself. It was your fault for wearing a sleeveless top - his favorite one, too. Red and low cut, it was gorgeous on you and easy to get off.

“Why don’t we sit in the car so you’re not cold,” he suggested, pointing to his black Porsche behind you.

You turned, dropping your arms, and he grabbed the handcuffs in his jacket pocket and hurriedly cuffed one wrist. You started to turn back, looking down at your wrist. “Hey--”

But he had you cuffed before you could finish that sentence.

“Billy!” you exclaimed. “What are you dozing?”

“I told you I wouldn’t let this stand. You’re mine.”

Your eyes widened and you made to run.

You didn’t get far. Billy was on you quick enough and managed to wrap both arms around you from behind. With your wrists cuffed in the front, you couldn’t move in the bear hug he was giving you.

“You’re hurting me!”

Doubtful. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way,” he muttered in your ear. “You either come with me or I use the chloroform I have in my pocket.” It was a lie; he didn’t have any.

“How the hell did you get--”

“Hard way or easy way?”

“I hate you,” you hissed.

“No, you don’t. I’ll prove it.”

“I could scream,” you snarled.

“No one would hear you over that music.”

He pushed you to his car gently, wrapping one hand around your forearm lest you get any ideas about running off.

You cursed him the whole way and Billy just smiled. He opened the backdoor of his car once they reached it. “Lay down.”

“Why do I have to lay down?”

He gestured to the rope you’d not yet seen on the floor of the car. You cursed him again and got in. “Don’t even think of kicking me either,” he told you. “Or the chloroform comes out. Heard it gives one a nasty headache. Plus, who knows what I’d do to you all tied up.”

“You’re disgusting and you’re going to pay for this,” you snapped.

He licked his lips. “I certainly hope so.”

You laid down on your side with some help and when he was sure you were comfortable - because he didn’t want you hurt after all...well, not much anyway. He tied up your ankles with the rope while you glared at him mutinously.

With a triumphant smirk, he moved your feet out of the way of the door and shut it. He then climbed in the car and started it up.

“My friends will look for me, ya know,” you said.

“They won’t find you.”

“Where are you taking me?” you demanded.

“To the cabin.”

“Fuck,” you muttered.

He grinned as he pulled out of the club parking lot. “That’s right. The cabin in the middle of the woods where you can scream all you want and no one will hear you.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah,” he drawled, “But you love me anyway.”

You fell silent and Billy smiled. Your silence said it all; you did still love him.

It was a forty-five minute drive to the cabin and after letting you sulk for a while, he finally asked, “Why did you do it?”

“Why did I do what?” you asked innocently.

“You know what,” he growled.

You sighed. “I’m handcuffed and I’ve got ropes around my ankles. Do you really have to ask? Do you think this is normal?”

“It’s our normal,” he said with a shrug.

“Maybe I don’t want it to be.”

“Or maybe you’re too busy listening to your friends tell you how our relationship should be.” He took his eyes off the road to turn and look down at you. You looked almost pitiful on the seat looking up at him and he had a moment’s regret. Just a moment though.

He looked back at the road. “You get off on our games.”

“Is that what we’re calling them? Games?”

“What would you call it?”

“Unhealthy. Twisted.”

He laughed. “Oh, You. You’ll never not be twisted. And I’m the only one who can match all that fire inside you.”

“Maybe I don’t want that anymore. Maybe I want normal. Maybe I want someone like Frank who--”

“Don’t mention his fucking name to me,” he growled. “He’d bore you in a week. We’re here.”

One of your friends had tried to introduce you to a “nice boy” who wore Dockers and white tennis shoes and actually played tennis, and You had kept it from him until he’d overheard you talking to that friend on the porch one night. When he’d confronted you about it, you’d hedged until he threatened to ask your friend himself. You’d told him, and in retaliation he’d dragged you into the house and tied you to the bed and proceeded to make you come and come and come until you begged for him to stop.

You had clung to him so sweetly, mewling in his ear. Screaming. Telling him again and again how you loved him and only him.

He cut the engine and stepped out of the car. He made his way around to the back and you sat up and he maneuvered you out and over his shoulder. The wind blew, causing your black skirt to blow over your ass and he slapped it. “That’s my ass,” he told you. “Remember that.”

The cabin was his. A place he had built with his bare hands. A place for him to seek refuge from the world when he needed it. Then when he had met you, it had become yours and his. Long weekends were spent here when you both felt the need to get away, just hiking, making love, and doing domestic things that he wasn’t very used to doing, but rather...enjoyed?

You could both be normal. You were both “normal” more than you weren’t so he didn't know what the fuck you were on about. Sure you both had your moments, but it wasn’t always like that.

The cabin had three rooms - the living room and kitchen rolled into each other, and then there was the bedroom off the kitchen, and a bathroom attached to the bedroom.

Billy stepped inside to the kitchen and carted you over against the far wall and placed you down on the lumpy couch with the maroon sofa covering. You fell to the side and then righted yourself and glared up at him.

“You gonna run if I let you loose?” he asked.

God, he hoped you did. He wanted to chase you down, throw you on the ground and fuck you in the open air. His dick was hard just thinking about it. You glanced down quickly at his crotch and then back up at him. You looked angry, but he caught the twinkle there. “What do you think?” you asked.

Okay, so, you needed to warm up a bit first. Work up to it. He was game.

“I think we still got wine in the fridge from last time we were here,” he said. “You want some?”

“You gonna roofie me?”

“No, of course not.”

“I mean, you did threaten to chloroform me--”

“And you know as well as I do that I wouldn’t. Even if i did have it, which I don’t.” He did though. Somewhere. Just not on him.

You lifted your chin. “What’s your plan then? Keep me cuffed and bound all weekend?”

“Well, that all depends on you.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Oh?”

“Yeah, all depends on how long it takes you to get your head out of your ass and realize you belong with me.”

“I don’t--”

He bent down and placed his hand at the back of your neck and drew your face to his. He kissed you deeply, wanting you to just shut up.

You didn’t kiss him back at first, but then he felt you melt by degrees. You moaned and Billy went down to his knees, filling his hands with your face as he kissed you. “Stop fighting me,” he muttered against your mouth. “You love me.”

“Billy--”

“Say it, You. Say you love me.”

Your eyes welled up in tears. “I do,” you croaked. “I love you.”

“Say you’re mine.”

You sniffled. “I’m yours.”

He kissed you again and you swayed into him, pressing your chest against him. “Billy,” you muttered. “Let me go. I can’t touch you like this.”

He fumbled, panting, for the key to the handcuffs. He managed to fish it out of his jeans and with shaking hands undid the cuffs. Then he fumbled with the rope, and with your help you were free. He pulled you to her feet with him and kissed you. “I need you,” he gasped. “I need inside you.”

You stepped back a few feet, smiling, and whipped off your top. You threw it at him and it hit him right in the face.

You used that distraction to rush right past him and out the door.

He roared, his dick pressing hard against his jeans. Game. On.

You didn’t get far. Just by the car. You were on the other side of it when he approached and when he went to the right, you went to the left. You both stopped. Stared at each other.

“You’re a little brat,” he told her. “I should take you over my knee.”

“Don’t you wish you could?” you taunted him and jetted to the right. He ran around the car, and you squealed and ran off to the woods. He was smiling, beaming really. This was just what he’d expected and you’d almost had him; he’d almost thought you were just going to capitulate without any game this time, but he should have known better. You were always up for a good game.

You were like a sprite running through the woods and Billy kept his gaze steady on you, while mindful of where he was stepping so as not to trip. He finally managed to graze your arm by a thick oak tree and you squealed again and darted around it.

He could hear your breathing from the other side and he forced himself to go still and quiet. Then you did as well. He waited.

The wind blew, a cool breeze that rustled the leaves and branches. Animals deep in the forest made noise, reminding you they were there. The moon was nearly full and cast light down through the trees. The clouds in the sky were moving quickly by and stars twinkled above them.

He was harder than he’d ever been and he swore he could smell your heat from where he stood on the other side of the blasted tree.

You popped her head out and said, “Boo!” and then made to run off. This time, you wouldn’t get far. He was on you quickly enough and you let out a playful scream as he managed to catch you and push you against another tree. You winced and he pulled you away from it.

“You hurt?” he asked, panting.

“I don’t think so,” you said breathlessly.

He spun you around to check. Just a little red where the bark touched your bare skin. He bent his head and pressed a kiss to one red mark, then another and another and you melted yet again into him.

He went down to his knees and forced you down with him. He pushed you and you planted your hands on the ground.

“You gonna to act like a bitch, I’m gonna to fuck you like one,” he grunted.

“Oh, God, yes,” you breathed.

He pushed your skirt up over your backside and tore your panties from your body.

“Billy,” you moaned.

He wrestled with the snap of his jeans and the zipper and then he shoved them and his boxers down and spit in his hand. He stroked himself and then used two fingers to check just how wet you were.

You were soaked. Just as he thought you would be. He fucked you with his fingers until you screamed and then he pulled his fingers out and slammed his cock inside you.

“Fuck! Yes!” you screamed.

He licked your wetness from his fingers and then slapped your ass hard. You cried out and he gripped your hips, knowing he’d leave fingerprints, knowing you’d love to see them in the morning.

“Come for me again, you little bitch,” he rumbled. “I want you dripping all over me.”

He reached out and wrapped his hand around your hair and yanked your head back. “Fuck me back,” he ordered.

You did, grunting and moaning.

“Fuck me harder, asshole!” you shouted.

He did, bottoming out inside you, bumping right against your cervix.

You screamed and your walls pulsed around him, milking him. He let go with a roar, unable to hold on. You’d had him aching for you the minute he’d stepped into that fucking club and saw you.

Billy slumped over her and pressed a weak kiss in between your shoulder blades. “I love you,” he gasped. “Fucking hell, I love you so much.”

“I love you,” you said, breathless.

Billy pulled out of you with a groan and did himself back up. He got to his feet while you staggered to yours. He drew you into his arms and kissed you hard.

You kissed him back just as hard and hand-in-hand you walked back to the cabin. You showered together, laughing softly, and caressing each other gently. Billy took you to bed after and he made love to you slowly, sweetly, until you cried out softly. He held you wrapped close in his arms as you began to doze off.

“Mine again?” he asked softly.

“I always have been,” you murmured. “And I always will be.”

Satisfied, Billy drifted off into a sound sleep.

And when he woke up in the morning, he found you gone…

And himself handcuffed to the bed.

***I know it would not fit for Billy to not wake up to getting handcuffed, but just go with it. It's needed for the second part.

#billy russo #billy russo x you #billy russo x reader #ben barnes #punisher #marvel

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darkorderaf · 3 years

Note

Prompts 125 & 141 with Alex Reynolds:)

Glad that your requests are open!

Oh hell yeah. I went a little enemies to lovers on this one and it admittedly took on a whole life of its own. Thank you so much for your request and please enjoy!!! <3

Pairing: Alex Reynolds x OFC. Prompts: “Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep. Wait…are you…what?!” “Use your words.” Rating: M. Warnings/Content: Smut. It gets spicy. Word Count: 2,118.

(I don’t own gif; credit to allelitewrestlings!)

“Is this a joke?”

“Am I in hell? Am I in actual hell?”

They spoke in a furious tandem. She tore the paper out of Alex’s hands and checked it again. The poor hotel receptionist wasn’t prepared for two seething wrestlers at midnight but there they were, completely upended by what the booking confirmation said. The room was indeed assigned to her and one Alex Reynolds. She ran her hand over her face and sighed in agitation. The hotel receptionist awkwardly slid their keys across the countertop. They took them begrudgingly, then looked at each other with all the warmth of dueling street cats.

Was this punishment for arriving last to the hotel? Had she unknowingly upset the Khan man himself? Similar questions ran through his mind.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath. She kept a white-knuckle grip on her suitcase as they walked. “We’re not even in the same faction!”

Just last week, she and the rest of The Pinnacle had been feuding with Dark Order! And now her and her worst enemy with the great hair were supposed to share a room? This was all a bad joke. Alex rolled his eyes and checked the room number again.

“How about this? You pretend that I don’t exist,” he said, tone helpful and light but just as biting. He swiped his key and shoved the door open. He shot her a look. “And I’ll pretend that you don’t exist. That’s easy, right? We pretty much do that alre--”

Neither of them checked what kind of room it was. What kind of accommodations they would have. They were too focused on the fact that someone had the audacity to put them together. One queen bed sat in the middle of the small room, daring them to make a fuss. No couch or chair to be seen.

“I’ll sleep in the bathtub,” she said quickly. She didn’t want to cross the threshold because then that would make the situation all too real. “Yup, that’s where I’ll be.”

“Uh, no, that’s a negative,” Alex said as his head swiveled to stare at her. With how close they were, whatever he used to wash his hair rolled over her. It smelled...good. She frowned and he continued. “You’re not going to hold the one bathroom hostage.”

“I’m not going to hold it hostage!”

Alex arched a brow at her in challenge as he crossed the threshold of the room first. Nose crinkled, she followed in after him and tried to assess the floor space available. He seemed to be doing the same thing and that sat strange in her belly. He could just take the bed, claim it for himself and leave her on the floor, but he didn’t seem to be doing that. She eyed him suspiciously as he grabbed a pillow and tossed it to the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, I don’t want you to murder me in my sleep, so…”

He gestured to the floor with an exasperated look.

“Oh come on,” she sighed, a hand on her hip and her head tilted. “I wouldn’t kill you, Reynolds.”

“Oh yeah? Really?”

“Think of all the legal trouble that would be. And over you of all people? Please.”

Their eyes locked from opposite sides of the bed and if there was a rumble of thunder, she wouldn’t question it. The rest of the night was, by all standards, boring. They gave each other a wide berth, barely exchanged words. He was already on the floor with his eyes closed when she came out of her shower. His travel blanket settled low across his bare chest and his arm settled on his belly.

As she towel dried her hair, she tried to think of when it started. Their animosity towards each other. They were part of rival factions so part of it was a given, the nature of the gig, but where did the rest come from? Every time they crossed paths, they jeered at each other. Nothing that dug too far under the skin but enough to rile each other up. It felt like it was almost immediate, as soon as they locked eyes for the first time.

Schoolyard. That’s what it was.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to murder me?”

His voice snapped her out of it. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice that his eyes opened or that he laid back with his hands behind his head. Or that he was looking at her with slow, languid blinks. Or that she had been intensely staring at him. The lighting in the room wasn’t the best but it shadowed and defined the muscles of his chest, his arms. Accentuated the sharp line of his jaw and his perfect brows. Her eyes narrowed at him and that brow of his arched again. Like he knew something.

Who gave him the right to look like the cover to a romance novel? And why was she thinking about that now?

She made a disgusted noise and didn’t answer him. She was just tired and frustrated with the situation, that was all. That was all it could be. There was no layer of hell where she found Alex Reynolds attractive.

Absolutely not.

The heat between her legs and in her low belly an hour later told her otherwise. Her brain, that traitorous asshole, had latched onto the idea of romance novel Alex Reynolds with the perfect hair and heated stare. It tingled her toes, her chest. She was so invested trying to purge herself of those thoughts with her eyes on the wall, half-awake, that she had hardly noticed that Alex had climbed onto the bed beside her. Her under the sheets and him on top. He had grumbled something about the floor being garbage and how he had a match tomorrow but she didn’t hear it.

She clenched her thighs together tight to give herself some relief. It wasn’t happening. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. It would be too obvious if she got up and went into the shower for the second time that night. She slipped her hand down across the warm expanse of her stomach and settled it where she needed friction the most. A quiet whimper-like moan slipped out of her. A desperate sound that he absolutely heard.

“Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep,” he said to her, voice low and agitated. That didn’t help either and a sharp nudge against her swollen clit pulled another whimper out of her. Alex went still beside her. “Wait...are you...what!?”

She froze and slowly, she half-turned to look at him. He was propped up on his forearm, staring at her with a heavy look. His damp hair was swept back from his face and she could see him clearly through hazy, lust-colored eyes. Her instincts told her to get angry, to make a snide comment towards him to diffuse the tension, but her jaw was locked tight. He angled his head slightly, a question.

“Are you trying to get off right now?”

There was that look again. The one where he looked like he knew something. It frustrated her in too many ways.

“Alex,” she started, voice breathy. “I will literally pay you to never talk about this.”

He didn’t seem phased. His gaze swept over her and she involuntarily bit her lip. His eyes jumped back up to hers and his expression smoothed itself out. He shifted, quiet in thought. When did her breath get so loud, her heart so fast?

“Do you want help?”

She rolled onto her back. The sheets felt too hot against her skin. She looked at his hands, the way his fingers curled. His eyes met hers, half-lidded and curious.

“...what?”

“I’m completely serious.”

His tone had a finality to it that had her shoving the sheets down to let her molten skin breathe. She searched his face. Whenever she found what she was looking for, she nodded.

He shook his head and pushed himself up to slowly lean his upper body over hers. His face hovered inches away from hers. His hand went to her bare shoulder and he thumbed along her collarbone. A small smirk formed.

“Use your words,” he said. “C’mon, we know you’re good with them.”

Her pride and her lust met in a lockup. His hand moved down from her collarbone to between her breasts, the strip of skin between her panties and tanktop. A trail of lightning followed and she arched up into him. The way he pressed into her side, she could feel how hard he was. The words that slipped through her lips caused him to groan. That and when her fingers went to the back of his head to tug at his hair.

“Alex,” she seethed. “Please.”

He grinned at her and when their lips collided, it wasn’t far off from their usual. A push and a pull, a test and a challenge. Teeth nipped skin and he tore the sheets off to settle on top of her, his knees by her hips. They broke apart long enough for him to pull her shirt off, to mark her chest with his mouth and the harsh scrape of his stubble as he shimmied down her body. As cool and collected as he was, the pulse of his hands around her hips told a different story. He lightly bit the soft part of her belly and glanced up at her when her knees fell apart in invitation.

“You know I still don’t like you, right?”

He smiled before he answered.

“Uh-huh. I sure do.”

His hot hands skimmed down her sides and tugged her panties off. Given that he knew what she was doing before, he didn’t waste time and got right to it. She appreciated that and told him as much with a low, soft moan when his tongue pressed into her. He didn’t stay there long and she glared at him. Was he fucking with her?”

“Get up,” Alex told her as he got up onto his knees. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to sit up. “I want you to sit on my face.”

She couldn’t even bark a laugh, too stunned at his sudden proclamation to make a nasty remark as she moved with him. His arms hooked under her thighs and pulled her close to his lips. Her nails cut lines into the headboard. She smirked down at him.

“I didn’t think the Dark Order were such giv--Oh fuck.”

Alex set back to what he was doing before in earnest, giving her no chance to complete her thought. For as much shit as he talked, she should have known he was good with his mouth. He played with her, strung her along, built her up then brought her back down. Her back arched when he sucked on her clit just right and a smug hum of satisfaction rumbled from his chest. One hand dropped from the headboard to thread itself into his hair and she leaned against the wood, her body taut.

“Alex, I’m c-close.”

Her voice was a hot whisper and she could barely tell that he nodded. Not until her first orgasm crashed through her and her thighs quivered, tightened around his head. Like an unexpected gentleman, he worked her through it and massaged her aching thighs. Her breath came back to her and her body went lax. He helped her down his body, her muscles warm and a bliss in her blood that made her all the more pliable in his hands. He set her back against the mattress and hovered over her again.

“Better?”

The complete nonchalance to the way he licked her off his lips as he sat up stoked another surge of heat in her. She reached for him and was stunned to see him move away. He smirked at her as he stood up, seemingly not caring about the fact that he was rock hard. Confusion flooded her face.

“What? Where are you going?”

“Bathroom. You were the one having trouble sleeping,” he said, that goddamn brow of his cocked again at her. Her eyes fell to look at his hips. Fuck, she really wanted to touch him and he knew it. Her nails scratched her palms. “Not me.”

“What?”

He leaned into her and kissed her long enough so she could taste herself. Then he pulled away and smiled at her. She seethed.

“Oh, you absolute bastard.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. His voice lowered and took on a conspiratorial tone. “We’re stuck here for two days. You gonna make it?”

He walked away and she watched him leave. But before he stepped into the bathroom and locked it, he glanced back at her.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

#alex reynolds imagine #alex reynolds fic #alex reynolds fanfiction #alex reynolds smut #aew imagine #aew smut #aew fic #aew fanfiction #wrestling imagine #wrestling fic #dark order imagine

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neonponders · 3 years

Text

I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself @hoegrove your Bond!au is just too strong.

Based on their post here ~

I hope you like it 🥺 🌹 it’s on ao3, if that’s easier for anyone to read 🌹

• • • • • • •

013.

Fucking 013. Not 00.

Which meant he’d have to wait for whoever got the 00 status he deserved to either die or become incompetent.

“Congratulations, Hargrove. Report to HQ for briefing.”

He’d rather be headed for the private plane that would take him to some tropical location, where capitalist monsters waited for his bullet.

Hargrove stepped out of the elevator onto the spacious floor. He really wished HQ would renovate. The concrete floors, glass walls, and metal beams were urban but not chic.

He found the corresponding desk of his... “partner” of sorts. Every number had a letter. The computer and the muscle. As Hargrove removed his outer garment, though, only the computer desk was present, while the person -

“Could you not dump your nasty jacket on my work station?”

Hargrove sighed and found the loon - on a bicycle. He frowned. “What the hell are you doing on a bike inside?”

“It helps me think,” Q said, riding slow laps in between the cubicles. Granted, there weren’t many of them, and Hargrove was pretty sure he’d only ever seen Q and maybe three other people on this entire floor, unless there was a crisis.

Maybe that’s why he had yet to be promoted to 00. Too much peace.

“Take your jacket off my seat!”

“Jesus Christ,” Billy cursed. He balled up the ruined jacket and threw at the bastard’s head. To his credit, he didn’t crash into anything. “Clean freak.”

“That’s Q to you,” he barked, dumping the raggedy garment into the nearest bin.

“Sure, Steve,” he purred, knowing his partner loathed the fact that he had figured out his real name. Hargrove wouldn’t work for just anybody, after all. And he was a detective first. Hired gun second.

He didn’t actually need Q. So he told himself. But Steve sure came in handy.

“So help me god, Billy. Did you at least keep my pen intact?”

“Your what?” He landed in Steve’s spinning chair, forcing the guy to lean his bike against his cubicle and stand with his hands on his hips.

“My pen, dip shit. You know, the one that’s basically a Swiss army knife. The one sanctioned by HQ to one Asshole Hargrove - ”

“Oh, that,” he said distantly, gazing out at the city around them. “It broke.”

Not surprised, nor impressed, Steve remarked, “You realize that if some nerd civilian reverse-engineers half the shit you lose, we might be genuinely compromised, right?”

“Then make better stuff.”

“Stop losing it, and you might actually be 00 one day.”

Billy glared with all the menace a man could while having his chair rolled out of the way. Steve shoved him aside with his foot and entered his computer password before navigating to the corresponding case briefs. Billy let his head recline on the seat while Steve went through the list.

“Target?”

“Deceased.”

“Car?”

“Totaled, but returned.”

“Pen: lost in action. Suspect?”

“Null. Excellent in bed, though.”

“You’re a cliche.” Steve glared from behind his glasses.

“Stop giving me cases with attractive people, then,” Billy smirked. “Who’s my next target? Tell me they live somewhere expensive and sunny.”

“Like a desert?”

“No, like Marseilles.”

“Oh, Marseilles is nice,” Steve chirped distractedly. “If you like French people.”

Billy snorted, but it evolved into laughter. “What’s wrong with French people?”

“They’re French.”

“Wow. Picky.”

Steve giggled under his breath and said, “I’m sorry I don’t have a gig for you in France.”

“I’m sure I’ll managed,” Billy sighed. “What do you have?”

“Something more domestic.”

Billy exhaled through his nose, warranting a curious peek from Steve. “Yeah, that’s what I’m stuck with. One zero and domestic jobs.”

“You’ll get there,” Steve reassured. Softly. Which was...odd.

Billy’s head rolled over the back of the chair to stare at him. Steve quickly added, “If you stop breaking the shit I loan you.”

Billy looked toward the ceiling, pressing his lips into an impertinent line...

“Q.”

“Hm?” he asked while typing away.

“There’s a bird in here.”

Steve looked at him. “What?” and followed his gaze up to the metal rafters. A grey bird gazed right back at them. “Oh shit - ”

Billy already had his pistol out. One shot knocked the bird off its perch. It landed with a loud, metallic clatter.

Steve's body doubled over when Billy wrenched his arm in the direction away from the device, and not a second too soon. The force of the explosion knocked them both over one cubicle and roughly onto the concrete floor.

"Q," Billy growled when the guy scrambled to his feet and back to his desk. He reached underneath it, uncovering a baseball bat of all things, and swung right over his hard drive. Metal and plastic debris rained over the floor, and then he ran to the router standing on a low piece of furniture along the wall. He wrenched its cables out and smashed the thing too.

Then he looked up at Agent Hargrove. "We're compromised."

Billy was already moving toward the scattered carcass of the spy bird. They didn't have a lot of time. Already, another explosive rumble sounded beneath their feet, on another floor. Billy quickly found the piece he was looking for, and pocketed it before yanking Steve in the direction of the stairs.

"I need a car."

"You know where the garage is."

"You're coming with me. That thing heard both of our names."

Steve defended, "We both lost our original identities when we signed up for this bullshit."

"We don't know what we're dealing with yet," Billy reasoned. "Until then, you're safest with me."

"Well that's pathetic." His words might've landed better if they didn't rattle out of him while they did their best to sprint down several dozen flights of stairs.

"You're really sassing me right now? What are you gonna do with that bat?"

Steve ignored that to proclaim, "We need to get to my place. I have a backup computer connected to the system."

"And how do we know it's not compromised too?"

"Because it's mine. Not the system's."

Billy could only frown at him ever so briefly, but he pocketed that information away for another time. For now, they descended into the belly of their organization, where the garage of vehicles rested beneath the city. There, another argument awaited him.

"You're not taking the goddamn Camaro."

"I'm taking the goddamn Camaro," Billy retorted, already ripping the keys out of the cabinet Steve unlocked for him.

"It's loud as all hell!"

"So are you. Get in the car."

Another explosion shook the concrete columns of the garage. Steve ducked his head and coughed on the dust while he threw himself into the car a millisecond before Billy left tire tracks on the floor. "What are you doing?"

Steve was pressing buttons on the dash. Somewhere behind them, a mechanical part was moving in the car. "We don't know how many birds infiltrated the building. I'm rotating the license plates - egh!"

He collapsed against his seat when the car angled up to speed onto the city streets. Billy mused, "And what can you do for speed trap cameras?" and held up a middle finger to the camera angled over the four-way intersection.

"Nothing yet. We'll have to trade cars eventually."

"Not soon enough."

"What?" Steve all but screeched, and turned around to see behind them. "At least you're not the only stereotype in this business."

He got the words out a moment before the large, black SUV rammed into the back of the Camaro. "Put your seatbelt on."

"IT IS ON!"

Steve provided his own chorus of swears and exclamations while Billy navigated through the city, tossing his partner left and right in his seat, avoiding another collision with the SUV that would spin them out of control. When Steve began digging through the glove box and lowering his window, Billy bellowed, "What are you doing?"

"A PEN!" he yelled before throwing something behind them. A second later, the SUV's front lifted off the road so the whole thing fell onto its side.

It was Billy's turn to exclaim, "Those things explode?"

"YES THEY EXPLODE!"

"YOU NEVER TOLD ME THEY EXPLODE!"

"WHY DO YOU THINK I TOLD YOU NOT TO TAP THE PEN THREE TIMES?"

"YOU ARE SO GODDAMN LUCKY MY DICK HASN'T BEEN BLOWN OFF."

Steve pointed out the front windshield. "BILLY!"

Another SUV narrowly rammed them from the side, but Billy pulled on the brake and swung the car into a 180. Some civilian took the brunt of that particular attack, but Billy officially needed to get them the hell out of here. Whoever wanted their heads for trophies didn't care about national news.

Which was possibly the most dangerous piece of this mess. Arguably the most powerful component of a country was its press, and these assholes didn't care if they earned the media's or internet's attention.

It was another aspect in itself that Billy had ridden in one too many black SUV's. That would also account for someone's ability to install too many explosive birds in the building.

"Billy?" Steve piped when he drove down the stairs leading to the boardwalk along the river. Billy focused on the new car behind them. He looked across the river at the opposite riverbank, where the walls sloped up. He needed to get over there.

The car rattled as he sped up a flight of stairs to the street once more, but did a hard left onto the bridge that crossed the river.

Down the stairs again, this time slaloming over the ramped wall, keeping an eye on his rearview to see how tunnel-visioned the SUV behaved.

A hand gripped the wide bell of his forearm. "Billy," Steve rasped. There wasn't a stairwell at the end of this riverbank. Just a concrete wall.

Billy went up the ramp, and braked with a hard turn on the steering wheel. The SUV tried to brake in time, but the Camaro clipped the back tire, and it spun right over the side into the river.

Billy k-turned back in the direction of the stairs. He drove seamlessly into the midday, traffic, turning on his windshield wipers against the heavy drizzle. He glanced at Steve, who had not let go of his arm. At a stoplight, Billy's other hand overlapped his, earning a pale, ghostly stare.

"We need to get to the subway. Then your place."

Despite his shock, Steve nodded and said, "Two blocks down."

Billy found the station, lodged their car in a back alley between a Polish restaurant and a laundromat, and circled the car to help Steve out. "I'm fine," he said even as his knees gave out and he hung between his arms on the car door and roof.

"I see that," Billy replied. He nestled in close to wrap an arm around Steve's softer waist. "Put your weight on me."

He did, and Billy kicked the door shut behind them. "Do you have a metro card?"

"Do I have a metro card?" Billy snorted on their way to the entrance.

"You can't jump the turnstiles."

"I'm not leaving a paper trail. I don't know if my cards are compromised too. That bird sat right over your desk, pretty boy. Someone wanted a real close eye on you. Maybe even kill you. We can try and figure out who else was under surveillance later."

They did not earn approving looks from vaulting the turnstiles, but they made it to the train, and then forty minutes or so later, Steve's apartment. By then, his color had returned to his face, and Billy couldn't help but tease, "Do you always bring colleagues home?"

Steve sighed and didn't grace that with a response. He unlocked his door, and Billy perused the living room and its bay window. The place was nice. White walls. Light wooded floors. Colorful dish ware. A bedroom off to the right with an unmade bed, and a dining room to the left with an array of folders and a laptop on it.

Billy placed the broken bird piece beside the laptop. "I don't know how much you can get out of this. But it's a start."

Steve maneuvered around him and sank into the chair. "Help yourself to the kitchen."

Billy did exactly that, and only found a few hints at the neurosis of a tech genius: Steve's pantry was entirely filled with bags of chips and hot sauce. His apartment also wielded the same characteristic Steve used at work: cleanliness. There wasn't so much as a lingering cereal dish in the sink.

Billy went about scrambling some eggs, frying up some bacon, and heating up a box of leftover diner hash browns. He poured a bottle of white and brought the dishes to the table. He set the glass of wine in view of the laptop. "For your nerves. Try to eat something."

"Thanks," Steve murmured. He didn't touch his food, but Billy sat opposite him and plunged his fork into his eggs.

After he cleaned his plate, he started tapping the back of the laptop screen, causing whatever Steve was reading to bounce. As if tossed out of a reverie, Steve inhaled sharply and took his glasses off to scrub his face. Naturally, Billy chuckled and plucked up the glasses to see how the other half lived...

"Steve."

"Hmm?" he mumbled from inside his hands.

"Explain to me why your glasses are asking for 004 authentication?"

His hands lowered so he could see Billy wearing his glasses and the nearly invisible screens layered inside the glass. The muscles of his jaw ticked as he reached across the table. Billy let him remove the glasses, but his stare did not waver until Steve relented, "I'm not 004 anymore."

Billy blinked, hard, as he absorbed that. "When were you an agent?"

Steve pushed his fork around his plate. "Right as you joined."

"Am I really going to have to pull your teeth for this? Because someone must know who you are, or were. Knows enough to keep an eye on you. How many other 00s are retired into office work?"

"My whole team," he heaved. Surrendered. "It all happened too fast. I was elevated to 00 status and just as quickly flunked out of it. Then they gave me you."

Steve exhaled as if there was a whole lot more there. Then he added, "Consider this a mentorship."

Billy huffed and relaxed against his chair. "So my guardian angel is the one keeping me from my promotion."

It took a second, but Steve processed that and lifted his head. "What?"

"You. I don't get to be a 00 until a 00 gives me the okay."

Something shy of a grimace flitted across Steve's features. "Maybe you'd be one, if you learned how to say thank you. You're not god. I've saved your ass at least twice without even being in the same country as you."

"You're a P.T.S.D. case with a laptop. That's all."

"And you're a gun with childhood trauma and abandonment issues. Welcome to the fucking club. We have special glasses."

He stabbed his hash browns and started eating. Billy crossed his arms and brooded in silence.

Abandonment issues, my ass, he mused, but could not help but watch the man opposite him eat. He'd never actually seen Steve eat. He'd certainly always been available whenever Hargrove called, regardless of timezone or courtesy of sleep.

It's hypocritical to call him an angel and treat him as disposable...after you hauled him around like precious luggage.

Billy didn't like that thought one bit.

This job wasn't actually a business. It was a lifestyle. One that didn't grant angels or precious items. And the same voice that called Steve, Angel, kept whispering in Billy's mind.

Compromised.

Something moved in his periphery and he had his gun out before he even thought twice. "What the hell is that?"

Steve, to his credit, hadn't flinched. "The cartoons refer to it as a pussy cat. She wants your bacon."

The fluffy ginger that had jumped onto the table stared Billy down until he relinquished his last piece of bacon. "Why am I not surprised that you have a cat?"

"Considering your reaction, I'd say you were petrified."

"Shut up, Steve."

"No guns on the table."

Billy groaned and set the device on the console table behind him. "Yes, dear."

It was going to be a long case.

#they're married already #harringrove #007!au #hoegrove #neonponders #pondermoniums

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silvanable · 3 years

Text

Overblot Theory (pt1?)

okay okay all my twst darlings, i bring forward a theory. and please bear with me because this is written in the middle of the night-morning & i am thriving on sleep drugs that aren’t doing their job, so there’s likely a million typos and half of it or more might sound like drunk rambling the irony of never being drunk lol.

also i’m tagging now that this contains spoilers i guess? i haven’t finished chapter 5 ( i’m still fairly early in ) yet but i’m literally going to be talking about everything i’ve seen thus far regarding overblot and those effected by it.

aNYWAYS—

so we all know how overblot works right? nasty emotional build up, using too much magic, and then sNAP!

that’s great and dandy, it seems like a build up that gets to a tipping point and suddenly that last drop cracks the glass and everything comes flooding out— right?

but what if overblot isn’t actually that flood point where they turn? what if the overblot is the whole process, not when they are consumed by the negative energies and black magic that force such a violent change on them?

so in every chapter thus far, there is always a few scenes were were see the ink dripping. gradually as we progress through the chapters, we watch as the character begins to spiral and is consumed by negative emotions. each time we see the ink, it splotches more and more, growing and forming a larger puddle each time.

BUT— each case is slightly different from the others, despite having the same trends with each dorm and the inevitable overblot, each character has a different way of reaching that.

so we have the general order everyone overblots for plot purposes, but in my opinion the fact riddle didn’t overblot sooner was fucking astounding. we’re shown how liberally he used his magic and the super strict and toxic mindset he had which was forced on him since childhood. then after each scene we saw of the ink pooling, riddle would gradually become worse in the chapter, until the moment he snapped and became a homicidal maniac.

leona was similar, except instead of him using his magic, he was consumed by his own emotions more and more. it was his hatred from his brother, his family, and his home that started it. then the issue of being second still in nrc to someone like malleus. many reasons to why leona is a lazy ass but i love him still oof but because he kept these things contained, letting it boil and seep into him, it made these things so much worse than they should have been. so ultimately when his plan fails, after trying so hard and becoming so desperate, there’s a surge and he transforms.

azul goes down a combined path, he uses his magic constantly, even with a buffer like a contract and his crystal, and is consumed by his own self loathing and emotions that send him spiraling. the final straw is the moment when his contracts are stolen and disintegrated by leona. but it was already shown throughout chapter 3 that azul has a moment of breaking, despite his composure, was spiraling the moment yuu started poking around. and being outsmarted did nothing for his barely existing pride to begin with.

jamil, out of all of them, but far hurt me the most because all of his sly tactics and underhanded tricks were really because he was trying to fight so he could be himself. fully heartedly believe if grim and yuu never showed up, he would have never overblotted. granted what jamil does is a big dick move but his entire life he’s been repressed and he has no freedom to himself what so ever— essentially he was forced to be an adult since he was a child and lemme tell you that ain’t fun. the one thing i consider a key part here is not the fact his emotions got the better of him in the end, but the fact he used his unique magic on the entire fucking scarabia dorm.

as for vil, granted i don’t know much, but pride and especially vanity will no doubt play a lot into his overblot all because of his rival neige. he’s already a very strict and disciplined character who holds himself very high and strives for nothing less than perfection... so we all know how that ends.

each one of them showed similar tendencies. all of them have some sort of inferiority complex, repressed emotions, and magic is always involved in small or excessive quantities. what i think is going on is not that suddenly they are overwhelmed— no, the overblot starts before anyone notices. that’s what the ink represents.

let’s assume that everyone, no matter what, always has blot, regardless if their magic crystals are ‘clean’ and ‘clear’. after all, the crystals are supposed to be an extra barrier between the user and magical backlash, but emotions have to play a part in this too. so while the crystals protect from magic blot, emotional is different... they just kind of soak that disgusting ink right up and channels all their magic right through it and the crystals only soak up so much of it.

so everyone has some blot? great. but what’s the point of this? i’ll tell you! it’s that each person handles it differently. our boys here all swallow their complaints, the crap they deal with, disagree with, or have been served, and try to shove it into some deep, dark, forgotten pit to never see again. except it doesn’t work, because the more they use magic the more it warps those feelings, feeding off of it. it uses emotions as a sort of super charge for the magic, which creates more negative magic and amplifies the emotions.

so the overblot had already started by the time yuu and grim show up, just some of the boys had decent wraps of it all and didn’t have a nosy human ruining their fucking plans.

okay, kidding, i don’t believe that yuu and grim play a super major part, as eventually the overblots would happen with our without them. either way, i don’t think there would have been a way to stop it without knowing and solving the problem before the transformed and needing anyone in the near vicinity with ability to beat the shit out of the monster controlled student & knock some sense back into them.

i think that by the time yuu shows up, it’s already too late. that first moment we see the ink drip and gather? that’s the start and there’s no stopping it. why? because that was the overblot, the end of filling up and the beginning of tipping without a way to reverse it.

instead of having their emotions all tucked away, the magic has morphed into something nasty, too strong, and they might not even know it. at this point, it’s less about them actually accumulating blot and more that every negative emotion and burst of magic they let out begins to accelerate the build up attracting every little bit of negativity and magic whether or not they actually feel or do anything. the transformation is not the overblot finally happening, it’s the completion, when all that black magic, blot, and emotions burst free from its cage and utter consumes the host.

now i’m not going into the theory i have about the overblot forms and the shadows, because that’s an entirely different topic for me about possession and the great 7, but what i’m trying to say here is—

the overblot is the whole process, not just the transformation and monstrous shadow lurking behind the newest asshole victim.

the ink forming, the unstable spiral each character falls into, and finally the explosion that transforms them. it’s the magic and emotions that muddled together taking on an intent of its own, a will of nothing but chaos and destruction, taints their magic crystals, and uses the host as a means of executing it by clouding their minds and giving them the power they always wanted and needed.

after all, when you’re drunk on power and fed by trauma, are you really going to listen to reason or do what you want because you finally have the ability to do so? of course you’re going to listen to the little voice that says to destroy and take it all for yourself!

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shimmershae · 3 years

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My thoughts on Episode 7--Promises Broken

Placed behind a cut for those of you that would rather escape my babbling, lol. You’re welcome.

The episode opens with Maggie, Elijah, Father Gabe, and Negan.

Right away I can’t help feeling disappointed because the emotional core of last episode (Kelly and Connie’s reunion and the aftermath) seems like it’s being ignored and punted further down the road so we can waste another hour getting piece meal progress on the Reaper front, but I’m going to try to push my misgivings away and enjoy this episode for what it is, so.

“Daryl just told us to go home.”

And save your hides and keep the rest of the community safe? I can’t argue that Negan might have an actual point here, lol. But Maggie sure can.

Not gonna lie. When Negan came back with “I think he was being subtle. He said they were armed with lookouts” I had to LOL.

“We will never be even.” I mean. Maggie been frustrating me with her stubbornness in this suicide mission, true. But she right. They will never, ever be even.

“Ya’ll know Blackbeard, too?” I admit it. I laughed. A little.

Okay. I don’t know if this bodes well for this episode or not, but the cold opening in this episode? Was the most underwhelming cold open of this season.

At least the opening credits still give me that old familiar rush of the heyday of TWD.

Fake Stephanie and Eugene are on Walker clean up duty. Hmm. I think I’m going to refer to Fake Stephanie as Fifi until she gets a real name for brevity’s sake.

Fifi handles herself surprisingly well with the Walkers. Is she one of Mercer’s stormtroopers working undercover maybe?

Somehow I doubt it’s true that our friends can trust “Lance” but whatever, lol.

I hate to admit it but I’m already kind of bored with this episode. We’re barely over 6 minutes in.

I didn’t recognize Princess without her fluffy pink coat!

Zeke is definitely struggling.

I do like that these two have been paired up. They have taken to each other quickly and already have a good rapport. There’s something endearing about their scenes together.

“Never been afraid of hard work. Kinda anti-friends who die from stubbornness.” Have I mentioned lately how much I love Princess? Because I really, really do.

So it’s been days. Has it been days that Maggie and Negan and Co. have been outrunning the Reapers? I’m talking since they left the safe house. Does that mean that it’s also been days since Kelly and Connie’s reunion? This timeline is so slow and yet they keep telling us it’s been days and making me think we’ve been missing time. Like I can’t even.

You know Carol’s “Pookie is in danger” senses have to be big-time tingling by now if it’s been DAYS.

Also? Alden almost certainly has to be dead.

But I digress. They obviously don’t want us getting hung up on the apparent time warp between ASZ, Meridian, and the Commonwealth. It’s like the Bermuda Triangle of the ZA.

“A person with your pedigree...”

Okay then. Commonwealth is full of uppity assholes. Good to know.

Yumiko looks classy! I say that in my best Princess voice, lol.

Well. At least they’ve given Daryl Dog back. Has Dog come to his senses though? That is the question.

Daryl sharing a smoke with the enemy to gain some intel. Or maybe just the keys to food storage.

So. Another redshirt (Elijah’s sister’s friend) we don’t know bites the dust. Meh. Including that tidbit in the trailer was purposefully misleading, lol. Not that I want people to die, but still.

“But the one? He’s mine.” Let’s take bets. Was it Carver Elijah has a beef with because it just seems like it was. Could also be that his name is the only one I know, lol.

Where is Maggie sending our hobbled Father G?

“I kept my mask for practical and sentimental reasons.” Negan? You almost had me. He really can’t help his inherent asshole-ishness can he?

But seriously. Yuck at what they about to do because I assume Alpha and Co. at least cured the nasty skins.

I wish I could say I give a damn that they’re attempting to give Leah some more likeable layers but it’s a cheap cheat so naw.

There’s that damn river that symbolizes the great divide between Daryl and his love and his family. At least it’s pretty.

I’m with Daryl. Is Pope just looking to cleanse the earth of those he doesn’t feel belong or what? Wheedle the truth out of her, Daryl.

“You never needed anyone to make you strong.”

Think our guy has ever said this to his real girl?

It’s kinda funny that the Whisperer flunkie is now the herding Whisperer tutor.

Is that the Reaper’s version of a priest? Sorry. I swear. I’ve been trying to pay attention during their scenes. But my mind wanders because it feels like Woodbury and the Sanctuary all over again. The Whisperers at least were elevated by Samantha Morton, Ryan Hurst, Thora Birch, and yes, Jeffrey Dean Morgan. Like I love Norman Reedus and the character he’s crafted in Daryl but he’s not enough to have me enthralled with Leah and these dudes. I don’t care if they were all Calendar pinups before the ZA.

Truly. A+ casting with Yumiko’s brother.

Yeah. Something’s definitely fishy about Tomi’s reluctance to go back to his old life in the Commonwealth, but the desire for a slower, less stressful existence is definitely relatable so I’m not going to hold that part against him at all.

What did Maggie say after Elijah asked if Negan had changed? Because I replayed it a handful of times and still don’t know.

This Lancy Hornsby dude reeks of slimy politician.

Too much one on one Daryl and Leah in this episode. Without any kind of chemistry at least these two drag each other and their parts of the episode down. Leah’s character is a fail for me and it has nothing to do with shipping reasons. She’s just not believable or authentic to her role as a mercenary.

“If I could do it all over again, I’d have killed every single one of you.” Damn. Well. He’s being true to himself, I guess. Unapologetically Negan.

Again. I can’t say Negan’s wrong exactly but shit does he deliver some uncomfortable truths.

Princess’s childlike delight over treats is <3.

Look at Eugene running toward danger! OG Eugene would never. Abe would be so proud.

Eugene and Fifi actually work pretty good together but it all feels so staged. I feel sorry for our guy.

“This guy was being, well, an asshole.” LMAO @ Josh’s delivery. The asshole definitely deserved that punch and his date deserved to be eaten.

Real Stephanie is so pretty.

Aww. She’s concerned about Eugene.

Oh shit. Eugene punched Pamela Milton’s little entitled prick of a son. This feels like the ASZ Monroes all over again. Sorry. I can’t remember their names.

Poor Eugene. Have I said that already?

Is this Lance Hornsby guy the lesser of two evils or...”

All the chances you’ve gotten, hmm? Seems to me they’ve been set up for some failure too, though.

Maggie and Negan leading a herd where? Meridian?

That poor woman. Just wanting her family safe and spared of seeing her meet her maker.

So Leah’s not completely cold. Okay. Doesn’t mean she’s able to be saved though.

At this point, Kang is just yanking Daryl’s chain and ours in the process.

Even hidden behind that skin mask, Elijah made me tear up when he saw his sister.

No previews? What a copout.

Not Kang correlating Maggie and Negan to child and coach, lol.

The narrative they keep pushing about the villains having families and FEELINGS doesn’t change much for me, Angela. Gracie was the only innocent in that outpost Team Family attacked. I’m not saying they should have done it but stop trying to make the bad guys sympathetic. It isn’t earned.

Interesting how she mentions Gabe is trying so very hard to hold onto faith.

If Leah’s the frog boiling in that pot? They better be serving frog legs to the starving community she’s hunting. Just saying.

Overall impression of this episode?

It was boring. No seriously.

I wish I could say I liked it better but it was just meh. I can’t even muster up any words because I just feel blah about it and that’s not a good feeling to have going into the first final (mid? half? tri? I don’t know what to call it) episode of the season.

Withholding the previews further adds to the doldrums because what is there to actually be excited about here after that episode? At least try to pique our interest, Angela.

#The Walking Dead #Season 11 #TWD spoilers #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons

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bottomlouisficfest · 4 years

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We hope you’ve enjoyed the second week of fics from the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Every weekend, we’re compiling all of the fics from that week into one roundup post so they’re easy to find for anyone looking to catch up on fics they missed. Enjoy these amazing fics and give them the love they deserve!

blinded by the sparks

A fic by wallstracktwo on AO3 | @wallstracktwo on Tumblr

22k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

"You can’t even keep your lies straight. Mike has the memory of an elephant and can remember every single detail about every single person he’s ever met, so don’t stand there and tell me that he mixed you up with someone else.” He took back Harry’s cigarette. “I saw you exchanging lower chips for higher ones. I saw you counting the cards. There is no fucking way you won seven thousand dollars tonight honestly. And so I will repeat myself — I want in. Fifty-fifty.”

Harry was completely taken aback by the stunningly attractive man standing in front of him. He made several attempts to say something — opening and closing his mouth at least twice before he was finally able to string a few words together. “What? No. No way. No. Sorry, but I work alone.”

That was the truth too — he had never trusted anyone enough to let them get close, especially when it came to his scamming, so having a partner was completely, utterly out of the question.

“Don’t you think you need someone on the…” Louis’ tongue darted out, licking his lips as his eyes flickered to Harry’s mouth, one eyebrow cocking up. “...inside.”

Or - Harry is a scammer who drifts from casino to casino. Louis is the new waiter who wants in on the scam.

somewhere in between

A fic by soldouthaz on AO3 | @soldouthaz on Tumblr | soldouthaz on Twitter

42k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis wakes up early. He brushes his teeth and can only stomach a piece of toast for breakfast, dressing quickly and heading for the car. He pulls into the parking lot of the Department of Dominance and Submission just as they’re unlocking the doors. It takes him all of an hour in the uncomfortable chairs to fill out the paperwork to the best and most accurate of his ability, handing it over to the receptionist as soon as he’s finished and wiping his sweaty palms on his business trousers.

There’s a high chance that within ten to fifteen business days, Louis will be matched with a dominant.

Shit.

On My Mind All The Time, Say You're Mine

A fic by Safetypinprince on AO3 | @roselouis on Tumblr | femboyIouis on Twitter

9k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Dude, we’re inside, and it’s night time. Those don’t look as cool as you think they do.” Louis could kick himself, he sounded so stupid, but it certainly got the guy’s attention.

It was at that unfortunate moment that he noticed several other things about this hot asshole, that he hadn’t noticed just staring from afar. First, when Louis spoke to him, his gaze was kind of unfocused behind his sunglasses, and secondly, that he had a red and white cane folded up under his arm.

“I’m… Blind,” the man chuckled, awkwardly.

Louis wanted to melt into a puddle out of pure embarrassment.

“I— am so sorry. I have to go.”

“Hey, wait, wait,” the man soothed, grabbing at Louis’ shoulders before he could get away.

“I’m sorry,” Louis repeated, looking down at his shoes.

“It’s alright,” He cackled. “I get it a lot. More than you know.”

Alternatively titled: and they were roommates.

A Silent Whisper (That's Left Unsaid)

A fic by MyEnglishRose on AO3 | @lwtisloved on Tumblr | darlinlou on Twitter

50k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“So… we’re doing this?”

Louis shrugs, suddenly acting disinterested.

“Your call, Curly.”

Instead of a verbal response, Harry suddenly takes Louis’ left hand in his. The black ring seems to nag him as the fire’s light reflects its polished edges. He ignores Louis’ curious gaze as he quickly takes off one of his own rings — the rose one —, sliding it on Louis’ middle finger. It is a little large and when he lets go of his hand, Louis has to curl it into a fist so the ring doesn’t immediately fall off.

“We’ll tell them it’s a promise ring, not an actual engagement,” Harry declares, trying to ignore how warm his cheeks feel. Hopefully, it can’t be seen as he is facing away from the fireplace.

“Right… could have gotten me a fitted ring though, my Harry ten years ago was more thoughtful.”

Louis’ tone is light and teasing again. It creates a small smile on Harry’s lips.

“Someday,” he whispers before he even registers it himself.

They both ignore it.

Or. A Fake Relationship & Exes to Lovers AU ft a failed proposal ten years ago, an oblivious Harry, an overworked Louis, Zayn as the protective best friend, a meddling aunt and a lot of talks about weddings and rings.

sweet like honey

A fic by falsegoodnight on AO3 | @falsegoodnight on Tumblr | falsegoodnight on Twitter

33k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Weeks of flat shopping with their limited budget with Louis as a librarian aid and Harry as a barista and arguments about whether a balcony or extended bathroom suite were more important (Harry wanted to be able to feel the crisp night’s air and watch the sun set and Louis just wanted to take long bubble baths) led to them stumbling across the perfect fit. A small flat only ten minutes from campus with a cramped but lovely balcony and an included bath.

It’s affordable too… well, sort of. But they always manage. Louis picks up more shifts as an aid, adapting a habit of bringing his Psych textbooks and homework with him to finish in between duties, and later his script so he can quietly practice lines with little distraction.

Harry also increases his number of shifts at the cafe and valiantly endures the nasty customers who for some reason flock to their establishment like moths to a flame.

For a while, it’s enough.

Or, Harry and Louis need money and they find an unconventional solution in the form of PornHub. It’s not supposed to be a big deal.

Spoonful of Sugar

A fic by zanni_scaramouche on AO3 | @zanniscaramouche on Tumblr

42k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry Styles.

A name better suited for a myth than a man. Like the name of the devil, people either whisper it in fear or laugh it off as fable. Cut it open and this city’s heart doesn’t bleed red. It’s snowy white, and it pulses in the tight grip of Lucifer himself.

Louis Tomlinson cares for his family above all else, a fact that’s led him on a twisted path peddling drugs to support them. Just as he’s made the decision to jump ship, Louis gets snared between the two largest crime syndicates in the city. To keep his family safe he’s forced to trust the man that failed to keep his promise two years ago, the resident drug lord he’s unknowingly been working for, Harry Styles.

Let's Break the Internet

A fic by louizsv on AO3 | @ashleyjohnsonfanaccount on Tumblr | piccadillyplum on Twitter

9k | Explicit | Louis/OMC | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“I’ll tell you what,” Sam leans forward in his chair and steeples his fingers in front of his face, “If you actually make an account and sell nudie pics and porn for more than three months, I’ll believe you.”

Louis purses his lips, ignoring the returning blush on his cheeks at the thought of having to film himself in compromising positions or taking photos of himself without any clothes on. Raising his chin defiantly, Louis accepts the challenge.

“Fine,” he agrees, “But when I win, you have to make one too.”

Lips quirked, Sam nods and holds out a hand, “Deal.” -- Or, the one where Louis is an Only Fans baby.

in a sea of mist

A fic by tomlinvelvet on AO3 | @tomlinvelvetfics on Tumblr

126k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

A Greek Mythology/Camp Half-Blood AU where Harry is lost, the road to peace is a wretched one, and somehow, through a mist of confusion and regrets, Louis seems to be the only thing that makes sense and everything Harry needs.

---

View the other roundup posts here:

Week #1 Fic Roundup

#fics 2020

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