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#sorry this is such a not positive review lol
juniperhillpatient · 1 year
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The Puppetmaster Re-Watch
This is an interesting episode because I have such a love-hate relationship with it. I think it's a fantastic episode in many ways - the atmosphere & tension are well-built, the mystery is fascinating & creepy, & Hama is a fantastic character in many ways. But, there's also....well, a lot that bothers me about this episode.
I love the intro with spooky stories around a campfire. Also, along with Saphire Fire & The Painted Lady, I'd say Katara's penchant for telling stories that captivate an audience provides further evidence for my recently discovered Theatre Kid! Katara agenda. Ha!
Alright, let’s get right into Hama’s backstory. The prisons Southern Waterbenders were put into are pretty much as horrifying as ATLA - being a kid’s show - gets. They were kept alive under horrifying conditions.
I do have to wonder why Hama says her hands & feet were bound to prevent her from bending & we get a brief shot of her being given water with a spoon, bound. Then, soon after, she’s shown not bound while she’s blood bending the rats?
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I suppose it’s just a slight oversight but it seems odd.
And…. There’s a lot that’s odd about this episode & the way it’s presented, to me. It’s easy to enjoy it as a fun spooky episode that explores interesting bending concepts but there’s a few things I dislike about the narrative framing. That’s right, I’m criticizing the narrative framing on this show again. Sorry.
Much like with Jet’s introductory episode it’s like… here’s exactly how horrifically victims of this oppressive regime have suffered but you know who the real villain is? The victims who fought back the Wrong Way. Remember kids, it’s only cool to fight fascism if you do so without really upsetting the status quo & anyone who tells you otherwise is probably a sicko who wants to slaughter innocents.
Was Hama’s deranged laughter in the end necessary? Sure as a fan of scarier & darker episodes I enjoy her creepiness but at the same time, it’s frustrating to see her presented this way after knowing what she went through. Also, it’s pretty devastating for Katara that this is her one experience with another Southern Water Bender.
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Katara finally got to meet an older water bender from her culture whom she deeply respected & it ended so badly.
On that note…. I don’t understand why Katara is so fundamentally opposed to blood bending EVER. It’s like… obviously locking the villagers in the mountain is awful but it would have been really interesting to see blood bending used more effectively as a concept in the show after this.
I remembered the first time I watched the finale I was POSITIVE Katara would blood bend Azula. I mean, if not what was the point of hyping Katara up as so much more powerful than Hama & all the hints that new things were possible - I thought that Katara would be the first water bender to blood bend outside the full moon & it would come in handy during a final battle & I wish I was right ‘cause that would’ve been awesome.
Also, as a side note, I saw a joke tiktok about piss bending as a means for Southern Water Benders to escape the Fire Nation prisons but actually… it’s funny on the surface but also makes weird sense when you think about it? What if someone held in their piss long enough & pretended to go during bathroom breaks & eventually pissed their pants & used the liquid to escape? Also sweat bending exists. Or spit bending. Or storing the water they’re given in their mouths? I like to head canon that Hama actually isn’t the ONLY one to escape the prison she just thinks she is.
Anyway that was a side tangent. I actually DO enjoy this episode I just think there’s a lot about it that’s oddly framed. I would like to award Katara +1000 iconic behavior points for defeating Hama & blood bending. I would give her more but it’s weird & fucked up that she’s fine with Hama going back to Fire Nation prison knowing her backstory. Yeah what Hama did was bad I guess but like….. still.
Anyway that’s all for this episode!
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sergle · 2 months
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Question! If I ordered a few things from your Etsy, is there some sort of way to combine shipping to make it more convenient from you? I have never bought from Etsy before and am just sort of unsure of how it works, I am from Texas so the shipping shouldn't be difficult from that standpoint, only one state over.
you mean like shipping multiple orders together? bc if someone orders more than once in a short period of time, yes! I'll normally do that myself though, you don't have to ask me to combine shipping- tho sometimes people will leave a note on the order (it's very easy for me to see things written in the "note to seller" field) and that also helps me not to miss it!
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trashcandroid · 10 months
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sometimes i want to grab twitter users by the face and just scream and scream and scream and scream and violently shake and scream
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Since I hardly ever read Youtube comments on purpose, much less endeavor to carry on a conversation or whatever with someone on there, I will unfortunately subject you all (although I'm putting it below a read-more, so you have the choice to read it or not) to my critique of a comment on that video that made my eyes nearly roll out of my head.
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I don't know if it's men immediately associating everything done by [presumably cishet] men with masculinity, or if men are also inclined to associate everything done by women with femininity...but...yeah, that's probably the case here.
And, yeah, I'm sorry, but HOW EXACTLY is "In a Big Country" a "boisterous, masculine, joyous song"?! You know, the song with the lyrics "Stay alive"? The song with the lyrics "Pull up your head off the floor/Come up screaming/Cry out for everything you ever might've wanted"? That's masculine? That's JOYOUS? THAT'S PAIN; DEEP, EMOTIONAL PAIN. Dear god. I'm not sure who doesn't seem to understand masculinity or joy here. Is it me?
Because to me, especially, when I hear the line "Stay alive," I hear someone - gender considered or no - who STRUGGLES to [want to] stay alive, so that it is a deeply-felt, fervent wish that everyone who hears it continues to stay alive because that might possibly be his last hope/dream that he can depend on and take a semblance of comfort in. WHERE DOES JOY COME INTO THAT?
I'm...I'm...once again...ONCE...AGAIN...men fail to comprehend the real emotional depth intended in art. Even when originally shared by another man/men (considering what Tony Butler said on behalf of December's cover, I'm giving all of Big Country the benefit of the doubt that they knew what was at stake in the song - emotionally).
I am just shaking my damn head because I think even Stuart would laugh over that comment. I think he'd be like 'Boisterous? Joyous? Okay, show me where.' "Boisterous" MAYBE in their live performances of the song, and YET Stuart's loud and obvious urge to the audience to "stay alive" during those same performances is as genuine and serious as one can get in rock music, I think. No, I don't know who Stuart Adamson was in real life, never met him, never had the chance to know him or talk with him, etc....but from his music considered primarily, and performances and interviews considered second, I do not think he would genuinely entertain that. Maybe - maybe he would humor that comment in a 'Well, I'm just the artist, but once it's shared with the world it's not really mine anymore' type of way, but I don't think he would seriously agree.
And for the last motherfucking time (I WISH!!!), just because a woman/femme sings on a song does not automatically make it feminine. WHAT is it with people and 'perceived gender does something = that thing that was done is now apparently gendered'? Although, of course, that fails to consider that anything "non-feminine" that men do is normal (because men are the default) and anything "non-feminine" that women do is now assigned female [task/title]. Like, jesus, for fuck's sake, it's almost like IT'S JUST THE SHADOW OF THE PEOPLE WE SHOULD BE. (I'm dying on that hill.)
The real thing, in my grain-of-salt of an opinion, about this cover that deserves to be pointed out instead is that it finally reflects the intended emotional depth of the song, supported largely by the added, closing lyrics of the song: "Sometimes it's hard to stay alive." Because that's what Stuart meant by the song. He listed all of his observations about how difficult life had been lately ("I've never seen you look like this without a reason/Another promise falling through/Another season passes by you/I never took the smile away from anybody's face/And that's a desperate way to look/For someone who is still a child"), presented his coping mechanisms ("I'm not expecting to grow flowers in a desert/But I can live and breathe/And see the sun in wintertime/In a big country dreams stay with you/Like a lover's voice fires the mountainside"), and then said, 'BUT IN SPITE OF ALL THAT, if I can't go through with all of this - if all of these things don't work out for me – I hope they work for you, because I want you all to stay alive; do as I say, not as I do' - "Stay alive."
December's cover of this song sees the original writer's intent and renders it poignantly, lyrically and in the music - and damn well perfectly.
I could've just said that one sentence ^ though, and it would've made far more sense than whatever the hell that dude said about gender expectations. lol
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apollo-cackling · 9 months
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🔥 GR Reviews (no idea what those are, but now I'm curious)
oh I was referring to Goodreads reviews lol which is why I was holding myself back from complaining. that dead horse is pretty thoroughly beaten to disintegration fjajdj
but hm... okay like, yeah the top reviews of any book on GR are all unreliable and bad taken on face value but they're so consistently unreliable in specific ways that it kinda loops back to being reliable? the site is like. fine if you can find folks with similar tastes to yours and whose judgment you trust. ends up kinda being like how tumblr works except searching any topic always returns the most mundanely bad takes you've ever seen.
(so basically it sucks at a pre big proportion of what it's supposed to do but it's. decent. at the rest which.... yeah)
also aside from all the other problems w/ the posts lamenting the state of GR, I feel like a lot of them are missing that a pretty big reason why (the most visible) reviews on GR are bad is just bc in the ranking of things a review needs to reach the top, being. good. is near the bottom. so in my experience the distribution of bad opinions are like most other sites, it's just that it's always the bad ones that are the most visible. like goodreads reviews are also an endless source of frustration to me and I will absolutely complain about them in private, but I don't see the point in (publically) complaining about them?
(I could elaborate on how I've seen GR select for bad reviews but if you've seen any of the talk about youtube's algorithm and how it selects for mid stuff it's nothing all that new lol)
that's probably not all that much of an unpopular opinion uhh. I respect what Storygraph is trying to do, but it's fighting a losing battle I think. as much as GR being owned by amazon makes it suck (gods the website/app is godawful), that also gives GR several advantages that other sites are hard-pressed to contest (the kindle's goodreads integration is a pretty major reason why I'm still using both goodreads and kindle for example).
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highvern · 3 months
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When I Kissed the Teacher
Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader
Genre: fluff, humor
Summary: Mr. Kim has a crush, to his students that much is clear. It's also clear that you like him too. What happens when a group of meddlesome ten year olds decide to play cupid for their two favorite teachers?
Warnings: science teacher mingyu, grammar teacher reader, meddling students, crushes, flirting, lots of candy and coffee
Length: ~5.2k
Note: it's here! thank you to @gyuwoncheol and @gyuswhore for beta reading and to my lovely @tomodachiii for fact checking my knowledge of primary school lol
read more here
This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!
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Turning from the white board, Mingyu faces the room full of weary children. Mondays are hard. Early mornings are hard. Learning the difference between reptiles and mammals first thing on Monday morning is downright torture. But it’s nothing a little bribery (read: candy) can't fix.
"Alright class, today we're learning about animals! Who remembers what a mammal is?"
Mingyu barely finishes his sentence before a sharp knock interrupts.
“Mr. Kim,” you seethe from the doorway.
Mingyu turns around immediately, eyes wide in fear at your tone. “Yes?”
“Can I speak with you? In the hallway?”
The class of ten year olds “ooooh” as their teacher trails after you like a kicked puppy. If they weren't awake before they sure are now. He shoots a silencing look back before dipping out the door where you wait, foot tapping impatiently.
“Would you like to explain where all my printer paper went?”
Mingyu tries to play dumb. “I don’t know?”
“Oh really?" You blink. "Because I found the box in the workroom and guess what was on the printer? More of your worksheets for your class!”
“How do you know they were for my class?”
You don’t answer, in favor of shoving the animal themed coloring sheets into his chest harshly.
“Listen, anyone could have…” He trails off under your withering glare.
“If you need paper, ask!”
Mingyu burns under the reprimand. “Oh, like you asked to use my paints last month?” 
“That was an accident!" you argue, eyes wide. "And I replaced them.”
“Alright, then I’ll replace the paper I took.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
With a curt nod, you turn to leave; unaware of the blushing cheeks and heart eyes following your retreating form. But the gaggle of elementary students waiting for Mingyu's return see them clear as day; their fits of shrill giggles and whispers falling on deaf ears as he shakes off the stars clouding his mind.
Mr. Kim, their goofy science teacher, has a crush. And like children are wont to do, they hatch a scheme to help him out.
“Alright. Do we remember the difference between fragments and sentences?”
The classroom ripples with tiny voices shouting “yes” with varying degrees of confidence. Their last quiz grades are proof they haven’t quite grasped the subject yet but that’s why you’re planning for an intensive review with them today.
“Awesome! So our warm up today should be a piece of cake. I’ll help with the first one so let's all look at the boa—”
A knock at the door cuts you off. Mingyu stands in the threshold, looking positively mischievous. 
“Sorry to interrupt, Ms. y/l/n. But can I speak with you in the hall?”
Forcing a smile, you respond. “Certainly. Class, why don’t you all work with your desk partner on the worksheet and when I come back we’ll go over the answers?”
They break into groups, chattering about everything but the work you’ve assigned; most notably the way Mr. Kim beams as you follow him outside. However, once you’ve crossed beyond the border of the brightly decorated room, twenty pairs of ears strain to hear why Mr. Kim interrupted their morning lesson.
“What's this about?” you ask.
Mingyu smiles, eyes shifting to the floor. “Here's the paper I owed you.” 
“You’re kidding.”
Three hefty boxes are stacked next to your door. It’s far more paper than Mingyu used for his color sheets, and more than you’d probably need for the rest of the semester.
“I thought you could use extra since you’re too stingy to share.”
“I’m not stingy!” You scoff.
Mingyu simply flashes another self-satisfied smile before heaving a box into his arms and carrying it into your classroom. He could certainly carry all three boxes at once; anytime there were desks or anything else remotely heavy to be moved, Mingyu did so with ease. But the kids don’t think anything of the way he so obviously drags out the torture.
The kids watch Mr. Kim weave through the maze of tables towards the back of the room.
“Lia, can you open the door for me please?”
The little girl jumps from her desk and bolts for the supply closet, braids bouncy with each step.
“In here okay?” Mingyu asks.
Blinking from your stupor, you turn back to your desk as you answer. “Yeah, it’s…whatever.” 
Your class stopped their work to focus on the unfolding drama between their two favorite teachers. They don’t know why you can’t seem to stand their science teacher, and it’s anyone’s guess why Mr. Kim has decided to interrupt their grammar lesson for something so silly. But it’s clear that whenever you two meet an argument is clear to follow. And in the guidebook of elementary school, if you like a girl, you always argue with them.
So enthralled in your silent battle of wits with the peppy man, you miss the two girls plotting in the corner.
Hana turns to her friends with breakneck speed. “Did you see the way Mr. Kim smiled at her?”
“He’s so in love,” Arin sighs dreamily.
“And Miss y/l/n is blushing! We should help them.”
Their whispers are cut off when you clap. “Alright! Back to work!”
Mingyu lingers by the front until you forcibly shoo him away, huffing at the permanent smile stretched across his lips even when the door slams in his face.
“Meet at the tree during recess.” 
The two girls nod and return to their worksheets.
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A new week comes with new challenges. Today’s is the universe’s determination to make your life as difficult as possible.
Your alarm didn’t go off, your shoddy dryer left you with damp clothes, and your car battery decided a short strike would be a great way to start the freezing morning. There was barely time to wash your face with cold tap water let alone put on makeup or style your hair. To top it all off, the green lunchbox with leftovers from your favorite restaurant sits on the shelf of your fridge which means the crumbled granola bar at the bottom of your purse will finally see the light of day.
Flicking on the lights, you rush to prepare for the day. By the grace of god your first period is planning time so no students witness your near breakdown from the absolute shit storm of the morning. Not much is to be done since you already organized everything you needed Friday afternoon but the tense events of the day leave you feeling off. Not even a cup of coffee with the creamer you reserve for days like these helps the overwhelming unease rippling in the back of your throat.
Your allotted private time washes by and before you know it, a gaggle of students filters into your room, giddy on holiday spirit and sugar. The first five minutes of class are spent reminding them their butts belong in chairs at their own stations, that the warmup is for them to complete on their own, and if they aren’t feeling well enough to do classwork they need to go to the nurse.
Twenty minutes into the lesson and the worksheet for their quiz on Friday finally manages to capture their attention. A few students struggle but most are sailing through. Its the same material as last week just with a new puzzle for them to complete once they have all the correct answers.
“Alright, who can tell me what word fits for number six?” you ask.
The attentiveness you’ve sweated to cultivate all morning dissolves when a volunteer knocks to distribute candy-grams.
“Delivery!” a young woman sings as she enters, dressed in red from head to toe with heart shaped sunglasses and a sparkly headband. Her wicker basket flows with candy bars wrapped with shiny ribbon and cardstock penned with confessions.
The shrill symphony of oohs and ahhs as the kids receive pieces of candy raises the vein on your temple. 
“And for Ms. y/l/n!” the young woman sing-songs, heart headband bouncing as she approaches your desk.
The cardstock reads one of the cheesy messages the school provides for the Valentine cards they sell as a yearly fundraiser.
‘I like you a choco-lot! - your secret admirer’ 
You throw it into a drawer in your desk, oblivious to the crestfallen faces of two little girls watching with rapt attention. 
“I don’t think she likes chocolate,” Arin whispers.
“No. Remember during Halloween? She said her favorite candy is Twix. She gave Gabi an extra point on the spelling test when she brought in her halloween candy and gave them to her.” 
“Well maybe she’s mad because it wasn’t a Twix!”
“Maybe. But Mr. Kim didn’t react to the note on his desk this morning either,” Hana huffs. “But he was late so maybe he didn’t see it.”
Your second attempt to put class back on track falls flat. Instead of group review, kids come up to your desk one by one to check their answers while you nurse your headache until the bell dismisses everyone to their next destination. Another crop of students flood the seats, emotions running high from who did and didn’t receive candy in their last class. Two students end up arguing about who knows what and then proceed to break into frustrated tears.
You bite your tongue to stop from doing the same and put on one of the movies you reserve for days like these.
When Mingyu walks into your room after school ends and all the kids are dismissed for pick up, you give him a look that sends him turning around and exiting the way he came without a word.
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Tuesday brings a better attitude. Mostly because you get to take all of your class to the library for silent reading. But the homemade stirfry sitting in your lunch box in the teacher’s lounge helps too.
Your second period kids spread out through the room, some sprawled across the worn rugs on their bellies while others curl up in the much coveted bean bags; a few choose to hide between the imposing bookshelves, crowded on all sides by the smell of old paper. 
With an overly sweetened latte sitting in one hand, and a new novel in the other, you perch at the long table near the librarian's desk to ‘supervise.’
“How did you manage to get a copy of The Gate? I couldn’t even get the pre-order before it sold out.” Elise, the librarian, asks. 
You smile into your coffee cup before responding. “Eh, I know a guy.”
“You do? I thought you didn’t date?”
“I don’t.” You nod. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t have connections.”
“Well whoever your ‘connection’ is, send them my way when you're done with him.”
You pretend to ponder before answering, “I’ll think about it.”
Snapping your book shut, you rise to gather the kids to return back to class. It takes several minutes as a few refuse to join the line until their current chapter is finished and Kai pulls out the puppy dog eyes, begging to stay all day to finish his book. 
You corral them out the door with promises of more reading time on Friday if they behave well the rest of the week. Some roll their eyes but most nod enthusiastically at the opportunity to skip on their weekly quiz.
Unlocking the door, you unpack your things and find a basket of Valentine’s on your desk to be passed out. Almost all the kids receive at least one, some find two or even three heart shaped sugar cookies on their desk. Your heart squeezes when some of the students decide to divy up their cookies and gift them to the students who didn’t receive a note. 
The last cookie at the bottom of the basket has a note with your name on it and a message in the same swirly script as yesterday’s.
We go together like milk and cookies. - your secret admirer
As far as cheesy Valentine’s go, you’ve seen worse. But free snacks are free snacks and the confection tastes great dipped in your coffee.
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Your fourth period class focuses on their worksheets, silently deciphering the reading and ticking of questions. You promised whatever group finished first with the most right answers gets a special Valentine treat; full sized candies and extra credit on Friday. 
Whatever it takes to keep them focused while you work through grading everything for your other classes.
You don’t notice the man waiting at the door until one of your kids greet their science teacher; a ripple of tiny ‘Hi, Mr. Kim!’s following. 
“Sorry to interrupt,” Mingyu announces from the door. “But, ugh, the volunteer accidentally gave me this.”
“Oh! Thanks Min—Mr. Kim.” 
You take the can of orange soda from his hand and skim the note.
I have a ‘crush’ on you. - your secret admirer
None of the students can read the note from their seats but you and Mr. Kim look equally bashful. 
“What are you guys working on? Mingyu asks, hoping to diffuse the tension.
A cacophony of voice race to explain their assignment. Mingyu pretends to understand, smiling at their enthusiasm and grabbing a worksheet for himself. 
He plants himself in one of the tiny plastic chairs next to your desk meant for ten year olds rather than a grown man of his size. It’s comical the way his knees brush his chest and any small move across the slippery seat threatens to land him on the floor.
Reviewing the sheet, Mingyu announces, “Alright, how about if you guys finish your work before me, we can have a pizza party in my class on Friday?”
More screams bounce off the walls.
“You guys can’t finish if you’re talking to Mr. Kim,” you remind them.
The room descends into a cozy calm; the sound of pencils on paper, your keyboard clicks, and the soft jazz from the computer speakers blending together.
You don’t look up to grab the answer key from the corner of the desk, Mingyu huffing from his seat at being caught.
“No cheating,” you smirk under your breath.
“Creative strategy,” he argues.
Instead of answering you shake your head and continue to focus on your own tasks. 
Ten minutes and twenty emails later, two groups of students rise and approach your desk at the same time. 
“We finished first!”
“No, we did!”
“Guys,” you interrupt them. “I’ll grade them both and whoever has more right wins. Besides, Mr. Kim owes you a pizza party anyway.”
The entire class cheers at the news while Mingyu playfully pouts. Maybe if he hadn’t given up on his worksheet to snoop through the basket full of snacks on your bookshelf, he wouldn’t be eating his own words.
The second group of students to approach your desk ends up victorious. You mark down their candy orders to pick up on your weekly grocery shopping trip on Thursday night before sending them to back up their belongings so you can all head to the cafeteria.
“What’d you bring for lunch?” Mingyu asks as he walks with you to the teachers lounge to retrieve your lunch boxes.
“Pasta salad.”
“Wanna trade?” 
“What’d you bring?” you ask, handing him the black grocery bag you know carries his lunch.
“Pasta salad.”
You roll your eyes and kick the fridge shut.
After lunch you have another free period. The printing room is empty so you take advantage and make enough copies for the rest of the week. Perhaps Mingyu wasn’t wrong to bring you three boxes of paper.
Lugging the stack in hand, you turn down that hall only to find a familiar face standing guard outside your classroom.
“Arin? Why are you in the hallway? You should be in class.”
“I was just…going to the bathroom!”
“Really? Because there's a bathroom right outside Mrs. Lee’s classroom if I remember correctly.”
“It was gross!”
Considering Mrs. Lee’s classroom sits on the main hallway and intersects with two other grades, it probably looked more akin to a battlefield than a restroom at this time of day.
“Okay…but hurry back. And I’m gonna let Mrs. Lee know what took you so long so she isn’t worried.” 
You side step around her but she moves right into your path. And then again. And again.
“Arin, what are you doing?” 
“Sorry, Ms. y/l/n. I don’t feel good. Can you walk me to the nurse?”
Crouching to her height, you rest the back of your hand against her forehead. Arin never admits she doesn’t feel well even when she’s tinged green and hacking up a lung. It’s the perfect admission to keep you from peering past the threshold of your classroom and blowing the entire operation.
Until a loud crash and high pitched scream breaks the silence of the hallway.
You jump back up.“What the—”
“Wait!” Arin shouts, throwing her arms and legs wide to block your path like a three foot tall ‘X’.
“Arin, what is going on?” 
“Mr. Kim said animals make themselves bigger to be scarier,” Arin says, tiny face scowling.
“And why are you trying to scare me?” 
Another bang echoes out the classroom forcing you to pick the little girl up by her armpits and carry her inside with you. She slips from your hold as you stare with a wide mouth at the scene. A desk is pulled up to the board allowing Hana to balance atop it as she scribbles across the chalkboard.
Wil you be my Valintin? - Mr. K
“Hana! What are you doing?”
“Arin!” Hana huffs indignantly.
Arin opens her mouth to respond but the look on your face silences both girls. You help Hana down from the desktop before crossing your arms in front of you and taking a deep breath.
“Sit. Now.”
They trudge to the seats next to your desk; heads hung low, tears brimming in their eyes. Neither has been on the receiving end of such a reprimand before; they’re usually your best behaved students.
You allow them to stew in silence as you right the two chairs Hana knocked over. She doesn’t look injured which is a relief but your nerves are shot from the perplexing situation. Hana and Arin can be troublemakers but they’ve never done anything like this before.
Once you're certain the urge to yell at them is quelled you approach your desk and take a seat. You watch them expectantly. Arin chances a glance up and swiftly looks back to her lap while Hana focuses on the picture at the edge of your desk, blinking away tears.
“Girls,” you sigh. “What were you doing in here?”
“Ms. y/l/n,” Arin blubbers.
Presenting the tissue box, you wait several moments while they both dab their eyes and blow their noses before speaking again.
“We just thought…” Hana starts, glancing at the other girl.
“Thought what?”
“Mr. Kim’s in love with you and we wanted to help!”
“I see.” You nod. “Did Mr. Kim tell you that?”
They look at each other before shaking their heads ‘no.’
Your temple throbs from the situation. A measured breath through your nose sends the girls into a frenzy.
“We can tell!”
“You’re perfect for eachother!”
“And did Mr. Kim ask you to sneak into my classroom while I wasn’t here?”
“No ma’am,” they mumble in unison.
It dawns on you that the two girls have been behind all the gifts you’ve received this week.“Are you two behind all the Valentine’s I’ve gotten?”
“We were just trying to help!” cries Arin.
Moving to crouch in front of them, you wait until they both look up at you.
“It’s very sweet what you were trying to do and I’m sorry I yelled at you. But you can’t sneak out of class. What if something happened and you got hurt climbing the table?”
“I’m sorry,.” Hana says.
“Me too.” 
You pass them more tissues to wipe their noses.
“How about we get you two back to class?”
“But what about Mr. Kim?”
“Yeah! He needs to know how you feel.”
“That’s between Mr. Kim and I. Understand? Those are grown up things.”
The repulsion painting their faces forces you to bite back a snort. Instead you offer your hands, pinkies extended towards them both.
“How ‘bout this? I promise to talk to Mr. Kim if you two promise no more meddling. Okay?”
All three of you share a smile as you intertwine their pinkies with your own. 
“Now,” you say whilst jumping to your feet. “You are supposed to be in Mrs. Lee’s class. And you are supposed to be at the library.”
Escorting them both back to where they belong, they can’t help but giggle when you pass Mr. Kim’s room and he waves. The question is clear on his face but you shrug your shoulders. 
You’ll explain everything later.
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You smile knowingly at the corner of the classroom where two little cupids sit as the volunteer brings you a lollipop with a note reading ‘I’m a sucker for you.’
Part of you feels guilty they pooled their own money together to supply you and the teacher next door with treats all week in an effort to play matchmaker. But another part can’t help but laugh. And when you get the chance to tell Mingyu what they’ve planned you’ll no doubt laugh harder.
But because the universe somehow knows you lied to your students the day prior you find your reckoning in the cafeteria.
It was Mingyu’s fault. Or at least that’s what you argue. You barely made it three steps inside the room before the large man bulldozes you; sending his lunch and your own down your fronts in a palette of greens and browns.
His eyes widen in horror as a slice of tomato peels off your shirt and flops to the floor. “I am so sorry!”
“Seriously?” you choke.
The entire school watches with baited breath. Students and teachers alike watch with abject horror as you skirt around the taller man and flee with shaking shoulders and your chin dipped into your chest. Mingyu gapes like a fish as you run by, frozen in place. As hundreds of eyes settle on him, he realizes they all saw how he drenched you in salad and coffee. 
Mrs. Lee dismisses him with a nod, silently agreeing to watch his class so he can trapeze out to his car and find something suitable to wear.
Mingyu watches the game of kickball unfold across the field, keeping an eye on the rowdier students as they pick teams. But even from a distance he recognizes one face is notably absent.
He finds Kai slumped on a bench at the far corner of the playground using a stick to draw lines in the dirt at his feet.
“Hey, buddy. You feeling okay?” Mingyu asks. 
Kai never misses a game of kickball. Even when his arm was in a cast at the beginning of the year, he insisted he only needed one good arm to play defense and neither to play offense. Kai’s mom simply laughed at Mingyu’s concerned email and said her son was exactly like his dad and there was no stopping him if he was set on something.
So to have the little curly haired boy isolated on the far edge of the field is serious cause for concern.
Kai looks up briefly at Mingyu’s approach before returning to his mud art. “Mr. Kim, have you ever liked someone?”
“Liked someone?” Mingyu drops onto the bench next to him.
“Like,” the little boy inhales trying to explain himself. “Like a girl?”
Mingyu snuffs out his chuckle at Kai’s innocent question. “Yeah, why do you ask? Do you like a girl?”
“I–My friend does!”
“Okay,” Mingyu nods.
“And he doesn’t know how to tell her.”
“Well that's tough.” 
“How’d you tell the girl you liked?”
“Well,” Mingyu drops to a whisper. “Once upon a time, I had a crush on this girl. And she was the prettiest girl I ever saw. Smart and funny too.”
“Did she run fast?”
The question confuses Mingyu at first but then he remembers he’s talking to a ten year old and the rules of attraction hinge on who gets the swing the highest and jumps off.
“She ran really fast,” he nods. “And she made me so nervous I couldn’t talk to her. My palms got all sweaty and my face turned red.”
“That happens to m—I mean my friend!”
“And it feels like there's a bunch of frogs jumping around your stomach?”
“Yeah,” Kai nods. “So how’d you tell her?”
“Well one day, I finally decided to introduce myself. Walked right up to her, opened my mouth and…poof.”
“Poof?”
“Poof.” Mingyu hangs his head. “I forgot everything I was gonna say to her.”
“What happened after that?”
“She waited a few minutes and then said ‘okay, I’ll meet you at 6:30 for dinner.’”
“She knew you liked her?”
Mingyu nods gravely before imparting his most sage wisdom. “Girls are very smart, Kai.”
“So I should try and tell her I like her?”
“Your friend should at least try,” Mingyu shrugs.
Kai blushes, having been clearly caught. “But what if she doesn’t like him back?”
“That’s okay. It just wasn’t meant to be.”
“Thanks, Mr. Kim. You’re the best!”
“You’re welcome, buddy.” Mingyu gives him a fist bump before shooing him back towards his friends. “Now go play kickball, the boys need your help.”
Kai runs off but a new presence fills the vacant seat on the bench. 
“I thought we agreed to keep our romantic life a secret at work.”
Mingyu smiles sheepishly before turning to look at you. “Oh, you heard that?” 
“Yeah, I heard,” you smile. “They already think you have a crush on me.”
“Smart kids.” He says, enjoying the way the worn sage button up swallows your figure. 
Mingyu loves when you wear his clothes, he told you this morning when you stole his favorite jacket. Which is why you both took almost twenty minutes to gain your composure after he spilled an entire tray of food on you. 
Mingyu swears he didn’t do it on purpose. How could he have known you were coming through the door at that very moment? But he’d do it again if it meant seeing you in one of the spare shirts he keeps in the truck again. Even if it meant he’d also sustain minor coffee burns.
“They think I have a crush on you too.”
You watch the way he traces your collar bone, catching the twinkle of the diamond pendant resting at the hollow of your throat; his birthstone. It was the first piece of jewelry he bought you when you started dating almost a decade ago. 
You hadn’t taken it off since the day he gave it to you with shaky hands and red ears.
“Do you?” He asks.
“Do I, what?”
“Have a crush on me?”
“Oh Gyu,” you coo at him. “I have the fattest crush on you.”
“Damn right you do.”
Sitting outside with an entire audience of other teachers and students doesn’t allow either of you to fall into the familiar comfort of adorning kisses or airtight hugs. But Mingyu’s pinky brushing yours in the ample space between your figures is enough for now.
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Friday is Valentine’s day which means all the kids don red and pink outfits and prepare for a day of candy filled fun. You spent all morning helping the art teacher set up paint stations. Why she cashed in on the long owed favor with such a simple task was beyond you but the monotony is a nice change from the chaos you’ve experienced all week. When second period rolls around, you shuffle back to your classroom; welcomed by the line of students waiting outside your locked door. 
“I swear! I saw Mr. Kim and Ms. y/l/n at the grocery store last night.”
“Hana, Ms. y/l/n said its grown up business. Maybe you just saw people that look like them,” Arin shrugs. “And I don’t wanna get in trouble again.”
“It had to be them!”
They quiet down as they walk past your figure, smiling like cherubs when you greet them.
Students file in one by one, shrill voices echoing from excitement. Most cheer about their pizza party with Mr. Kim later that afternoon, a few squeals about the set of Valentine’s their parents sent with them to handout. 
Your ears catch a few other snippets of conversation as you wait for the stragglers to make it by. 
“Oh my gosh those are so pretty!”
“Those look like the flowers my mommy likes!”
Curiosity gets the better of you, forcing you to step into the room and see what the kids are talking about. 
An explosion of pink camellias resting on your desk. Huge blossoms with pale pink petals spill over the sides of the vase, slips of greenery sprinkled throughout. Approaching your desk, the floral aroma fills your nose. The blooms feel like soft velvet under the pad of your finger tracing the largest one in the center of the arrangement.
Who on earth?
As if on cue a mop of black hair peaks in from the hall. Mingyu eyes the bouquet and the pleased look on your face before allowing his own to break into his infamous smile.
“Just wanted to make sure they got here safe,” he calls.
You whip your head up, eyes wide and mouth open at the can of worms he just spilled.
“What?” Mingyu asks innocently. “Can’t a man buy his fiancee flowers?”
He disappears with a wink but his laughter at the chaos he’s stirred up can be heard miles away.
“MISS Y/L/N YOU’RE MARRIED?” Mark screams.
Another shrill voice answers, “Fiancee means they’re almost married, idiot!” 
“You lied to us!” Arin and Hana chorus.
Dropping into your chair, you hide your burning face in your hands. Coincidentally it also hides your shy grin from the hoard of ten year olds jumping in their seats at the news.Mingyu is in so much trouble.
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A few weeks before the new school year starts, a group of nearly eleven year olds crowd into the pews of the massive church at the center of town. Stained glass reflects patterns over the marble floors, casting them in a rainbow of colors. 
Some sit on their hands to calm the adrenaline pumping through their tiny veins. Others rock back and forth in an effort to watch Mr. Kim strut down the aisle in a fancy looking suit. 
But all of them gasp when you turn the corner.
You look like a real life princess in your wedding dress, floating towards their science teacher waiting at the altar with tears and a smile matching your own.
When you and Mr. Kim kiss, the girls squeal and the boys blush.
Several rows ahead sits a small group of older students, who’ve long graduated elementary school and are headed to college in a few days. They exchange satisfied smiles and pat themselves on the back for getting their favorite fourth grade teachers together all those years ago.
Maybe now your new classes won’t try playing Cupid like they do every year given Mr. Kim finally married their favorite teacher.
-
Fic taglist: @tacosandbitch @leechanniee @syprosight @prettygyuuu @itza-meee @cottoncheol @ashluvy @jkslvsnella @xuimhao @vanishingboots @miujunhui @viciousdarlings @imprettyweird @akeminy @sana-is-ms-rmty @jayfrvr @watermelonsugawara @bouclesdefeu
Permanent taglist:
@cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @tomodachiii @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @gyuguys @primoppang @mine-gyu
© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.
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lovelyhan · 1 year
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— down bad (so so bad) ⟢
it’s not like you’re curious about how the word would taste in your mouth whenever seungcheol calls himself daddy while talking to kkuma. nope. definitely not. 
★ FEATURING; seungcheol x pet-sitter!reader (ft. exo's sehun just 'cause LOL)
★ WORD COUNT; 5.7k words 
★ TAGS; friends to lovers, lots of denial, a twinge of fluff,  smut
★ WARNINGS; graphic sexual content (MINORS DNI)
★ NOTES; if u see me reposting this for the third time, no you didn't!!!!! JDKFGDJFKGGH i'm so sorry i should be working on one last enemies 2 lovers request, but the influx of kkuma content in seventeen street got the better of me,,
this is part of the doting on you! series.
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★ SMUT TAGS; getting caught, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), daddy kink, dom!seungcheol, praise kink, nicknames (baby, sweetheart, pretty thing, princess), reader is touch-starved AF
★ SVT TAGLIST; @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @dreamhannies - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @gae-uls - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @enhacolor - @ilyvern - @woo8hao - @spk93 - @tommolex - @stariightjoyy - @asjkdk - @horny4hoshi - @asjkdk - @stariightjoyy - @jiniesclub
★ SEUNGCHEOL TAGLIST; @changk6un - @renjunphile - @pluviophile-xxx - @noveniadelia
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You spend a lot of time convincing yourself it’s not a big deal.
Because it most definitely isn’t. You live in a part of the city where there just happens to be a lot of idol and celebrity residences nearby, and ever since you’ve established yourself as a pretty decent pet-sitter, they’ve been enlisting your services much more than you initially expected.
But for some reason, every time the leader of that boy group whose dorm is right across the street comes to you with the most spoiled baby princess in his arms, it suddenly becomes a big deal. A huge, ginormous, larger-than-life—
“Hey.” Seungcheol grins, already dressed for today’s schedule from the looks of it. “I heard Sehun-hyung dropped off his dog yesterday, but we kinda have to squeeze in a last-minute shoot this afternoon, so…”
As if privy to the mention of his name, Sehun’s dog—a Bichon named Vivi—barks from your living room. He takes a peek behind the entryway to curiously peer at who’s at the door, but doesn’t make any moves to come out altogether. His presence makes Seungcheol’s dog, Kkuma shrink into her owner’s arms, almost whining. 
“Aww, baby, don’t be like that. You’ve played with Vivi before, right?” Seungcheol coos and you have to stifle a laugh at how he adjusts the pretty bow on her head before turning back to you. “So, uh, is it alright to double book you? I’ll be back for her tonight. Promise.”
Normally, you would’ve refused. Though you work from home, you don't want your attention spread too thin when you’re looking after a client’s pet. This is one of the main reasons why you mostly just pet-sit one at a time, but it’s as if the universe is intent on using your silly attraction to Choi Seungcheol against you—your usual terms and conditions be damned.
“Yeah, I think Sehun’s picking up Vivi later this afternoon, so it’s no big deal,” you reassure him before petting Kkuma affectionately. “You wanna go on a walk with Vivi later, Kkuma?”
Seungcheol told you once that his precious daughter is extremely picky about who gets to pet her and who should maintain a one-meter distance at all times. So when Kkuma has obviously taken a liking to you right off the bat, he knew she was in safe hands. Not to mention the assortment of positive reviews he’s heard about you from other idol friends in passing—he’d be an idiot not to ask for your help when you literally live right across the street. 
Lucky him that you’ll do anything for him if it meant you could have the pleasure of seeing Seungcheol right at your doorstep—flashing you that adorable, dimpled smile before he drops off or picks up his only child from your care.
Not like he has to know any of that, of course. 
“Oh, thank you so much,” Seungcheol groans with relief, shifting Kkuma into your arms before patting her head reassuringly. “My dad was supposed to pick her up from the dorms today, but something came up at home and he couldn’t make the trip. I owe you big time.” 
You chuckle at his gratefulness all while your heart swells as Kkuma nuzzles your chest. What an adorable little thing. “You know my bank account, Seungcheol-ssi.”
He shakes his head with a laugh. “I know you’re just messing around but really, you can call me Cheol. I think I’ve called in enough favors from you to be familiar at least.”
“Those aren’t favors, Cheol. You literally pay me three times more than you have to whenever Kkuma comes over,” you half-jest, startling a little when you notice Vivi circling your legs as he tries to sniff at the dog in your arms. “Anyway, shoo! Won’t you be late for your schedule? I’m sure a playdate with Vivi is just what Kkuma needs to kill the time.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” he sighs before leaning forward to take Kkuma’s face in both of his large hands—pressing a loving kiss on top of her head. “You better be good, okay? Oh, I’m gonna miss you so much, baby.”
Kkuma’s tail wags at her father’s blatant affection and you can’t help the smile that creeps up your face. No matter how many times Seungcheol baby talks to his kid before taking his leave, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing such a side of him up close.
“Daddy’s gonna be back for you tonight. Promise. Oh, by the way, her vet put her on a sodium-free diet for a while, so don’t give her any treats. And…”
As Seungcheol fusses about Kkuma’s newly imposed feeding schedules and hands you a backpack full of pet care necessities, you find yourself zoning out—your head ringing with that one word that’s always made you a little flustered every time you heard it from Seungcheol’s mouth. 
“You get any of that?”
You blink, acutely aware of how Vivi has stood up on his hind legs, pawing at your thigh as he attempts to lick Kkuma’s face. When you realize that you’re just standing there like an idiot as Seungcheol waits for a response, you let out a dry laugh before setting Kkuma down on the floor.
“Yep, I only have to feed her once. Strictly two scoops. Not that I see you sticking to the feeding regimen though,” you tease while receiving the backpack from him. 
“You got me,” Seungcheol chuckles again. “Can’t ever say no to my princess when she gives me the puppy eyes and asks for another scoop. Luckily, you’re the one looking after her today, right?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll take care of it.”
Once Seungcheol finally takes his leave, you let out a long-winded sigh—pressing your back against your front door as Kkuma looks up at you with those big, dark eyes. Vivi seems to have made his way back to the living room after the initial curiosity and you’re glad that you don’t have to round up two energetic pups when your heart is still pounding in your chest.
To your surprise, Kkuma walks up to you, nuzzling your leg with a whine. 
Laughing, you sink to your knees to give her a few scratches underneath her ears. Dogs can be so attuned to a human’s emotional distress, it’s a little amazing.
“What does it feel like to be able to call him daddy?” you joke as she lays on her back for some belly rubs that you have no problem giving. 
The moment the question slips from your lips, you find yourself groaning again as you recall the tight fit of the black turtleneck Seungcheol was wearing today. How it accentuated all the features the fabric was meant to emphasize. You can only imagine how it would feel like to be caged in those big, beefy arms—
Kkuma jolts from her comfortable position on the floor when you suddenly shoot back to your feet, but you only feel half as bad for startling her.
You’re down bad. So ridiculously bad. 
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Sehun comes over to pick up Vivi about an hour after you got home from their walk. 
Like most of your clients, he usually shoots a text before dropping by, but he must’ve forgotten the usual protocol. So when you hear your doorbell go off while you’re in the middle of watching idol fancams on your TV, the internal panic is very much warranted. 
Vivi bounds straight into his owner’s arms the moment Sehun comes through the door and starts licking his face. You smile to yourself despite clearly looking disheveled from how comfortably you’ve been lounging in the living room, but you’re sure Sehun doesn’t mind.
“Oh? He’s got a little playmate?” He raises an eyebrow when Kkuma waddles over to help herself to some of his attention too. Despite how he looks, Sehun gives Kkuma a few pats. “Hmm… Isn’t this Seungcheol’s kid? Or is it Seungkwan’s? Mingyu’s? Their dogs look all the same to me sometimes.”
You snort before handing him Vivi’s bag of necessities that every doting pet owner has up their arsenal. “You were right the first time. I’ve never pet sat for Mingyu before and I’m sure Seungkwan’s dog is in Jeju with his family.” 
He nods in understanding before locking Vivi’s leash in place. “I see. Wouldn’t be surprised if they started to have you look after their pets too, though.” 
When Sehun’s all set, you both discuss payments and he gives you his word that he’ll have the money wired into your account when he gets back to his place. But just when you’re about to send him and Vivi off, he pauses—glancing at something behind your shoulder. 
Curious, you whip around to see what caught his attention and—
“Uh, it’s not what it looks like, I swear,” you stammer before throwing your arms out as if that’ll obstruct the view this six-foot idol has of your television screen. “I left YouTube on autoplay and I guess it paused when you arrived, and…”
Lies. You were in the middle of watching every single one of Seungcheol’s fancams before Sehun arrived and paused whatever was playing on screen. It just so happens that it slipped your mind that the screen froze at a very tantalizing part of his HOT fancam.
You’re not sure how you’re going to explain to Sehun that you don’t usually watch your clients' fancams like some closeted fan, but thankfully, he’s always been discreet about a lot of things. 
“Right,” he says, obviously unconvinced but seems that he won’t press further. “Well, we’re gonna head out now. Jongin-hyung might give you a call in the next few days, by the way. He’ll be busy promoting his solo debut for a while and Kyungsoo-hyung’s growing tired of all the fur in his apartment.” 
You nod swiftly, glad to have another business prospect right after this one just concluded. “Gotcha. See you again, Sehun.”
Once you’re all alone, you carry Kkuma to the living room—laying her down on the plush cushions of your couch before plopping helplessly right next to her. Thank god it’s Sehun who unknowingly bore witness to something so embarrassing. If it was Jongin, he never would’ve let you live it down.
But instead of wallowing in your shame, you unpause the video on screen—watching Seungcheol’s fancam in front of his daughter without another thought.
Kkuma doesn’t seem all too interested, immediately curling herself into a ball right next to you before promptly dozing off. You don’t get to see it though, since your eyes are glued to the screen. 
Surely the jury won’t condemn you too badly for biting the inside of your cheek whenever Seungcheol sticks his tongue out with a smirk, right? This is an idol who’s spent nearly a decade in the industry—if not more. Of course he’s got the art of fanservice ingrained into his bones. 
But just when you told yourself that this is the last one you’re going to watch before hopping in the shower, you end up viewing a couple more of his fancams first until you make do on that self-imposed promise.
This one’s a clip from their most recent fan meeting, you think. A DON QUIXOTE performance that’s been circulating around social media for the better part of the month. While you’re not that well-versed in their group’s discography, you happen to like this song a lot specifically because of how raspy Seungcheol’s voice is whenever he raps his parts.  
When he decides to unclasp a piece of fabric that’s been getting in the way of choreography, you have to bite back a groan when he practically throws it on the stage with that domineering air he never fails to showcase during their performances.
You press your thighs together, hyper aware of the heat that’s sizzling in between before casting Kkuma a guilty stare. Though she’s just a dog, you still feel a little bad about lusting after her dad while she’s sleeping right next to you. 
You’re not even sure what’s got you so worked up today. This isn’t the first time Seungcheol dropped her off in person so you’re not sure why you’re feeling this horny from a few fancams alone. Shark week must be drawing near.
Either way, you end up quietly easing yourself off the couch so as to not wake the sleeping princess on your sofa—turning the TV off altogether before making a beeline for your bedroom to grab your towel and a change of clothes. 
If there’s a more opportune time to take a shower and wash away the impurities infesting your body, it’s now.
But just as you’re about to head to the bathroom, your phone goes off on the coffee table. You pout a little when Kkuma stirs from the sound of your ringtone—looking around sleepily for the source of the noise.
“Sorry about that,” you coo before settling back beside her, running a hand across her smooth fur. 
When you glance at the caller ID, your heart nearly plummets to your stomach.
“Hey,” Seungcheol’s deep voice flits into your ears when you take the call, sounding all sorts of tired. “We’re just wrapping up our shoot. I should be there in an hour or-so. How’s Kkuma?”
“She was fast asleep before my ringtone woke her up,” you chuckle. 
“Oh. Shit. Sorry, baby.”
You tense up at the term of endearment despite being fully aware that it’s not meant for you in particular. That reminds you to put your phone on loudspeaker so that the intended recipient could hear Seungcheol’s apologetic voice.
“I think Vivi tired her out when we went to the park today,” you tell him fondly. 
“Sounds like she finally met her match,” Seungcheol laughs on the other end and Kkuma perks up at the sound of her owner’s voice. “Can you hear me, princess? I’m coming to get you in a while. Keep being daddy’s good girl for me, yeah? I won’t be too long.”
Fuck.
When Seungcheol says your name and thanks you in that same, tired yet raspy voice, you have to keep yourself from melting into a puddle right then and there.
“Hope the double booking wasn’t too much of a bother,” he murmurs and—god. You get that he probably doesn’t have a lot of energy to spare, but does he have any idea what his voice is doing to your underwear?! 
“Not at all,” you manage to say without your voice cracking. “I told you Sehun picked up Vivi early today. It’s just me and this spoiled princess right now.”
“Spoiled, huh? I guess that’s one way of putting it.” Seungcheol breathes out a laugh. “Anyway, we’re getting settled in the shuttle right now. I’ll text you when I’m at the door.” 
“Gotcha. Come on, Kkuma. Say goodbye to daddy.”
You don’t know why that cursed word slipped out of you so naturally, but Kkuma seems to respond to it in kind—her tail swishing with contained excitement before letting out a soft bark for Seungcheol to hear. Your client (that’s right he’s your client, you stupid, horny—) coos at the other end of the call.
You honestly can’t wait until he arrives to get her so you can have some real, much needed alone time.
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To your credit, the shower kind of helped.
Though you just took one of the coldest baths in your life, it managed to alleviate the heat that lingered on your skin once Seungcheol ended the phone call. That’s considered a win in your book.
As you towel your damp hair, you take a peek at Kkuma who’s returned to her little nap on your couch. The sight makes your heart flutter and you would’ve snapped a photo if that doesn’t go against the rules you’ve set for yourself and your humble business. 
Then again, fantasizing about one of your clients definitely goes against whatever principles you’ve been practicing all your life but that’s not the issue here. 
Not wanting to wake her until Seungcheol arrives, you silently pad off to your bedroom, intent on getting some work done before planning what you’ll have for dinner. However, the moment you hang your towel to dry, you end up lying in bed instead of hunching in front of your desk with a laptop full of backlogs waiting for you. 
You don’t even think twice when your hand inches past the garter of your thin sleep shorts.
Typically, you’d use one of your trusty vibrators to get off when you direly needed the release. It made things quick and simple. Plus, you don’t have to suffer through the ordeal of having your fingers pruning up. 
But your brain thought it would be extremely funny if you touched yourself to the thought of your fingers being Seungcheol’s instead of yours—gathering the slick from your aching pussy as he lathers your wetness across your slit.
While you’re…preoccupied in your bedroom, you don’t hear your phone buzzing on the coffee table outside. You’ve deigned to put it on silent mode so Kkuma won’t be rudely awakened by any unexpected ringtones again, but the decision is a bit short-sighted since Seungcheol did tell you he’d text you once he arrives at your door.
Said idol is standing in front of your apartment with a worried look on his face. He texted you about ten minutes ago but received no response, which is a little strange since you almost always reply to his messages right away. 
When you don’t pick up his third call, he starts to pace around nervously. Did you go outside? Were you busy? He’s normally a patient person, but when it comes to Kkuma, he gets jittery within seconds if there really is something to worry about.
Seungcheol tests the knob to your door but when he finds it unlocked, he’s further thrown into a haze of concern. Shit. Were you robbed? Where is Kkuma? 
Where are you?
He kicks off his shoes haphazardly in the entrance, closing the door behind him before twisting the lock as he looks around cautiously. There doesn’t seem to be anything out of place inside your house. The furniture is just as he remembered—not that he spends a lot of his time studying your interior—and finds no signs of ransacking.
Relief practically crashes over him in waves when Kkuma’s head pops up from behind the couch. She hops to the floor and zips straight into his arms, pawing and licking with all the affection she can offer. Seungcheol laughs, petting her to calm down before giving your living room another once-over. 
You’re nowhere to be found. 
Even if Seungcheol can just grab Kkuma and make his leave, he knows he’ll feel bad if he ditches you without a word like that. So after telling his only child to stay put at the doorway, he carefully treads around your apartment and makes his way to (what he assumes is) your room.
The door is slightly ajar and he could make out the figure of someone lying on the bed inside. With the knowledge that you’re safe and sound, Seungcheol’s shoulders relax. 
But just when he’s about to raise a fist to knock—
“Oh, daddy, please—” 
Seungcheol freezes on the spot.
He likes to think he’s a pretty decent person. Never one to think about or blurt anything remotely sexual especially if the situation doesn’t call for it. He also likes to think he has a pretty decent amount of self-control.
But for some reason, when he sees you with one hand buried between your supple thighs as the other paws at your breast through a flimsy night shirt, he can feel himself rapidly crossing that line he’s been so careful to maintain with you all this time.
Seungcheol should leave. While he doesn’t know the specifics of your love life—given that the nature of your friendship is mostly transactional—you probably have at least one person you’re involved enough with to call daddy while you get yourself off. He’s walked in on something he shouldn’t have and he still has time to recollect his thoughts somewhere else while dealing with the steadily growing hardness in his jeans.
But then, he hears you sigh:
“Cheol… Fuck!”
You’re on the very brink of the orgasm you’ve been craving since this morning when your hand is rudely yanked from between your legs. You jolt at the intrusion—fear shooting through your system at the thought of some psycho breaking into your house while you’re so vulnerable. But when your eyes meet Seungcheol’s hard gaze, you’re convinced that you’re dreaming.
“S-Seungcheol?”
To your horror (more like delight) he takes the hand that you’ve just been using to finger yourself to the thought of him—taking your slick digits into his mouth with a pained groan. The sight instantly makes your pussy quiver with need but before that…
“What are you doing here?” you ask weakly, not having the heart to pull your arm away when he looks so fucking hot licking the juices off your fingers. 
When his lips disconnect from your skin with a lascivious pop, he plants a kiss across your knuckles, smirking. “Those are such pretty sounds you’re making. Are they all for me?”
This is not happening. You probably slipped in the shower and hit your head or something. Because Choi Seungcheol—the client you’ve been having inappropriate thoughts about for the entire day—can’t be crouching in front of you right now, giving you the sexiest bedroom eyes you’ve ever seen.
You swallow thickly, trying to salvage what’s left of your pride. “Cheol, I’m sorry, I—”
He shushes you by placing a finger to your lips, the grip he has on your arm tightening with each passing second. You nearly moan when he presses his forehead against yours.
“Daddy, huh?” he asks, completely ignoring your attempt at clearing the air. “You want to call me daddy that bad, baby? So much that you have to get yourself off with Kkuma lying outside?”
Shit. That’s right. Kkuma.
However, in the midst of the moral dilemma that came with wanting Seungcheol to fuck you into the mattress while his adorable daughter was waiting outside your bedroom, you recognize that this is definitely a once in a lifetime chance. 
You’re not about to let it go to waste. 
You aren’t certain who it is that lunged in for the kiss. All you know is that Seungcheol has you pinned beneath his firm body as he licks into your mouth—larged, calloused fingers gripping onto your hips possessively as you moan his name against his lips. 
Your sleep shorts come off in no time. So does your shirt. It only occurs to you’ve been grinding down on the denim of his jeans with nothing but soaked panties on when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth—coaxing out a sound so heavenly, it shoots straight through his cock.
“You’re so pretty like this, sweetheart,” he sighs hoarsely, rolling his hips against your core so that you can feel how hard he is through his pants. “So fucking needy. When you get yourself off, am I the one you always think about?”
You want to say yes but Seungcheol captures your lips into another bruising kiss before you can utter a sound. 
He nudges your thighs apart with his knees, one hand reaching between your legs so he can inspect the mess he’s unknowingly made of your cunt. When he finds you wet and wanting, you feel a growl reverberate deep in his chest.
“Now this won’t do,” he tuts before sliding himself between your thighs, easing himself lower on the mattress so he can hook them across his shoulders. You mewl in anticipation and Seungcheol meets your gaze with a challenging smirk. “Is there something you want?”
“C-Cheol—”
“That’s not my name right now, baby. I thought you knew that.”
How the fuck does this man just slip so naturally into the subspace without making things weird or uncomfortable? If anything, the authority in his voice makes another bout of slick gush outside your entrance—making you pray to every single god out there for Seungcheol not to notice.
“Daddy,” you whine and the title sounds delicious in his ears. “I want you. Wanted you for so long.”
You want to curl in on yourself when you feel Seungcheol’s teeth trailing love bites along your inner thighs. The grip he has on them is weighted with nothing but gentleness but the contrast it has with his rough kisses is making your mind stutter with pleasure. 
“What’d you think about, hm?” he whispers. “Tell me all the filthy things you’ve wanted to do with Daddy.”
You nearly gasp when he flattens his tongue across your clothed core, breathing in the musky scent of your arousal. The overload in his senses makes him want to snap and have his way with you, but Seungcheol tells himself to take it easy. 
He has all the time in the world to make you feel good.
“B-But that’s embarrassing,” you whine, struggling to free yourself from his grip but Seungcheol tears your defenses asunder when he moves your panties to the side and licks a long, languid stripe along your glistening slit. 
The effect it has on you is immediate—you’re writhing against his touch, fingers automatically tangling themselves in his hair as Seungcheol helps himself to your cunt like it’s his first meal of the day. It doesn’t help that he’s so enthusiastic about eating you out. Almost like he’s thought about doing it at least once in his life.
“Daddy, please—” you whimper. “Need you…inside.”
“Not until you spill the dirty details, princess,” he chuckles before letting your panties snap back against your poor, sensitive cunt. You jolt at the contact, tears lining your lashes because of how desperate you are to get filled with something. Anything.
“I-I thought about you fucking me raw,” you start shakily, toes curling every time his nose grazes your clothed pussy. “Calling me pretty names and leaving your marks on my body. T-Then when I’m about to c-come, you tell me to hold it in ‘cause you want to come together. You’d also tell me how much of a good girl I am…”
Hm. An obvious pillow princess that likes being praised. While Seungcheol has a preference for calling his partners dubious names in the bedroom, he can make a few exceptions. 
Especially when you look so fucking wrecked for him when he’s barely touched you.
“I see. What else is cooking in that pretty mind of yours, baby? Daddy wants to know.”
You visibly preen at his words, further confirming his suspicions. Seungcheol has to bite back a groan at the sinister feeling that fills his chest at the knowledge.
He’s going to have so much fun with you.
“You’d— You’d use my pussy to dump your load inside me… Then you’ll just k-keep going even if I’m twitching and sensitive all over, fucking your cum deeper ‘cause you want me to keep it all in for days.” 
The mental image you’re painting inside his head is not doing his sense of control any favors, but Seungcheol remains steadfast. He won’t fuck you stupid when he hasn’t even asked you out on a date yet. He has more tact than that.
“That’s what I like to hear, pretty thing,” he chuckles before moving his head a little so he can remove your ruined underwear. He typically would’ve just torn the fabric in two, but he doesn’t want to scare you off just yet. “Such a good girl for Daddy. And you know what good girls deserve?” 
The innocent look on your face nearly makes him cream himself right then and there. “W-What?” 
With a no-good smile, he says:
“To come until you’re crying.”
Seungcheol easily slips in two thick fingers into your sopping heat, making you cry out in a way that’ll definitely pique Kkuma’s curiosity. He just hopes his baby won’t come nosing in where she isn’t supposed to while he takes care of his other baby the way she deserves. 
“You’re so fucking tight, princess,” he sighs—loving how your gummy walls practically cling to his fingers with each shallow thrust. “Can you even take more than this? I don’t want to break you when you’re being so good for me.”
You voice out your protest against his words with a pathetic mewl, bucking your hips against his fingers with erratic vigor. “N-No… I can take more, Daddy, please please. Want you to fuck me full. I’ll be good, I promise!”
Seungcheol has been producing his own tracks for years, but the sound of you babbling incoherently is music to his ears. As he continues pumping his digits in and out of your needy hole, he puts himself back to work—tongue tracing tight circles around your puffy clit as he forces your thighs apart. 
Your back arches off the bed at the sensation as your fingers desperately claw against the sheets. It’s so unfair how delirious he’s made you when he still has all of his clothes on, but you’re nothing if not his good little girl when you don’t even comment on it—focused entirely on the mounting pleasure he’s freely giving you.
When the pads of his fingers manage to graze that patch of spongy flesh deep inside you, your eyes nearly roll to the back of your skull. Seungcheol is all too privy to your reaction and you feel him smirk into your cunt as he curls his fingers to find that spot again—attaching his lips around your sensitive nub as he overwhelms you with stimulation.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry, hands finding their way back to his hair as you desperately tug him closer. “Daddy, f-feels so good! I’m gonna—”
“I never gave you permission, baby,” he growls and you quickly whine when he detaches himself from your pussy. “If you want to come you have to ask Daddy nicely. Unless you feel like being a bad girl all of a sudden?”
You shake your head, hips grinding against the air in a desperate attempt to get his mouth on you again. “N-No, Daddy. I want to be good. Can I please come? Please? Need it, need you.”
His chest tightens at the desperate plea in your voice and for a moment, Seungcheol is honestly kind of scared of getting too used to your desperate whines. Your needy whimpers. 
How on earth is he going to go back to being friends after all this is over?
“Alright, since my princess said she’ll be good for me,” he laughs as your walls clench around his fingers. “You can come when you feel like it, baby. Come all over Daddy’s face.”
You don’t completely expect it when Seungcheol dives back into you, smothering his face in your pussy so greedily that you feel his nose bumping against your clit. He laps at your soaked folds like your arousal is the best thing he’s ever tasted—easing a third finger inside you as you muffle a scream.
“Yes, yes! Right there, Daddy!” you moan, tugging on his hair even harder as you grind your cunt against his face. “So close, so close—fuck!”
When you fall over the edge, Seungcheol doesn’t stop his relentless onslaught on your twitching pussy. Your walls clamp down around his fingers so tightly, he can only imagine how good it would feel to fuck you on his cock while you ride out your orgasm. 
The syllables of his name are all but broken when you frame them around a high-pitched keen. Seungcheol slurps up every drop that trickles onto his face and he only peels himself away from you once you’ve stopped thrashing against his grip.
In the aftermath, the two of you bathe in silence—nothing but your mutual pants filling the room. You’re looking at Seungcheol with stars in your eyes despite what he just put you through and the sight alone makes him more aware of the problem in his pants.
“Daddy, do you want—”
“No,” he says immediately and he feels bad just as fast because of the disappointment that crosses your face. “I mean—fuck. I want to fuck you dumb, princess. I really do. But I also really like you and it’ll be a chip on my conscience forever if I do that without taking you out on a proper date first.”
It takes a moment for his confession to completely occur to you and when it does, the dazed look in your eyes makes way for utter shock. Seungcheol wonders if he should be offended.
“You…like me?”
“Sweetheart, I’m a pretty busy guy. I don’t just let anyone come on my face.” 
You gulp. “For how long?”
Seungcheol shrugs. “A while. Now are you going to let me take you out on that date one of these days or are we going to have to pretend this never happened?”
You scowl at him. It doesn’t help that he still has that tightly fitted turtleneck on—distracting you from the topic at hand for a moment before you clear your throat and give him an answer.
“H-How about we go on that date now?” you suggest somewhat anxiously. “I mean, I was already thinking about where to get dinner after this, and…” 
Taking him by surprise, you lean forward to cup your hands over his ear—a devious smirk curling on your lips.
“Maybe you can fuck me dumb right after.”
Long story short, your first date with the idol you’ve been crushing on is a big hit. Right after getting himself to calm down (A.K.A., taking care of his hard on in the privacy of your bathroom), Seungcheol took you and Kkuma to a food park that’s open until midnight. 
It’s over dinner that you fess up and tell him the origin of your newfound daddy kink. Seungcheol has the gall to laugh in your face at your admission and you swear you’ll never pet sit Kkuma ever again if he keeps teasing you like that.
“Aww, baby,” he coos, pinching your cheek for added effect. “You don’t have to call it pet-sitting anymore. Now that we’ve established how much we actually like each other, don’t you think it’s more fitting to call it…co-parenting?”
Unwittingly, you receive his words with a scowl.
You want to smack him upside the head. Just because he’s a confident little thing on stage doesn’t mean he can just bring that side of him in a real life conversation. But for all your adamant bravado of insisting he’s being full of himself…
You honestly don’t mind.  
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⟢ end notes: yay! you got to the end of my delusions!!! that said, thank you to nova @duhnova and indi @playmetheclassics for title help and going through this spur-of-the-moment filth for me!! rip to the original genius title, daddy's good girl(s) bc tumblr wants to censor it so badly LMFAO
i don’t have anything else to say aside from i’m so sorry choi kkuma
this is part of the doting on you! series.
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orcelito · 2 years
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My brain just wants to focus on the 1.5k I wrote for discacc last night & the showtime zine drama
But work and school is also a thing I have to deal with and I'm just like 😐
#speculation nation#but what if i Want to just focus on writing right now...#what if i Dont want to a quiz and a discussion post b4 work n also deal with the bs of trying to hire ppl#and ALSO theres the fucking meeting for tomorrow i have to prepare for by gathering the Deets on what the supervisors havent been doing#responsibilities vs fandom brain: Fight#ughh i'll take care of the school stuff at least. im probs gonna try reviewing applicants over the weekend#dont rly have time to set up interviews on the weekend bc im just working with new hires lol#OH payday . payday payday payday payday!!!!!#lmfao my tips rating cut is based off the average of the supervisor tips rating aka based in their performance#& when i was doing the tips stuff wednesday i Almost reduced some of them for their bad performance#but then i was like. 'hmmm. if i Dont do that then i get more tips. hmmmmmm'#whats the point of being in a position of power if im not gonna skew things slightly more in my favor where applicable#but yea i need to hire people. maybe i can set smth up for monday prior to the manager meeting. that way i can present things#and act like i Havent been avoiding this shit all week lmao#im sorry random applicants who r waiting so long for ur shit to be reviewed... i dont want to be in this situation either....#this weekend? im just gonna focus on training. we have like 4 new hires who need to finish their training#and im working almost entirely with them#glad im not working with that entitled bitch of a supervisor bc im still pretty mad about her message lmfaooo#long tags r long. what this all ultimately boils down to is . i have not been posting very much bc of ^^ all that lmao
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muchosbesitos · 2 months
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beyond love
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pairing: miguel o’hara x lawyer fem reader
contents: reader’s emotionally unavailable lol, matthew murdock’s a warning on his own too, implied cheating (not from reader and miguel), smut in future parts 🥸
synopsis: you’d moved to nueva york after finishing up with law school, getting a job at nelson and murdock. one day, one of alchemax’s employees comes in needing your legal expertise. tension arises with one of the witnesses.
author’s note: ended up changing the name bc i’m super indecisive but sorry this took me so long to get out 😓 i hope y’all enjoy though :) i did take some inspo from tasm for this one
word count: 6.8k
"You're hired."
That was certainly not what you were expecting to hear. You were barely getting out your resume from your briefcase, having gone over the list of internships you'd done throughout law school. you blinked quickly, almost as if you were trying to assure yourself it wasn't just a figment of your imagination.
"Thank you, I promise you won't be disappointed," you finally ended up mustering out upon regaining your composure. You stood up, shaking the man's hand. He'd introduced himself as 'Foggy' before leading you to your office space to get acquainted. "Feel free to do whatever you want to the space, just don't make any holes in the walls," he told you before leaving the space.
You'd spent all day going from firm to firm, going through your extensive list of internships during law school to end up getting rejected towards the end. You'd gotten used to the forced smile that one of the partners gave you, whispering a half-assed 'I'm sorry' or 'we'll call you soon' with a pat on the back. Not that you actually expected a call back by any means.
You'd missed the subway to go back home, your heels not doing you in any justice when it came to trying to catch it. And just as your luck would have it, the next one wouldn't be coming for another hour. You ended up walking down the streets dejectedly, your briefcase barely hovering above ground with every step that you took.
Stepping into Nelson and Murdock was a last resort, if anything, just another rejection you were expecting to get added to the list. t
The space didn't seem all that extravagant, but at least it had somewhat decent reviews when you searched it up. "Hi, welcome to Nelson and Murdock!" You were immediately greeted by the blonde receptionist at the front desk, the name tag in front of her reading 'Karen.'
You quickly learned why you got hired so easily. The firm was essentially running off good luck and pure positivity. The debt accumulated by the light bill, rent, and phone service surpassed that of what the four of you combined earned per month. The cases that you took outside of the one regarding Wilson Fisk and his subsidiaries were solely pro bono.
Though you supposed a decent plus from it was that you were never hungry. The collection of baked goods quickly grew in your apartment, each a little token of appreciation from your clients. Items from banana bread, muffins, and chocolate chips cookies had accumulated in your kitchen counter. Your clients' faces lit up at the prospect of a reduced sentence or winning their case, immediately showering you in thanks.
Maybe it wasn't so bad.
Another pro from the job was that you had somewhat of a social life now. You went from buying dinners for one to enjoy while watching Netflix on a Friday night to going out with your coworkers.
Your social life before stepping foot into Nelson and Murdock was practically nonexistent. The only reason you'd ever bothered to talk to anyone during law school was to have some form of a study group, purely for your own self interest. As much as any of the other students there. You hadn't bothered to keep in contact with any of the other alumni after graduation.
Josie’s had become your spot to get a drink with the trio after work, usually on Friday night to have time to recover from your hangovers. The stickiness of the floors and the overwhelmingly bad taste of the drinks was overridden by the company that you were with. Conversation with Foggy and Karen was easy enough to engage in, jokes flowing between you three throughout the night. Matt was more reserved than the two of them, though he indulged you in a game of pool sometimes.
"All I'm saying is that I would have less stress in my life if I would've become a butcher. Nothing to worry about except for selling sausages and meat," Foggy remarked after the four of you started to talk about the developments in the Fisk case. The man was much more methodical and complicated than you anticipated, one step ahead every single time.
"Every time you retell that story, my interest in it just gets peaked more and more," Matt muttered from the side, taking a sip from his drink.
"Really?"
"Absolutely not."
You took a sip from your own drink, watching the exchange between the two of them with an amused smile on your face. You hadn't even noticed that the conversation had shifted until you had two pairs of eyes facing in your direction. “Sorry, can you repeat that?"
"Did you ever think about becoming anything else other than a lawyer? Like I dunno, a butcher?"
You took a couple seconds to think about the question, setting your glass down on the table. You'd entertained the idea of dropping out during your time in law school, maybe pursing something along the lines of starting your own business. Though, it was nothing more than a fleeting thought. Nothing really excited you more than practicing law.
"I did think about it, but not to be a butcher. Something in business, maybe."
Foggy moved on to ask the question to Karen, even going as to question if she would consider a career as a butcher one day. She'd ended up saying yes, for the sake of indulging Foggy in a fantasy where stress wasn't a key part of everybody's life. While the two were talking, you couldn't but notice that Matt was staring into you, almost as if he could see you better than you ever could.
The end of the night approached you quicker than you'd expected, the once socially awkward woman now complaining that the night was ending so early. (it was 1 am) Matt stayed later than the two of them, the two of you sharing drinks and playing a couple rounds of pool before you eventually gave up. "Seriously, how are you so good at that?"
He'd managed to get most of the balls into the holes while the only one you'd managed to get in was due to his assistance. "Just listening to how the balls ricochet, I guess," he shrugged off the win like it was nothing, leaning against the table as he downed the rest of his drink down. The two of you leaned against the pool table in silence, finishing up the rest of your drinks before you headed out for the night.
"Can I walk you home?" You heard from behind you, Matt making his way out of the door. He tapped his cane against the floor, making his way over to you. You nodded, your eyes widening slightly upon realizing your mistake. Matt didn't seem too offended by it, letting out a small chuckle as he held onto your arm. "You just nodded, huh?" He ended up asking, the two of you walking down the street.
"Yeah, sorry about that," you responded, enjoying the silence of the night for once. The streets of Nueva York had seemed to calm down with the two vigilantes in the streets, Daredevil and Spider-Man. While their actions weren’t exactly legal, you'd heard of the police divulging details with one of the two to get help with an investigation. Overall, thefts and petty robberies had gone down dramatically.
You and Matt walked to your apartment in silence, though it wasn't uncomfortable by any means. You always found Matt to have somewhat of a relaxing presence, from the way that his words poured out like melting honey to the way he calmly carried himself around. You did notice however, that despite him grabbing onto your arm, it seemed like he was leading you more than you were guiding him.
"Thank you," you spoke up once the two of you approached your apartment, stepping away from Matt. You walked up the stairs, digging through your pockets to find your keys. It always did seem that the moments where you needed them the most, they seemed to just vanish. Eventually, you'd managed to dig them out after practically stripping your pockets from its belongings.
Before you had the chance to step inside, matt cleared his throat to capture your attention. "Would you like to go out with me? I know this great place," he asked, your movements on the door knob coming to a halt. You'd heard of how much Matt got around, from the trip he took to Los Angeles that ended him up with Jen Walters to the nurse that he ended up seducing. You didn't mean to overhear, it's just that the walls at the firm were relatively thin.
"I'm sorry, I just don't think I should in the position that we're in. With you being my boss and all," you responded after a couple seconds, listening to the faint sigh that Matt let out.
"If it makes for a convincing argument, I promise that I won't let our situation affect what we have going on at work. Those are two completely different things and I'm capable of treating them as such."
Well, yes, you knew that he was capable of hooking up with a co-worker and pretending like it never happened the next day.
But.. you weren't so sure about yourself.
"Just take a couple days to think about it and get back to me, okay?" He ended up speaking up after a couple seconds of your silence, departing your apartment.
Your thoughts kept going back to the offer every single time you had a spare second to yourself. And even with that, the answer wasn't making itself any clearer. You had a duty to yourself to make the best out of your law degree and you liked this job too much to give it up for a cheap thrill. But yet, you still couldn't help but wonder about what it would actually be like to go out with him.
After what seemed to be a week of deliberation, you agreed to go on a date with Matt. A test run, of sorts. Nothing that would end up horribly if it didn't work out well. And well, you had to admit that the place he picked out did have some pretty good food. Conversation with him was a bit awkward, given that the two of you hadn't had a reason to talk to each other outside of work but you found it somewhat fun getting to know him.
"Wait so you learned Spanish in college?" You followed up after he shared his experiences in Columbia, how the whole Murdock and Nelson firm came into fruition.
"I did, it wasn't that hard to learn. It serves me now since some of the people in the community speak mainly Spanish. Often overlooked in the legal system so I try to facilitate that."
"So, could you say something in Spanish now?"
"You know, I kinda tend to hate that question since all the Spanish vocabulary from my head just disappears. Give me a couple seconds to think about something."
You were about to tell Matt to forget it after he divulged into thought for a couple seconds, a bit guilty for putting him on the spot like that. Before you had the chance to speak, he broke the silence first.
"You have a face como un burro."
Your eyes widened slightly upon hearing his pronunciation, the accent coming out relatively well given the situation. He'd even managed to roll his r's when he spoke.
"Uh.. do you mind explaining what that last part means?"
"You have the face of an angel."
You knew that he couldn't see your face, but somehow that made the compliment all that much better. The fact that he thought you were pretty just by the way you acted and the way you talked was enough to get you flustered. Though, a small doubt planted inside your head that maybe it wasn't the true meaning of the phrase. You'd have to look it up at a later time if you remembered.
The date continued smoothly, and eventually, the one date turned into multiple dates. Well, whenever the two of you had the time. It was one of the easier parts of dating a fellow lawyer, that he understood the conflicting work schedules imposed upon you. And while conversations with him began to flow easier the more that you got to him and you grew to enjoy his company with each passing date, you still couldn't help but feel as if something was off.
Your relationship with Matt was.. complicated to say the least. The countless dates that he took you to didn't seem to matter when it came to commitment. He called you his girlfriend in private, whispering sweet nothings and calling you names such as 'darling' and 'love' yet the two of you didn't do much apart from eat together and have sex. He acted like a coworker in public, keeping you at an arm's distance. Never once acknowledging you as something other than your last name.
And yet, every time that you wanted to leave the situation you were in, he managed to pull you right back in his grasp with that stupid smile of his. Whispering empty promises as he slid inside you, promises that would long be forgotten by the time morning rolled around. Promises that kept you sticking around until you doubted him again, repeating the cycle once more.
"Hi," a timid voice from behind you broke you out of your thoughts, making you immediately turn around to face them. You'd gotten distracted thinking about your relationship status with Matt again. The thought of leaving started to implant itself in your head. He'd been making excuses for missing dates, leaving you to try to rationalize his absences. The first thing that you noticed about the man was that he was covered head to toe in bandages, obviously in your office for a personal injury case.
"Hi, sorry about that. Welcome to Nelson and Murdock, can I get you something to drink?" You snapped back into it, making a beeline for the coffee machine. "Just a glass of water, please," the man spoke up, his tone making it seem like it was an inconvenience.
You handed the cup of water over to him with a small smile, hoping to help him get more at ease with the situation. You beckoned him to sit down, taking your notepad out of your desk to begin writing down the details that he would share. The more that you listened to the man's story, Max, the more that your bewilderment grew. Electric eels? No wonder the man was covered up the way he was.
"So you fell into a tub of electric eels while you were working overtime?" You asked after he finished speaking, wanting to make sure you'd gotten the details right. You set down your pen, leaning a bit forward on the desk. "Yes, that's exactly what happened. I’m seeking out your services because I got fired right after the incident and I want to regain my position at the company."
Ah, they'd fired him to avoid a personal injury case. Which was exactly what you were going to convince Max to file.
"You know that you can get some type of compensation for what happened? Given that you got injured in a work space. I can help you get your job back but I believe that you're deserving of much more than that and I can be the one to help you throughout that path."
After a bit of convincing from your part, you'd managed to get Max to agree to the conditions that you were setting in place. You'd managed to get the paperwork rolling to get the lawsuit filed before he left, leaving you only to go to Alchemax and try to get some testimonies. You did a bit of research on the subject, distracting yourself from the thought that Matt hadn't bothered to step foot in his office all day. not even a call to let you know he hadn't died or something.
You weren't sure what you were expecting upon meeting the CEO of Alchemax, Miguel O'Hara. The photo that he had up on the website was a portrait of him with an unamused expression on his face, his brows furrowed as if he were willing for the camera to click faster. The very same expression that he was currently giving you right now. "Hi, I'm the attorney for Max's case. I was wondering if i could get your testimony."
The only sign of acknowledgment that you got from him was a grunt before he turned over to look at Max, his expression softening a bit. An expression that you would've missed had you not been conditioned to look out for every minor detail. "Can I talk to you really quick?" Miguel asked, unwilling to acknowledge that you were still in the room before he walked into a conference room behind him with Max.
You leaned your ear to the door, trying your best to listen in on the conversation. It had been a harder task than you'd expected, a couple employees shooting you dirty looks upon seeing you against the door. You could make out a couple sentences in between their hushed whispers, your brows knitting immediately as you heard the exchange.
“I'm saying is that I don't think she's a good fit for this lawsuit. She looks inexperienced. You know I could get my lawyer for you if you wanted, Max."
"You know I respect your opinion and all, Miguel, I really do. But isn't your lawyer mostly just based on family law?"
"Well yes, but I'm sure he has some lawyer at his firm designated towards personal injury lawsuits."
You stepped away from the door, dusting off your clothes as you let out a scoff to yourself. How dare he. How dare he make those comments without even bothering to have a full conversation with you? The most he'd given you was a glimpse, if you could even count the three seconds he looked in your direction as that. The two men in question departed the room and the first you noticed was the scowl that adorned miguel's features.
"How long have you been practicing personal injury cases exactly?" Niguel's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, like he was the one you needed to convince rather than Max. While your experience as a lawyer was mostly based around criminal law, you weren't about to divulge that information with Miguel. Not when he already doubted your abilities.
"I practice mostly in criminal law now, but I have some experience with those types of cases after completing a internship during law school," you responded, trying to maintain some semblance of your composure. You could tell that max greatly valued the opinion of his superior, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by. You had to impress him if you wanted to impress Max.
Miguel's eyes slightly narrowed at the statement but he decided not to question you further, having asked what law school you went to prior to that. "I'll see you later when you take my testimony?" He asked, to which you nodded. He departed the space, leaving you alone with Max. You guided him inside the conference room that he'd been with Miguel a couple seconds back, deciding to host your questioning inside.
You'd gotten the gist of what the lawsuit was concerning from Max when he first came in, but you wanted to make sure you had every detail on paper. From what time he'd clocked in to what time he'd clocked out, what he'd worn to work, small details that would normally be overlooked at first glance. You turned on the small recorder that you brought along, setting in the middle of the table so it would pick up every word spoken.
"So you came in at 5 am and left at 8 pm?"
"I did, yes."
"Were those overtime hours voluntary or were they placed upon you?"
"The boss of the division told me I had to stay behind to work on it when I was getting ready to leave. I was planning on going out and buying myself a birthday cake that day."
You couldn't help but feel a bit of sympathy for Max, your brows furrowing as you wrote down what he was telling you. You shut the recorder off, having collected most of the information that you were looking for. "For what it's worth, happy late birthday Max," you spoke up once you were finished writing, a surprised look on his face as the words registered. Almost as if it was the first time that someone had ever said those words to him.
"Thank you, no one really bothered to remember," he responded, sounding less timid than when he'd first stepped foot into your 'office.' While at first you were simply viewing him as a client, a means to build your expertise, you couldn't help but feel upset the more you talked to him. He'd come into your office, simply looking to get back into the job that had done him wrong. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy, overlooked by everyone in his life.
"Alright. I'll make sure to keep you updated on any developments in the case and when a court date has been established. The company's mostly likely gonna want to settle so it's up to you if you want to accept the compensation that they offer. My advice would be not to, at least not on the first offer," you spoke up, standing up after you were finished. You handed your card over to Max, helping him out of the building.
It was only after Max had left that you made your way up the stairs, looking for Miguel's office. You browsed through the different rooms, his being the furthest one in the hall. The biggest one. Of course. You knocked on the door, waiting for some type of answer. You looked through the window, noticing that all the lights had mostly been dimmed down. You weren't expecting anyone to actually open the door, collecting your stuff to attempt to come back at a later time.
"Can I help you with something?" You heard before you had the chance to get too far, Miguel standing in front of the door. you saw the look of exhaustion on his features, the darkness around him almost emphasizing it. "I was wondering if i could get your statement now but I can come back at a later time if you want."
Miguel didn't say anything, walking back into the room once you'd finished speaking. He had left the door open, though. You took that as a silent invitation, stepping inside the space and closing the door behind you. The sunlight peeking in through the windows helped illuminate your way over to the desk he was sitting at. "I'll take care of a phone call and I'll be back to answer whatever questions you have, attorney."
The statement that Miguel had given you was strangely detailed, every detail regarding the scene memorized. you couldn't help but notice he seemed to mutter out every sentence he spoke, barely making an attempt to open his mouth. The only times he'd spoken clearly were when he had his back to you and even then, he seemed to speak with a bit of a lisp.
"So I'm not saying you have to alter this right away, but you're gonna have to speak up louder in court if you want them to hear you." you spoke up after he finished answering one of your questions, making sure to approach the subject with caution. You didn't know if he would be sensitive towards it.
Even through the darkness of the room, you couldn't miss the glare that he gave you even if you tried. Yup, clearly sensitive. "I can't speak any louder if I tried. I'll try to keep it in mind though," he made more of an effort to make himself sound louder, though not by much. But at least he was willing to take your advice into consideration. You made a mental note to talk to the judge about adjusting his microphone volume.
"¡Papi!" A small girl approached miguel, her arms reaching up to where he was sitting. Miguel was the most vulnerable that you've ever seen him, his angry resolve melting into pure butter at the sight of the little girl standing in front of him. "Hola mija, how was school?" He asked, the two of them getting into a conversation about how her recent math quiz had gone. It was nice seeing the two of them interact, the way he followed up to every statement that she made.
"You don't mind if my daughter stays here during the interview, right?" Miguel asked, clearing his throat as he looked up at you. And just as soon as his resolve melted, it came back. "No, I don't mind since she's not testifying," you responded, watching as Miguel reached into one of his cabinets upon hearing your response. He took out a board game, Operation. he handed it over to the girl, her eyes almost seeming to shine in the darkness enveloping the three of you.
"Gracias papá," Gabriella told him upon receiving the game, skipping over to a lab table to play by herself. You jumped back into the questions after making sure that Miguel was ready, his demeanor seeming less hostile as compared to earlier. He responded to your questions with much more precision, adding in as many details as possible. You could tell just by the way he was fidgeting around that he was anxious to be home with his kid. You wrapped up the process pretty quickly, making swift movements to clear the desk from your belongings.
"Miss Lawyer Lady? Do you wanna play with me? It's just.. my mom doesn't really play games with me anymore," Gabriella spoke up before you had the chance to leave. You walked over to the table she was sitting at, putting your briefcase down. "Gabriella, I'm sure 'Miss Lawyer Lady' has things she needs to do. I'll play with you," Miguel told her, making the little girl turn to look at you with puppy eyes.
And you did have things to get done.
You had to review the evidence you'd collected today. Go through the different voice recordings to make your own recollection of events. Go through countless hours of security footage.
And yet, you found yourself agreeing to play a game of Operation with her. You convinced yourself that you were staying solely because those puppy eyes made you weak. You'd been planning on taking it easy on her but the thing is, she was much more talented than you at the game. While you were making the game buzz time after time again, she took out the items with ease.
"Makes sense why you decided to be a lawyer instead of a surgeon," Gabriella teased you after you messed up on the heart. You reluctantly handed the tweezers over to her, letting out a small chuckle as she struggled with the same section. "Think she might've killed your patient by now, Gabi," you hadn't heard Miguel come by and suddenly, he was standing next to you. "Fine, then you try it big guy," you challenged, handing him the tweezers when it was your turn again.
You almost wished you hadn't bothered to tease him. Despite the size of his hands, he was able to maneuver the tweezers in a way that guaranteed the piece wouldn't touch the board at all. All you could do was swallow your words when you looked over at the stupid smirk directed your way. But at least the scowl was better than the scowl he seemed to have reserved towards you.
“Hey, what does ‘cara de burro mean?’” You asked after a couple seconds, the sentence making itself back into your head. You’d meant to search up the meaning of it months ago but you seemed to forget every time you actually got close to a computer. “donkey face,” Gabriella answered, keeping her attention on the board in the middle of the table. You looked over at miguel for some kind of a reaffirmation, being met with a nod.
Oh, that shocking bastard.
You looked down at your phone upon hearing a buzz, your face immediately forming into a frown once you read the contents of the text. Another cancelled date. Three times these past two weeks alone. you looked up to see Gabriella looking curiously at you, waiting for you to divulge who and what the text was about.
"Just some guy I'm seeing. Cancelled our date again."
"Why don't you dump him already if he's done it more than twice?"
Because you still held out some hope that maybe, by some miracle above, he'd start to put in the effort that you needed so desperately. "It's more complicated than that, he's good when he wants to be," you weren't sure why exactly you felt the need to rationalize Matt’s actions to a eight year old but here you were.
"Just seems like he doesn't know what he has. You're very pretty, Ms. Lawyer Lady. Even though you suck at Operation, you're still pretty smart."
You couldn't help but smile at her words, going back to messing up your round of Operation. Hearing her say that was almost reassuring in a way, that maybe you did deserve more than what Matthew had been giving towards you. You could've sworn you felt Miguel's eyes almost boring into you for a couple seconds, though he had his attention on Gabriella when you turned to look at him.
The three of you spent about an hour playing Operation before Gabriella had to get ready for her soccer practice, leaving you wandering the streets of Nueva York. While Matt had cancelled on your date with him, you figured that maybe it wouldn't hurt to take the date over to him. You stopped by his favorite spot to get noodles from, getting a dinner for two before heading over to his apartment.
The sight in front of you made you regret even spending one more penny on what he wanted.
What awaited you in Matt’s apartment was a sight that you weren't expecting. He was sprawled out on the couch, bruises and cuts adorning his body like a second skin while a black haired woman worked on rubbing some alcohol into the deep marks. Wearing one of his button down shirts. With nothing underneath.
"What are you doing here?" Matt’s voice broke you out of your frozen state of shock, your grip on the takeout bag tightening so you wouldn't drop it. "I came here because I thought that we could share a dinner but clearly I was mistaken," you couldn't hide the bitterness out of your voice as you spoke. You were trying not to yell, knowing how sensitive he already was towards everyday sounds.
"It's not what it loo-"
"No. I don't care what you think this looks like. Because what it looks like to me is that you've been disregarding my texts and my calls to be out with this woman. That you've been cancelling out on our dates but you have no problem making time for her."
Matt and the woman remained quiet, almost as if they both knew that they wouldn't be able to come back with a rebuttal to that. "I can't believe I took time to beg you for a relationship," you finally muttered as you made your way out the door. You stopped by the steps, almost as if you were waiting for the woman and Matt to follow. For matt to beg you to come back to his apartment while the woman left in shame.
Unfortunately, you only stood there like a fool for two minutes. the door remained closed, their hushed whispers bleeding out through the walls. You made your way down the stairs, maintaining the last bit of your pride as you headed back home. The only thing you had to console yourself with was the noodles in your hand, though they were cold by the time you'd gotten home. You'd ended up eating your dinner alone, playing one of the videos of Gabriella playing soccer that Miguel so generously sent over.
Matthew hadn't been lying when he said that he was able to act like nothing happened between the two of you. The next day he was back to handing you case files and asking what you wanted for lunch like the event didn't happen. And normally, you'd appreciate the gesture. But now, all you could feel was infuriated. How much time you begged him to give a relationship with you a chance only to end up crying into your pillow the next day. And now, he acted like it was a glitch.
Like you were nothing more than another average employee.
You were able to act as nothing more than an average employee after taking a couple days to let yourself mourn the loss of your relationship. The evidence that you collected towards Alchemax was overwhelming, almost assuring you a 100% chance of winning the case. You'd made sure to talk to the judge about adjusting the microphone settings and turning off some of the lights to make things comfortable for your witnesses. Well, one specifically.
You could tell that Miguel appreciated those little details, his shoulders becoming less tense when he set foot onto the stand. He made an attempt to try to speak louder into the microphone, even if he was still trying to cover up his teeth. You appreciated the effort that he put into it, making sure to let him know that he'd done a good job. "Just focus on winning the case," he muttered after you were done, but you could've sworn you saw a hint of a smile on his way out.
Or maybe you were just delusional and you were looking for little signs that weren't there.
The countless hours of overtime that you spent reviewing past cases regarding this section of the law, working out drafts of the prosecution that you wanted to present, had come to fruition in the work. Max received a hefty amount upon the jury's decision, the verdict stating that the company was fully responsible in the damages that were caused to him. In turn, the company also took him back and made sure to sign on an agreement where they swore to make their work area more secure.
Overall, a win-win scenario.
"Congratulations. I suppose you're not completely incompetent," Miguel remarked upon seeing you walk in the restaurant, his arms folded across his chest. You planned on taking that as a compliment being that it was the only semblance of praise that he'd given you so far. "That might be the nicest thing you've said to me all day," you remarked, making your way to the table where Max was waiting for the two of you.
He invited the two of you out to drinks after news of the verdict got out, seeming like he needed ideas on how to spend the money he'd gotten. To which you graciously accepted.
"Thank you. For the time that you put into my case, I know how busy you lawyers tend to get," Max told you after greeting you, his gratitude towards you evident. No matter how many times you'd get praised by your clients, you'd never quite be able to get used to the way they spoke to you. They spoke to you like you were a hero, expressing their thanks time after time again.
Max and Miguel got into a conversation about one of the experiments that they were working on, the two of them including you into the conversation whenever you had a question to ask. You appreciated that the two of them tried to include you despite your limited knowledge in the science field. "No, the variable needs to be in a 90 degree room to be able to thrive properly. Otherwise, we just have to go out and scrap the experiment," Max explained to one of your questions, expressing how crucial that aspect was.
While it wasn't exactly riveting to hear the two of them explain the differences of DNA and RNA, you still found yourself having a pleasant time by the end of the night. "Sorry guys, I have to get going. But thank you for coming out tonight and for winning my case," Max dismissed himself around 8:30, giving the two of you a handshake before departing the restaurant. Despite the fact Max had offered the drinks, you and Miguel still chipped in for your individual drinks.
"Y'know, I tried to act cordial around you and treat you as respectful as possible, but you still don't like me. I’m curious as to why," the alcohol in your system loosening up your tongue, the words escaping from your mouth before you even got the chance to think about them twice. Your eyes widened as you looked over at Miguel, expecting him to just leave the money on the table and leave.
Rather, he seemed somewhat amused by the situation. Well, as amused as you'd ever see him be. "I don't like you because you're one of the most unpredictable women i've met. You just make me nervous. And frankly, it’s attractive in a way," he finally spoke up after a while, taking his own drink in hand. You blinked slowly, hoping that with a couple more seconds, you'd be able to register what he'd just said to you.
He continued to speak after your silence, taking advantage of the situation. "Sorry if I'm overstepping any boundaries here, but I feel as though there's some tension between us. I was wondering if you wanted to explore that."
Always the geek, even when he was trying to lure you into his bedroom.
"I'm not exactly looking for anything serious right now."
Your battered heart wouldn't be able to take being treated the same way Matt did to you again. Not even one more single time. You were determined to avoid getting put in that situation even if it meant you were missing out on opportunities.
"I'm aware. But I’m not looking for anything serious either, just something for the night."
Out of all the things that came out of his mouth tonight, that certainly wasn't what you were expecting.
Well, now or ever.
But.. you also couldn't deny it to yourself that you felt some of that tension that he'd been mentioning. Even if the two of you could barely be in a room together most of the time, he was still infuriatingly attractive. especially in the stupid button down he'd chosen to wear, his arms practically bulging out the sleeves when he rolled them up to his elbows. The pants he had on didn't help the situation either, the material accentuating his thighs and his slutty waist.
You wouldn't have figured as much. you would've imagined him seeking out a serious relationship, someone that would be able to properly take on the mantle of being Gabriella’s stepmom. But, in a weird way, you supposed that it also made sense. He and Gabriella both had their own sets of issues after his wife left the two of them behind, both of them wanting that sort of connection without actually putting themselves at risk of getting hurt.
You looked down at your phone when you felt it vibrate, seeing Matt’s name pop up on the screen. as much as you wanted to disregard his call, you figured that it probably wouldn't be the best thing to do. He was still your boss after all. This could be a call related to something about the Fisk case.
"Hey, what's up?" You tried to mask your reluctance as you spoke, though Matt almost seemed to notice it every time that it happened.
He didn't seem to care this time, jumping straight into the case of this phone call.
"I'm calling to see if you want to come over, darling. I mean, breakup sex has to be up on the list for top experiences."
You couldn't help the groan that escaped from your lips upon hearing the request, almost laughing at the audacity that he presented. Though, you figured he would've called an asylum had you started laughing now. He's still your boss. He's still your boss. He's still your boss.
"No, I'm not interesting in hooking up with you. I didn't think I had to tell you but I don't want you calling this number unless you have something related to our job. Goodnight."
You didn't give Matt a chance to respond, putting your phone away in your purse. You were busy mulling over Miguel's words, gulping down the last of your drink. You tried to think of any negatives that sleeping with him would have, but you eventually came up with nothing. You wouldn't have any obligation to see him if this all went south and the two of you agreed beforehand that this was something casual.
So, there was really only one thing for you to do now.
"Sure, let's go back to your place."
tags 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @yournextbimbogf @nixinluv02 @lizaistewdelulu @monarchberrysblog @loser-alert @spiderpapi2099 @sloverr
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avatar-anna · 2 months
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Workday Blues
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2024 Masterlist
i wrote this weeks ago after a co-worker had me seeing red lol
"I just don't get it, H," you sighed, leaning back against the leather seat of your car as you waited for the light to change. Your voice felt strained, and you knew you sounded whiny, but you couldn't help it. After a long shift at work, you told yourself you reserved the right to complain. "Why can't people just, I don't know, do the job they showed up to do and get paid for?"
"I'm sorry, bub," Harry said, his voice tinny as it filled up your car. "Did you talk to your manager?"
You scoffed. "There's no point, but I swear I wanted to tell them I didn't want to work that shift anymore. I'm just so sick of—of—doing more than what's required of me and not being compensated for it."
Harry remained quiet over the phone. At this point in your relationship, he knew when you wanted his advice and when you just needed to vent about your job. The latter happened more and more as of late. Sometimes you felt bad for being so negative, but after nine hours of being overly positive as a restaurant server, you didn't have much positivity left in you.
"Need me to leave you a review again?" Harry finally asked.
Despite your exhaustion, you smiled. "What's that, now? The third one this month?"
"Fourth. Three and a half. I had Mitch leave one after the, what did you call it, 'influencer incident?'" he asked, referring to an afternoon where someone tried to pay for their meal by posting a video online.
"Hm. I'll have to bring him a slice of pie the next time I visit the studio."
"Hey, what about me? Where's my pie?"
Grin widening a bit, you said, "I'll give you something better."
"And...how far from home are you now?"
"Pulling in right now. I'll see you inside."
You pulled into the home you shared with Harry, resting your forehead against the steering wheel once the car was in park. Your feet hurt, you smelled like the food your restaurant served, and you desperately needed to take your makeup off. Sometimes you wondered why you were still putting yourself through all of this, and Harry definitely did too. For years now, Harry promised to take care of you, to take care of your student debt so you could focus on your career and not be so tired and unhappy. He didn't say it often because it typically led to an argument about independence and needing to be able to take care of yourself, but you knew how he felt, and after days like today, the idea of letting someone else take care of you financially seemed more appealing than it normally did.
Sighing, you slid out of the car, gathering your lunch bag and purse before shuffling into the house on slippered feet. "H?" you called, eyes lighting up when you heard the sound of nails scraping against wood floors. A shadow of jet black fur whipped around the corner and bounded toward the entrance hall to you, tongue out and tail wagging.
"Hi, pookie! How's my sweet boy?" you cooed. Hades nudged your leg with his nose, and you bent down to run your hands over his soft puppy fur until he eventually fell onto his back in need of belly rubs.
"You talking to me?" Harry's voice sounded like it came from the kitchen, which you followed once you straightened up and your dog was finished licking your face.
"You're gonna eat your words when you get your cute butt over here."
"I live with two boys, and only one of them greets me excitedly without fail. You do the math," you joked.
You smiled and shook your head at the comment. Harry knew your feelings about your "unflattering" work uniform, so he often went out of his way to compliment you whenever you were in it.
When you finally made it to where Harry was standing at the kitchen counter, tears nearly welled up in the corners of your eyes. "Is that—"
"Wild Cherry Pepsi," he said, his grin wide and knowing as he read your expression. "With pebbled ice. And dinner, but I know you care more about the drink with that sugar addiction of yours."
"You know me so well," you said, your voice rising in pitch as your head bowed.
"Aw, come here, bub." You shuffled over the last few steps to Harry, folding right into his welcoming embrace.
His body was firm and comforting against yours, his t-shirt soft beneath your cheek. Breathing in deep, you wrapped your arms around Harry's torso, letting every frustration you felt at work fall away as he held you.
"Thank you," you mumbled, tilting your head up after a minute or two had passed.
Harry smoothed his hand over your hair and down your back, pulling at the hair tie that held your braid in place all day. "For what?"
You shrugged, eyes closed as he began to pull the strands of your braid apart. "I don't know. For being you, for not suggesting I should quit when I know you want to."
"Another time," Harry promised. Pulling out a chair at the kitchen table, he gestured for you to sit down. You practically fell into the chair, feeling like you could finally relax as you took the plastic to-go cup into your hands and took a sip. Your eyes closed, feeling as though you could fall asleep right then even though you knew you should probably eat. As if he could tell you were on the brink of sleeping, Harry asked, "Do you want to keep talking about work or are you ready to forget?"
Harry wasn't being rude, nor was he belittling your frustration. You'd done this song and dance a time or two, but some days required you to vent more than others.
Around the straw, you said, "Can I?"
He sat beside you, taking Hades in his lap, who was happy to be held even though he was getting way too big for it. Usually, you chided Harry for holding Hades like that, but you were too tired, and honestly, it was kind of cute.
You talked while you ate, and Harry listened, letting you get everything you needed off your chest. He was quiet but attentive, apologizing for things out of his control and cursing your co-workers when you did. None of it would really improve the situation at work, but you always appreciated Harry's willingness to listen when you needed him to, and share in your anger and frustration when necessary.
Standing from the table, you took your plate and put everything in the dishwasher. Grabbing your plastic cup in one hand and Harry's hand in the other, you said, "I think I'm all done."
Harry kissed your temple before pulling you up the stairs toward your bedroom. Hades snaked between you and him to run ahead, waiting on the landing impatiently. "Good, because the Real Housewives of Salt Lake City won't wait for just anyone."
"Not a reading night, huh?" you asked, resting your head on his shoulder. Harry looked down and raised his brows in an expression that expressed he was not, in fact, going to be cracking open his book tonight. Kissing his cheek, you said, "Go ahead and start the next episode, baby. I'm gonna hop in the shower and wash my day off."
Harry, who'd been on his way to do just that, paused and frowned. "Well now I want to watch something else."
Grinning, you held out your hand while you continued to sip your drink. "Come on."
Hades, who had already claimed his spot at the edge of your bed, tilted his head to one side, clearly confused as to why his parents were walking away instead of joining him. "We'll be quick," you promised, even though you knew your dog didn't understand. But the message was for Harry too.
When you were finally in bed, watching Harry's show through eyes that were struggling to stay open, you looked up from where you resting against his shoulder. Harry's glasses were perched on his nose, his eyes focused on the television in front of him as he ran his hand idly over Hades' fur, who had conveniently found his way onto your lap once you settled into bed for the night.
"If you insist," Harry said on an exhale, turning the shower on and setting it to a temperature he knew you both liked.
"Be honest," you said suddenly. "I'd be happier if I quit, right?"
Harry was quiet, but you knew he'd heard you. He was just weighing his words. "Is another job lined up in this alternate universe?" he finally asked.
"I don't know, maybe. They argue quite a bit, though. Don't think you want to be part of all that drama," he replied, taking the remote and pausing his show. He looked down at you, eyes soft but perhaps a little concerned. You'd never considered his offer of letting him provide for you this seriously before. "Honestly? I think you'd get bored, bub."
You shrugged. "I don't know. You've said you'd always take care of me. What if I just...let you? I could be one of them," you mused, nodding your head at the women on your TV.
A nod and a noncommittal hum was your only response for a few seconds until you'd gathered your thoughts. "I'm just so...tired. I'm tired of everything I do not being appreciated. I'm tired of not being supported. I love my regulars and I like most of my co-workers, and part of me feels a sense of loyalty to this place despite, well, everything."
"We'll do some job hunting tomorrow," Harry said. "I'll help you update your resume, you'll send some feelers out, and we'll go from there. How does that sound?"
"I could get a remote job," you mused. "I'd get to be home more. I could travel more with you."
Harry kissed the top of your head. "As much as I would love that, I think your strengths lie in the connections you make with people. You certainly charmed the pants off me."
"Literally or metaphorically?"
"Both."
You grinned, cheeks reddening as you recalled the night you first met Harry.
*.*
"Holy shit you're Harry Styles."
Your hand immediately clapped over your mouth, as if physically covering it would keep you from embarrassing yourself further. In your defense, it was the first time a celebrity sat in your section at work, and no one had thought to warn you. And Harry Styles, no less. The man in front of you was probably still immortalized on your childhood bedroom wall, and now you'd all but outed yourself as a fan when he'd no doubt wanted some privacy.
"I'm so sorry, I—" How were you supposed to recover from this? Harry stared at you with a small smile, a pitying one, no doubt. God, you had one opportunity to act cool in front of a celebrity and you blew it in less than ten seconds. "I'm sorry, let me start over. Hi, I'm Y/n, and I'll be taking care of you today. Can I get you something to drink?"
"Just a water please," Harry replied, his voice soft as his smile widened, which made you think that perhaps he thought you making an absolute fool out of yourself was at the very least amusing.
Once you made it back to the service station to retrieve his water glass, you gave yourself exactly one minute to collect yourself. "He's just another customer. An extremely attractive customer," you murmured, grabbing a pitcher of water from the fridge. "You can do this, Y/n. Pull yourself together."
From there, things went smoothly. You acted like you hadn't freaked out when you initially greeted Harry's table, and Harry was thankfully on board with that plan. He was polite, wasn't fussed when a dish he wanted couldn't be made vegetarian, and was surprisingly interested in making conversation with you anytime you were at his table.
"How long have you worked here?"
"Too long," you joked. "Sometimes I feel like there's a bit of Stockholm Syndrome with this place, but the tips are good."
Your eyes widened a bit when you realized he might think you were making a joke about one of his songs—which you absolutely weren't trying to do—but you didn't comment on it, and thankfully neither did he. You talked a little bit more about the career you did want to get into, and casually asked what brought him to the restaurant you worked at. It wasn't one celebrities tended to frequent, but perhaps that was its charm to Harry.
"Had a day to myself, just thought I'd do some exploring," he explained before you left him to enjoy his meal.
You'd gotten a couple more tables since then and couldn't go over and talk to Harry like you wanted, but perhaps that was for the best. You flitted around the restaurant floor like you always did, charming customers and taking complaints in stride with a smile. Tips were key, and snarky comments or not being accommodating would get you nowhere with certain customers, even if it did kill you inside just a little bit to see an insufferable person get their way.
You didn't realize it at the time, but according to Harry, he watched you—not in a creepy way, per his recollection of your first meeting. He watched you chat with regulars and help your co-workers place orders and carefully placate disgruntled customers. And all the while, you still managed to stop by his table, smiling and topping off the coffee he ordered after he ate, which, according to him he'd done just so he could keep talking to you.
Apparently, he'd been working up the courage to flirt with you when you finally set the check down on the table. "No rush," you said with a smile before heading to another table, a party of ten that you accidentally huffed to him was supposed to be a party of five.
Harry paid, then smiled when his bill and credit card came back to him. Sorry for acting like an idiot earlier. It was nice meeting you! you'd written on the receipt, adorning it with a smiley face. You watched as Harry smiled as he read your note from Expo before one of the line cooks shouted at you to run the food that was up.
You didn't think you'd ever see Harry again, a universal truth, some might've called it. But for some reason, the notion disappointed you, and not because you didn't get a picture with your teenage crush. It felt bigger than that somehow, which was altogether crazy considering you'd only just met him.
So imagine your surprise when you saw him again two days later. "He was supposed to be in my section, but he insisted on yours. Don't fuck it up," one of your more vile co-workers told you, clearly jealous. And as you saw him, his head bent over the menu and his knee bouncing beneath the booth, your heart leaped in your chest in a way that made you both nervous and excited.
"You forgot something," he said as he closed out his check for the second time that week. Time had passed in a blur, despite it slowing down every time you went over to talk to him, which was to say a lot. It wasn't as busy as the day he first came in, leaving you no choice but to check on him more than you normally would.
"Did I?" you asked, looking down at the bill with furrowed brows.
"Last time I was here, I mean," Harry corrected.
Last time, you thought. All Harry had gotten was a salad and a coffee, but the tip he left was well over half of what your other tables had left that day combined. But you rang everything in correctly. Perhaps he was expecting a discount for his celebrity status? He didn't seem like the type, but that was the only conclusion you were able to draw.
"The note you left," he continued, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. He sat up straighter, giving you a better view of the Keith Harring shirt he wore. "It didn't have your number on it, so I've had to come back the last two days so I could ask you for it. Only now I know you don't work on Mondays."
Shock ran through your entire body, to the point where you couldn't even speak. Harry, Harry Styles, mind you, wanted your number. Badly enough that he'd come back to an average Mom-and-Pop restaurant to get it.
"No, I—I don't," was all you could manage as your entire face heated up.
"I hope I'm not sounding like a creep right now," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "I realize now I may have participated in some light stalking."
"You're not," you blurted, trying to remember how to speak. You felt like you'd somehow entered an alternate dimension. "Here, hold on."
You pulled your order pad from your back pocket and scribbled your number down, willing your hands to stop shaking. Ripping it off the stack, you handed it to Harry, who took it from you graciously.
"Can I call you later?" he asked, standing up from the booth. You had to back up a couple steps to give him room, and you were now aware of just how tall he was as you craned your neck to look at him.
"Please," you blurted, cursing yourself for sounding so eager. Harry didn't seem to mind, though, smiling as he slipped his phone and wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. "I—I mean, sure. I'm off at eight tonight."
"I'll be counting down the minutes," he said before cursing under his breath. "Shit. I sounded like a stalker again, didn't I?"
A laugh bubbled out of you, making Harry's shoulders relax. "I'll allow it. Just this once."
Harry laughed too, then winked, and you were honestly so proud of yourself for not swooning in front of him. "I guess I'll be talking to you later then, Y/n."
*.*
"You made me so nervous," you said as you recalled the memory of how you'd embarrassed yourself in front of Harry the first time you met.
"I know," he said, laughing when you smacked his arm. "It was cute, though! And you also made me plenty nervous, to be fair."
"That is true," you sighed, grinning a little as you turned your face into his arm. "One of us stalked the other, and it certainly wasn't me."
"Sure, but one of us has posters of the other plastered all over their childhood bedroom."
Scoffing, you sat up and scooted away from him, making Hades bark in protest. "It's one poster. And you weren't even my favorite. Zayn was."
"Sure. Keep telling yourself that."
"I will."
Sighing, you settled deeper against him, as much as you could considering the puppy still in your lap. "Sometimes I think I keep the job because that's where we met."
"It's okay to let it go. We'll have the memory," Harry promised, his hand meeting yours as he began to scratch Hades' fur. "We'll figure it out. I promise."
Nodding, you reached for the remote and pressed play on the show, content to leave the conversation there. If Harry promised to help you figure it out, then you believed him.
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nkogneatho · 3 months
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Congratulations on hitting 14k ! Hope you are doing well, sending you lots of positive vibes & hugs your way. 🧿✨🤍🫶🏼 Hopefully im requesting properly lol.
Would love to request bllk Barou x Detention . Something along the lines of it being readers fault they get detention and he wants to get back at them.
Thank you ✨
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°🖇᭡ 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑺𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑶𝑳 🐇𓍢ִ໋
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꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 𝑫𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵
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barou had a habit of of getting detention since we somehow always ended up fighting with someone, and he couldn't argue since it was always his fault but today it was you who bumped into him when he was on his way to practice, and he ended up collapsing against the art stratue in your hand that you were supposed to take back to the art room.
"what the fuck is wrong with you?" he yelled but the crash of the ceramic had already caught your homeroom teacher's attention, and since he is always so hot headed, the teacher thought it was his fault and made him sit detention. before you got a chance to explain the professor made him apologize to you and was dragging him to the class. he missed his practice that day because of you. he was so furious and determined to make you pay for it.
the next day he before you arrived to the class, barou had spread color on your desk and you didn't notice so when you came, you just sat on it, ruining your dress. the whole class was laughing and so was the whole class. judging by the look he gave you, you knew it was him but you said nothing and excused yourself to the washroom with the saddest expression on your face.
"Good morning class. Let's start with the literature review today—Oh, Barou, sorry for yesterday. Y/n apologized and cleared that it was her fault later. To make it up to you, you don't need to do today's homework."
His smile dropped so fast. He now feels like the worst human on this planet, and he hurried to the washroom.
A random girl bumoed into him. "Eww creep this is a girl's washroom. can't you see?"
All he could do now was wait till you came out. And you did, with wet bottoms, and sniffling.
"hey...uh—i am so sorry. i was so pissed and i swear i didn't know you told him. uhm—hey...please don't cry. i will apologize to you in front of everyone."
"that's alright."
He felt so bad and he just wanted to do something to make it up to you. He removed his sweatshirt and tied it around your waist.
"There. This might help. I'll get you another jean just tell which brand, okay? Friends?"
You felt your cheeks heat up. "Hmm" you smiled and he felt so relaxed
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antianakin · 8 months
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I don’t know if you’re actually watching the Ahsoka series or not, but I was very curious on your thoughts on the newest episode, and the confrontation between Anakin and Ahsoka.
Bro traumatized her again. Lol. 😒🙃
I’m actually kind of satisfied that she showed a little resentment, but I still don’t like that she didn’t cuss him out or something.
Anakin not apologizing is infuriating at first glance, but I also think it fits his character.
It’s funny, if I think about it in a certain way: I wonder if Anakin himself views his “redemption” kind of the same way his fans do. He’s just like, “Why are you still pissed at me? I died stopping the Emperor, didn’t I?” 🙄
The only one I think he’d actually feel sad about is Leia, because of course he’d want his daughter to like him, but she never will now, because he fucking tortured her and blew up her planet.
You know… I don’t really view Anakin’s final moments as a true “redemption” in the eyes of the galaxy. George Lucas has a quote where he says parents are redeemed in the eyes of their children. I guess you could argue that Anakin redeemed himself in Luke’s eyes, but not the galaxy’s own.
And then there’s Leia, who will never forgive him or think of him as her father.
In a way, it’s almost fitting for Anakin, that each of his children represent something for him.
Luke represents forgiveness, and how it’s never too late to do the right thing.
Leia represents his mistakes and sins. As long as she lives, he’ll always look at her and remember the damage he’s done. She’d never let him forget it.
Which is funny, when going back to the recent Ahsoka episode, and how he was acting like a dick to Ahsoka.
Personally, I think he was purposely trying to piss her off to make her fight to not die.
Still though: he’s such a jackass. 😒
Anyways, I guess my main point is that I don’t view Anakin being a Force Ghost shows that he was “redeemed.” I view it more as a type of salvation. Like the Bible story where Jesus is on the cross with two other men next to him. And then one man decides to “believe in him” or whatever, and his soul is saved by the skin of his teeth.
This is kind of how I view Anakin’s act of saving Luke. His soul was saved, because he did a heel face turn at the last second. So The Force was like, “Good enough, I guess.” *Throws up hands*
Anyways, sorry for the long rambling. I hope you don’t mind the message. Haha. 😅 I just have found your blog really therapeutic, because while I like Anakin as the fascinating character that he is, it still just kills me how fandom woobifies him and blames the Jedi for their own genocide.
I don't mind this message at all, thanks so much for sending so many of your thoughts, this was great! It's going to be a long reply back, though, since there's so much to respond to and if you've been going through my blog, this probably won't surprise you.
I AM watching the Ahsoka show, I'm just putting my thoughts about it on a different blog to this one (this blog was created for me to be negative so I usually only review things on here if I KNOW I'm going to be negative about it, but I was hopeful I'd have positive things to say about the Ahsoka show lol).
I think I'm feeling RELATIVELY mediocre about the show. Like I don't hate the whole thing, I can see why it appeals to people, but it's not really hitting at what I would've wanted from a narrative perspective. It seems to be relying on fan service and pretty visuals rather than genuinely good writing to get them through. If you happen to be the fan being serviced, you probably like it fine. But if you are someone more like me, then you might be noticing that there aren't a lot of stakes, the character motivations are weak or missing, the two storylines aren't being spliced together very well, and the dialogue's just not that great. There's also several more nitpicky things that are really pissing me off about the show (the way they're treating Force sensitivity, Sabine being a Jedi at all for no good reason and how her character is being butchered, the very distant and aloof acting I feel like we're getting from everybody, and of course the requisite anti-Jedi bullshit that we can all expect from Filoni at this point).
But as for how I felt about Anakin and Ahsoka's scenes in the latest episode this week, I am personally of the opinion that it WASN'T Anakin at all. I know it's left ambiguous, so if people feel like it was truly Anakin in some way shape or form, that's fine, but I think it makes more sense to me personally that it wasn't. This is Ahsoka's manifestation of Anakin in a moment where she's literally drowning and emotionally at something of a low point and has to decide if she's going to live or not and that conflict plays out in her head the way we see it. I'm also open to the idea that this is one of those things where the Force "tests" the Jedi not unlike what we see happen on Ilum and Mortis and the Force is just utilizing Anakin's visage to bring Ahsoka's deepest fears out into the open.
What makes it interesting to me is that then we can look at the interactions as THIS IS HOW AHSOKA SEES HIM. Whether she thinks about it that deeply or not, THIS personality is how she remembers him. The immediate choice to be violent with her and test her fighting skills rather than talk to her more gently, the dismissive attitude he has towards her, the flickering back and forth between Anakin and Vader because she doesn't truly know which one he was most. He wasn't necessarily a great teacher and his way of teaching wasn't very Jedi-like, it's ruthless and merciless and unkind, and we see that reflected in their interactions in this episode, which could be a really interesting look at how Ahsoka still remembers him even if she didn't see it negatively at the time.
So him not apologizing isn't like... an indication of how Anakin might actually handle this interaction if it were truly him so much as just... Ahsoka being unsure sure if he WOULD apologize because she has no idea how much of him was Vader the entire time and Vader would clearly never apologize. I think the Anakin we see by the end of ROTJ probably would apologize at SOME point, especially if we're supposed to see him as redeemed and acknowledging/accepting of his sins, etc. But Ahsoka doesn't know that. Ahsoka probably kind-of knows through Luke that he turned back in his last moments, but she wasn't there for that, she didn't get to see it, and she obviously still has no idea what caused him to turn on the Jedi and become a Sith to begin with. Why did he come back for Luke and not her? Was it because she abandoned him? Did he just not care about her the way she thought? Was there something intrinsically wrong with her that he recognized from the beginning?
There's just too much uncertainty perhaps for Ahsoka to know if he'd actually apologize and she doesn't even necessarily need or want an apology so much as she just wants to UNDERSTAND. Because of course it leads into her doubts about HERSELF and whether being his apprentice (even for as short of a time as it was) has somehow influenced her to be more like him and if she should be worried that she'll go dark or cause a student of hers to go dark. If she doesn't know why HE made that choice, how can she trust herself? It's not entirely dissimilar to the statement she made at the end of the Wrong Jedi arc where she claims she's leaving the Jedi because if the Council couldn't trust her then she isn't sure she can trust herself, either. And now with Anakin going dark, she has to wonder if the Council saw something of that in her when no one else did, saw a future for her that she hadn't been able to see for herself yet.
I think personally I'd just rather look at this episode as the closest we're going to get to a "deep dive" into Ahsoka's psyche and character rather than try to analyze it as like "what does this say about Anakin." It's not Anakin's story anymore, it's Ahsoka's. Or it's supposed to be, anyway.
That all being said, I don't think it went far enough and I do dislike that we didn't get to dive into OTHER aspects of Ahsoka via other relationships in order to round out who she actually is. I don't think we know any more about her at the end of the episode than we did at the beginning. I don't think she really grows or changes through the episode at all. I don't know what the whole "choose to live" thing was about or how it connects to her overall arc because while, yes, she's obviously literally drowning in the moment, "choosing to live" is not something they've been exploring as an issue for Ahsoka throughout this season so far, so it didn't feel like this cool end to her character journey so much as just a really shallow one-liner made to sound badass without anything particularly profound behind it.
I think gffa said that one of the things you can tell about this show is that it's been percolating in Filoni's mind for so long that there's things he's leaving out because they're just totally obvious to him now and he's forgotten that the audience won't know some of it without being told or shown. If Ahsoka was depressed or suicidal or something like that, it never came across in the first four episodes. She barely seems to be struggling at all to me, personally. So maybe that's what Filoni wanted us to understand about her, maybe that was the intention, but it just didn't quite make it from his head into the writing or onto the screen.
And I keep going back to the Obi-Wan Kenobi show and the way they handled his character arc. They started him at a really low point where he's so CLEARLY depressed and just moving through life without actually living or finding any way to be happy. They spend so much time showing us how OUT of character Obi-Wan is in order for the pay off by the end and the slow growth of his character throughout the six episode story to feel satisfying. And while he's out of character in his depression, it's done in such a way that that's the POINT. We all know WHY he's out of character, we know what's causing him to be that way, it doesn't need to be explained because it didn't happen off-screen, it's literally the plot of an entire trilogy of films. It felt like a pretty natural extension of the state we last saw him in and it allows him the ability to actually have a journey that makes sense.
We've gotten NONE OF THAT for Ahsoka. Her relationship with Sabine is nonsensical and comes out of nowhere with zero explanation. Her weird thing about Padawans comes out of nowhere with zero explanation. Her aloof attitude is coming out of nowhere and does nothing to help us understand the state of mind she's in. She never seems to be acting SO out of character that it tells the audience how much she's struggling, but she's also SO flat that she no longer feels much like the Ahsoka everyone knew and loved from The Clone Wars. They're inventing new problems for her to have that make no sense instead of giving her a journey to actually deal with the problems she already had and hadn't gotten any resolution for. And they're unable to actually connect her problems from before into the Rebels storyline in a way that makes any real sense or feels genuine and meaningful for either Ahsoka or Sabine, so both storylines are getting half-assed and butchered in the attempt.
Personally, I think Ahsoka should've had a season set closer to ROTJ or even before it, just after she gets off of Malachor and 2-3 years prior to ANH, to explore her immediate reaction to Anakin's betrayal and have her overcome that on her own. Use original characters primarily, throw in Bail Organa or something if needed just to give her a quick plot, but let it be about AHSOKA. And only once her journey to finding herself is complete do we then move on to the Search for Ezra, which should be focusing WAY more on the Rebels characters than we're actually getting and should not involve any of the Rebels characters (except maybe Jacen) learning to be Jedi. Ahsoka would be a side character in this story because she has now had her story told and we can let Sabine and Ezra and Jacen and Hera be at the forefront of the story. (I also think we could've done something with Sabine that wasn't being a Jedi or her entire family being murdered off screen so she has an excuse to do a characterization 180 and act like a bratty teenager all over again.)
If I had to just change THIS episode a little, I have a few alternatives I've been thinking about. For one, I do just think we should've gotten to explore OTHER relationships beyond Anakin to emphasize the other things that Ahsoka is that aren't just "Anakin's Padawan." Rex, Barriss, Plo Koon, even Kanan or Ezra to try to make that connection to Rebels. She's been a friend, a commander, a rebel, a student, a mentor, an ally, a Jedi. She's been so many things that have nothing at all to do with Anakin and I think that might've been nice to explore as well. Yes, Anakin was important. Yes, she's fucked up about it. But that's not ALL THAT SHE IS. So I think starting off with her fears about Anakin is great, but then have her move on and sort-of go through it a little like Charles Dickens' A Christmas Story to show that she's more than this, too. This probably would've worked better if it had been a two parter thing rather than one 30-40 minute episode, depending on how many characters you wanted to throw in.
I also would've appreciated seeing her break and shatter at seeing Anakin. I wanted her to be ANGRY, to refuse to forgive him, to throw his betrayal in face. And then by the end of the episode, she lets it go. She's seen that she doesn't need to hold onto that anymore and it doesn't matter what choices Anakin did or didn't make, she's her own person and can make HER own choices. And so Anakin comes back at the end, and she's no longer angry. She can forgive him. I also would've wanted her to have been more snappy and frustrated and angry earlier in the season, as well, so we can TELL there's something simmering underneath that she's trying to keep repressed until it finally boils over in this episode.
The other alternative I came up with was the OPPOSITE idea where Ahsoka is basically just kind-of... in denial about it. She isn't acknowledging her own anger and pain and betrayal at all and she just wants to spend this time with Anakin the way they used to and Anakin is sitting there provoking her and trying to get her to break so she can let it all out. Eventually he gets her to admit it and get angry and yell at him and acknowledge her own pain finally so she can see how it's impacting her relationships in the present day. She's been trying up until now, but as Yoda's always said, sometimes trying isn't enough, and you just have to do or do not. She doesn't reject him at the end of this, but she can at least acknowledge what he did to her and how it's made her feel. You could even include some of her anti-Jedi bullshit in this and have her justifying Anakin's betrayal by saying the Jedi failed him the way they failed her and Anakin pushing back on that idea so that by the end of the episode, she can recognize that she's been blaming the Jedi because she's been uncomfortable with her inability to understand Anakin's choices and it was easier to blame the Jedi than live with that uncertainty.
I've discussed my feelings on Anakin's redemption a lot and they're definitely not in the majority. Personally, I just don't think he's redeemed at all. My definition of redemption is along the lines of "you can fix/undo the thing you broke/damaged" rather than just... "you decided to stop breaking things even if there's no way to fix it." It doesn't mean Anakin can't keep being a better person if he'd lived, or that he can't find redemption in more specific places (like Luke forgiving him for chopping off his hand), but that there is no redemption for what he did to the Jedi, to the clones, and to the galaxy at large. None. It doesn't matter what he does, it doesn't matter that he stopped himself and Palpatine, it doesn't MATTER. The Jedi and the Republic are still gone, the clones were still enslaved, the galaxy is still in shambles and traumatized from 25 years under the Empire.
You aren't the only one who's chosen to separate your definition of "redemption" from something else to make it make more sense. Someone else went for redemption being different from an absolution wherein you are just immediately forgiven of all of your sins because of one act or whatever, while redemption is the process of doing better. If that works for you, go for it. Personally, I just think Anakin isn't redeemed. He cheat coded his way into being a Ghost and the Ghosts don't make any sense anyway. I think it's definitely intended to represent his redemption IN THE NARRATIVE, like that's the point of the visual, but it just doesn't work for me, so I choose not to see it that way. It's ambiguous enough and the Force Ghost lore confusing enough that it's not that hard.
Your interpretation of Luke and Leia as the two sides of forgiveness is intriguing. I do think Leia could get to the point of forgiveness that basically looks like letting go of her anger because the man's dead anyway so there's no real point staying angry and understanding the history that may have led him to become the monster she knew, but that doesn't mean she has to LIKE him or ever consider him a father.
I think you could kind-of throw Ahsoka and Obi-Wan in there as different reactions to Anakin, too. With Ahsoka as someone who sort-of clings to who Anakin used to be and can't truly reconcile the two versions of him that she knew, and Obi-Wan as someone who rises above. Unlike Leia, he did know and love Anakin, but he is also able to let go of his anger and betrayal and accept Anakin for what he is now rather than pining for someone who no longer exists. And Ahsoka is the opposite of Luke as someone who also knew Anakin and loved him, but struggles a lot MORE with the revelation of who he was and his impact on her life. Everyone approaches Anakin and his relationship to them and his choices in a different way.
I wish the Ahsoka show wanted to explore any of that at all lol.
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phyrestartr · 5 months
Text
HOUND pt.2 | Miguel x M!Reader
Geneticist!Miguel x Guard!Reader Part 2 W/C: 2.7k | Part 2 of 2
#NSFW, zombie AU, apocalypse AU, mentions of exploitation and abuse, body horror, gore, immoral research and experiments, power imbalance, reader is a criminal, miguel is a scientist, dark themes, part 2 ends on a positive note, reader is morally grey, bottom!miguel, top!reader, sorry there's lore lol
Note: AAAAH ok it's done and now I can struggle to finish my other fics instead asjdkf;weiafjf
--
Miguel couldn’t recall what happened after that. The noises outside the door, the wet sloshing of viscera and pained outcries echoed faintly in the black corners of his mind, but nothing else. Nothing about how he got out of that room. Nothing about what had attacked him. Nothing about where you had gone. 
The mystery led him to reviewing the footage. The security cameras were set in each room, only to be accessed in times where someone was suspected to be infected and other suspicious situations. He found the moments leading up to everything, the moment you pushed him against the wall, when you started taking off the vest, when you threw Miguel into the bathroom and forced the door closed with brute strength. 
What followed was unbearable. The thing, now confirmed to have been one of your kind, rippled with overwhelming, excruciating power. You couldn’t square up with it fairly, but you were smart and fast, hitting when it really counted and pulling the trigger only when you knew it’d strike true. But the problem was its objective; the entire fight, Miguel realized, was a contest for the bathroom door. The monster didn’t care about you. You weren’t its target. It was going for him.
But it didn’t show you any mercy. It tore chunks out of you, shattered your ribs, broke whatever part of you it touched until you’d put it down for good with a full mag into its soft, melted skull. You staggered backwards, feeling behind you for the cool touch of the door before you collapsed against it, trying to stay standing despite it all. It was hard to watch. To see someone suffering and still fighting the good fight even though they’d already lost in order to win. 
You eventually crumbled and held what was left of your stomach and chest as you heaved in air. Loud sounds, like a wooden train whistle, hissed through the gaps left between your exposed ribs and the holes in your tattered lungs time after time, breath after breath, up until the EMTs arrived; you scrambled to get up, nearly spilling your guts and breaking off a leg before a tranquilizer hit you, and put you down. 
After that, you’d been carted off, and Miguel stepped out of the bathroom moments later, shaken and confused. Gabe showed up, thank God, and the thing that’d started all the bullshit was dead, but he couldn’t help the lingering tendrils of paranoia stitching the muscles taut in his shoulders. Then, and now. 
He needed to see you for himself. 
“Listen, listen, it’s suuuper nice that you suddenly have a weak spot for the guy, it’s really cute, but we haveta set you up with a different one for now–”
“What?” Miguel cut in while Lyla spun in her chair and fixed her obnoxious sunnies. “Why do–they heal. I don’t want any other–”
“Yep, yep, yep, I totally get it, but he’s reaaal messed up. He’s gonna take some time to fix ‘n heal and everything, yenno?” Lyla spun around again in a full 360 before coming back to face Miguel and point her pen at him. “If he’s too hard to fix, then they were thinking of scrapping him for parts and testing and everything.” 
Scrapped. For parts. 
“They won’t scrap him.” Miguel frowned. “He’s the best host we have. The most successful specimen the whole fucking project's made.” 
“Uh, yeah, and that's why they're gonna do their best to save him.” She tilted her head, curious. “No one wants to kill a good dog, y'know.” 
It was true. No one wanted to rid Alchemax of one who was dedicated enough to put their life in jeopardy for the sake of protecting their charge. He didn't expect you to go this far. No one did. 
It took weeks for you to be reinstated as Miguel's watchdog. In the interim, he was appointed a new guard, but life didn’t feel right. He supposed that bonds and trust played into the feeling more than he'd like to admit. Sure, the two of you hadn't really spoken before that day, but you'd been with each other for years. Silently learning about one another, measuring each other's capacity to be trustworthy. 
So with a new dog, Miguel felt unnerved, maybe even a bit unsteady. It had been one of them who'd snapped, after all. One of them lost their minds and went on a rampage–which was exactly what the current meeting was about. 
“No one saw it coming,” one said. “We didn't think it would happen, and that's the problem, isn't it?” 
“Weeell, things are bound to go awry here and there.” Olivia shrugged and crossed her arms. “It's part of science! I'd say this whole drama has given us some pretty good results on the extremes; one imploded and started eating people, and the other one exploded trying to save one of us.” 
“Still think we should scrap O'hara's mutt for parts,” Aaron interjected, unhelpful and annoying as ever. “Who knows when that one'll blow too, hey?” 
Miguel ignored Aaron. He wouldn’t feed into his prodding and pushing. “He's mine. I decide when he's too dangerous.”
“You sure you're not gonna be blinded by feelings, O'hara?” Aaron spat with an ugly smile. “I saw the footage. You–” 
“Oh my God, don't act like you don't try to fuck everyone else's guards,” another scientist groaned. “You're probably why one snapped.” 
Aaron's face blistered red. Miguel smirked, enjoying the show, enjoying the fact that no one was on the idiot's side. It was the apocalypse. Fucking mutants was the least of their worries. 
Stone, exasperated, called it there, and everyone dispersed. Miguel took his time with his thoughts in the silence of the room. The lack of people around him sparked a jolt of adrenaline, or maybe fear, and sent his train of thought off the rails and into something ungodly. He hated being alone these days. He couldn't bear the thought of being the last man standing, of having to fend for himself after everything. Not that he would have to, no, not unless your replacement did him in, or–
“Sir?” 
Miguel turned and nearly knocked his chair off its wheels. He clutched the desk in a panic just before his eyes landed on you. 
You looked different. Streaks of faint scars painted the side of your face where an eyepatch hid away whatever wreckage laid beneath. A metal brace hugged one of your knees and dripped down into a glittering, high-tech prosthetic limb that told a story Miguel didn't want to indulge in. And you looked tired. So tired. Your voice, once something rough like sandpaper, now sounded like shattered glass grinding underfoot.
But you still had that placid, somewhat judgemental stare that told him, I'm alright.
Your brows raised expectantly, like your return didn't need to be celebrated and you'd much rather like to get on with your day of following Miguel around like a lost puppy. He could relate, and he could comply. 
Acting normal until getting you into his new quarters was tough; Miguel had the inexplicable urge to touch you, see your skin, feel your heat singe his palms, but he wouldn't do it in the eye of the others, no. Not for his own decency, but because they didn't deserve it. You were all his. 
Miguel was sure to lock the doors and initiate an armoured lockdown to ease his paranoia before he turned to you with a demand on his tongue: “Strip.” 
You quirked a brow. “This didn't go so well last time.” But you complied, clearly trying to hide away your amusement.
“It's fine. We're fine.” He helped you pull the vest and the shirt off just like he did all those weeks ago, but now with more finesse and determination; he wanted his do-over, and he was going to get it. “I need to see for myself.” 
“Whatever.” You rolled your shoulders once your bare skin hit the air and prickled with goosebumps. Even the lifeless spots with angry reddened scars recoiled from the sharp nip, and then the heat of Miguel's touch.
He dragged his gaze all over you, drinking in the ruined expanses of skin with hungry eyes. Every new mark was examined, every stitch and bandage touched and committed to memory, every bruise earned the softest graze of fingertips. It was hard not to be enticed with one another in that tense, long silence. 
Miguel's eyes lingered on your split lip before meeting your eyes, reading whatever he could from you. But he didn't expect what you said. 
“You get hurt?” You grumbled. 
Miguel shook his head lightly, his attention unwavering as his hands made themselves useful and plucked loose the buttons on your cargos again. “I'm fine.” He pulled the zipper down next. The muscles of your abdomen rippled against the palm keeping you still. “Sore from you throwing me, but fine.” 
The corner of your mouth twitched. “If you'd listened and moved–” your next words dissolved against the brutish lips colliding with yours. Miguel's hands slipped further below and palmed your soft cock through the thin material of your undergarments; apparently you weren't surprised by the candid dick grab, but the kiss of all things threw you for a loop. Miguel moved to leaving marks along your neck while your brain scrambled to make sense of the random affection. 
“What the fuck are you doing?” You breathed, unsure of where to touch or what to do with your hands.
“Picking up where we left off.” Miguel squeezed your filling bulge again, eagerly massaging you in encouragement to get things going. His ego swelled when your hand found his shoulder after a particularly weak spot was found.
“Hah. I shouldn't be–” 
“You'll manage,” he insisted, watching you like prey trying to woo its predator. “You probably haven't been touched like this in a while, si, guapo?” Your hips jolted against his hand while his husky voice drew you in. “Bed. Now.” 
You didn't have much of a choice, not when Miguel's needy hands guided you to the soft sheets and forced you to lay down. You were just in the middle of a sore groan when Miguel pulled your waistband down just enough to free your hardened cock, and give you a fierce dose of whiplash between the pain of healing wounds and the bliss of hands on you.
For all of Miguel’s want, now that he was this far, he wasn’t sure where to take it. He was going to make you cum, obviously, but how would he go about it? Handjob, blowjob, actually taking it up the ass? Some were obviously more impactful than others, so–
“Christ, alright, now that you’ve played with my dick, we can put it away for today, Doc,” you grouched, sitting up to pull Miguel’s hand away. “I’m too tired for this shit.”
“Wh–no.” He swatted your hand away like a petulant child and shot you an equally childish glare. “You have to obey my orders, as far as I recall.”
Something akin to a deadpan hit your face. “You’re fucking joking. You’re gonna pull that shit now?”
“You’re my subordinate,” Miguel reminded, not bothering to hide his smug demeanor and faux innocence. “Act like it.” 
Before you could bitch back, he started stroking you firmly and slowly, squeezing harder near the tip and base with every motion. You stopped complaining surprisingly fast–Miguel almost wanted you to fight him more, but, maybe for a first run, your utter compliance would serve him. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold you down or fend off your grabby hands while, at the same time, trying to get a handle on how to properly please another man. 
Just when you sounded like you were about to object again, he took you into his mouth, and shut you up. At that moment, Miguel was glad you were touch-starved. Otherwise, the inexperienced gags and hefty strings of saliva connecting his lush lips to your throbbing length would’ve surely shortened Miguel’s lifespan. He was supposed to be good in bed. He was good in bed. And he’d make damn sure to continue being good in bed with another man. 
Your hand fisting in his well-kempt hair had him growling with warning, thinking you were going to try to make him stop, but one glance up at you through teary lashes washed that thought away; your eyes were shut, bottom lip caught between your lip and welling with the faintest bit of blood from those elongated canines of yours. A kinder shade of crimson painted your cheeks and the bridge of your nose a sweet summer colour that seemed to darken more when Miguel bravely slipped you down his throat and up again. 
“Shit. Fuck. Shit.” You let go of his hair with a pathetic whimper and collapsed onto your back, hands reaching back to claw into the wall and headboard to try and expel your rattling energy someway, somehow. The grating of metal and long, deep marks left in your claws’ wake would piss Miguel off any other day, but right now, your destructive praise fed his ego until it threatened to burst. 
But a slight shift from the scientist and a misplaced hand on the convergence of flesh and metal shook up the easy rhythm. You hissed and sat up, reflexively snatching his hand away from your leg with barbed fingers. Miguel pulled off of you with a choked yelp rattling in his throat as your hold drew blood, and like a dog who'd bit another too hard, you let go. 
“Shit, I didn't mean to–” you stopped yourself, though, and instead took Miguel's hand with a less-lethal touch. You looked at the wound before leaning down and running the flat of your tongue against the wound once, twice, thrice. The pain subsided quickly after, leaving behind a tingly, sparking feeling. “Doesn’t look too bad.” Miguel watched your nostrils flare and pupils dilate–clearly, his blood was having an effect on you. And that fact was having an effect on Miguel, in turn. 
The apology for hurting you was long forgotten by the time Miguel leaned up and kissed you, holding the side of your face with his wounded hand. He pushed hard against the tip of your fang until spongy flesh gave way, and the vile tang of blood pooled in his mouth, and now in yours. 
You moaned, or maybe growled, and Miguel’s hips jerked. He worked on slipping his weeping tongue around your mouth while his good hand continued his work on your stiffy, eager to finish you off while you were distracted. Your hands clutched at him again, claws still nipping into his skin and clothes, but more like a cat kneading its owner rather than a lion latching onto prey. 
But those barbs sunk deep into him when you came. Your hold on him tightened, and the low growls reverberating through your body crescendoed into a few, cherished moans when your lips left his as rapture hit you. Miguel spared a look down at the mess you’d made, but too quickly his gaze returned to the bobs of your Adam’s apple, the muscles pulsing and tensing in the aftershocks, the sheen of red coating your cracked lips. It was enough to make him come undone, untouched by you, only fulfilled by the rub of cotton on his hardened cock.
And of course, you noticed it right away. Ugh. “You’re a freak,” you scoffed out between breaths. “Fucking–cumming from, what? Getting your pet off?” 
Miguel rolled his eyes to betray his embarrassment, and squeezed you hard at the base to pull one last mean, choked groan out of you. “Callate. You could try being grateful, hm?”
“Don’t think that’s in my programming.” You leaned back and looked down at the mess. “Who’s gonna clean this up, Doc?” You prodded looking up at him through your lashes. 
Miguel’s intrigue piqued. “Here I thought you were too tired,” he mocked. 
“Might change your mind tomorrow. Oughta cash in while I can.” 
“Hm.” Miguel let go and leaned back, shaky fingers working on his own clothes. “Guess I can give you another treat.”
But, as fate would have it, one more go of it turned into five, and left him half-alive come the morning.
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its-a-me-mango · 3 months
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yo mango, i found this in twitter(x). a creator in twitter sented this.
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Oh boy, yes this is the response I was referring to in my other post, and I have some things to say about it.
TL;DR: Clarification is nice but it shouldn't be up to the employees to apologise for something that upper management should've taken accountability for anyway. I'm not accepting everything as "fixed" until Celeste says anything else.
Obligatory "we don't know everything so don't jump to conclusions!!!" disclaimer (personally I love jumping to conclusions I love drama lol)
(also my stance on what I'm doing with this account is at the bottom of it so go take a look if you wanna know what I'm gonna do)
Ok first off, let's start positive, good to have some accountability and a bit of clarification on what's happened, considering I honestly thought GLITCH was just gonna keep quiet and hope for it to brush over, having the manager tell their side of the story is a good thing.
That's all the positives I have towards this apology because the rest are all negative.
For starters, why is the manager taking full accountability for this, while yes they made the decision, the higher ups should be taking accountability, at the end of the day Jasmine is an employee of GLITCH. Normally when something happens within a company, the company itself will put out a statement taking accountability for the actions of their staff. This hasn't happened yet, it's not Jasmine's full responsibility for this, there should be recognition from the company of their mistake.
I get if they're taking a while to make a response, but it's not hard to put out a statement saying "hey, we fucked up, sorry". It would be miles better than having an employee put it out IN THEIR FAN DISCORD SERVER OF ALL PLACES, thank got it got reposted because none of us would know others.
Furthermore, what is the main message from this, the main reason for this happening? "Oops I forgot". That's such a shitty excuse, especially for a manager. I completely understand getting overworked as hell, from what I've seen Jasmine is also the manager for a lot of other things at GLITCH, and if GLITCH's Glassdoor reviews are anything to go by, overworking employees seems to be their biggest flaw.
Something like this slipping their mind would be fair and understandable under those circumstances, but that's what upper management is for, it's up to them to make sure people do what they're employed to do, that includes making sure the appropriate messages are sent out, especially for big changes like this. Of course no one likes to have a boss that questions everything you do, but having someone check that all the appropriate messages are sent out is pretty damn important for running a company.
This is ultimately a show of poor management on GLITCH's behalf, had they communicated better not just with Celeste but also with each other, this entire situation would've been avoided.
I don't think this is some catastrophic downfall that can never be resolved, it actually can be resolved quite easily. All it involves is an admission of negligence on GLITCH's side and a proper apology to be sent and accepted by Celeste. Obviously I'm not gonna go demanding such things be made public but treating this like GLITCH's downfall is just kinda silly, this can be fixed.
Yes this is bad, and you should feel upset/angry about this all happening, seeing voice actors being treated poorly and "forgotten" about sucks and doesn't reflect well on GLITCH at all, if you don't want to support GLITCH right now that's completely reasonable, but this isn't worth wishing the companies downfall over. Advocate for change, not carnage.
There is also the possibility that this whole "apology" is bullshit. More comments from SMG2's now former VA have come out about this apology.
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If this is all true, then that's just as bad on GLITCH's side. Ultimately we won't know the entire story until Celeste makes any other comment, however given how taxing this has all been on her, it's understandable if she doesn't say anything now, or ever to be honest.
My love and support goes out to Celeste during this time. I hope she and GLITCH can come to some kind of agreement that allows everyone to move on.
Anyway, so about me now, haiiii
I'm likely gonna mostly hault making SMG4 art for a while due to this, I love this series and I don't like to see this all happen to it, but I care more about treating voice actors fairly and making sure they're given the respect they deserve, if that involves stopping my support for GLITCH for now then so be it. I'm hoping this gets resolved, if that does happen i'll go back to normal, if not thennnnn I'll deal with that when it happens.
I'm still happy to interact with people in this community still, there's a few ideas and pieces I want to make for other people still, things like AU arts and DTIYS's, so I'll be doing that, but as for new SMG4 art and memes, not right now. (lets face if the SMG4 community on Tumblr is so far removed from everyone else it's basically our own series out here lmao)
I'll still draw Mango don't worry, he's basically my persona so I can detach him from SMG4 for now, my silly lil guy isn't going anywhere.
I understand that a lot of people are upset by this and are trying to block it out and carry on as normal. While I understand why most of you are taking that stance, I know a lot of you are teens and SMG4 is a source of comfort for a large chunk of you, please don't just ignore all this happening. I don't even care if you take an inconclusive stance on this, just please don't block it out entirely and pretend it's not happening, that's just not fair on Celeste.
I'll be doing my best to keep up with this as much as possible. I know I've come across as overly critical during all this, but I don't like seeing people act like GLITCH has done nothing wrong and never can. It's ok if a company you like has done something shitty, they do that all the time, but its not ok to let them get away with it and pretend it never happened, that's just covering for their shitty actions. I'm not going to cover for GLITCH's shitty actions which is why I'm speaking up about it and will continue to do so until some kind of resolution is reached.
Anyway I've talked enough, if you're reading haii hello thanks for reading the whole thing , if you skimmed to the bottom I'm shooting you with lasers (/j). We'll see what comes of all this but until then take care. <3
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room-surprise · 2 months
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Dungeon Meshi Anime Review, Season 1, Episode 12 review
Red Dragon Part 2!
This one was also overall good, great performances all around, beautiful animation by Trigger. Sorry this is going up so late!
More thoughts:
They did not put in the continuation of the Namari, Kiki and Kaka resurrection office scene here like we thought they might... So why did they have the scene with Namari at all??? Instead of wasting that time to show that Namari... doesn't know Falin's age, and that Falin's body isn't in the office (we already knew this) they could have instead shown Namari interacting with Kiki and Kaka? Learning their story? Telling her own? Literally anything else. They included this scene but didn't do ANY of the most important parts (explaining details of how resurrection works) and instead left something that is mostly unimportant... So weird.
I know in the previous episode I complained about the lack of the skull shot, where Laios pulls Falin's skull out of the hair mat and it looks like a baby's head coming out of a vaginal opening… But in this episode they made the opening in the dragon's body behind Falin look like a vagina instead, so maybe they were trying to make up for it lol.
Wish they'd left in Chilchuck and Laio's brief conversation about if there's any way for them to profit off of the dragon's body. They mention Laios' savings, but it would have been nice to establish more firmly that Laios and party *make a living* off of the dungeon and that not having anything (treasure, monster bodies) to bring back is a big problem. Going into the dungeon is a JOB and they are not doing it very well!
(This will be important later to understand what the hell Kabru's deal is (ie: laios' dungeon behavior is illogical because he's not making money by going in, so why is he going into the dungeon?), so lack of clarity on the subject is unfortunate.)
I wish there was some way for them to tweak the dark elf comment because anime onlies and people who only read the manga are now going to think dark elves (drow) exist in dungeon meshi. It would be really nice if the anime added something from the extra materials explaining that Chilchuck is just being racist and ignorant lmao and that's why Marcille's annoyed about it. Alas.
Interesting how The Bath Scene was changed. They turned the original mood from slightly menacing foreshadowing to much more cute and flirtatious. Marcille is blushing and tilting her head towards Falin now, leaning in... She looks much less tired, Falin's no longer looming over her, but at the same level as she is, and Marcille is looking directly in front of herself, instead of up at Falin. Also Marcille's hand is at a lower, more natural position for hand-holding... Not up by her face, like a defensive gesture.
I don't know if this is good or bad really, just different. I personally preferred the more ominous tone from the manga, where the shadow Falin cast was more obvious, and Falin was placed higher above Marcille and Marcille looking up at her.
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i-fondued · 9 months
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Ghost | Sinners in Secret | Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty Six - The Wedding Night Incident Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Reader/Sister of Sin x Papa “Terzo” Emeritus III Rating: Explicit Warnings: Plot, smut, etc. See AO3 for full list of tags! A/N: ** INSERT 'I WENT THROUGH SOMETHING TRAUMATIC AND VANISHED EXCUSE HERE' LOL! no but for real I'm sorry I fell off the planet, long story short my ten year relationship fell apart, I started my post-semi divorce hoe stage with someone I work with, lost all motivation and inspiration to write, have insane/mindblowingly good sex, see Fall Out Boy and BMTH at Fenway Park and managed to squeeze in time to see my first ritual at which I acted like a feral goblin LOL
As always, this chapter is has been reviewed by my beta, @lurancyvenom whom I love! Thank you for coming to stay with me and coming to the ritual with me, literally has been the best week of my life and I cried the whole way home from the airport LOL <3
Full Chapter List - HERE AO3 Link - HERE
No sooner had I heard the sound of the lock flicking closed behind me did I feel hands tugging my veil off my head, tossing it to the side. Someone’s lips were already pressed against the skin of my neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh, and I could no longer hold in the whimper that bubbled up in my throat. I felt Terzo chuckle against my skin as he stepped close behind me and his lips brushed against my bare shoulder. His hands settled on the curve of my waist and he pulled me back firmly against him. 
Suddenly feeling almost boneless, I couldn’t help my head rolling back against his shoulder, eyes shut, as he pressed featherlight kisses into my skin. I felt as though I was basking in the warm glow of Mediterranean sunshine as the heat pooled in my belly and in my chest. Gods, it seemed an eternity had passed since I’d had them so close to me, and I was drunk off of the sensation of them touching me together, finally at the point we’d all been waiting so long to reach. 
Strong hands cupped my jaw and I locked eyes with Copia’s mismatched gaze, filled with liquid fire. Tenderly, he pressed his lips to mine in a soft kiss filled with many light emotions. 
“...Ti amo…” he mumbled. “Amore… mia moglie… nostra moglie…”
The tone he used made a shudder slip down my spine, a gasp shared between our parted lips.
“Mm… la nostra amata moglie, Cardinale,” Terzo chuckled behind us. “Now she is all ours… nobody else's…”
Again, like twin flames, they pressed featherlight, open mouthed kisses to my skin. My chest, shoulders, cheeks, chin - anything within reach. I was panting and we hadn’t even moved from in front of the doors yet. 
“I love you, both of you...” I whimpered as Terzo rocked his hips, and obvious hard cock, against my ass. “You’re mine…”
Copia growled, deep and possessive, and he tugged me away from the doorway towards our bedroom. I followed along, almost like a marionette, and I took Terzo’s hand as we moved to bring him with me. I couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from my lips, and I blushed at the roguish look in my Papa’s eyes. Once we were in the bedroom, Copia made quick work of tearing the dress off of my body. Literally. I couldn’t help but gasp at the sound of the ripping seams, heat instantly pooling between my legs, and I locked eyes with him as he groaned. 
“Oh Tesoro…” Terzo chuckled behind me, his hand snapping out and cracking me on my bare ass. I jumped, letting out a quiet gasp. “How positively sinful… naked for us?”
I purred under Terzo’s touch as his hands, bare and warm, kneaded the stinging spot as he stepped close enough to grind against me. I felt drunk as I stood there panting, my eyes unfocused as they locked with Copia’s, the heat and lust evident in his hungry gaze. Copia stepped close to us, one hand settling at my waist as the other reached out and tipped my chin up, and he pressed his lips to mine in a kiss so searing it took my breath away. I whimpered as one of my hands reached out and cupped his jaw, my other reached back to grope at the swell of Terzo’s cock. 
The shorter man behind me let out a hiss between gritted teeth, resting his painted face against my shoulder as he rocked rhythmically against me. His hands settled at my hips before one slipped between my legs and ghosted against my core. I moaned into Copia’s kiss, heat flooding my veins, then tore away from him to snake one hand into Terzo’s hair and tug his lips to mine. 
He chuckled into my frenzied kiss, his fingers skilfully plucking the strings of my arousal in a way that only he knew how. 
“I want to taste you, Topolino,” Copia muttered, his hands sliding from my waist to curve around the swell of my breasts. I whimpered, burying my face into Terzo’s neck. “On the bed. Now.”
The sharp growl of the last word sent another shiver down my spine, and lust pooled between my legs. I kicked off my shoes, dress long abandoned on the floor, and slipped into the massive four poster. I watched as they both tugged their tailcoats and vests off, kicking off their own shoes. I couldn’t help the giggled shriek as Copia’s hand wrapped around my ankle and he tugged me to him, settling between my legs and trailing soft kisses down my chest. A soft groan slipped out before I could stop myself as he pressed gentle, teasing kisses against my hips and thighs, his fingers featherlight as he caressed my core. 
“Copia…please…” I whined, hands reaching down to thread into his dark hair. “No more teasing…”
“Ah, ah amore…” he spoke, and I jumped at the feeling of his breath against the apex of my thighs, a shudder running through me. “It is our wedding night, no? There is no rush…”
I felt my hips jump as his fingers slipped just slightly inside me, teasing me as they ran back and forth against my wet slit, but never went beyond barely grazing against my clit. I felt the bed dip and turned to see Terzo, positively feral as he looked down at me. He’d stripped naked already while I was distracted, and my eyes instantly drifted to his cock, my mouth practically watering. Gods I’d missed them, this feeling of being enveloped in love and passion and lust. 
“I need you, too…” I whimpered. While one hand remained curled in Copia’s hair, I couldn’t help as I reached out with the other for Terzo. The third Emeritus son was never one to last long when it came to me, not when I begged, and he smiled lasciviously as he slid next to me. 
“Always, Tesoro…” he purred, settling tightly against me to press soft kisses to my chest, collarbones, and bare breasts. “Anything for you.”
At that moment, Copia began to tease me with the tip of his tongue. I gasped, throwing my head back and arching my spine as his fingers spread me open and his tongue lapped at my core. My cunt clenched tightly as he groaned, his nose buried against me, and I rolled my hips in an attempt to get any friction I possibly could. His fingers suddenly thrusted into me while he sucked on my clit, and I felt my thighs clench against his head. The thread of my orgasm pulled tight, a strangled moan falling from my lips as I rode one husband’s face while the other murmured in my ear words of praise as he ground against my hip.
“Sweet girl, la nostra dolce ragazza…” Terzo murmured in my ear, his hands coming to settle against my throat. “Look at il tua Cardinale, si? Look at the way he devours you… I want you to look at him as he takes you apart.”
A broken gasp ripped its way from my throat as Copia slipped two fingers inside of me and curled to caress the sweet spot deep within me. I looked down and locked my gaze with Copia’s, a positively sinful look in his eyes. I was shaking, panting, and my fingernails dug into his scalp as he timed a flick of his tongue with a curling of his fingers and I saw stars. My orgasm ripped through me with little warning, my hips writhing against his mouth, and a strangled moan filled the room. It clearly had been too long since I’d been able to let them pluck the pleasure from my body. 
Copia pulled away and crawled his way up my boneless body, leaving wet open mouth kisses against my skin. My nerves felt frayed but I could tell by the look in their eyes that neither man was finished with me. I shuddered as Terzo tugged on my chin and forced me to meet his gaze. 
“My turn, Tesoro…” he chuckled darkly, a wolfish smile on his lips. Even after all this time I couldn't help the blush that spread over my cheeks.
Suddenly, with an ungraceful yelp, I felt myself flipped over and onto my front, my face in Copia’s lap while Terzo pushed my knees apart. I looked up at Copia, his eyes filled with so many emotions and heat that I couldn’t help the smile on my lips. He shifted slightly and I could see his cock in all its glory in front of my face, then gasped as the tip of Terzo’s tongue ran up the back of my thigh, followed by a kiss to my slick folds. 
My hand moved without thinking, curling around Copia’s cock tightly and moving in time with Terzo’s gentle, exploratory kisses to my core. I was panting and arching back against him in time with the movements, a whimper slipping from my lips before I could stop it. Copia drank in the sight of us greedily, his eyes hungry as he watched his lovers, his spouses, take pleasure in each others bodies. I felt the Cardinal’s hips begin to rock with the movement of my hand and I locked eyes with him as I finally took his cock, dripping precum, into my mouth with a groan. 
I watched as Copia slowly leaned back against the pillows, his arm behind his head as he held my gaze. I couldn’t help the shiver that ran down my spine. Suddenly there was a crack of skin on skin before the heat bloomed on my ass, and I couldn’t help the hiss that slipped out around Copia’s cock.
“Concentrati, amore…” Terzo chuckled behind me, a dark and mischievous sound. “We would not want to disappoint il Cardinale, sì?”
The feeling of Papa’s bare fingers sliding in and out of me, the pad of his thumb brushing teasingly against my clit with a feather-like pressure, it was almost too much. My eyes were hooded as I locked my gaze on Copia, who for his part was panting and lightly thrusting into my warm mouth as I bobbed up and down slowly. He groaned and his hand slipped to lovingly cup my jaw, his thumb brushing my cheek before twining his fingers through the hair at the crown of my head, urging me to pick up the pace. I moaned as I took Copia as deeply as I could, still not the entire length of his cock, and shuddered as Terzo slipped another finger inside of me. Papa curled his fingers and gently pressed against the spot deep inside me that made my legs shake and my arms almost give out. 
“That’s it, amore,” Copia hissed, hips bucking up at a faster pace to match my movements. “Una brava ragazza per me…”
“Ah, ah, Cardinale. We do not want to lose you so soon, hm?” Terzo chuckled, pulling away from my core and the building pressure began to ebb. I whined, but that didn’t stop the shorter man from wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me back against him. “Our lovely bride still has much in store for the evening…”
Copia’s cock popped out of my mouth as Terzo yanked me back and away from the other panting man. The look in Copia’s eyes could only be classified as borderline ghoul-like, feral and fiery. I could practically hear the growl deep in his chest as I was pulled away.
“Terzo…” Copia said, his voice low and menacing. “You better have a good reason for stopping Sorella…”
“Why of course, Cardinale… always.” Terzo chuckled, his hand snaking up and around my throat to hold me in place as he gripped my hip with his other hand.
I felt him under me, his cock hard and straining as I attempted to grind back against him. He chuckled, pulling me against his chest, and whispering against the shell of my ear.
“Papa gets what Papa wants, sì, amore?”
All I could manage in response was a keening, whimper-like sound. I knew it was all for the other man in the bed with us. I was a pawn between these two powerful men, a beautiful prize to be won in their unspoken battle of pleasure. Not that I was complaining. No, I was happy to be the one receiving all the attention from them.
A light squeeze of my throat brought my attention back to the moment as I felt Terzo settle behind me, his other hand gripping tight to my hips as I panted and tried to roll my hips against him. His chuckle was a deep rumble against my bare back as he slowly ran his cock against my dripping cunt, a broken gasp slipping from my parted lips. 
“Pazienza, dolce ragazza, pazienza, sì?” Terzo’s voice deep as he whispered to me; his breath hot on the shell of my ear, my breath ragged. “A little tease for our dear sposa…”
I felt the pleasure rolling deep in my belly and I couldn’t help but look at Copia, heat filling my cheeks as I took in the sight of him. His hair was a mess; between my fingers curling in the strands while he ate my cunt like a starving man, and his own hands running through it to push it back away from his eyes, it looked wild. His paints had been smeared on his lips, some almost certainly between my thighs, and the large panda-like eyes were muddled around the edges from sweat. He looked disheveled and undone, something the very reserved Cardinal never let show. I couldn’t help the small smirk that appeared on my face as he locked eyes with me, knowing full well I was the one responsible for this panting mess of a man.
Suddenly Terzo pushed his hips forward, the tip of his cock popping deliciously into me as he edged forward. I gasped, eyes snapping wide as I arched my back and tried to turn back to look at my Papa. His hand on my throat slid upwards and under my jaw, pinning my head to meet Copia’s gaze. The Cardinal was enraptured, his gaze locked on mine, his chest rapidly rising and falling.
“Look Tesoro, look what you do to il nostro soffocante cardinale…” Terzo purred, his hips slowly ebbing and flowing against my shaking body. “Let us give him a good show, eh?”
I cried out as the tight grip on my hip slipped to my lower stomach as Terzo used my arched back against me and began to thrust into me at a punishing pace, the angle perfect as it allowed him to lave against that sensitive spot deep inside me. I shuddered against him, small pants slipping past my lips, all while I obediently kept my eyes on Copia. Terzo’s lips pressed softly against my neck and shoulder as his tongue and teeth gently grazed against my over-sensitive skin. I watched Copia’s hands clench and unclench, something he only did when struggling with a decision; a thrill running up my spine at the thought of what it could possibly be.
I could feel the embers of heat in my belly begin to grow into a steady flame, my thighs shaking as Terzo held me tightly in place. The noises I was making began to grow in both frequency and volume as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside me. I was fighting to keep my eyes open as my nails dug into the soft sheets below me. 
“Terzo…please…” I begged, my voice almost ragged as I panted.
“Are you close, amore?” Terzo purred, the hand around my throat coming to cup my cheek and turn my gaze to look at his mismatched eyes.
“Y-yes!”
The coil was so tight it was almost painful, my breath was labored, and I knew my lips must have been swollen.
“Touch yourself,” he ordered, mismatched eyes flashing for a moment as he kissed me, suddenly, possessively. 
The hand holding my jaw gripped my wrist, wrenching my hand from where I was clawing at the sheets and shoving it between my thighs. His finger guided my own at first until my sex-addled brain caught up and took over the aggressive movements. I was moaning and panting into his mouth, my head falling back against my shoulder as his movements became less and less precise. I knew he was as close as I was, my eyes drooping closed as I felt the last strands of the rope holding my orgasm deep in my belly begin to fray. A smack on my ass made me yelp and my eyes flew open, Terzo’s smug face looking right at me as my body began to shake with the effort of holding my orgasm back.
“Eyes on me, amate,” he growled, and a whimper slipped from my lips. “Vieni per il tua Papa…”
The wave of my second orgasm of the evening ripped through me, a strangled cry bursting out before Terzo’s lips were on mine again. I shuddered in his arms, the pair of us falling forward slightly as he pounded into me before I felt his hips falter for a moment. His cock twitched inside me as he followed me over the precipice, both of us panting in the afterglow together. I slumped, boneless in his arms as I tried to gather my breath.
“Dolce, bella ragazza…” Terzo muttered as he pressed soft kisses to my bare back.
I smiled, slightly delirious and exhausted as I stretched out my burning thighs. I could feel the chuckle rumbling in Terzo’s chest behind me.
“It looks like I won the bet, Cardinale,” Terzo preened, and my eyes slid open, watching the two men as I adjusted my position to settle back against the pillows. “Amore looks… come si dice… cock wasted?”
“Cock drunk.” Copia’s voice was low and gravely, my eyes drifted towards him. 
The expression on his face was dangerous and I couldn’t help the thrill that ran through me. There was only one thing that face meant, and I was quite looking forward to what was in store. 
“She looks pretty okie dokie to me, yes?”  
I couldn’t help the snort that slipped out, my hands coming up to cover my mouth a second too late, and the arched eyebrow on Copia’s face told me all I needed to know. 
“On your feet, Topolino…”
His hand grabbed mine as he slipped from the bed, practically dragging me along after him as I struggled to make my legs work. My body was already deliciously sore as I moved to follow Copia, whose mismatched eyes flicked between my own and Terzo’s slightly shocked face from where he sat. We stopped at the foot of the bed, Copia coming to stand behind me as he pressed a hand between my shoulders to have me bend at the waist. He gently nudged my legs apart, widening my stance as I placed my hand on the ottoman at the footboard. I whimpered slightly as I felt Copia’s hand ghost over my swollen cunt, already beginning to drip at the multiple ideas of what awaited me. 
“You see, Fratello…”
“That is marito now, Cardinale…” Terzo snickered.
“Mi scusi, marito…” I didn’t need to see Copia to know the look on his face was murderous. “La nostra sposa and I have been together longer than you and her; naturally I would say I know her body better than you do, no?”
There was a sharp edge to his sickly sweet tone, and I felt my skin prickle. I couldn’t see him but I could sense him, almost like prey trying to stay still to avoid the eye of their hunter. I knew my breath was coming in quick pants, heart thundering in my chest.
“Per esempio…” A sudden sharp crack of his hand on my ass made me jump, though I had enough sense to keep my gasp as quiet as I could. “I know that she prefers a rougher hand at times, sì Topolino?”
Another crack of skin on skin and I wasn’t so lucky as to keep the cry in this time. I heard Copia chuckle as his hand gently ran over the reddening spot, my instinct taking over as I pushed back against his gentle touch.
“Y-yes Sir.” The words didn’t seem as confident as I said them out loud, tone warbling at the end. I couldn’t help but let my eyes drift to Terzo. 
His breathing, previously calm and collected, was now borderline panting. Even from here I could see the way his pupils were blown wide as he watched Copia and I, his cock already hardening again between his thighs. 
“Una brava ragazza… I had her trained so quickly.” Copia’s voice was coming from behind my right side, my heart thundering as I tried to brace for the next swat of his hand. “She took to this so swiftly, so well…”
I jumped as his fingertips just barely brushed against the column of my spine, like he was trying to feel out each and every vertebrae along the way. His hand stopped just at the base of my neck, lazily drawing a small circle. My skin prickled, goosebumps breaking out all over as I tried to not shake under his soft exploration.
“She reminded me of someone…” He was just in my peripheral vision on my right, I was practically eye level with his cock and I had to resist the urge to drop to my knees and finish what I’d started earlier.
“She reminds me of you, my dear marito.”
The noise Terzo made was so borderline inhuman, I couldn’t stop my head tilting up to look at him. He had scooted forward on the bed, closer to us now and sat back on his haunches. I dared to look over my shoulder at Copia, feeling emboldened by the distraction of Terzo, and the look on the Cardinal’s face made me almost stop this little exchange in favor of an evening more akin to a romance novel.
Copia’s face may have the sharp edge of a dominant taking charge of two submissives, but his eyes betrayed his true feelings. They were soft and full of warmth that was nothing close to the steaming exchange happening in front of me. I knew there had always been an unspoken bond between them, a tension that never felt quite like two close friends. This was as close to a confession of love I had heard from Copia, and my heart clenched at the idea of my husbands not only in love with me but also one another.
Terzo clearly felt the same way as me, if the goofy grin on his face was anything to go by. Papa slipped off the bed, coming around to us. His hand on the small of Copia’s back caught the taller man’s attention. Gently and with more emotion than I thought was possible from the normally dramatic satanic pope, Terzo pressed a soft kiss to Copia’s lips. The Cardinal’s arms came around the smaller man’s waist and he tugged him tighter against him, the kiss growing heated as their lips parted. I couldn’t help as I slowly straightened up, blushing as I watched them. After a moment Terzo pulled back, a small soft smile on his lips as they rested their foreheads against each other. 
“Ti amo anch'io, Francesco,” Terzo chuckled, stepping back slightly and coming to me. 
His eyes were warm as he pulled me into his arms, cupping my cheek with one hand and slowly pressing his lips to mine. There was so much emotion in that simple action I thought I might actually cry, my arms slipping around his neck as I pulled him in. He chuckled into the kiss before stepping away slightly, turning to look back at Copia with a wry look on his face.
“No more of this game, eh Cardinale? Let us show her how we can work together to give her the best night of her life…”
Twin pairs of mismatched eyes turned to me, a blush spreading over my cheeks as they smirked at me. I felt Terzo’s arm wrap around my waist and pull me towards the bed, Copia’s gaze on my nude form as I followed obediently.
I slipped onto the bed, reclining in the middle of the mattress, and watched Terzo as he crawled toward me before settling between my legs. I felt his hand as it slid up my thigh, sending goosebumps over my skin. Terzo leaned forward and pressed soft kisses to my jaw and I couldn’t help as my eyes fluttered shut. 
“Amore… keep your eyes open,” Terzo chuckled as his lips slowly slid down my neck and his teeth nipped the sensitive spot by my ear. “We would not want to miss il Cardinale joining us, sì?”
I felt the bed dip as Copia came to slide himself behind me, and I leaned back against his bare chest, my head now resting on his shoulder and ass nestled against his hardening cock. I arched my back as Terzo’s lips slowly slid down my neck, across my collarbone and between my breasts while Copia’s hands slid from my upper arms, ghosting against the underside of my breasts, and came to settle on my hips. I felt him lean me forward slightly, a gasp bursting from my lips as he slipped his hand between my thighs, teasing my clit as he whispered to Terzo and I.
“Who is going to get the pleasure of your cunt this evening, Stellina?” the Cardinal growled, emphasizing his words with a rough roll of his hips. I moaned, resting my head against Copia’s shoulder while his fingers lazily pressed against my clit. “Mi chiedo chi avrà il piacere di scopare il tuo culetto stretto…”
There was a sort of strangled sound in the air, though truth be told I wasn’t sure whether it had emanated from Terzo or myself. Copia’s cock was now between my legs as he rolled his hips against mine, sliding back and forth against my slick cunt. I shuddered at the feeling as Terzo pulled my head forward to press a searing kiss against my lips. I moaned wantonly, feeling like a wooden marionette with the strings cut as he pulled me into his arms and settled me above him.
“Ride me, amore mia. I want to see your face when you come undone for us…” Papa groaned as I slid down on his rigid cock. A shudder ran down my spine, head thrown back and eyes hooded as I moaned his name.
I gave a few experimental rolls of my hips, before I looked behind me and locked on Copia’s face. His cheeks were flushed, hand roughly pumping his cock while spreading a slick liquid all over his length and fingers. I felt the bed shift as Terzo moved his legs to make room for Copia to settle behind me. I squirmed, rolling my hips against Terzo and I felt Papa’s hands grip my hips to hold me in place. Suddenly something pressed against my ass and I couldn’t help but tense up as Copia spread the lube.
“Stellina, you will need to relax…” The Cardinal purred in my ear, pressing his fingers against the tight muscle. “I will not hurt you… we will take this slow, yes?”
“Y-yes…” I gasped softly, cunt clenching as he gently teased me with his fingertip. “Yes, Copia…”
“Una ragazza così buona e desiderosa…” Copia groaned, finger now sliding in and out of meding in and out of me. 
Terzo groaned below me, his hands gripping my hips tightly to prevent me from rolling against them both. My own little sound of pleasure slipping from my lips, my hands planted firmly on Papa’s chest to keep myself upright as my thighs strained with the effort of keeping myself still. I let out a strangled cry as Copia slipped another finger in, my nails digging into Terzo’s skin despite his hiss of pain. I took a moment to adjust my position into something more comfortable while Copia scissored his fingers slightly as he slipped them in and out slowly, stretching me and making me feel more full than I ever had been before. Again, almost tenderly, Copia waited for me to adjust to the change before moving again. It wasn’t tease me anymore…”
“Copia…” I whined, feeling wanton as I rocked against him. I could feel Terzo straining to hold himself back. “Please don’t tease me anymore…”
“Are you sure, amore?” Copia groaned as I arched back against him again, the curve of my ass pressed against him. 
My only response was to moan into his neck as I buried my face against him. A deep, rumbling chuckle emanated from the Cardinal and I shuddered as he pulled his fingers from my ass before pushing me forward gently. His hand pressed against my lower back, causing me to arch my hips for him.
“Era da tanto che non condividevamo una donna così, sì marito?” Terzo hissed, his hands still gripping my hips almost painfully while I tried to squirm to find any sort of relief from the growing heat in my belly. “Una ragazza così coraggiosa…”
I felt the head of Copia’s cock brush against the tight muscle and I gasped, nails again digging into the bare skin of Terzo’s chest.
“Rilassati tesoro…” Copia mumbled in my ear, the slow push forward inside of me causing him to hiss at the feeling of me tensing up.
I couldn’t help the high pitched, strangled sound that slipped past my lips. My eyes fluttered shut, and Copia paused to give me time to adjust to the feeling of both of them. Copia’s hand on the small of my back slipped around to my lower stomach, pulling me and stretching me to the perfect angle for him to slip in. Terzo below me was shaking and panting, his expression almost pained, and I felt as he just barely shifted his hips. I could feel not only both of them inside me but the moment they brushed against one another through my walls, the heads of their cocks nudging each other. 
There were stars behind my eyes and a pulse deep in my belly as I tried to adjust my position while the two men inside of me began timing their thrusts to accommodate the other. I could feel Terzo shaking like a leaf below me; I knew he wouldn’t last long like this, and I couldn’t help but whimper as Copia pushed forward deeper inside of me. 
“C-cazzo, Stelina…” Copia groaned, resting his head against my shoulder blades as he panted. His thrusts faltered slightly and I knew they both were closer than either would like to admit. “Una brava ragazza per noi…”
A shudder ran through me and I bit my bottom lip to hold back a keening sound as Copia’s hand slipped from my lower belly to brush slightly against my clit. Terzo watched us with rapt attention, his face visibility flushed through his paints. 
“Do you see what you do to our Papa, amore?” Copia purred into my ear, his hips grinding against mine as he pushed me to rest more of my weight on my hands. “Don’t you see how he burns for you?”
I rocked my hips as much as I was able to in my position, Copia’s fingers skillfully plucking at the last strings of my orgasm. Both men groaned at the same time, and I couldn’t help the cock drunk smile from appearing on my face. In that moment I knew that as much as these men liked to think otherwise, I was truly the one in charge of our combined pleasures. I couldn’t help but lean forward, hands moving to tug Terzo up as much as he could, and press a searing kiss to his lips as I felt the sudden snap of my orgasm. He swallowed my desperate cries with a moan of his own; I could hear Copia hiss and swear but my mind felt like it was floating. 
Another few staccato thrusts from Terzo below me, and I felt his cock twitch inside me. His hands gripped my hips so roughly I knew I’d have bruises in the morning. He rolled his hips along with the pulse of my aftershocks, both of us shuddering at the feeling. Behind me there was a growl from Copia who pushed until he was fully hilted inside me, my high pitched keening sound ringing in my ears. The Cardinal tilted my neck and buried his face before biting down hard, not enough to pierce the skin but enough to sting. I arched back against him, shaking in his arms as the three of us slowly came down from our high. I was panting, entirely boneless, and unable to contain the goofy smile on my face as I flopped onto Terzo’s chest. Copia pulled gingerly out of me with a gasp before collapsing next to Terzo and I; an arm lazily slung around us best as possible. 
“Woah…” was all I could manage to say, my consciousness floating high above us still.
“I could not agree more, tesoro,” Terzo chucked, the sound rumbling in his chest as I listened to his heart pounding.
I looked up at him, resting my chin on my hands, and smiled sleepily at him before turning to Copia. He looked like he’d just run a marathon, chest glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. I reached out to him, cupping his cheek fondly and gracelessly leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. I felt Copia smile into the kiss, his arm slipping from my waist to cup my jaw almost possessively. I pulled away, sitting back slightly to look at them both with a soft warmth in my chest. 
“I love you, both of you.” I smiled, tears welling in my eyes. “I cannot imagine what my life would be like without you two, thank you…”
“Oh Stelina…” Terzo crooned, hand coming up to brush the tears away from my cheeks. “Do not cry amore, you will make this old man cry too…”
“Satana sia buono,” Copia chuckled as he sat up closer to us, practically wagging his eyebrows at me. “The only time I want to see tears in your eyes tonight amore is from pleasure, eh?”
I felt my cheeks flush, a shiver down my spine, and I smiled as he cupped my chin and pulled me towards his lips. Somehow I knew none of us would be getting much sleep tonight.
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