Dark Lord Dick Measuring Season Two: Fathers
Sauron: Wait, wait. You’re telling me you’re too busy for me because you’re hanging out with Snake Face?
Loki: We have a lot in common.
Sauron: *pfft* Like using pathetic excuses?
Voldemort: Like killing our fathers. *happy, contented noseless smile*
Sauron: I may have been awake since before Creation, but that’s some serious childhood trauma. You can have each other… *glares at Loki* until you realize the mistake you’ve made hanging out with this loser.
*puts arms around Darkling and Vader*
Sauron: At least we made it without killing our fathers.
Darkling: I never knew my father. *shrugs* Not that my mother made up for it at all.
Sauron: What about you Sith Lord?
Vader: *breathes* Technically I was fathered by Midichlorians.
Sauron: *confused look* What are…? *pauses in smug righteousness* Wait, no. Not gonna ask, too happy to have proven my point.
After Credits Easter Egg…
Loki: Hey, Sauron! Wait…
Sauron: *sassy side eye* Don’t you have a new best friend to annoy?
Loki: You wound me to think I didn’t have nefarious purposes…
Sauron: Like finding things out to mock and ridicule? *interested side eye*
Loki: I can’t believe you ever doubted me. *claps Sauron on the back as they start to walk away together* Have you ever heard him speak of… Parseltongue?
Sauron: *cackles as Loki hisses*
You asked for more Loki and Sauron 💖. Just a pair of sexy bullies and frenemies 4 life.
@thegreatzombieartisan @eowyn7023 @myfavouritelunatic @jurassiclexie @trinuviel @coraleethroughthelookingglass @somebirdortheother @iamstartraveller776 @rosalysaoirse @helenvader @penelopeisshipping @allpowerfulnarrator @denzit
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I’ve been fired exactly once in my life. In my early twenties I was working at a pizza place. The pizzas were artisanal, thin crust and personal. They’re a huge chain now but when I first started the company was in its infancy. It was the wild west of management, and the core investors would frequently stop by to check on things. One of these people was this round little man with rage issues. A knock off Danny Devito with no charisma at all.
His favorite thing to do was to come in on a Friday or Saturday night. We'd be at our stations: taking orders, making pizza, manning the oven, finishing orders off, running the cash register. He'd shove his way onto the line and start rearranging people. "You, get off orders and work the cash register, you come over and make the pizzas!" With a line of customers snaking out the door he'd throw off all our grooves and rattle us.
Then, inevitably, a mistake would happen.
When it did he'd call the person over and say, "Hey c'mere. You're fired." Just like that. No inflection, just a flat "You're fired." It was absolutely a power kink, and because of his involvement the average turn over was three months. You were a veteran at five months.
One night there was only three of us manning the front. I took an order than went to the cash register to ring them out before I made the pizza. This horrible man watched that then called me into the back. I didn't know if I was about to be fired. But I wasn't. In fact, he had one other move besides firing people. He yelled.
In the back he absolutely lost his mind screaming at me for being on the cash register. I'm talking veins popping, spit flying, red with rage, this man just started bellowing nonsensically about where I should be and how I was just such a failure. It was truly like his brain had shut off, nothing he was saying even made sense. I stood there in the face of this tirade for a minute and then set a record for being the first person to ever cut him short by bursting into tears.
He instantly stopped yelling and it was like Jekyll and Hyde. He was remorseful and consoling, deeply embarrassed by my display of emotion. All my male coworkers just took the abuse but faced with my weeping he about faced and instantly backed off. I went outside to cry and when I came back in he pretended it had never happened.
That was the state of things. The investors knew they desperately needed to keep this man out of the stores, but they couldn't just give him the boot. They needed to move him aside and fill his position with someone. The store manager was this lovely woman who had hired me on the spot at my interview. The entire staff adored her. She was the best fit to get this roided out investor out of the stores for good.
Her replacement was this man called Anthony. He was instantly loathed by the entire staff. Condescending, critical, and lazy he started off his reign by letting go a core lead who "back talked." He spent a whole morning berating the opening crew because the closing crew (who had sold 100 more pizzas than we were even supposed to have on hand) had forgotten to windex the doors. He left the entire crew to close without him while he flirted with a girl who wasn't his pregnant girlfriend. He hired his roommate to replace the lead he fired and even that guy hated his guts.
Our antipathy toward him made him paranoid and resentful and one by one he started finding excuses to fire the whole staff, certain that if he could clean house he'd be able to do the job. My time came, and he sat me down with his boss, my former manager. She cried as he announced I wasn't personable enough and used too many pepperonis.
I looked at her, the woman who had trained me on how many pepperoni to use, but she said nothing. What could she say? He was the boss now and had determined I was going to be let go regardless. Too many in this case was seven. Seven pepperonis on a personal pizza. The correct number was five according to him, which is one pepperoni per slice, and one in the middle.
I sat there for a moment, taking it in. I smiled at my old manager, obviously miserable. I looked back at him and said, "You're a terrible manager, you're doing the worst imaginable job." I outlined some of the things he'd done so she could hear them, then I stood up and left. I made it to the back room before I started crying.
I found out later through a bus boy that he replaced the whole staff with college kids who had such limited availability that the store couldn't run, then quit three months later leaving the whole place in shambles. Most of the old staff returned, but I'd moved onto the sex shop already and was enjoying a job with significantly less risk of being fired on a whim.
However I do have to disclose on job applications if I've ever been fired. I always says yes and list the reason as, "Excessive use of pepperoni." It has never failed to get a laugh from my interviewer.
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x : TO LOVE, TO CHANGE: *+゚
in which: you tell veritas you love him. he gets upset with you.
warnings: contrary to what the synopsis implies, it's fluff, i promise. 1k words, first time saying ily, slightly cranky reader, no mentions of reader's gender, dr. ratio being so in love he becomes so soppy and lovestruck. confessions.
a/n: there's a phenomenon that happens whenever i write for dr. ratio, and it's that my heart literally lunges out of my chest and begins typing at the keyboard for me. i should get it checked out. anyways, this is to preemptively celebrate his release!!
“Why- why are you mad?” You exclaim, watching the way Veritas crosses his arms and pouts with the petulance of a child. His gaze has strayed away from your eyes, and all you can do is sit in his lap with your arms hanging at your sides, brain tirelessly racking for all the reasons that you could have angered him.
He doesn’t give you any clues, displeasure brewing in his eyes instead.
“Is it because I said ‘I love you’?”
The purple haired scoffs and sticks up his nose, hair bouncing with his actions whilst you jostle slightly on his legs from the quick action. As much as you love his side profile, you’d love it even more if he spoke to you about what is bothering him.
During this moment, the world stills. You think he’s genuinely mad, and Dr. Ratio’s fury-driven state is not something you should take lightly. Really, you’ve seen it multiple times, and though it has never been directed at you, you hope it never will be. Which is why you sit on his lap now, tensely anticipating his response, and for the answer as to what you did wrong.
“I was meant to say it first,” he grumbles, losing the arrogance that fills his tone whenever he speaks, air filling with sincerity.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I was meant to be the one to say ‘I love you’ first.”
Your confusion is tangible at this point. Audible, if you will, because it rings like cicada sing. “Are you being serious?”
“Deadly.”
“You- why, then couldn’t you just have said it?” You sputter, slapping his defined deltoid, concern slowly melting into frustration. “Need I remind you that it was me who confessed to you first as well?”
“Yes, and it was positively the best day of my life.” He says that like it’s a simple fact. No sentiment, no heartfelt declaration, just another logical statement straight from a textbook of his life.
They say to be loved is to be changed, but no matter how much you love Veritas, all he knows is how to be an astronomical pain in your ass. Does he know how scared you were for his answer? You thought you did something unforgivable, or that he didn’t love you enough to respond in kind, or worst of all, that he wanted nothing to do with you anymore?
However, he's acting petty because he was not the first one to say those three words? You frankly don’t know why your heart beats for him as strongly as it does. In fact, you want to whack him over the head with his own codex.
Placing your hands firmly on his shoulders, you shuffle out of your position from his lap, planting your feet onto the ground. “Oh, you are so infuriating! Pretend I never said anything, I’m going back to my office until you-”
Not even two steps away from him and a hand clasps around your wrist to drag you back to where you started: on Dr. Ratio’s lap. His arms come to wrap around you like chains, leaving no room to wrestle him out.
“I never said you could leave. Especially not after telling me you love me,” he grumbles lowly into your collarbone, breath tickling your skin.
“I’m starting to regret it.”
“Can’t you at least say it again?”
“I don’t want to,” you grumble, arms snaking up to rest around his shoulders. “You don’t deserve it.”
“Well, that’s a little harsh. Is this how you treat the ones you love?”
“You haven’t even said anything back,” you pinch his skin. “Talk about harsh.”
“Do you remember the first time we met?” he asks with a fond chuckle, not missing the opportunity to leave kisses in a trail along your skin, making his way up your neck. Then, when his eyes meet yours, you almost crumble in embarrassment at the memory he’s injected into your mind.
You push him away and raise a hand to shield your eyes from him, clearly reliving a haunting memory. “Please don’t remind me.”
“Y’know, it’s not everyday someone gets to scold me and be right. If you weren’t so beautiful, I wouldn’t have let it slide, but it’s not everyday a gorgeous genius falls into my lap with guts to challenge me.”
“I was… agitated that day, so stop talking about it, please. In fact, for my sake, please just forget that moment. Completely.”
“Forget about it? Completely?” The scholar asks with genuine shock lacing his tone. “I fell in love with you in that very moment, how can you expect me to stop talking about it? You rendered me a fool in love and expect me to not think about the very moment it happened? Sweetheart, it was a pivotal moment of my life!”
“Not pivotal enough if you can’t even say ‘I love you, too’.”
“On the contrary, I have loved you longer. I yearned for you in wakefulness and in my dreams. I wished for you to look my way, and when you did, I never wanted your eyes to stray from me. How heartbreaking it was when they did.” His hand has snuck under your shirt now to rub circles on your skin. If he detached from you, he fears you’d slip away from him, and the worst thing you can give him is space. “Do you know how it felt chasing after you because you were the only one out of my reach? For three years, the only thing I wanted was to be yours. You made me an idiot.”
Stunned by his confession and the weight of it, you let him continue, sharp tongue softening. The only motivation you offer is a hand coming to cup his cheek, tucking aside his bangs so you can see his expression in its entirety.
His gold eyes shine when they look back up at you. For the first time, you feel like you’re seeing the parts of him that Veritas hides from everyone else.
“I love you.” He continues with heart wrenching devotion. “I’ll continue loving you until the streams stop, the rivers freeze, and the oceans dry. With three hundred thousand, eighty-three thousand, five hundred and seventy-one discovered planets in the cosmos, that phenomenon will approximately take-”
You seal his lips with yours in a gentle kiss, cradling his jaw and swallowing his words. Like wax to fire, Veritas sinks into you, completely helpless against your affections.
But, oh, you love him, and nothing else in the entire universe matters.
© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
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OBSESSED: NANAMI
A/N: So sorry this is getting reposted. Tumblr got glitch-y and it went away. Hopefully the second read around is just as enjoyable!!
C/W: Breeding, Mature. 18+
“You’d make such a beautiful mother.”
Nanami comes up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist. He travels up your torso to cup your tender, swollen mounds spilling over his favorite tank top.
“Ken,” you whine and wince back into him.
You’re so focused on chopping vegetables, you let him grope you. No use fighting it. If you slapped his hands away they’d be back in less than a second. Magnets to your perfect frame.
You’re ovulating.
He knows it like clock work.
You become docile. With puffy, tender breasts. And so emotional. Tears flow at a harsh breeze, much less anything else. Forgetful. Flustered. You hang off of him like perfectly cooked Lamb off a bone.
You’re ovulating. His cock is hard nearly 24 hours a day when you’re supple like this.
“Oh goddamit,” the knife comes down, loud and shrill on the marble island.
Nanami bites back a grin, he knows whatever it is is inconsequential.
“What is it, my love?” His hands trail down to your stomach. Cock beating against his thigh thinking about how pretty it’ll look swollen with his seed.
You dive your face into your hands. Crystal tears flowing from your eyes through the slim spaces of your elegant fingers. Sparkling against the Diamond engagement ring. He pulls you in tighter, unashamed of his erection now digging into your back.
“I-I forgot, I forgot the stupid basil at the store and now dinner is ruined.” More sobs. You melt back into his arms. Absolutely devastated.
“Ahhh, yes. So ruined.” His gentle teasing opens the flood gates.
The Pacific Ocean flows out of you and he’s even more fond. More turned on.
“Ken!” You scold him, turn around and dive into the crook of his neck. All in one fair motion.
“I was trying to be a good fiancé. I wanted to make this perfect. And I can’t even I can’t —“
“Shhh.” Nanami lifts you onto him. You wrap your legs around his waist. Drenching his work shirt in diamond tears.
His back hits the couch, and you’ve calmed to just baby sniffles with his constant rubbing.
“Let me take care of it.” He rasps out. Not even trying to hide his strain. You nod and bring the back of your hand to your puffy eyes.
And this is why he wants to fill you with his cum. Keep you pregnant. Soft, open. Tender hearted. Your kids would be born from the purest love.
It’s a daydream that exists on cinematic repeat in his mind. How he could change the shape of your beautiful body. Round your hips. Swell your feminine torso. Fill your breasts with nourishment for the little one you create together. It makes his cock leak and twitch and lead pipe hard. At work. At the gym. While eating. When you’re like this. Like this. He feels like an animal. Insatiable. You bring out the most primal parts of him. To provide. Protect.
Procreate.
He dreams about you staying at home, nurturing your little family. Coming home to you nourishing the baby with your gorgeous, plump…
God.
He’d drop his pants and push his cock past your pretty lips at the same time. Feed you while you’re feeding the love child he put in you.
Your sugary, soft gasp tethers him to reality. Eyes fixed on his restrained dick, begging for release.
“Kento, you’re so…” your dulcet voice trails off and you palm his length through his pants.
Nanami hisses. Unashamed of the growing stain of his precum seeping through his khaki work slacks. Not the first time.
“Let me make you a mother, baby.” His voice grazes the shell of your ear and you shudder into him.
“Ken.”
So “stern” but you keep petting his dick in the way that drives him insane. “We can’t because I think I—“
“You’re ovulating.” He finishes your thought with a buck of his hips into your hand. Greedy for more touch. More warmth.
Fine, fine. You’ve already compromised with him to stop taking the birth control and track naturally. He won’t push it. Watching how your hormones ebb and flow within your body is a privilege, so he won’t push.
For now.
“Let’s get takeout, baby.”
(PART II)
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