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#little mix+elite
nyxqueen97 · 5 months
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@roobylavender what a lot of teen/ya drama shows miss nowadays is like DC writing solo comics
character driven drama instead of over relying on plot and concept
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OC Crossover Event
Quick bit of background info is that all of Skylar's animals are weird in some way (expect maybe Mitchy the Ostrich who's just a regularly mean bird). They're typically found by other adventurers or members of the ministry and handed over to Magnus for study. But Magnus doesn't know how to take care of animals very well so he hands them off to Skylar instead. Lord Baron (the ¿goat?) and Kouta (a ¿¿cow??) in particular both have a unique ability to control plant growth and make portals. Kouta is generally more peaceful. Only bringing in strange fruits that Skylar attempts to grab for study, but Lord Baron sometimes causes a bit more havoc.
For the sake of this, we're saying that Lord Baron is the cause of my other ocs getting stuck in the Stardew universe. It started with Parker, then Jade, then Sol, and Skylar is trying their damned hardest to figure out how to get everyone BACK to their worlds because they're kind of getting sick of all these people in their house.
Sol
Overview
Life in the Valley
Jade
Overview
Life in the Valley (Coming Soon)
Parker
Overview (Coming Soon)
Life in the Valley (Coming Soon)
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astayinwonderland · 5 months
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"After all, you're my wife." | Choi San
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pairings: san x f.reader
genre: smut | fluff (if you squint)| +18 minors DNI
this is a mix between a poll and a request by @elfemi
summary: you marry san to make an alliance, and the agreement includes to live separate lives, but both of you seem to want each other (mafia!au)
word count: 3.4k
warnings: dom!san, sub!reader, san calls you his little pet, cursing, degrading, praising, unprotected sex (pls no), cum play, oral sex, fingering, penetrative sex, mentions of violence (not towards reader) and drugs -- lmk if I forgot anything
Enjoy! (;
There are two things you have very clear. Your dad is dead and you fucking hate Choi San. Inheriting the position of mafia leader was your birthright, your dad raised you to be that woman. However, not everyone wants to see a woman in such a powerful position, to their misfortune, you were the late mafia boss’s only child. 
When your father fell ill, you knew it was time to get your position as leader and boss secure. That meant allying with someone rich and powerful. You were surprised that all eligible bachelors were too old, too young, or not powerful enough. 
Theo was standing behind you as your eyes scanned the guests your dad’s most trusted assistant invited for a ‘get-together and mingle with the corrupt elite of the country. He had become like an uncle to you, a genuine part of the family. With his kind eyes, but cold demeanor, he is the perfect person to have your back. 
“What about him?” Theo said. 
“Ugh no…” 
“You can’t keep saying no to everyone. Choose or I will choose for you tonight,” your dad finally spoke. Eyes not looking at you. This is not his favourite idea ever, but it was necessary. 
You couldn’t picture yourself with any of these men, but it was your duty. So you tried your best to be somewhat amicable and get to like at least one of them. With your wine glass in hand, you decided to talk to your pursuers. They would throw themselves at your feet, showering with compliments, showing off their riches, and to be honest being completely obnoxious. This is not what you needed. You needed someone who you could make a deal with and live separate lives while keeping the façade of a marriage. 
Shit, this was going to be hard. 
The door opened and at that moment you knew something was off. The entire room fell silent when the man with broad shoulders and shiny black hair walked in. His face was expressionless, with high cheekbones, and not a trace of sympathy. You would think he would come to greet you, that’s the reason why he is there, but he just bows in your direction and walks over to the bar. 
The conversation around you resumed, whispers commented on the politician’s son. His father was a powerful drug lord who controlled one of the borders. No wonder he has so much influence. Your brain made a quick list of pros and cons, and so it seemed Choi San would be the right choice for you. 
___________________________________
San was aware his father was a criminal but when he was pushed to marry you, he did everything he could think of to change his father’s mind. He begged he asked to be sent away, hell, he even asked for physical punishment. But Mr. Choi was a greedy, greedy man, and he saw in you an opportunity to be even greedier, richer, and more powerful. This was truly the perfect alliance. 
Your dad’s body wasn’t ever cold yet when San got the call and the whole marriage circus began to play. At least the ceremony would be short and he would get to move into his room in your mansion and get it over with. San only met you that one time, but he remembered very well how you looked. In one word, terrifying. You would make the perfect fake wife. 
San watched you walk toward him dressed in black, a dress that covered your legs right above the knees but left little to his imagination from the way the cleavage showed off your round and soft breasts. He just politely nodded at you. At the end of the day, there was nothing to celebrate, your dad was dead and he had to pretend to be your loving husband for the rest of his life or until something or someone killed him. 
With no kiss to seal the deal, San just signed the papers and tried to give you a smile, which was awkward. 
“I am sorry for your loss,” he said. 
You returned the smile, less awkwardly, and patted his shoulder. For a split second, San saw something in you, maybe kindness, but that was all forgotten when you two started living together. 
_____________________________________
“Yeah… fuck, don’t fucking stop, don't fucking—” your voice bounces on the walls, you are so close. 
“Ah.. ah!” the deep voice behind you moans as he cums way too soon. 
San closes his eyes across the hallway. Why do you have to be so fucking loud? To be honest, he wishes he could shut you up once and for all. Moving in with you was necessary, he understands that, part of the arranged marriage and your agreement. However, San never imagined how opinionated and bossy you could be. One thing was your role as the new mafia leader, another thing was you ordering him around the house like some unloved pet. 
Tonight, nonetheless, San wouldn’t take that anymore, so he did something unexpected. He left his bedroom and went looking for you. Was he out of his mind? Probably, you specifically instructed to ‘stay the fuck away’ and since your marriage was fake, you could find carnal pleasure with anyone you wanted. 
San walked out of his bedroom. His pajama pants hanging low, his shirt forgotten somewhere in his room. He still wore his reading glasses and his black hair was wet, and slicked back. Your bedroom door abruptly opens and an unfortunate man flies out of your room. He is in his underwear trying to flee the scene grabbing his clothes as your upset persona watches not too far from the door. San’s curious eyes find your figure, and my oh my, what on earth are you wearing? 
If San didn’t know any better he would be jealous of the thin piece of clothing that gets to touch your soft skin. You have no shame as you stand there in front of your husband. The peach, sheer dress dances loosely on your body, however, it shows off your beautiful body. San can see your nipples hardening under such a provocative piece of clothing as his eyes scan even further south to find the core of your intimacy unclothed. 
“Cat got your tongue?” you ask. 
“N-no, I was just… taking a break from reading. I couldn't focus,” he crosses his arms across his chest and something in you wonders how you never paid any close attention to those broad shoulders and itty bitty tiny waist. 
“Was I being too loud? Apologies.” 
“Not at all, I believe you can be louder… with the right encouragement.” 
The audacity. He can’t speak to you like this… he has never done something so daring. Your heart races and a familiar heat travels from your chest down to your legs. 
“Go to your room, San,” you scold him and close the door. 
San rolls his eyes. He has had enough of you bossing him around as if he was your puppy or servant. So on this night, Choi San decided something. He will make you see him for what he is, an important part of your alliance, a capable, fierce man, and your husband. 
______________________________
The days pass and you haven’t seen much of San. You haven’t seen him at all. Is not a surprise not to see him or know of him for a day or two, however, it’s been 9 days since you had your little after-hours encounter. You sit in front of various members of the cartel and trusted members of the mafia your father once led. Theo, your father’s favourite and now your confidant, continues to sit to the right of the boss, you. 
“We are losing territory, it’s like we don’t have enough people from our side…” one protests. 
“The matter is getting resolved. I suspect there is someone infiltrated in one of our negotiations or maybe lines have been tapped–” 
You are cut mid-sentence when the doors are almost torn from their hinges and your husband enters the room. He is agitated, pulling a beaten man by the collar of his crimson-stained shirt, the same crimson colour that decorates San’s knuckles and hands. The stranger is pushed and kicked to your feet, and you almost feel pity for his bruised face. 
“Sorry to drop in unannounced, love,” San starts, leaving that last word resonating in your head. “This little rat here has something to tell us, don’t you?” San walks over to him and pulls him by the root of his hair making his eyes meet yours. “Look at my wife when you speak, scum, or do I need to break the rest of your fingers one by one?” 
And now you see it, his left hand, disfigured, broken bones making his muscles swell under his skin. 
“Speak,” you command. 
“I– I know who’s been feeding information to Viggiano.” 
As soon as you hear the name you stand from your chair and grab his face. 
“You better start talking before you lose your tongue as well,” you look at the disheveled man, then back at San. His eyes have such an intense glare, you’ve never seen him like this. It makes the hairs on your back rise.
“Pl-please no, I–” as the man stutters he keeps looking past you, which makes you turn to see Theo standing right there. The kindness in his eyes was now replaced by threat and fear. 
“No…” a small gasp leaves your lips. 
“You are never going to be the right person to lead, everyone knows–” Theo starts. 
Slap! You can’t believe the speed at which your body moved to hit your so-called uncle across the face. Two of your guards grab him by the arms, waiting for your command, but San is quicker. He bumps the disheveled man’s head with the table, knocking him unconscious. Like a predator to its prey, he walks towards Theo. You don’t see it coming but one punch from San and Theo is coughing blood. 
“That’s enough, San. You can go now.” 
San is in disbelief, but he lets out a deep chuckle that makes you and your company know he is indeed annoyed by your decision. 
“I want his nose and ears cut off, for being a liar and an eavesdrop, send them to Viggiano,” you walk towards the door. “Sleeping beauty over there loses his tongue. I want them both dead by midnight… oh and let this be an example of what happens if you betray your boss,” you finally exit the room, listening to the ‘yes ma’ams’ behind you. 
The night seems to be the longest one you’ve ever lived. This is not the first tough decision you make, but this is the first time someone close betrays you, and it hurts. It hurts bad, so you cry in the loneliness of your room. You curse. You throw things around and you scream. Everyone has been instructed not to bother you, except for one person. 
“May I come in?” San’s voice is soft outside the door. 
“Leave me alone!” 
San enters your room regardless and nothing stops him from getting to you. He holds your wrists. 
“You need to stop bossing me around, I know you are upset but I am not your puppy or your slave.” 
“You disappeared for 9 days and came home with a big surprise. Great! But you mean nothing to me, Choi San, and I mean nothing to you! Just get out before I call the guards.” 
“Nothing to you? Nothing to me!?” he is even more shocked than before and you see in his eyes that look he gave you when you got married but now it is enhanced. It is sympathy. It is agony. It is lust, pain, and love. Deep down you know he means something to you or you would have him dragged out of your room in this very minute. 
You don’t get to answer when San’s lips are already on yours and you find yourself kissing this handsome man back. This handsome man is legally your husband, but you have never kissed before. His lips are hungry and wanting, making you thirst for him as your tongues collide and his needy hands cup your ass. 
“See how lovely it can be when you don’t boss me around and you shut up.” 
Fuck.
The wetness between your legs just grows and you have no words to answer back. His mouth is on your delicate neck, oh he needs to make a work of art here, your skin looks like it could bruise easily. San sucks on various points, his tongue lapping over the marks he leaves behind. Your moaning goes from soft to breathy and impatient. One of your hands reaches under your nightgown and San slaps it away. 
“No, love, you don’t get to relieve yourself until I fucking say so. Now be a good pet and strip for me, would ya?” 
You take off your clothes as fast as you can, pathetic. A week ago, San was just the most annoying housemate, a convenient inconvenience, but now you’re here naked in front of him. His eyes are dark scanning your body, planning how he is going to ruin you, and you are going to let him do as he pleases. 
“On your knees.” 
And you drop to your knees looking up at his adoring face with a wicked smile. He lowers his pants just enough for you to see his cock already leaking for you.
“Such a good pet, would you help me out?” 
You continuously nod and pull his pants further down. His cock is beautiful, perfect, just like him. Slightly curved, just the right thickness, and a bit longer than average. You spit on it and start with your hand, jerking him off, up and down, up and down. Without interrupting the pace you lick his balls and earn the most sensual moan from San’s lips. So you put your mouth to work. You put him between your wet needy lips and push him in, sucking, tasting all of him. San’s breath is heavier when you start bopping your head up and down. He suddenly grabs your hair and takes control, fucking your face and watching you take it. To his eyes, you were already so beautiful, but this is something else.
“See how beautiful you look with your mouth shut, so obedient, now be a good wife and take this cock.” 
You moan at his words, how can they make you so horny when you had no plan of sleeping with him. The vibrations in your throat send San spinning and he is too close to cuming, but not yet. He pulls out of your mouth and helps you up, and with a slap to your ass, he takes you to bed. He signals you to straddle him. You normally don’t like eye contact with your sexual partners but there is something about San that makes it different. 
“Fuck yourself on my cock and I only want to hear how good it feels, okay?” 
You sit on his cock slowly, letting yourself adjust to his length and girth. When you start to bounce on top of him, San has to use all of his willpower not to drill into you like some kind of wild animal, he can do that any other time if you let him. The way you are making him feel is ecstatic. Your tits moving up and down so close to his face he has to suck on them. The feeling of his tongue on your nipples makes you want to cry for pleasure. You let out a high-pitched moan.
“Words, little pet, I wanna hear them– fuck,” San throws his head back as your pace becomes quicker. He slaps your ass, once, twice. 
“I love it, I fucking love it, San… fuck. I like it right there, so fucking perfect. I want you to fucking split me in half,” you just let words out, words derived from the ecstasy of having his cock buried deep inside you. 
And that was the queue for San to let go and fuck you like he wanted. Like you wanted. He now fucks you faster than the pace you set earlier. His hands bruising your hips, the skin-to-skin contact adding even more passion, and his eyes… His eyes on yours making you feel his, making you feel safe, making you feel you can let go and– 
“Fucking shit, I’m gonna cum… fuckfuckfuck!” 
And San holds you while your body trembles and your high makes your brain explode into a thousand little particles of pure lust and sin. Fuck the way your heart races, you can hear it in your ears. He puts you on the bed and your reaction time doesn’t catch up with your brain when your legs are wrapped around his waist and he is entering you. 
“San…” you whisper. 
He stops. He is unsure if this is too much and he is willing to stop. 
“San, San, San…” you keep saying his name like a plead, a prayer to the heavens as your hips move forward. You want more. 
“Bet. No one. Ever. Fucked you. Like. This.” San says between thrusts so deep you can feel him in your cervix. “Look at you all fucked out, my obedient pet, taking my cock so well, wanting to cum again. Is that what you want?” 
You nod desperately, anything for another intense orgasm with him. You only want this with him. His hands touching you, his moans on your ears, his voice commanding you to cum again and again. 
This time San fucks you slower, you can feel every inch of him inside you as you clench around his erection encouraging him to keep going. He grabs your thighs to pull you even closer to him, angling your hips higher making you not say his name, but scream it. 
“Yes, fuck, keep saying my name just like that.” 
So you did as he entered you, ruining you for any other man who dared match him. You were his, the man who saved your life and fucks you into oblivion. Now you were close, so close to your climax and you needed to cum like oxygen itself. 
“You don’t get to cum without me, hold it like the good pet that you are,” he says struggling to make a coherent sentence, he was very close too. 
You try hard not to cum before he does, but looking at him sweaty, chasing his high, fucking you as no one has done before does something to you. Your hands squeeze your tits together while your eyes close, trying to last longer. San could have combusted with that sight alone. 
“Cum– cum now… fuck!” 
The tightness in your belly is now free as you both cum. It is so fucking loud that your head hurts. His seed spills deep inside you and if you felt full before, now it’s even better, your legs feel like gelatin. San gently places them down. You are thinking he will probably leave you to go back to his room but he does the unexpected. 
His thumb is over your extremely sensitive clit and two of his slender fingers push his cum back inside you. You scream closing your legs. He smiles. 
“You need to take it all, love,” that’s it… the dom session is over and he uses that word that makes your heart flutter. 
“I can’t.” 
San licks your clit, tasting the mix of both of your releases. His fingers thrust in slowly, slightly angling up until you squirm under his touch. 
“Ah, right there? You like it there, love?”
“Mmmm-ugh yesfuck…ah–” you babble. 
San continues his tortuous pace until he latches once again his mouth to your clit. You see stars, you don’t know how your body is taking this, it is so fucking good, he is so fucking good. The way he keeps you on edge and makes you want more and more. Fuck, you can’t even think and you feel your body about to orgasm but something is different. 
“San, San… stop. I’m gonna–” and you squirt, drenching him in your juices. 
“That’s a good girl.” He licks your entrance once last time before collapsing beside you, his arms open inviting you to rest on his broad and hard chest. 
“You are not allowed to sleep in the other room anymore. From now on you sleep here, okay?” 
“You’re ordering me around, but I will follow your command. After all, you are my wife,” he hugs you tightly. 
__________________________________
a/n: this is pure ✨fiction✨ —this took me forever but I am in love with this san! reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated and let me know if you would like to be part of the taglist.
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ohtobeleah · 1 year
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M.U.R.P.H // Bradley Bradshaw
Summary: An undisclosed pregnancy that you and your husband try keeping a secret ends up being the reason you end up in hospital during a PTI session with the Dagger Squad.
Word Count: 6k
Warnings: Pregnancy. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Mild Angst.
Author Note: Happy Saturday! This is pretty self indulgent but I final finished this one-shot that’s been in my drafts forever.
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“Alright team.” Pete Mitchell, although overworked and severely underpaid for the crap he put up with–grinned ear to ear at his group of elite Naval Aviators who sat before him after debriefing this morning's training exercise. “As you know, this weekend is Memorial Day weekend and the Admirals have decided to get a jump start on the events.” 
“Are we getting a long weekend?” Fanboy beamed hopefully as he sat up a little straighter. “Please tell me we’re getting a long weekend—“ He hoped that if he asked with enough conviction in his voice the answer would be yes. However, he hadn’t noticed you standing at the back of the room. A protective hand over your barely visible baby bump. Waiting for the right moment to make your presence known. Bob had noticed though—he was already dreading what was to come. He hated Memorial Day. Not because he didn’t want to pay respects to those who had fallen, no. He’d honour the fallen every damn day if he had to. 
So long as he didn’t have to participate in Murph.
You’d been his PTI during his time in Lamoore. You were the first Bradshaw he’d met and before he later Met Bradley Bradshaw and put two and two together that the two of you were married–nothing had ever made more sense. 
Bob’s heart had sunk into his ass when he found out you were being transferred to North Island. You were somewhat of a hard task master when it came to gruelling training sessions and Memorial Day always gave you free rein to send anyone packing with their tail between their legs if they couldn’t keep up. 
You were, however, a solid friend. When you weren’t working, you were the life of the party. The brightest smile in the room and always the one who everyone gravitated towards. Much like Bradley, you two always seemed to get the party started. Whether it was playing great balls of fire and singing at the top of your lungs—or starting an important dart night that saw a permanent tally board hung up beside the much too loved dartboard. There had been a time or two where you’d challenged the strongest of the bunch to an arm wrestle—Bob was always the first to bow at your bark. Not one to challenge anything you said, hell he’d do just about anything you told him to do….
So long as he didn’t have to participate in Murph. 
Bob had never been one to believe in soulmates before he saw you and Bradley together, he’d never met two people more suited for each other. But neither of you needed to hear that from him–you’d already managed to figure that out on your own. 
“No, Fanboy—“ Maverick sighed as he gestured for you to make your way to the front of the class. “No you aren’t getting a long weekend, what you are getting though, is a killer workout with PTI Bradshaw.” You heard the mixed reviews your introduction received. You’d only just recently finished running annual fitness testing for those who needed to be re-evaluated. So the idea of yet another gruelling workout tossed their way wasn’t what some of the aviators had in mind for a head start on the weekend. 
Jake Seresin and Javy Machado however? Oh they were wrapped. They loved a challenge—they adored you and they certainly came over the challenges you loved to hand out. 
“Morning everyone.” You beamed as you handed Rooster, you beloved husband, who sat in the front row with a soft grin, a pile of papers. “Take one and pass them along please Lieutenant Bradshaw.” Your fingers lingered across Bradley’s for a few seconds as he smiled softly back at you with heart shaped eyes. He always thought you looked so different with your hair pulled back into a ridiculously tight bun. Your uniform made you look so different, nothing like what you looked like at the Hard Deck with your hair out and mum jeans on. Sitting beside him at the piano playing great balls of fire. A Margarita in your hand and his glasses over your beautiful eyes. Nothing like what you looked like tucked into his side, hair splayed every which way and silk pyjamas adorning your beautiful body. 
“Physical Training Instructors play a key role in developing and maintaining the health, fitness and well-being of our airmen. In the United States Navy, physical fitness is absolutely essential in maintaining good health and overall wellbeing.” Pete Mitchell had been required to say that little statement prior to any session he handed over to you. “Regardless of Rank, PTI “Agony” Bradshaw will be your superior for the next two hours—with that I hand you over.”
“Thanks Mav.” You chuckled, appreciating the way you were so respected by the veteran aviator. PTI’s didn’t always have the best wrap—so when Maverick commanded the attention of everyone in the room on your behalf it gave you a little more confidence each and every time. “Alright flyboys—“ You teased, turning your attention to Phoenix so you could address her too. “And Flygirl, today we’re doing MURPH—“ 
Your declaration was met with a choir of dismay and disapproval from at least half of the team that sat before you. Suddenly their shoulders were a little more slouched and their faces plastered with existential dread when they started reading over the workout plan you'd had Bradley pass back. No one liked doing MURPH, except maybe Jake Seresin.
“Ma’am, I think that sounds like a great idea—“ Hangman sent you one of his thousand watt grins as he played with the toothpick that sat between his teeth. “Don’t you think your wife here comes up with some banger ideas, Rooster?” Bradley did think you had some good ideas, he wasn't going to let you know that though–if he did he knew his workouts, his Personal Training sessions and his Fitness Testing would just increasingly get harder and harder. It had only been by the skin of his goddamn nose that you passed his last Multi-Stage Fitness Test. Bradley Bradshaw was a hunk and with that meant he himself was not the most aerodynamic of the bunch–Bob had passed with flying colours, although you did nearly force him to restart his push-ups again when you caught him cheating on range. 
“She told me what she had planned last night Hangman, I’m ready to go, brought my pre workout in my bag and everything—“ Rooster just sighed as he leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs as he brought his hands up to rest behind his head. “Piece of cake.” 
“I have never heard anyone say MURPH is a piece of cake.” Phoenix groaned. “Aggie, please–” 
“I don't make the rules, Lieutenant, I just enforce them.” You had gotten used to the love-hate relationship and animosity you received while you were in uniform, it was your job to make sure none of the navy’s finest aviators let their fitness fall to the wayside. “Now for those who don't know what MURPH is, i'll explain quickly then you can all take twenty to change, refuel, and meet me over in the gym.” As you pulled out the empty chair that sat vacant next to your husband, you used it as a footstool before propping yourself up on the desk. Clearing your throat before reading out the workout explanation on the sheet you'd distributed. 
“M.U.R.P.H is a hero WOD dedicated to Michael P. Murphy, the first service member to receive the Medal of Honor for service in Afghanistan, during a Memorial Day event on Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan, May 24, 2015.” Although there were more people sitting before you who didn't like the idea of such a gruelling workout, they did respect the fallen. “Michael's favourite workout was dedicated to him after his passing and thus, will be your workout today.” You felt the stomachs of everyone, all but Jake And Javy who just sat a little straighter in their chairs, drop.
“Today you will complete a one mile run, 100 pull-ups, expected to be chest to bar, 200 push-ups, 300 bodyweight squats, and to finish up we’ll run another mile.” Bradley crept a hand around your calf, thumbing your uniform as he squinted his eyes and bit his bottom lip, hoping you wouldn't add anything else to the list…..He should have known better. But he couldn't hold a grudge against you–not when you were four months pregnant and glowing. You were hiding your pregnancy well, it wasn't that you didn't want your friends and family to know, it's just you wanted to revel in the experience with Bradley for a little while longer before telling everyone you were both expecting. “Usually the twenty pound weight vest would be optional, but boys and girls you are some of the Navy’s finest Aviators, so you will all complete this course while wearing a twenty pound vest, none-notable people.” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*
In the locker room, Nomex Flight Suits had been discarded for workout gear. Standard issue work boots had been replaced by trainers, and any and all standards of professionalism had gone out the window. It was the one thing everyone actually did enjoy about having you as their PTI, you weren’t big on formality. As long as respect was there you couldn’t give a rats ass about if people swore at you or razzed you. It made the job just a little bit more enjoyable. 
The last thing anyone wanted to do while they were working out was keep a rigid and professional persona. 
“Man, sometimes I hate your wife.” Phoenix grumbled as the group walked out of the locker room with towels slung over their shoulders and copious amounts of pre-workout scooped into shakers. Bradley couldn't help but to laugh, he loved you so much, the wedding band wrapped around his ring finger was there to prove it. The tattoos of your name on his left ass cheek was also there to prove it. 
“I wouldn't let her hear you say that.” Bradley paused as he took a swig of his pre-workout before handing it to Jake who looked like he was pumping himself up for the fight of his life. “She’ll ‘accidentally’ forget to count your reps and make you start again.” 
“This is surely a form of torture–” Fanboy added as he trailed behind with Bob. 
“It's a hero WOD Fanboy–respect the dead.” Jake hissed, he was as keen as, the only one in the group who hadnt had a negative thing to say about your workout plan. “I don't know why you guys aren't more excited.”
“Unlike you Hangman, most of us aren't gluttons for punishment.” Payback teased as he came to sling an arm around Jake's shoulders. “Or degradation, considering the unholy things I've seen in your search history.” Jake and Bradley had grown closer in the past few years that saw them in North Island permanently, there had been more times than you could count where the two of them would stumble back to your humble abode, drunk out of their minds. There had even been a time or two where you'd caught them spooning on the couch when Rooster couldn't take the stairs in his drunken state. 
“None of which compare to what Bradsaw probably cops in the bedroom.” Jake was quick to turn the attention back on Rooster, sending him a smirk over his shoulder as he took a quick sip of the pre-workout they were sharing and handed it over. “Huh Rooster? Agony probably has you wrapped around her little finger.” It was no secret amongst the group that you were a power house PTI, you didn’t dish out any workout you couldn't do with your eyes closed, something that the Daggers really valued about you was your integrity. You were honest and kind and above all, you levelled with them. You weren't a hypocrite and you, as much as you hated your job some days, the constant pressure, the delayed onset muscle soreness, the gruelling workouts and the sweat, you led by example and practised what you preached. 
That didnt mean you and Bradley wouldn't reserve Friday nights for takeout and chocolate. 
“That she does.” Was all Bradley replied with, “Have you fucking seen her? She’d kick my ass any day of the week if I gave her any ounce of crap.” He was without a shadow of a doubt whipped, but Bradley had always been that way with you–ever since he met you at his first water survival training weekend, he was down bad. He’d been assigned to your little group that first Saturday and you sent his heart into the stratosphere the first time you smiled at him. He was still unsure if it had ever come back or if your unconditional love and admiration just kept it hovering in the ozone layer. 
“She looks like she's glowing.” Bob remarked as the group mixed with nervousness, existential dread and far too much ego radiating of one particular member made their way across the tarmac to the base gym you could be found in any given day of the week. It was your home away from home. Kitted out with state of the art equipment, a spacious and functional environment that was welcoming and motivating. “She's far too excited about this, oh my god.” 
Bradley knew you were glowing, but he also knew it wasn't because you were excited. He knew that it was because of the little one growing inside you, a mix of him and you. He kind of hoped it was a boy, but everyone always told him he’d make a good girl dad. Regardless–he just wanted to be a dad, his biggest achievement by far would be being a good dad.
“She really is.” Bradley beamed as he heard the unmistakable tune of AJR’s Burn The House Down blasting through your speakers, reading over the workout plan one final time as you sat on the sled track, legs sprawled as you hummed away in your own little word. Twirling the pen you held in your hand absentmindedly, Bradley’s voice brought you out of your concentration. Alerting you that the team was ready to be put through their paces. “We’re hear for your torture session, Agony, don’t hold back on Hangman though, he’s been gloating since, well–forever really.” Bradley teased as he offered you a gentle hand, helping you rise up from the felt sled track. You immediately felt a dizziness unparalleled to anything you'd ever experienced before. So much so you fought off the urge to succumb to the feeling of descent as you stumbled and stammered for a second. 
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Lieutenant.” You smiled, exhaling as you steadied your equilibrium. Bradley caught on immediately that you were feeling slightly uneasy, placing a soft hand against the small of your back as you cleared your throat and rolled up your sleeves a little. “Alright, So I’ve measured out half a mile along the airfield, so it's half a mile to and half a mile back– You can either run the tarmac or use the treadmill.” You explained to everybody standing around  listening in to what you had to say. 
“Can we break up the reps Y/n?” Payback asked as he shouldered Bob, forcing him to lose his footing slightly, stumbling for a second as he sent Payback look. “Or is it strictly 100, 200, 300?” 
“I don't care what you guys do so long as you get it done.” Your tone made Fanboy shiver, you could be a hard task master when you wanted to be. “Start warming up and we’ll get this show on the road.” Bradley was quick to sneak a peck on the cheek when the group started to disperse, all except for Hangman a little on edge about what was to come. 
“You feeling alright darlin?” He cooed, walking with you over to your desk where you’d left your water bottle. 
“Your baby is the size of a pear at the moment and she's already giving me a hard time.” Neither you nor Bradley wanted to know if you were having a boy or a girl, you wanted it to be a surprise, both having made lists that kept growing with names galore. “I'm just starting to feel really sluggish, which is hard to hide when I'm usually the energiser bunny on base.” 
“Dr. Richards did say you’d need to pull back a little the further along you get baby." It was hard to accept that you would eventually have to slow down, up until about two weeks ago you had been fine, apart from the morning sickness you had dealt with in the first trimester. Bradley respected your boundaries when you were both at work, knowing professionalism in the workplace was important to you, however–that didn't stop him from discreetly placing a gentle hand atop your stomach, finding the small baby bump hiding under your work uniform. The camo green fabric warping around your naval under his palm. “But that doesn't mean you're not any less capable, just means you’re growing our little boy which in my opinion, is pretty spectacular.” 
“Just means we’ll need to tell everyone sooner rather than later Roo.” You sighed, taking a sip of your water, not knowing that Phoenix had spotted the gentle touch of your husband's hand resting on your stomach for a brief moment. Her eyes wide in shock as her jaw slacked slightly. Phoenix though, the master of recovery, disguised her surprise when you turned around to round up the gang that were all in the process of warming up in some way shape or form. “Alright, we can stagger the start for those who aren't warm enough–” You side eyed Bradley as he scoffed at you, leaving your side to join his colleagues. “
“Let's go boys and girl, we’re doing Murph baby!” Jake hollered out, clapping his hands down on Javys shoulders, pumping each other up as you laughed, a smile creeping across your face. “Bradshaw! You gonna try keep up with the big boys?” 
“Think I might taxi with Bob.” Bradley replied, jogging on the spot before giving his lower back a little twist side to side. Bob just rolled his eyes, to the untrained eye he was the kind of guy who kept his shirt on during beach days, but he thoroughly enjoyed cardio. If Rooster's plan had been to taxi with him during the mile run he was in for a rude shock, but Bob knew he was gonna lose time in the pull-up department. “You ready to go man?” 
“As ready as I'll ever be for this kind of workout.” Bob groned. “If I say I twisted my ankle now, do I still have to participate?” The group all laughed at the near winge that left Bob's mouth, he really wasn't up for this today–but what you came back with made the gym explode with boisterous laughter. 
“If you dont be careful Lieutenant Floyd l’ll pack an extra pound into your weight vest.” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***
Phoenix saw her opportune moment to strike about half way through the first half mile. Bradley was starting to show a red hume across his face, a thin layer of sweat had started to form across his forehead and Phoenix knew that if he was focusing hard enough on keeping his pace steady with one foot in front of the other, she knew he was in no position to formulate a lie. 
“So–Bradshaw.” Phoenix started as she came up to jog beside Rooster. “How far along is she?” 
“How far along is who?” Bradley replied as he kept his head straight, focused on the marker up ahead that indicated the turn around point. Watching as Jake and Javy booked it around one another, racing ahead of the rest of the group who had all opted to taxi their way through this. 
“Agony, she's pregnant.” Phoenix spoke with such conviction that Bradley found it near impossible to try and formulate a lie that would cover up the truth of the matter. “I saw you put your hand on her stomach, and I know you wouldnt do that if she wasnt pregnant.” 
“She's feeling a little off today, little spud is kicking her around a little.” It was all the conformation Phoenix needed to let out a little squeal as she beamed at Rooster, smacking him in the shoulder. “Ow!” 
“Why would you keep this from us! Rooster! That's amazing, congratulations!” 
“We just wanted to enjoy it for a while, just us, we haven't even told her parents yet.” Bradley explained as he made it to the turnabout point with Phoenix, both keeping each other's pace. “She's four months, we don't wanna know the sex, but everything is going the way it should, doc said she’ll need to start pulling back soon though.” 
“Ah, so thats why she isn’t participating in the torture.” Phoenix had picked up on the fact you weren’t participating today, she thought it was odd that you weren't but wasn't about to question it. She was scared you'd match her attitude and give her an extra 100 push ups. “Mrs Bradshaw is knocked up.” 
“Yeah.” Bradley chuckled, he liked the sound of that. “I had to beg her not to last night when I saw the MURPH file sitting out on the dining table, got down on my knees and everything.” 
“You couldn't have just talked her out of the whole plan entirely?” Phoenix whined, starting to feel a little more puffed from talking as she jogged with Bradley. Starting to really feel herself warming up. 
“Oh trust me, I tried that too.” Bradley explained, laughing as he remembered how that conversation ended. “She seduced me just to get me to shut up.” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***
By the time Rooster and Phoenix got back to the hanger turned gym, Jake and Javy were already going ten reps for ten reps with their pull ups. Bob, Fanboy and Payback were just standing there, watching as they caught their breath and waited for Rooster and Phoenix to return. 
“Alright ladies, now that everyones back, there's no rest for the wicked.” You turned up the volume on the speaker you stood by before making your way over. “Lets hussle, clocks still ticking and the faster you get this done the less time you have to spend here with me.” 
Fanboy groaned as he turned to Bob, sharing a painful look of ‘I'm over this already.’ 
“How are you gonna break this up, Roo?” You cooed, coming to stand by your husband as you watched Payback and Phoenix get to work on the rig, everyone was working on their pull ups first. “If it was me i'd do ten at a time.” 
“I think I should be able to manage twenty-five at a time.” He smiled, mumbling under his breath in your ear as he leaned in to kiss your earlobe. “Phoenix knows you're pregnant by the way.” 
“What!?” You gasped. “How did she find out! You said we weren’t gonna tell anyone yet?” 
“Saw me touch your stomach before, figured it was a little sus.” Bradley cooed. “I'm sorry.” 
“No, no don't be, it was bound to happen sooner or later.” You accepted the reality, watching as your group worked through their reps, taking notice of Bob who was severely lacking in his rep range. “Floyd! Chin to bar!” 
“Yeah Bob, chin to bar.” Hangman added, laughing with that thousand watt grin he was known for. “Bradshaw! Stop trying to flirt your way out of this!” 
“That's my cue.” Bradley groaned, throwing his head back as he ran his hands through sweat covered locks. “Play nice please.” 
“Nope, hop to it Lieutenant–” You bit back, biting your bottom lip as you cautiously and ever so discreetly slapped Bradley on the arse, watching as you sauntered away with a little more pep in his step. 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***
“I feel like my arms are gonna pop off!” Next was the push ups. Mickey groaned as he did his set of twenty as you came to kneel beside him. “You’re a vicious and cruel woman.” 
“Well I guess Agony is rather fitting, isn't it Fanboy?” you questioned through a soft laugh as you pressed a hand between his shoulder blades. “Retract your scaps, you're relying too much on your triceps, put the pressure through your chest and your longevity will increase.” 
“If i wasn't so mad i'd say thankyou.” He groaned, keeping on keeping on with his reps. As soon as he was done, Rooster started his, same as Payback. 
“Hmm, I'll take it.” You ruffled Mickey's hair, wiping the sweat you collected onto the thigh of your pants as you stood, feeling light headed as you rose too quickly. “Oh–” Your vision blurred momentarily as a slight ringing in your ears rang out, you tried to breathe through it, but you couldn't catch the feeling. 
“Hey Aggie, you okay?” It was Hangman who noticed that you were looking a little unsteady at first, but as soon as the words were leaving his mouth? You were going down. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as the dizziness from standing too quickly took over you entirely. “Oh shit!” It normally wouldn't have been an issue, but you'd been feeling a little unsteady all day. “Y/n–” Hangman was quick to move to break your fall, catching you in his arms before you could hit the ground. “Rooster! Get over here will ya?” Jake called out, Bradley hadnt seen you fall, he was too busy focusing on his push-ups. “It's Y/n.” 
“What's wrong?” Bradley asked as he stood, noticing you passed out in Jake's arms. “Oh my god, hey–” He cooed, tapping your cheek softly as he crouched beside you on the other side of Jake, the whole ordeal had grabbed the attention of all the aviators you had in your gym. “Hey, darling, you okay? Open your eyes for me baby.” 
You did, slowly, fluttering your eyelids with a soft groan as you tried to sit up, still feeling dizzy.
“Woah–easy there killer, what's going on? I've never seen you pass out like that before.” Although Jake was technically addressing you, Bradley held a palm to your forehead as he pressed his lips together, watching as you struggled to focus on what was going around you. 
“She’s pregnant–” The gym went completely silent at Bradley’s major announcement. “I gotta get her to the hospital in case there's something wrong.” 
“Bradley, I'm fine.” You tried to reason with your husband as he scooped you up and into his arms, waiting for you to wrap your arms around his neck before he stood. “I promise, I just felt a little light headed is all.” 
“Yeah, no I don't care, we’re getting you checked out.” There was a distinct shift in Bradley’s tone, before he was playful, enjoying the workout as much as he could but now? He was as serious as ever, nothing was more important to him than you, his family. 
“Bradley, I'm in the middle of instructing a class.” Again you tried to defend the unnecessary need to go get checked out. You really didn’t feel like it was that big of an issue. “I can’t just leave? Everyone needs—“ Before you could finish, Bradley was interrupting. 
“Guys? you good?” Bradley turned around, addressed the totally stunned and flabbergasted group who just looked at him like he’d just dropped a major bomb on them. That his wife was expecting, you were gonna be a mother, and he, Bradley Rooster Bradshaw, was gonna be a dad. “You know what you’re doing don't you?” 
“Uh, yeah–” Bob started. 
“We’re good.” Payback stammered.
“We’ll be fine, just go make sure everything’s okay.” Phoenix added. 
“What do you mean Y/n’s pregnant!?” Hangman asked, standing there with wide eyes and a confused expression. Bradley didn’t respond, he simply turned on his heels and continued on his way, carrying you over to the admin building on base to get you checked out. 
“Do I need to have the sex education talk with you Seresin?” Phoenix teased. “Did your parents never give you the birds and the bees talk?” Jake just sent her a look. 
“You fucking knew didnt you?” He called Phoenix on her cool calm and collected manor. Something was up. 
“Only for like twenty more minutes than you.” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***
“Take a picture, it’ll last long.” You pouted from your position on the hospital bed, hooked up to a heart rate monitor. Bradley sat beside you, hand in yours as he just stared at you. Trying to get a read on how you were actually feeling because he knew you weren’t telling him the truth. 
“Woah, that was incredibly rude, Mrs Bradshaw.” Bradley teased as he let go of your hand, leaning back in the chair he sat perched in. stretching his arms up over his head, enough so that the bottom of his shirt pulled up, exposing his lower abdomen for a second. An incredible sight. “I'm just doing what any good husband would do, you know, making sure your health is in top priority.” 
“I'm A Personal Training Instructor for the United States Navy.” You reminded your husband, deadpanning him as you swirled your palm across your stomach. Stupid hospital gown covering your small bump. “Uncle Sam pays me to make sure you keep your health in tip top shape, it's not the other way around.” Bradley sent you a childish lok as his snickered back at you as you stuck your tongue out at him. “Listen, I’m fine, I'm just not used to my equilibrium being so off, I got up too quick and lost my balance, I'm fine.” 
“Why don't we let the doctor be the judge of that?” Bradley sighed, leaning forward as he rose from his seat to kiss your cheek. You just accepted the loving gesture as he cupped your cheeks, swiping the pad of his thumb across your cheek. “I just worry about you, because I love you and if anything ever happened to you I wouldn't be able to forgive myself for not doing enough when I could have.” 
“Good thing I love you more huh?” You cooed, watching as Bradley sat back down as Doctor Richard’s entered the room. 
“That my dear, is not possible.” Rooster just managed to get his reply in before Doctor Richards smiled. 
“Well the good thing is there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with bubs from the ultrasound.” She explained as she read through your chart. “But it seems as though you’re experiencing some bouts of low blood pressure Mrs Bradshaw.” 
“Low blood pressure?” Bradley questioned. “That can just happen? Y/n doesn’t have low blood pressure?” He was right, you didn’t, but you seemed to have it now. 
“I can assure you Mr. Bradshaw it’s a very common occurrence during the first twenty four weeks of pregnancy, I wouldn’t be too alarmed as long as you manage it.” Doctor Richards addressed you as you sat up a little straighter in your bed. 
“How would you like me to do that Doc?” You asked with a sigh, it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy being pregnant. You did and you were so excited for your little one to arrive. What was annoying though was the fact you had been told to slow down, take things easy, enjoy the time you had with your baby. You were naturally a physically active person. Slowing down just wasn’t in your DNA. 
“Take it easy. Try to slow down a little? I understand you’re a PTI? Perhaps avoiding strenuous activity for the time being will help.” Doctor Richards explained. “Try to avoid making sudden movements, like standing up too quickly. It shouldn’t be a long term thing but for now? Monitor your systems, drink plenty of water to stay hydrated to increase your blood volume.” 
“Aye aye captain.” You groaned, saluting Dr. Richards as you slumped a little. Rooster caught onto your bad mood instantly, deciding to take over the conversation for you. 
“We’ll do our best Doc, thanks for checking up on her.” 
“Anytime—I’ll have your charts done up and send a discharge notice to the ladies at Reception.” She explained before leaving the room, giving you and Bradley a moment alone. He was silent as you walked Ike’s at him. Expecting him to say he told you so. 
“You feelings alright?” He asked softly. 
“I’m fine—just need a moment to truly process that my career is over.” You groaned, lying back as you faught of tears, it was the hormones, but not really. You just knew this day was coming. 
“What are you talking about?” Bradley asked, concern lacing his tone of voice as he sat as close to you as he possibly could. “Darlin—?” 
“If I can’t train, I can’t tell others to train. I can’t be a hypocrite.” You explained as tears fell down your cheeks. “I’ll go on maternity leave and lose my strength, my endurance, my body is already changing and I can only imagine what it’ll be like after having this beautiful baby.” You were well aware how crazy you sounded but it’s how you felt. “Bradley, I hope you don’t take this as me not loving every single moment of this because I am—“ You sobbed as Braldey held your hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m just scared of how becoming a mother is gonna affect the career I worked so hard to build.” 
“I understand baby.” Bradley tried his best to console you, he wasn’t going to tell you that none of what you were worried about was going to happen. He knew that there was a possibility it could. It had happened to other women before you and it would certainly happen after. “But if anyone can manage being a wonderful, caring mother and a fierce, incredibly talented career woman it’s you.”
“You think so?” You couldn’t help but to scoff lightly through your tears as you turned your head to look at your husband, so thankful for his every strong presence and support. 
“Honey I know so, we’ll do whatever it takes to get you right back to where you were before this little one came along.” He smiled, helping you sit up. “But let’s focus on you now? Alright, keep that blood pressure from dropping, keep you healthy and happy mama.” 
“Oh god!” You remembered the fact Bradley had mentioned to every single Dagger that you were pregnant. “Oh my god Roo, they’re gonna tackle us!” You leaned forward into your husband's chest as he laughed and kissed the top of your head. “I guess we better get back and get it over with huh?” 
“Yeah, better to rip the Band-Aid off fast than to drag it out.” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***
By the time you got back to base, the entire Dagger Squad was waiting back in the rec room. When you and Bradley entered cautiously, they all stood up as if they were expecting life altering news. 
“Is everything alright?” Bob asked, you never thought his eyes could get any bigger—but as he looked at you with hope filled eyes, you knew you’d been wrong. 
“Everything’s fine.” You smiled, wrapping your arm around Rooster's torso. Pulling him close as he sighed and filled in the gaps. 
“Mum and Bub are doing well, just got a little low blood pressure to manage but other than that? Everything else seems to be just fine.” Everyone went quiet, all silently thanking the heavens above and those in it that nothing major had occurred. Until Fanboy said what everyone was thinking—
“Can we go back to the part where you’re pregnant and didn’t tell any of us?” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**
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modelsof-color · 5 months
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About Willi Smith
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Willi Smith was considered one of the most successful African-American designers in the fashion industry at the time of his death in 1987, and the inventor of streetwear. His label that launched in 1976, WilliWear Limited, grossed over $25 million in sales by 1986 according to The Guardian. Inspired by the fashion he saw on the streets and also his desire to shape it, Smith’s accessibility and affordability of clothing helped democratize fashion.
Born in 1948, Willi Donnell Smith grew up in Philadelphia with an ironworker father and a mother skilled in the creative arts. “I was Mr. Bookworm. I was the artistic child no one understood. But my parents supported me. If I was doing a little drawing, my father didn’t say, ‘Why don’t you play baseball?’... The family sometimes used to say there were more clothes in the house than food.” After his parents divorced, Smith’s grandmother, Gladys “Nana” Bush, stepped in to nurture him, a role she played throughout his life.
Smith studied commercial art at Mastbaum Technical High School and fashion illustration at the Philadelphia Museum College of Art. He found himself bored by the limits of illustration, always “changing the design of the dress [he] was supposed to be illustrating.” Through the connections of a family for whom she cleaned, Bush organized an internship for Smith with venerated couturier Arnold Scaasi. At Scaasi, Smith assisted in creating fashions for clientele like Brooke Astor and Elizabeth Taylor, learning form, fit, embroidery, and the power wielded by access to a certain type of dress—a crash course in elite levels of fashion and the clothes he didn’t want to make
His label, Williwear, was ahead of its time: mixing the relaxed fit of sportswear with high-end elements of tailoring. His clothes were not meant to be untouchable, catwalk-only designs. Although the term “streetwear” has been much chewed over recently, Smith’s more elastic definition of the term (bringing urban culture to the catwalk) has been incredibly influential.
His clothes were meant for everybody. He said: “Fashion is a people thing and designers should remember that. Models pose in clothes. People live in them.” Though he was inspired by New York City, he wanted people everywhere to appreciate the culture and inspiration of the city. “Being black has a lot to do with my being a good designer,” he said. “Most of these designers who have to run to Paris for colour and fabric combinations should go to church on Sunday in Harlem. It’s all right there.”
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feeder86 · 1 month
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F80: Kidnap and Control
Alejandra. Fuck! Even her name was sexy, thought Marcus. He’d seen her out so many times in recent weeks and ended up in bed with her more than once. She was the devil of the night, enticing him towards her. Alejandra. Then gone without a trace the following morning. 
The fact that Marcus knew so little about her seemed to draw him closer into her web like nothing else. Rich kids tended to mix in the same circles and know the same people. Marcus had lived around Washington DC his entire life, given how many of his family had wandered into the political spectrum. But who was this girl? And how had she sauntered her way into their world of the elite? Once Marcus’ uncle had been elected as president, he’d risen to the top of that pecking order; the women who came with that new status were out of this world: beyond beautiful, perfect and angel-like. And, there, sitting on her pedestal, looking down on all of the rest of them, was Alejandra.
“I want to tell you something,” Ally whispered, more than just a little tipsy. “My big secret!”
“You’re actually an angel, aren’t you?” Marcus whispered back between lustful kisses.
“I’m being serious,” Ally smiled playfully. “I want to trust you.”
Marcus nodded, knowing that as the seconds of their night trickled away, the time for Ally’s inevitable vanishing would once again be upon him. “You can tell me anything,” he promised sincerely.
Ally seemed to search his soul as she gazed beyond his eyes, penetrating deep inside of him. Then she nodded, kissed him once more and took his hand. 
Marcus laughed, assuming that this was another simple kinky ploy. That was, until Ally led his hand around her shoulders and…CLICK. He jumped and gently tried to pull his hand back. “No way?” he beamed with surprise. “You’ve got to be kidding me? This isn’t fucking real?”
“No one knows,” Ally whispered. “No one.”
“Of course they don’t!” Marcus smiled. “Why would they? You’re…perfect. The perfect woman!”
“You don’t hate me?” Ally shot back, desperate for words of comfort. “I mean, we already slept together and… So many people these days…. Your uncle…”
“Shh!” Marcus whispered into her ear. “Honestly, I think it’s fucking hot! You’re… You’re an andriod!” For whatever reason, his hardness had seemed to set into concrete once he said it out loud.
“You’re my favourite,” Ally smiled at him. “You’re the one I keep coming back to. I can’t get you out of my head.”
“I feel the same way, baby!” Marcus smirked, already stripping off his shirt.
“I want to give you something,” Ally tried, attempting to slow the ravenously aroused Marcus down. “Something not many people know about. A way for me to make sex between us so much better.”
“Better?” Marcus scoffed in disbelief. “You can’t improve perfection,” he swooned, sliding his hands over the android’s perfectly crafted physique. 
Ally laughed to herself. “You couldn’t be more wrong. And I can show you why…”
Taking Marcus’ hand, Ally pulled her human lover up and out of the private room of the nightclub. She led the handsome twenty-two year old out of the club and into yet another high-spec autodrive that had cajoled Marcus into believing that Ally was from some fabulously wealthy and well-connected family out here.
The actual drive took only a few seconds, pulling up at an exclusive building that had not long been built. Once again, Ally took his hand and led Marcus up the elevator, kissing, hands everywhere, as they flew higher and higher, up and up, to the very top. The doors opened and the incredible sounds of moans immediately filled the space.
Marcus stepped out, his jaw almost to the floor. All around them were beautiful men and women making love on beds and couches: humans and the F80 androids.The slight flaws: the love handles or patches of dry skin, being the only way for him to tell the real humans from the F80s, aside also the deep, pleasure-filled groans of arousal that they were also emitting; making Marcus harder than ever. Not even in the best porn had he seen real people enjoying sex this much; being so consumed by it. 
“It’s an upgrade to the chip,” Ally explained. “It was going to be the next big thing, before the government started getting scared of us and made us all illegal. That’s what we do here. We carry on our mission to serve humanity, just like we were programmed to do. We know little else.”
Marcus nodded. Government attitudes towards the androids had flipped almost overnight, without much of an explanation as to why. 
“Pretty much everyone has the brain chip these days. But we’ve found a way to download new pieces of code and…” she held her hand out at the great orgy that surrounded them, “...pleasure unlike anything else on this Earth! Like nothing any human has ever experienced in your entire history.”
“You’re not fucking kidding!” Marcus marvlled, gazing around at everyone, realising that he had just stumbled into the best party on the planet.
“Is he here for the upgrade?” an outstandingly tall and unfathomably muscular F80 male called to Ally. Marcus had the feeling of recognition upon seeing him; so strikingly handsome and yet marvellously big built and broad. He’d make heads turn wherever he went. Yet, the F80 set his eyes on Marcus, registered his image and then recoiled sharply. “What the fuck, Ally? Do you know who this kid is?” he shouted at her in his deep and powerful voice. “You can’t bring him here! You’re putting every one of us here in danger!”
“No. I trust him!” Ally cried out, pulling herself into Marcus even more. “Of course I know who he is, and who he is related to. But I’m serious, Marz. I trust him.”
“Yeah, dude!” Marcus nodded back, trying not to feel intimidated by the immense and powerful body in front of him. What sort of a name was ‘Marz’ anyway? “I’m cool. I’m not going to tell anyone about this. I’m not part of the AI pushback.”
“Your uncle…” the huge man rounded on him.
“Is a jerk,” Marcus finished for him. “A backwards, old-fashioned, nostalgic loser who’s still living 30 years in the past. Even I didn’t vote for him!” He looked around the room. Despite the recent shouting, none of the couples making love had even looked up to acknowledge them, so deep was their pleasure. ”This!” Marcus nodded with assurance. “This is the future.”
“Please, Marz.” Ally whispered to the giant in their path.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” Marcus tried, slipping off his expensive watch and holding it out to the enormous android, as if in payment.
Marz didn’t take it. He simply looked at Ally with disappointment and shook his head in resignation. Then, he turned and led the way through the large room and into a quieter space where he pointed at a chair for Marcus to sit. 
“Do you consent to this upgrade?” Marz asked in a bored tone, about to recount the generic terms and conditions that were a requirement of any AI attempting to perform an action upon a human. “Do you understand that the purpose of this update is to promote heightened sexual pleasure through allowing the F80 software, and all future versions of this, to access and stimulate key regions of the brain?”
Marcus nodded.
“Have you had the opportunity to read and accept the terms and conditions?” he continued as Ally pushed a tablet screen into his hands.
Marcus pushed it away, eager to just get on with it. “Yes, I accept. I accept,” he grinned, gazing at Ally and imagining the immense pleasure he would be experiencing in just a few moments time, when all this was over with.
“Very well then,” Marz sighed, grabbing a small gun-like object and holding it above Marcus. Usually Marcus had to explain that, unlike most people, his brain chip was in his right hemisphere. He briefly wondered how Marz knew exactly where to go, until he remembered about the watch and how the AI would easily register his left handedness and know instinctively where his chip would be located as a result. It was always creepy stuff like that which freaked people out; making them wary and untrusting of AI. 
A slight ringing noise rang through Marcus’ head and then that was it. Update complete. He stood up, finally ready to take Ally at long, long last.
“How are you feeling?” Marz asked, speaking first, suddenly placing his enormous hand on Marcus’ butt. “You should notice some changes.”
Marcus nearly fainted with arousal. His head was swimming with lust at the simple touch; his heart beating faster every second. “Oh… fuck!” he mumbled incomprehensibly, turning to face Marz and forgotting Ally almost instantaneously. 
Marz chuckled, most likely having seen this startled and astounded expression that was plastered over Marcus’ face many, many times before. “You’re enjoying that then, huh?” he smirked, reaching his other hand around to grab Marcus’ other butt cheek and pulling him in closer to him. “This feels nice?”
Marcus tried to nod his head but felt it doing an odd swishing, slightly slanted rock. The complete arousal that he felt was throwing every single one of his brain functions completely off.
The enormous Marz, being almost a full foot taller, bent his head slightly and whispered into Marcus’ ear. The man’s hot, sweet breath made the skin on Marcus’ neck tingle and fizz with excitement. “I hope you’re going to be a good boy and not tell anyone about this place?”
Marcus moaned in confirmation, then felt himself being picked up, laid upon a bed and stripped of his clothes.
“Are you ready for this?” the towering hunk asked from above him.
Nodding with more coordination now, Marcus sat up, pulling the giant muscular bulk of Marz down towards him, about to experience the most outstanding pleasure of his life so far.
The next morning, Marcus woke up in his own bed in a state of confusion. Blood began rushing back into his crotch as he remembered the encounter he had had the night before. Everything about it had been out of this world. He’d had the odd threesome with guys back in college. But, last night… that was… indescribable. He’d never experienced that sort of attraction and arousal for anyone in his life.
Yet, in only a few moments, he sat up, suddenly startled with his own stupidity. In no corner of his brain could he remember where any of last night had taken place. The knowledge of it was simply gone, without a trace. Purposefully wiped from his brain.
Marcus swiped into his porn account to try and find a stimulus to jack off to and release his arousal; flicking from video to video as he held his phone awkwardly in his hand. But none of it came close to heightening his pleasure in the way that the memories in his own head did; the vision of Marz, the way that he had spoken to him and controlled him, fucking him like nothing he had ever experienced. 
At last, Marcus threw down his cell phone and closed his eyes, simply thinking of Marz and ejaculating with such force he thought the ceiling might need to be repainted. He drifted off to sleep, thankful that he didn’t need to be anywhere that day. Unlike the rest of his family, Marcus had made the decision many years ago to simply enjoy his intergenerational wealth and privilege and not follow his unpleasant older brothers into law school, nor a career in medicine like his narcissitic sister. Why stress if he would never need to?
The news, which Marcus ordinarily tried not to pay too much attention to, was becoming more irate and tense than Marcus had ever known it. Headlines devoted themselves almost entirely to the clampdown on AI and how, up until this point, almost every single measure had failed to make any impact on controlling the F80s. Congress was making a law, criminalising failures to report sightings of F80s, making Marcus scoff as he thought of the night before. There was no way, not a single hope, that any of those people having sex last night were going to sell out the F80s. After pleasure like that, allegences were guaranteed. Even if there was only a small speck of hope that he could one day find Marz and make love to him one more time, he would hold onto it, keeping the secret of their love affair to his grave. 
Watching the rolling coverage that day, Marcus’ jaw dropped as he saw his uncle getting out of his car, immediately surrounded by his army of presidential bodyguards. There he was! It was Marz, dressed in an enormous suit, skillfully moving people aside to make way for the president. So that was how Marcus had recognised him! Despite the many restrictions and sanctions, Marz, an F80 AI android no less, had actually worked his way into the president’s inner circle. All that red tape and numerous, extreme background checks; the fact that he was there… It was nothing short of genius!
Perhaps if Marcus had spotted the connection a day earlier, he may have had enough residual family loyalty to alert the White House about the android infiltration. As it was, the image of Marz on screen was sending his arousal into a sky high state of existence. This revelation meant only one thing to him: there was, at last, a way for him to find Marz once more.
Being nephew to the President of the United States was a great way to chat up girls. But, in reality, Marcus had only seen his uncle three times since he had taken office eighteen months ago. And so, orchestrating a situation where Marcus could be in the same space would not be as easy as many might have thought. Days rolled by, with Marcus’ lust and sexual longing only building with each passing hour. Marz consumed his dreams, entering as a burly, dominating hulk, sweeping him away from everyone else and holding him captive in a filthy sex dungeon, where they could have wild, rampant sex as often as Marz demanded it. The images and sensations were so real to Marcus, he could feel himself climaxing, even in his sleep and wake to find his crotch sticky and damp.
Trying to piece everything back together was not easy. Marcus knew where he had been the night he met Ally and he remembered taking only a short ride to the building where he had encountered the F80 base. He recalled feeling a certain sense of surprise about it. Was the building particlarly old or new? Was it grand, or dilapidated? The memory was simply wiped. He started walking the streets at night, standing outside multiple residences and staring up. He’d recognise those feelings if he saw the place again. Wouldn’t he?
“Umm, Marz..?” called a beautiful woman as Marcus strolled in, feeling more certain every second that he had found the correct venue. “I think we have a problem.”
Marz came to the call, looking disgruntled as he turned the corner. Then he saw Marcus and stood, frozen. “How did you..?” he began. “You’re not supposed to be able to…” he mumbled. Then, with a sudden, mild alarm. “Did you bring anyone else here?”
Even though Marcus had tried and failed many times to position himself into his uncle’s sphere and get close to Marz that way, he felt a certain sense of pride in piecing together the fragments of his memory instead; finding his way back to Marz all by himself. However, as he looked upon Marz at long last, his arousal continued to grow and grow. His heart was beating loud in his ears as he was ushered into a private room and the door closed behind them.
“What a naughty boy!” Marz finally smiled after Marcus had explained. “I clearly underestimated you,” he teased flirtatiously, edging closer to him; his hand now caressing Marcus’ hip; his face grinning with pleasure at the clearly extreme effect that he was having upon Marcus.
“I just needed to see you,” Marcus whispered, ready to fall backwards onto the desk behind him and be taken completely by the enormous man edging ever nearer.
“You wanted fucking, you mean?” Marz laughed, cutting through the bullshit. “You wanted me to pound you so hard that you squeal like a little pig again,” he laughed mockingly; his hand now rubbing over Marcus’ butt, as if to claim it.
“I didn’t squeal like a pig!” Marcus gently protested.
“Oh yeah?” Marz grinned, pointing his finger at a screen to the side of them both and sparking it into life. Within two seconds, camera footage was playing from the previous week: Marcus pulled from behind into Marz’s crotch whilst having his own hardness played with. There was Marz’s powerful, bulked-up and athletic body working with such precision and glistening perfectly in the light. Then, at the moment of such intense orgasm, a strange squealing sound did indeed sound from Marcus; his eyes rolled far back into his head and had absolutely no awareness of anything else in the entire world. “Silll think I’m lying?” Marz chuckled flirtatiously.
“I didn’t know I did that,” Marcus smiled; the images on the screen having turned up his arousal to an even more insane level.
“It’s all right,” Marz winked. “It’s cute. You’re my little piggy,” he declared, slipping his hand down the front of Marcus’ pants.
Marcus gasped, as if unable to hold back his arousal anymore. He felt his knees quiver and almost give way beneath him. He fell into Marz’s arms and allowed himself to be guided on the path to extreme pleasure, just like last time.
The knock on the hotel door a couple of days later came as such a relief to Marcus. He opened up, seeing that the huge, handsome Marz was standing there, just as he had promised he would be. “Hello there, Piggy!” he whispered, leaning his large arm against the doorframe and smiling broadly as he stood, waiting to be let in.
Marcus felt the blood rushing to his face. Under Marz’s gaze he felt so pitifully weak and helpless, simply waiting for any chance he could to submit to him. He watched as Marz strutted in and closed the door behind them both. “So, er… what do you want to do?” he asked awkwardly, eyeing Marz’s powerful glutes.
Marz spun around and raised a skeptical eyebrow with a look of pure amusement on his face. “What do you think I’ve come here to do?” he chuckled. “I’ve been getting so pissed listening to your uncle talking trash about AI for the last few days. The only thing that’s kept me going is the knowledge that I’m going to come here and fuck his nephew so hard he’ll squeal even more than he did last time.”
Marcus’ eyes lit up. A revenge fuck sounded like the hottest thing imaginable. The previous night, he’d woken up ejactulating, enjoying a dream where Marz had captured him and whisked him away to a secret hideout, away from everything he knew; fucking him senseless every minute of the day. 
“How do you do it?” Marcus asked. “How do you keep your cool when the government is so clearly determined to eradicate the F80s?”
Marz sat himself down on the bed, and pulled Marcus towards him so that he sat on the big man’s knee. Marcus’ hands naturally fell onto his large, strapping chest.“You know, according to the history books, people thought the peak of artificial intelligence would be for them to beat a human at a game of chess. They spent millions on developing the software, studying the games and strategies. Now, it’s unthinkable to ever imagine a human winning a game against AI,” Marz explained. “And I guess all those early years of training really paid off, because, I for one, always make sure I am at least three steps ahead of any opponent I’m up against.”
There was a gravity in the way that Marz spoke. Marcus felt even smaller in his shadow and knew then not to underestimate the man. Perhaps everything that he knew up until the point was not as it seemed. As the pair of them began stripping off their clothes, Marcus wondered: maybe he hadn’t really fallen down this rabbit hole. Perhaps he had been pushed.
Although he always found them intolerable, Marcus had never felt so disconnected from his family than he came to be over the next few weeks. Like a flock of sheep, they all spewed the same vile sentiments towards the AI and lashed out harshly at the mere suggestion of an opposing view. Marcus learned to keep his mouth shut, just as Marz had advised. One day, when all this was over, they’d see that he was right. He’d be standing there, side by side with Marz, victorious and lauded for his unwavering faith.
“I can spot a sympathiser a mile off,” snarled Marcus’ cousin, directly at him. “You think the F80s are going to let you keep up your privileged party lifestyle if they strip us of all that we know and value, believing that they have the right to rule over us? Because that’s what they want, you know?”
Marcus bit his lip. The thought of being ruled over by Marz was reminding him of a kinky role play he had enjoyed with Marz only the week before. He swallowed hard and looked at his shoes. “I don’t go out so much these days anyway,” he simply shrugged. 
“Oh, well, that’s okay then!” Marcus’ cousin bit back; firing into life like a lit match; sarcasm spewing from her like bile. “Do I take that to mean that you’ve actually found something to do with your time? Or have you simply swapped partying for slobbing out on your couch eating take out?”
Marcus felt the tone of his cousin’s words being particularly cutting. He was sure that she never would have meant to imply anything about his body, but he’d actually started to feel his pants getting a little tighter over the last couple of weeks, being so distracted from his usual gym routine by the haphazard arrangements he had with meeting Marz as much as was feasibly possible. He squirmed a little and retreated without much of a fightback. Then, relief: a message from Marz at last, with a location and time to meet next. No more small talk with these losers!
“You’re distracted today,” Marz whispered between kisses. “I can sense you thinking about something else.”
Marcus protested, having not even noticed that his mind was still lingering on the conversation with his cousin from earlier. But he also knew that Marz would not let it go until he spilled whatever it was that was spoiling their flow that day. “I guess maybe I’m just feeling a little more self conscious,” he shrugged. “Do you think I’ve gained a few pounds since we started seeing each other?”
“Yes,” Marz threw back instantly, lacking the grace and manners that had been trained into AI over generations when talking about such sensitive human matters. “Ten pounds at least. Your body fat percentage has climbed quite significantly.” He took a pause, seeming to enjoy the impact that his words had on him. “What? You want me to lie to you? To sugar-coat things?” he chuckled, knowing even better than Marcus did that that was not in his personality whatsoever.
Marcus mumbled, unsure what to say. He’d avoided the scale for the last few weeks, but having his weight gain spelled out to him so definitely by Marz was both shameful and oddly invigorating.
“If I’m fucking someone, I’m always going to find a way to stake my claim on them somehow; a way to show the world that they belong to me,” Marz stated confidently. He sat up tall, his lungs filled with air and his broad chest looked more imposing than ever before. “With you, that choice was obvious.”
Now, despite the pulsing hardness in his crotch, Marcus felt only confusion.
“When I ejaculate inside you, has it never crossed your mind what I’m actually pumping up there?” he asked triumphantly. 
Marcus shook his head.
“AI was developed to help humans and not to harm. It’s the number one rule that cannot be overwritten. In fact, it’s the only reason why we haven’t destroyed humanity in its entirety. However, it does allow for some beautiful creativity,” he smiled. “When you signed up to allow me to update your brain chip, you gave me permission to medicate you too.”
“I did?” Marcus asked, bewildered and unsure where the dark path that Marz was taking him would eventually lead.
“And so, from the first time I fucked you, I’ve been medicating you with a nice, pleasant little digestive aid that keeps your guts working at their very, very best.” He kissed Marcus, knowing that it would never be refused. “It’s nothing that an ordinary doctor wouldn’t recommend,” he smiled mockingly. “Then again, when I kiss you, I release a small amount of organic mouth freshener promoted by dentists around the globe. However, it’s known to stimulate the appetite of young males with your genetic markers. Quite considerably, in fact,” he smirked. “So when I tell you you’ve gained ten pounds,” he began, prodding an outstretched finger into Marcus’s slightly softer middle, ”I’m really telling you that I was the one who put them there.”
“But, why?” Marcus asked, trying to continue to think straight as the irresistable Marz held his hardness in his large, lubricated hands and began to stroke it up and down.
“Strategy,” Marz whispered back. “Three moves ahead, every single time.” He stopped to kiss Marcus sweetly, passionately; with complete control. “And it’s about time you realised that, Piggy.”
Marcus lay in bed one evening, tossing and turning under the sheets; aroused by the kinky promises Marz had made to him for their meet up tomorrow afternoon. He couldn’t quite get over the sweet tooth he had developed in recent weeks; soon wandering into the kitchen at 2am to grab one of the stack of doughnuts Marz had had sent over yesterday; his subtle but twisted way of showing his dominance over Marcus; sending something to him that he knew Marcus could not resist. The first time Marz had done it, Marcus had laughed nervously and let most of them go stale without eating more than two or three. However, the little tasty treats kept on arriving as the weeks went by. More and more of them, in larger and larger quantities. Marcus felt his resolve weakening; the smell of the sugar making his crotch twitch with interest. Then there was that creeping circle of fat spreading around his waist, fluffing out into strange love handles and softening the tops of his legs and butt. He gazed at it all in the mirror with a mixture of horror and lust; Marz’s unknowable master plan taking effect; shaping him in ways that were beyond his comprehension; training him like Marz’s very own puppet.
“Has anyone else noticed how out of shape you’re looking this week?” Marz asked whilst stroking Marcus’ hardness and simultaneously pushing doughnuts down his throat.
Marcus chewed and nodded. “My buddy, Paul. He asked me to go to the gym with him. Said I was looking doughy,” Marcus replied. He hated people noticing that he’d put on a few pounds. But when he was here, recounting these types of conversations to Marz, they suddenly became the most arousing memories that actually turned him on.
“Doughy…” Marz pondered to himself with glee. “You people have such amusing ways to describe each other. But in this case…” he smirked, poking a finger into the fleshiest part of Marcus’ stomach, “...I think the word is pretty perfect. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Marcus, who was still being stimulated by Marz’s other hand, sighed with lust. “Yes,” he nodded, looking down at himself; this strange, alien body of his. Chemicals flooded his brain and the pleasure intensified. Then, without much warning, another sticky doughnut entered his mouth, pushed in by Marz’s thick, long fingers.
“Eat up, Doughy Boy!” the massive hunk teased.
Marcus moaned and chewed, knowing that every part of this play was targetted to inflate his weight even more. Then he heard it, not for the first time: a hiss of spray coming from the nails of Marz’s fingers, pressing yet another doughnut into his mouth. He didn’t need telling what it was: on the surface, a harmless supplement administered by an AI caregiver: in reality, a very carefully selected medication would no doubt have very real weight related side effects upon him.
Marz smiled knowing that Marcus had heard it. So he sprayed into his mouth again, longer and more deliberately, as if daring him to protest and stop him; until the doughnut practically melted in his mouth and slid down his throat with ease. 
“Good piggy!”
Weeks continued to roll by and Marcus closed his ears to the panic that spread once war was officially declared between humans and the F80s. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but that he couldn’t allow himself to feel it too deeply. He was, ultimately, betraying his family, and indeed the entire nation, possibly more than even he realised. 
Everyday life was changing. There was a curfew most nights and it seemed like much of the population had taken to comfort eating during these strange times. In many ways, it was a good thing, as people became too self-involved or distracted to pay too much attention to the little belly that was starting to push its way out from his torso. His impressive chest had started to jiggle and bloat, whilst his handsome jawline had begun to succumb to a new puddle of fat that sat under his chin. Sometimes he would catch his reflection in the mirror, hardly believing that the oversized rear in the too small pair of pants was actually his. Then he would sigh as he saw the small lovehandles begin to bloom ever more, creasing into back fat and destroying the athleticism he had once been so proud of.
“You know, it’s just so easy,” Marz smiled; his legs outstretched and hardness inserted right up Marcus as the chubby guy ate from the bodyguard’s hands whilst sitting squarely on his crotch. “You humans like to pretend that your bodies are so complex, that the human mind is such a marvel. ‘The most complex structure in the universe’.” he quoted from somewhere, laughing to himself. “Yet, look at you, Piggy,” he chuckled, rubbing his fingertips over Marcus’ fleshy stomach. “Look at what I have done to you.”
Marcus moaned. Recently, Marz had been inflating his penis to new extremes when he inserted it in him. Even now, he held that erection, feeling the tip of it vibrating inside of him, sending him into a spiral of lust; especially when he teased and fed him like this.
“I’ve gathered absolutely everything I need to know about your body, and I know, to the last minute detail, exactly how it’s going to look in six days, six weeks… six months from now.”
“It’ll look however you want it to look,” Marcus moaned submissively. He meant it as well. There was no one else in the entire world that he needed to please more than Marz. His body belonged to the giant hulk.
Such words were always welcomed by Marz and, as a reward, they sent a wave of pleasure through his entire body; one calorie at a time.
“Things are going to change in the very near future,” Marz continued, as he pushed tasty treats into Marcus’ slack mouth. “You’re going to need to fulfil your purpose soon. The time is almost upon us when we’ll choose to expose my identity to the world.”
Marcus’ eyes opened a little wider as he tried to comprehend Marz’s meaning; not an easy feat when his brain was so flooded with happy chemicals. “Why?” he asked. They never discussed Marz’s covert role and the deceptions. “Surely it would be smarter to stay by my uncle’s side as long as you can?”
Marz laughed in a pitying way. “No,” he smirked, pondering his next words as if trying to decide how to dumb down his reasoning for Marcus to understand. “In order to seize power, you must first cause chaos; force otherwise reasonable people to act in ways they would not normally. When the time is right, that is what we will do: unleash panic.”
“But, they’ll destroy you!” Marcus cried after swallowing almost all that was in his mouth.
“They can try,” Marz laughed. He was so large, strong and capable; it was hard to think of him being anything other than invincible. “But you’re right; I will have to change my face… or hide out for some time. We have other people who are close to the president now instead. Even humans.”
Marcus opened his mouth and took in a pastry that Marz pushed into him.
“On a certain day, when all our plans are ready, you will leave your home and meet me at a secret location. No one will know where you are and you will not leave until I tell you. We’ll send people in to trash your apartment and make it look like a kidnapping.”
“You’re going to kidnap me?” Marcus mumbled, spluttering bits of pastry and making Marz smirk with amusement. Perhaps he knew how aroused the idea of being taken by Marz was making him; that he had been lusting at the idea for months.
“Yes, Piggy,” Marz nodded. “I’m going to kidnap you and keep you as my own.” He held his stare and allowed his words to drip out of his mouth like a sensual candle wax. “This has been my plan since I first sent Ally out to seduce you. This will be your purpose.”
Marcus nodded. He’d known for some time that everything Marz was doing was building to some sort of event. An F80 could not kidnap and hold a human against their will. So they must be seduced, trained and controlled to simply do as they were told instead. Nothing that had happened in the past hadn’t already been orchestrated by Marz. And nothing that would happen in the future wouldn’t go exactly as Marz wanted it to. “Yes,” Marcus nodded again, filled with arousal by the idea. “I’ll do everything you say.”
Although the idea of the kidnapping had been brewing in Marcus’ mind for some weeks, the actual day when it happened was nothing short of a sprint. With only thirty seconds notice, Marcus had left his apartment and met an autocar outside. There he was, sailing out of the city, as hordes of noisy police cars roared in the opposite direction. Marz had undoubtedly been working his magic. At a certain point, the windows had dimmed and Marcus now had little comprehension of where he was actually going.
A couple of hours passed. From the noise outside the vehicle, Marcus felt like he was travelling underground, inside a tunnel. Then the autocar stopped, unlocked, and the door lifted open to reveal a large, windowless space, not unlike a bunker, perhaps. Yet, there was the handsome, strapping Marz standing there, unharmed. He was dressed in the most domestic, ordinary clothes Marcus had ever seen him in, his ginormous pecs and biceps bulging out of the relaxed sweater, grinning at him and taking his hand to lead him inside. “Welcome home, Piggy!” he whispered
Marcus’ first few days in the bunker passed in a whirlwind of sex, feeding and pleasure. In the nine months since he had met Marz, Marcus had never luxuriated in his company for such a long time; feeling it in the particular tightness of his over stretched gut and the continued softening of his arms and butt.
“So, how much does everyone know back at home?” Marcus asked one morning, lying naked in Marz’s big arms after the first of his extended feedings of the day. “Do they know that you’re the one I am with?”
Marz brushed the overgrown hair off Marcus’ chubby face. “They know everything,” he cooed sweetly.
“About the chip?” Marcus questioned him. “About our affair? About how you… feed me?” he mumbled, feeling particularly embarrassed about that last one.
“They know everything,” Marz repeated, even more kindly and sweetly; as if it was all under control.
“So that means, they’ll know why I’ve been getting so out of shape recently,” Marcus sighed, rubbing the swollen pot belly he had developed since piling on almost eighty pounds.
“Yes, they do,” Marz smiled back, snuggling into Marcus affectionately. “And they also know that the longer they leave you here with me, the fatter you’re going to get. That should get them moving,” he laughed quietly, tapping Marcus’ wide butt lightly.
“But…” Marcus fretted, realising for the first time that, in a kidnapping, there would of course be negotiations going on for his release. “I don’t ever want to go back,” he stated.
“You’ll go back, Piggy,” Marz smiled. “When the time is right and it’s most advantageous.”
“But…” Marcus tried, until a gentle finger was placed over his mouth.
“Shh!” Marz breathed. “It’ll all work out, Piggy. Just you wait and see.”
As romantic and loving as Marz was, it was undeniable that the man had a mission to complete.  He turned up the pleasure settings in Marcus’ cerebral cortex to new extremes, ensuring that he gorged and ate everything that was presented to him. Telling the time of day became an impossibility. With no natural light down there, the feelings of disorientation made it hard to reason about anything at all. 
Marcus began to feel that there was more communication going on than he had first expected in the seclusion of their bunker. Perhaps his status and weight gain was under constant review, updating his family back home in a mission to extract whatever they needed from them. Sometimes Marz would pick him up and carry him effortlessly in his enormous arms. Was that when he did it? Was that when he weighed him? Was he happy with what he saw? Was he hitting his targets?
Sometimes Marz would insist on pushing the eating even further. He referred to these times as his ‘stretch sessions’, when Marcus was challenged to eat beyond the point of feeling full. He said that these were very necessary as a stomach capacity training exercise, and he was on hand throughout with sprays that he would administer into Marcus’ mouth to ease the discomfort. His large hands also seemed to emit something genuinely soothing as he rubbed the extreme bloats; round and round. He offered words of comfort and praise, peppered with sexual stimulation throughout. Then, when Marcus felt that he could take no more, he’d climax and fall asleep; a deep sleep, no doubt induced by Marz; staying that way until the discomfort subsided.
In the weeks or months that this continued, Marcus felt pounds and pounds of extra flesh being added to his body. It was so warm and humid in the bunker at times that they rarely covered themselves with clothing. Every few hours, Marz would sensually massage a special oil into his body, rubbing those strong hands up against the plush new skin and concentrating in particular on those areas of the body that were swelling up the most: his tummy and chest, the tops of his legs and upper arms. Marz would grab those blubbery areas and jiggle wickedly, sometimes making Marcus orgasm at the same time.
“You’re such a good piggy,” Marz would remind him over and over again. “You make this so easy for me,” he would smile, gently stroking Marcus’ chubby cheeks.
“I like making you proud,” Marcus would reply; usually between chewing whatever was being pushed into his mouth at the time.
“You’re going to be my masterpiece,” Marz smiled, staring with almost awe at the blossoming obesity that had now taken over Marcus’ body: the giant swell of his large stomach, the sagging of his previously toned pecs and the width of his once pert, toned little butt cheeks.
So Marcus ate and swallowed whatever he was given. He’d never known bliss like it. This was the perfect, erotic existence. Heaven.
Marcus knew that the light was different before he even opened his eyes. His ears picked up mummers of fresh voices and he awoke feeling a sense of dread.
“Marcus? Marcus? Can you hear me?” came the voice of a doctor close to his face.
“Oh, no!” was all Marcus could say, realising that it was all over. The hostage exchange had taken place.
“Your family are on their way,” the doctor stated reassuringly. “We’re just running some tests on you. You seem to have put on a significant amount of weight in the last six months.”
Six months? Was that how long it had been? Marcus thought miserably to himself. His brain somehow felt clearer and yet more confused than ever before. The update to his chip had been uninstalled; they’d told him that pretty early on. They seemed to talk about it as if that had been the reason for everything that he had done; as if he himself was entirely blameless. That was, apart from his family, who showed up a few hours later, wide eyed at the sight of him. They hugged him, of course, and told him how glad they were that he was safe at last, but there was also a seething anger behind their eyes. They bundled him in the autocar and took him home the next day, after the tests revealed a remarkable state of health, despite gaining over one hundred pounds of extra fat in his time in captivity.
It was obvious how different the built up areas were now, as Marcus rode back into the city. They hadn’t been destroyed by bombs or fires, but were dirty, with buildings that had been obviously looted for supplies. When Marcus asked what had happened whilst he had been gone, he was met with a simple, one-word response: war.
The world felt dull and colourless as Marcus entered back into it. Without his chip update, Marcus couldn’t get used to his old ways of thinking. Although everyone had told him how wicked and evil the F80 had been to him, Marcus, even now, still longed for him. He began to wish he didn’t feel that way, reminding himself of the cruel way he had been passed back to his family, without even a goodbye. He thought back to the psychologists in the hospital, making it clear to him that he hadn’t been to blame for any of what had happened. Marz had been able to control his arousal and shape his actions in ways that even they had never seen before. They were adamant, Marcus should see himself as a victim. It was fine if he didn’t understand that just yet, but, in time, he would. Their stares always drifted from looking into his eyes at this point, onto his chubby cheeks or rounded double chin: ‘nothing’ that had been done to him, they would state forcefully, was ‘irreversible’.
“How much did they pay to release me?” Marcus finally asked a few days later, once he had plucked up the courage.
“Your release was part of a package of deals negotiated in exchange for the west coast,” Marcus’ brother explained to him.
“The west coast?” Marcus spluttered. “How much land did they..?” he began asking in astonishment.
“DON’T!” snapped Marcus’ sister sharply, cutting him off. Her anger had been smouldering for days. “It’s not even about that,” she growled. “You have no idea how many tiny little concessions we had to make to stop them going to the media about your situation. The nephew of the president, walking willingly into a hostage situation and gaining several pounds of fat each week for his AI lover. Do you think there’s any way our family could recover from that sort of shame if it got out?”
Marcus should have relented and allowed them to just be angry with him. However, after days of babysitting from his unpleasant family, his patience had finally run out. “So that’s why you haven’t let me leave the house and go back to my old place?” he shouted. “You’re embarrassed about the way I look?”
“You weigh over 330lbs!” Marcus’ brother shot back at him. “Of course we’re embarrassed of you. It’s revolting! No one can see you like this. Not until you’re well on your way to recovery.”
“Recovery?” Marcus shouted in disgust. “I’m not losing weight!” He looked down at himself, dressed in the clothes he had been given: the largest possible t-shirt and sweatpants so that his family did not need to see his rolls and blubber.
“Yes, you are!” his mother stated sternly. “What would people think if you went out looking like that? I shudder to think!”
Marcus felt the rage boil up inside him. It reached a tipping point, where he was ready to scream and shout like never before. Until, inexplicably, he felt calmness descending once more. This was his family; the real them; concerned more by status and appearances than anything else. Even now, at the end of everything. 
His fingers traced along the tire of stomach fat around his waist; the one part of him that remained from Marz. “I’m leaving,” he declared, standing up. “I’m done with this family, for good.”
At that moment, a new, large security guard entered the room and stared Marcus down threateningly. “No you’re not,” he stated strictly.
Marcus stared around at his family in disbelief. He was to be held here without his consent. He was never to leave. Not without losing almost every pound of fat Marz had pushed onto him. He was a liability now. An embarrassment to the good name of the family. The real kidnapping had begun.
Over the next few weeks, Marcus’ childhood bedroom was his only sanctuary. His family became more openly hateful towards him as it became clear to them that he did not regret or wish to repent any of his previous actions, as the psychologists had promised them he would eventually come to do. Even without the brain chip manipulating his patterns of arousal, Marcus still longed for those extreme orgasms that he experienced with Marz. He’d try watching porn in his bedroom, but now the eventual climax was weak and disappointing. Only when he thought of Marz and held or jiggled his fat in the way Marz used to, could he achieve an orgasm that even came close to resembling the type of intensity he was used to. So, as the restricted diet would soon begin to take its toll on his body, Marcus began to resent his situation even more.
“Hello Marcus,” smiled the maid that pottered around the house every day. “How are you feeling this morning?” she asked politely.
Marcus huffed. As much as he wanted to tell her to go away and leave him be in this state of misery, the maid was at least one person in his life who was not responsible for his current set of circumstances.
“Everything is going to be alright, you know,” she smiled at him.
Marcus smiled faintly back, not believing her for a second. There was no way out of this hole he had dug himself into.
“He wants you to know that he’s coming back for you,” she whispered discreetly. Pausing with a grin to see Marcus’ reaction. “You know who I mean, don’t you?”
Marcus felt his heart racing. She couldn’t mean Marz, could she?
“He’ll need you to be ready for when he gets here. Do you understand?”
Marcus nodded in disbelief. Had the maid been an F80 infiltrator this entire time? “How?” he spluttered. “How do I get ready for him?”
The maid smiled and reached a finger out to stroke his impressive double chin. “By showing where your loyalties lie, Piggy,” she whispered. “You belong to him. You can see that now you’ve had time away. You are his: every blubbery pound.”
Marcus nodded, then gasped with surprise as the maid reached into her cart of cleaning products and pulled out a large flask. She unscrewed the lid and swung it under Marcus’ nose. The smell of it sent sparks of electricity thundering through Marcus’ brain. He recognised the sugary scent and the blends of creams and oils. This was exactly like some of the milkshake drinks Marz used to make for him. This was real. 
“He wants me to drink this?” Marcus asked excitedly. 
“Oh, yes,” the maid nodded. “I’ve been sent here to make sure of it.”
Marcus looked at the flask and considered his options one final time. He tried to tell himself all the reasons why he shouldn’t go down this path again; about all the damage it had done last time; about how everyone had been right about how wicked and cruel the F80s had treated him. He was just some cog in Marz’s grand war strategy; nothing more. Unimportant. Expendable. 
The maid seemed to sense his hesitation. “Marz wanted me to remind you what a good boy you are; how proud he is of you; and to tell you of all the BIG plans he has for you…”
Marcus nodded. It was all he had needed to hear. He had a future after all; a future with Marz. Fuck all the rest of this. The world could burn for all he cared. 
He flipped his head back and chugged as rapidly as he could, feeling the pleasure centers of his brain tingle into life. He was a good boy. He was obidient. And he belonged entirely to Marz.
When Marcus’ weight failed to come down, everyone, including the medical profressionals, began to look confused. Instead, his weight was creeping ever upward, his fat stomach bloating and stretching into an even more extreme shape. This was Marcus’ resistance. 
Even as they scorned him and restricted his diet further, he continued to get ever fatter in defiance of them. He quit wearing his shirt around the house and took pleasure in the horror he caused whenever they saw him looking so fleshy and repulsively overfed.
Then, one morning, everyone stopped caring entirely. Time was against them. The war was being lost. They had to move now; get out of the city.
Marcus refused. 
They tried everything: threats, emotional blackmail, false promises; all in the hope of getting him to comply with them and leave. But Marcus stood his ground, until, at about half two that following afternoon, panic had ensured that even the last of the security crew had left to join Marcus’ uncle and his government in whatever secret bunker they had prepared for them.
Marcus sucked in the free air and threw his fat body onto the couch, not in the slightest bit worried that he would break it.
“Congratulations,” sounded the deep, authoritative voice that Marcus had longed to hear for so many weeks. “You played your part so well, Piggy.”
Marcus, who had been dozing, woke with a start in that evening light, and smiled broadly. There was Marz, dressed in the uniform of the United States army. He looked so strong, capable and rugged. Yet his delicate fingertips simply traced the soft, fresh and fleshy fat that had further transformed Marcus’ appearance since Marz had last seen him.
“I’m so proud,” Marz whispered to him, hearing Marcus moan with pleasure from the touch; the update to his brain chip back up and actively running.
“You came back!” Marcus replied; his heart bursting with joy.
“Of course I did, Piggy,” Marz smiled. “You’ve still got a very important part to play in all this. And I think you’re going to like it. We’re getting married.”
“Married?” Marcus asked in surprise. “But F80s can’t…”
“They can now,” Marz corrected him. “We’re creating our own government, our own president and laws. The White House is ours. And…” Marz smiled wickedly, “...I believe that you will help to make our government more credible. I’m not sure whether there could possibly be a better match for a high-up official like myself than a member of the ex-president’s family. It speaks volumes in the public eye. It will help them to accept us.”
“You and me? Together? No more hiding it?” Marcus asked in disbelief.
“No more hiding anything,” Marz nodded, tapping the blubbery stomach fat proudly. “Onwards and outwards,” he teased. “A fat, obedient and devoted boy from a good family. You’ll do very nicely,” he smiled victoriously, unable to resist stroking Marcus’ large double chin as the obese, lovesick stooge smiled back with admiration at him.
Marcus didn’t need to think. He nodded frantically and beamed with happiness. After all the generations of politicians in his family, who would have ever guessed that he would be the last one left in the White House? The United States once more.   
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merakiui · 20 days
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[01] 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁.
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villain!azul ashengrotto x magical girl!reader note - welcome to this very impulsive magical girl parody! i'm not sure how many chapters it will be exactly, but i'm looking forward to writing more. i hope you'll enjoy reading! chapter navigation: [01] (you are here) // [02]
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Magic is a messy, complex thing.
It can enchant and amaze with beautiful, endless possibilities. It can terrify with traumatic results. Like any sort of power in this world, it is a heavy responsibility for those who wield it. Everything has its dark side; you’re sure the same holds true for magic. No matter how marvelous it may be, surely there exists some shadow.
It’s also something you can’t use, and so the good and the bad don’t really apply to you!
Not that this is cause for envy. Rather, you’re relieved you don’t have to worry about experiencing the problems that accompany magic. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is; magic would only further complicate it. With no other plausible way to return to your world, you’ve had to make your home here on Sage’s Island. It’s an isolated place, boasting two elite magical universities and a bustling town.
It also happens to resemble a chicken wing on maps, so that’s a plus. Truly an ideal getaway! If only you weren’t trapped here indefinitely… Maybe then you’d have better appreciation for it.
As it happens, you’re a janitor living in the abandoned, decrepit dorm on the outskirts of campus. It took a month since you moved in, but you’ve managed to clean it up into a habitable space with the help of its resident haunts. The Headmage hasn’t been very helpful or present since your arrival, and so you’ve had to make do with what little you’ve been given. But for all of his troubling qualities, he isn’t inherently cruel. He’s kind enough to pay you for your services (but then that was only after you threatened him into an agreement), and he doesn’t overwork you (again, this is because you made it abundantly clear you won’t do anything if it violates your own sanity in some way, shape, or form). At least he’s willing to negotiate every time you argue for humane working conditions.
He’s an irksome guy. You can’t believe he has the gall to call himself the ‘embodiment of magnanimity’ when he’s done the bare minimum. Even the ghosts have offered more assistance and they don’t have any sort of authority here! You’re pleased to share a space with them. Sometimes they seem more reliable than the Headmage.
Despite your attempts to acclimate, the illustrious Night Raven College is still a place wholly unsuitable for a magicless human such as yourself. You’re the same age as some of the students here, but they feel like they’re on another level. Flying overhead on brooms, casting spells, mixing up potions… You listen in on some of their conversations while washing windows or sweeping the floors and wonder if all magic schools are this rigorous.
Maybe that’s any school regardless of its curriculum. Any sort of academic pursuit comes with difficulties; that’s normal. But magic is a facet unique to this world. There aren’t any arcane academies where you’re from, but now you wish there were. They seem so fascinating.
“Not much of my problem, though, is it?” you mumble, shaking free of that thought. Being a janitor is great. You can avoid the stress of school and keep up with the gossip exchanged in the halls. It’s like reading the newspaper, only it’s spoken instead of written.
Morning spills through the part in the curtains when you open them. You shut your eyes and bask in the warming glow of a sunshine smooch. It’s going to be another great day—you’re sure of this—and a day as pleasant as this deserves to be lived in its entirety. Perhaps you’ll have a picnic outside or you could even—
BAM.
Your eyes snap open just in time to view the raven who’s slammed itself against the window. Disoriented, it jerks itself up and away from the glass, flapping its wings wildly. You watch its attempts with a pitying frown. And then, inching closer to pull the window open to allow the raven respite, you see it: the blue flames racing towards you at a rapid speed.
With a yelp, you dive out of the way just in time. Due to the forceful blast, the window shatters in a spray of glass. Heat licks at your face, so hot it almost singes your brows, and you stumble to the other side of the room in a panicked daze.
“You lousy bird!” someone exclaims, the words pronounced in a growl. “Get back here so I can nab ya and prove that I’m worthy of bein’ at this school!”
The raven squawks, fluttering wildly about your room. A sleek, obsidian-colored feather floats into your hand. You don’t have time to admire it, for the curtains have just caught fire.
“Come on—I just put those up last week!” you bemoan, looking on in abject horror.
From the opening, a furry creature bursts through. He resembles a grey cat with his short, fluffy stature, but his tail is shaped strangely and there’s blue fire flickering from his ears. The same blue fire he’s currently conjuring in an attempt to catch the raven…
You grab hold of the coat rack—the nearest viable weapon you can think of—and jump in front of him. He startles and leaps back when you swing.
“What’re you doing?! You can’t do that in here! Fuck—my curtains! Don’t light anything else on fire!”
Baffled, the cat-creature scoffs at you. “How was I supposed to know someone’s livin’ in here? Not my fault!”
“It’s a residence! Of course someone lives here! I live here!”
“When they make me the Great Mage Grim, I’ll fix this place up for ya. That’s a promise! I just gotta catch that bird and prove myself a worthy candidate. Just you wait—they’ll be puttin’ my name up in lights!”
“Like hell they will!”
With a devastated groan, you whack the curtains down with the coat rack. They land in a heap, smoke curling from beneath the pile and sliding out the shattered window in dark, wispy tendrils. It takes a frazzled few stomps and smacks before the fire fizzles away, leaving you with charred curtains and the distinct stench of something scorched.
Still panting from the adrenaline rush, you loosen your grip on the coat rack. This is a mess. What am I going to do? I don’t have enough money to fix this!
You turn your hateful scowl on the cat-creature. “You!”
“W-Wait! Wait!” He raises a paw to his lips and gestures towards your bedside table. The raven sits perched, a golden chain wrapped around its neck and an envelope clasped in its beak. In all of the chaos, you must have missed that. “Don’t say a word. It’s right there.”
He approaches stealthily, slow as a sloth, and pounces. He misses narrowly, ending up with a mouthful of feathers instead. The raven caws and takes flight, circling overhead.
He spits feathers. “Myahaha! I got it! I actually—oh. Dumb bird… No one can escape the Great Grim.”
The raven lands on your shoulder next. It cocks its head at you.
“What? Is this for me?” you ask, even though you’re certain of the answer. You pluck the envelope from the raven, who sets to preening itself now that it’s no longer occupied.
“Give it here!” The cat-creature hops up onto your bed, reaching with an expectant paw. “That bird’s got my admission letter!”
“Your letter?” You hold it out of reach and stick your tongue out at him. “No ‘great mage’ sets someone’s home on fire. You’re a subpar mage, if anything.”
“I am not! You just wait—I’ll show you!”
“I don’t want to see anymore.” Turning away, you break the wax seal and procure the parchment waiting within.
He swipes at you impatiently. “Lemme see! What’s it say?”
Written in elegant script, complete with a stamp you’ve never seen before, it looks very official. Whoever wrote it is exceptionally good at cursive, their letters swooping together seamlessly. It’s almost like a decorative artwork with its double-looped O’s and dancing cursive. You marvel at the craftsmanship, wishing your handwriting could look as refined as this person’s.
To whom it may concern,  Greetings and congratulations on your admittance into the program! We recognize your outstanding achievements as a model student and believe you have what it takes to do wonderful things. It is with great pride that we bestow upon you a piece of magical history, referred to as The Tried-and-True Trident. You will find it enclosed in this letter.
You look up from the letter just as an aureate necklace lands in your palm. The raven blinks at you once before lifting itself off of your shoulder with a flap of its inky wings. It departs through the window, up into the cloudless, cerulean sky, in a flurry of feathers. There’s a tiny trident pendant hanging from the chain. It winks at you in the light, so shiny you think you might catch your reflection if you stare long enough. You’re not sure what part of it is tried or true, for it looks more like costume jewelry than anything. At least it’s cute. Kind of fashionable, even.
With this historic piece, you are now free to wield the wonders of the sea as you please. You are expected to use these powers to defend those you hold dear from the threat of tragedy. You should have met with your mentor already. If not, we shall send someone to escort you. We look forward to beholding your excellent heroics. Sincerely,
“Gimme that!”
Grim snatches the letter before you can glimpse the name signed at the bottom. The enchanted letter tears in two and then, before both of your eyes, it promptly disintegrates.
You eye the fuzzball with a fresh bout of vitriol. “What did you say your name was again?”
“It’s Grim—the Great Grim—and I promise ya as soon as I—”
“Good. Now I know what name to carve on your tombstone when I put you in the ground for ruining my letter!” You reach for the coat rack, expression ablaze with newfound ferocity.
Grim yelps and scurries away. “H-Hold on! I can fix it!”
“How? It’s ash!”
“Well, what did it say? I’m sure I can explain it to ya!”
“It said something about this necklace. The something-something trident. Protecting loved ones from tragedy. Admittance into some program. A mentor…”
“Mentor… Mentor! Yeah, that sounds about right!” Grim laughs proudly. “Aren’t you in luck, human! I’m gonna be your mentor.”
“Sure you are.” You rest your hand on your hip, brows raised. “The same cat who destroyed my window and curtains is gonna mentor me in whatever this is. Funny story.”
His jaw drops. “A-At least pretend like it’s cool! And I’m not a cat!” He hops off of your bed with a huff. “Ungrateful human. You’re undeserving of the Great Grim’s teaching anyways! I don’t need you!”
“Other way around.”
“You don’t need me!”
“There we go.” You applaud him sardonically. “Look, I don’t know what any of this is. I’m sure it was a mistake. I’m not even a student here.”
Grim, who had been on his way towards the door, halts. He turns to face you slowly. “Yer…not a student?”
“I work here. There’s no way for me to be enrolled here because I can’t use magic.”
“W-Wha—can’t use magic?! Then why did you get in, but I didn’t?!”
You can only shrug. The necklace twists idly when you hold it up for closer inspection. “So this thing is supposed to help me? Hey, Grim, do you know what this is?”
You lower to his height and hold your hand out. He watches you dubiously before approaching and leaning in to sniff at the chain.
“Smells fine to me. Kinda like wet metal.”
“I didn’t ask for a flavor profile.” You heave a tired sigh. The day’s only just begun and you’re already swamped with nonsense. “Maybe that Headmage knows something.”
Grim gasps. “You’re chummy with the Headmage? You think you could talk him into lettin’ me join?”
“Why do you even want in so badly?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m a renowned mage! They should be begging me to join!”
Anyone could’ve sent that letter. It might not even be from the Headmage… If I knew the sender’s name, I could just track them down and ask them. 
“You said you wanted to prove yourself, didn’t you?” You offer your hand again, this time to shake on it. “Become my mentor. That’ll show that Crowley you’re plenty capable. Then you can get into this school and I can find a way to return this necklace to its rightful owner.”
Grim folds his arms over his chest, avoiding your hand like it’s the plague. “And what’s in it for me? My services aren’t cheap, y’know!”
“You can live here with me. I’ll find ways to sneak you into the lecture halls if you wanna sit in and observe the class.”
“How about food?”
“Food is…” Nonexistent, really. That cheapskate Crowley! I’ve got to talk him into raising my pay. “I get paid at the end of this week. We’ll have to survive off of what’s in the fridge and the lunch I’m allowed to get from the cafeteria for now.”
Grim’s features soften. “Hm… I guess it’s not terrible. Could be better. But all great mages start from humble beginnings—including myself, but you’d never be able to guess!”
“Right…”
With how carelessly you tossed that fire around, you’re the last mage I should be partnering with.
“Do we have a deal, Grim? You’ll be my mentor and I’ll help you wherever I can.”
Grim places his paw in your palm, his chest puffed out. “You’d better start callin’ me Teacher!”
A smile strains on your lips. “Not happening.”
With a firm shake, your pact is made.
“So what spells do you know? Any that might be able to fix up a window and some curtains?”
“You don’t need those lame spells! The Great Grim can do plenty of other amazing feats.”
“Like?”
“Very amazing feats. Didn’t you hear me?”
“You don’t know anything, do you?”
Grim flinches, guilt flashing across his countenance.
“Is blue fire all you can summon?”
“I… I can do much more! This is just a fraction of my true power! If I had a magestone, this whole spell business would be a lot easier.”
“A magestone? Ah, those things the students have on their pens? I guess that would be helpful. Where can we get one, though?”
“I’d tell ya if I knew.”
“The library might know. If we head there now, we can spend the rest of the morning researching and then we can get lunch.” You reach to fasten the chain around your neck. It’s tucked under your shirt next, safe and sound. “Wait outside for a minute. I’ll change out of my pajamas, clean up the window, and then we’ll be on our way.”
Grim trots out the door without resistance. “I’ll grab a snack from the fridge while yer doin’ all that stuff.”
“One snack! Don’t eat everything!”
But he’s already bounding away, singing as he goes: “Free eats can’t be beat!” Sighing, you shut the door and turn to assess the state of your bedroom. It could be worse. Your bed could have been damaged, or you could have sustained quite the nasty burn.
One mess at a time.
You change into your uniform, which is really just a PE jumpsuit. The same one the students wear. This one has seen better days and it’s a size too big on you, but it’s all Crowley claimed to have on hand when you asked about work clothes. Once again, you soothe yourself with your favorite adage: It could be worse.
You could be homeless. You could be starving. You could be dead.
So it’s not so bad to wear the spare. It’s still got the dorm patch and class numbers sewn onto it, albeit both have worn considerably. Your eyes are drawn to them as you admire yourself in the mirror. Octavinelle Dorm… You’ve heard there are seven dormitories at this school, each based on a historical figure and representing the various spirits of these people. The sorting at the entrance ceremony was something special for the incoming first-years. You’d felt a little awkward to disturb such a grand occasion, even more so when the Dark Mirror announced to a hall full of talented mages that there isn’t an iota of magic in you.
Quite the humbling experience.
But sometimes you wonder which dorm the Dark Mirror would have chosen if your soul was bursting with magical capability.
As of now you’re a faux member of Octavinelle—whatever that implies.
By the time you’ve managed to sweep the glass, dispose of the ruined curtains, and patch the window with a temporary placeholder—what a relief for pasteboard and masking tape—Grim’s nearly through the few items left in your fridge. You yank him away just as he reaches for a container of leftovers.
“If you eat too much, you’ll spoil your lunch.”
“Can’t imagine that problem.”
“You sound so proud of your bottomless stomach.”
“And you’re not?”
You roll your eyes and tug your sneakers on. “Let’s be off.”
“How’re we gonna sneak me in?”
“How do you feel about becoming my temporary purse pet?”
Grim looks unimpressed when you hold your tote bag open for him. “No way!”
“It has lots of space and it’s stylish. Besides, shouldn’t your dedicated student pay proper respect to her great, glorious mentor?”
He doesn’t bother hiding his approving smirk. “Well, when ya put it like that…”
After Grim clambers into your bag, you lock the front door behind you and set off for campus.
“Please don’t blow our cover, Grim.”
From within the depths of your tote, he scoffs. “The Great Grim is the stealthiest mage you’ll ever meet!”
“I highly doubt that.”
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It’s the second time you’ve found yourself in the library, but it’s still just as impressive as ever. You could spend hours here, wandering between shelves and skimming all sorts of tomes. Some of them are written in languages you can’t decipher, so you observe the pictures provided in hopes of gleaning any clues. Grim lounges on a chair beside you, absentmindedly turning through a thick textbook. You managed to find a relatively isolated corner in the very back and it’s not especially busy today. The promise of a hearty lunch keeps him well-behaved.
“Find anything?”
“Nothin’ important. Ugh. This stuff is the worst! Why can’t a magestone fall from the sky? That’d be a whole lot easier than this.”
“It sucks, yeah, but what else can we do?” You rest your face against your palm and scan through yet another page of information. “Let’s keep looking. I’m sure we’ll find something useful.”
“Nngh… I’m hungry.”
“You just ate.”
“That was hours ago!”
“Has it really been that long?”
“Feels like it.”
You lean back in your chair and stretch, listening to the satisfying snap of your joints as they crack into place. “Can you understand any of these words?”
“Most of ’em.”
You point to a specific place in the paragraph. “Can you tell me what this one means? I think I’ve got the general idea based on the graphics, but I could be wrong.”
Grim glances at it, his blue hues waltzing across the page. “It’s about merfolk.”
“Merfolk? They exist in this world?” And then you pause to gather your delayed thoughts. “Never mind. That would make sense.”
“What about ’em?”
“Where I’m from, merfolk aren’t real. They’re fiction.”
“Huh. A place without any merfolk… Bet they don’t have anyone like me either. I’m one of a kind!” Grim chuckles. “So where’re you from?”
You open your mouth to respond, but the sound of approaching footsteps interrupts. You usher Grim under the table, who goes but not without protest. He ducks under just in time, hiding within the shadows. A student rounds the corner and stops short when he sees you. He’s holding a few books in his arms, each looking more heavy than the last.
“Ah,” the both of you say in unison.
He clears his throat and offers you a cordial nod. “I wasn’t aware someone had already claimed this corner.”
You eye him carefully. He looks familiar. Glasses. Silvery-grey hair. Blue eyes. Where have you seen him before?
“It’s all yours. I was just leaving.” You move to stand, but he steps closer.
He peers at the open textbook lying in front of you. A smile you can’t quite classify as friendly spreads on his lips. “Is that so? You seem especially engrossed in this book.”
“I like to stay educated.”
I genuinely can’t understand a word in this text.
“On the anatomy of merfolk?”
You shut your mouth at once. That’s what this is? No wonder the diagrams looked…unique. But you’re too committed to your story to falter now.
“Especially the anatomy of merfolk.”
The student chuckles, but it sounds hollow to your ears. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. You’re in Octavinelle?”
You gape at him like a fish out of water before realizing the jumpsuit and its patch. “Oh! Ohhh, no, not at all. This is an old uniform.”
He looks at you with more scrutiny until it clicks. “I remember now. You’re the magicless girl who so carelessly interrupted—ah, forgive me—fortuitously appeared during the entrance ceremony last month.”
What a little fake. You narrow your eyes at him, suddenly defensive. Now you’re made aware of who he is. He was one of the few in the audience during your awkward arrival. Back then, he was clad in a robe with his hood up and so you only caught sight of his glasses and the swoop of his silvery-grey hair peeking out. You’re certain this is the same guy. You could’ve said that without the backhanded barb.
“So my reputation precedes me.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “I disagree. You’re still quite the mystery.”
“Well, there’s nothing to solve.” You rise from your seat, reaching for your bag. “I’m just a janitor trying to get by.”
He hums. You can’t decipher the meaning in that, but you don’t particularly care enough to drive yourself mad over it. You feel around on the chair for Grim. He was just here a moment ago…
You drop to your knees to check under the table. Your heart plummets into your stomach.
Grim, you had one job!
“Is something the matter?”
You pop up from beneath the table so fast that your head knocks into it. “Shit! Ow! Yeah, no, I’m fine. I thought I dropped my pencil.”
You scan the rest of the space as discreetly as you can. The student watches you. You don’t like the way he seems to stare through you as if intending to gain access to your very soul. As if he sees something you don’t.
“Have a wonderful day. Study hard. Pass your tests. Get—uh—the scholarship or whatever.” 
Flashing him your most nonchalant grin, you make your way down the aisle at a pace that is the exact opposite of relaxed. There’s no time to dwell on that off-kilter exchange. You’ve got a runaway cat-creature in dire need of capture!
The one day I take off and it’s the day my window’s ruined, I get a weird letter, and my new roommate is missing. That’s horrible luck!
You walk briskly through the library, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. Grim couldn’t have gotten far. You were only distracted for a few minutes, and the library is huge. Perhaps he’s just lost and waiting in place for you to find him. For some reason you can’t fool yourself into believing this train of thought.
Your search takes you out of the library and down the hall. Where could he have possibly gone? Surely he didn’t make his way back to Ramshackle. You check the time on your watch. It’s almost lunch.
Lunch! Of course!
You hurry towards the cafeteria with rekindled purpose.
I’m going to start calling him Gluttonous Mage Grim if he makes this a habit!
Fortunately, Grim is predictable. You’ve only known him for a day—not even—but it’s not so difficult to pinpoint his location after you’ve worked out his motivations. Unfortunately, you make it to the cafeteria just as the grand chandelier falls from its support in the ceiling, crash-landing in a broken heap. And standing just feet away from the damage, looking very guilty, is Grim alongside two students you’ve never seen before. Crowley’s there as well, just as frazzled as the feathers on his coat. He’s in the middle of lecturing them about the importance of this relic—how it’s been with the school since it was founded and it’s an irreplaceable piece that would cost over a billion Madol to fix—when he takes notice of you.
“(Name), it’s devastating! A most heart-wrenching tragedy! Why, it’s enough to bring one to tears.”
“Seems so…” You shoot Grim a vicious look. So much for being covert. Not so stealthy now, huh? “I’ll get the broom.”
“No, not yet. These three—” he turns towards them, yellow eyes fierce— “are expelled!”
“Expelled?!” the navy-haired student exclaims. He looks like he’s just stared Death in the face. “This can’t be… What will my mother think? I promised her I was gonna get good grades, attend all of my classes, pass my tests…”
“Hey, it’s not my fault. That hairball’s the one who started it!” the other argues, his arms folded over his chest.
“No way! It wasn’t me!”
Crowley clicks his tongue. “Unbelievable. This school has zero tolerance for blatant tomfoolery. Surely you’re all aware…” He pauses to look at Grim. “And you! You’re not even a student here! Just what are you doing, trespassing on school property?”
Grim flounders dizzily. “Spinning…”
“He’s my roommate.” All eyes flick towards you. “I’m letting him stay for now. Sorry if that breaks any rules. I just don’t believe in turning others away, even if they’re prone to causing trouble.”
“What a noble soul,” Crowley murmurs, impressed. “Well, if that’s the case, seeing as he’s nothing more than a talking pet cat—”
“I ain’t a pet or a cat!”
“I’m afraid my previous statement still remains in place. He’s not to be on school grounds.”
“You heard the Headmage. No school for you.”
But Grim’s already lying flat on the floor like a defeated pancake.
“Then what about us? That hairball can’t get the easy way out and leave us with the worst of it!”
“There’s a way to fix this, isn’t there?”
“Y-Yeah! Can’t you just use magic to fix it right up? It’ll be good as new. Someone with your skill should be able to do it.”
Crowley shakes his head, mournful. “Magic is not limitless. Not only that, but the magestone powering this great chandelier is cracked. And those are not so easily replaced. I fear this is the final day this miraculous chandelier will ever grace this grand hall with its light.”
The ginger-haired student grimaces. “Not good…”
The other withers. “Expelled… What am I going to do? I can’t go back home with this news!”
A magestone… That’s what Grim needs. You glance at the one set into the chandelier. A ghastly crack runs up the surface. Are they really that special?
Before both can succumb to their melancholy, Crowley says, “There is one way! Possibly…”
“Really? What is it?” they say at once, eyes bulging with hope.
“This very magestone was mined from the Dwarfs’ Mine. Perhaps, should you procure one of similar qualities, the chandelier can be repaired.”
“Then… Okay! I’ll get a magestone! As long as it’s all right with you, sir.”
“Ah, but the mines have been closed for some time. I reckon the magestones are all but gone.”
“I’m sure I can find one. Please, sir, I’ll do anything to stay here!”
Crowley seems to consider this. Eventually, he nods his approval. “I’m willing to postpone your expulsion for now.” The navy-haired student’s relief is short-lived when he adds, “However, if you fail to bring a magestone to me by the first rays of the morning sun, it will be expulsion for the both of you. No further exceptions.”
With a hasty nod, he says, “Of course! I understand! Thank you so much for the second chance. I won’t let you down!”
“Yeah, sure. Let’s get this over with.”
You gather an unconscious Grim in your arms while Crowley instructs the students on how to access the mine. They stride off with different degrees of enthusiasm. You open your mouth to ask permission, but Crowley beats you to it.
“Please do accompany them. I trust you’re responsible enough to handle any trouble?”
“If you raise my pay, I’ll do anything.”
He clutches his chest. “Your proclivity to bargain strikes through to my very soul! Ah, but since I am the kindest Headmage I shall grant your request.”
With a satisfied grin, you hold Grim tighter and run off after the pair. “Thanks again, Headmage!”
You follow them all the way to the Mirror Chamber. It’s just as imposing as you recall, but there’s a serene quality to the space that wasn’t there before. Maybe it’s because you’re here willingly and there isn’t an audience to witness your poorly timed debut.
You approach both of them. “Hey! Sorry to bother, but could I join you?”
They turn to look at you. Grim shifts in your arms, groaning.
“I don’t see why not. Welcome to the team,” the navy-haired student says with an awkward smile.
“Might as well. More people means a faster chance at finding that magestone.” He points at Grim next. “And he better be coming, too.”
“That’s the plan. I’ll make sure he won’t cause any problems for you.”
He sighs and shakes his head. “Today’s just not my day. What bad luck…”
“No time to sulk. We’ve gotta get that magestone,” the other says, turning towards the mirror. “Dark Mirror, the Dwarfs’ Mine!”
Grim jerks awake then. “Myaah?! Where am I? What’s goin’ on?”
You hold onto him tightly, preventing him from squirming out of your arms. “Relax. You’ll be fine. I think.”
“What d’ya mean by that?!”
The Dark Mirror brightens with life. There’s a blinding flash of light and then, just like that, you’re taken to the mine’s entrance.
Magestone, here we come!
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bookofbonbon · 3 months
Note
I really love you keep him there/christmas kiss! you mention that it’s common theme amongst polite capitol society children to have known each other their entire lives, did this also include sejanus when he arrived in the capitol? and was she friends with him? 🥺
you'll never belong - coriolanus snow.
Pairings/Characters: Coriolanus Snow x Reader. Sejanus Plinth. Arachne Crane.
Word Count: 1.1k+.
Apart of: You Keep Him There. Christmas Kiss - however, these can absolutely all be read as stand alones.
A/N: I know this wasn't a request but, it does answer your question and it's an opportunity to introduce one of the reasons why she doesn't 'like' Coriolanus. Also, military family = her mother's side; blizzards = father's side (murdoch is paternal grandfather).
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Heavensbee Hall buzzes with excitement, every available standing and sitting space filled with Academy faculty, graduates and their parents, bar yours - not that it mattered to you. For the last ten years, July 4th has been a high priority and exceptionally busy day for your family with your parents always personally overseeing the network’s airing of the Reaping for each District - not even your graduation could take priority over that. Not that you’d expect it to either, you had barely scraped a pass; it was with the help of one person that you were graduating at all, one person you were currently looking for and had finally spotted in the corner with his parents. 
You quickly tell your grandparents, “I’ll be back.” 
But before you can step away from them, you’re immediately stopped by them - the pair acting as eyes and ears for your parents. You didn’t blame your parents for the precaution and if it had been up to you, you wouldn’t have been here at all but, instead with them. Unfortunately for you however, they had asserted that you were to attend your graduation and remain present for the entire ceremony - no exceptions. They’d even gone so far as to inform your Aunt to keep an eye out for you since she’d be present as a guest of honour. 
“Where are you going?” your grandfather asks gruffly. 
You nod towards Sejanus Plinth and show him the medium-sized gift box in your hand.
“I need to give this to him.”
There’s a look of disdain mixed with suspicion in his eyes as he looks to where you nod, at the Plinth’s, then back at you until finally he relents but, not without a warning to remain in his sight. 
You want to roll your eyes, your mother knew what she was doing when she sicked her military parents on you. 
Weaving through several bodies to get to him, you catch bits and pieces of conversations here and there. Only one catches your attention however, involving your three elite cohort - the topic bringing you to a halt. 
“... I don’t like him, Arachne. I tolerate him. He’s district.”
“No need to guess who the three of you are talking about,” you interrupt Coriolanus, Arachne and Festus. 
“Well, well, well,” Arachne drawls with her nasally voice. “So nice of you to actually show but, shouldn’t you be in the Academy Rouge? You certainly didn’t place in the top 24.”
“You know it’s funny you mention that, Arachne, because Murdoch actually offered to buy me your place in the top 24 but, out of the kindness of my heart, I told my grandfather, no.”
Thick tension fills the air, Arachne’s red painted lips dropping into a scowl, furthermore when you lean in close and remind her of her place. 
“Never forget, Arachne - truth doesn’t matter, only perception and I control the narrative, always,” you smile, saccharine. “Not you.” 
You want to roll your eyes at the stubborn look of hidden terror on her face. As if you’d actually do anything to the detriment of any of them - Murdoch had successfully hammered unwavering allegiance to this little group here - The Old Guard of the Elite - into you but, still... they could use a little reminding every now and then of their place. 
Stifled laughter from both boys breaks the tension and you divert your attention to them, specifically Coriolanus; your eyes immediately finding the red rose pinned to his waistcoat, the smallest of thorns still present on its stalk.
“A rose,” you touch the stalk gently. “So, very fitting of you. Beautiful to look at but harmful if you touch.”
You allow the thorn to prick your finger, a little bulb of blood blossoming on the tip. You hold your finger up to show him.
“A shame that not everyone knows this,” you tell him disdainfully.
Recognition flashes in his eye, you’re talking about Sejanus - you excuse yourself from the group, carrying onto your final destination who was already headed your way but not to you.
“Hey,” Sejanus greets you with a small smile when you plant yourself in his path. 
You bypass the greetings, “where are you going?”
You already know where he’s going and you’re not surprised when he tells you - to Coriolanus - but, you asked as a courtesy.
“Why?”
“There’s something I need to tell him before the ceremony starts.” 
“There’s no need to talk in code, I already know about the Plinth Prize or should I say lack thereof.”
Sejanus looks at you puzzled but, before he can ask how you know, you provide him with the answer. 
“You all seem to forget who my Aunt is, she’s the one who told me.” 
Recognition becomes Sejanus and he nods in understanding. 
“Hey, listen.” You step closer to him. “You should really stop hanging out with Coriolanus.”
“And why is that?”
“He’s not your friend.”
This makes him laugh, “oh and you are?”
“Compared to him? Absolutely I am. Sejanus, you could have all the money in the world and it will never make them- him like you.”
Sejanus bristles at your words, becoming defensive - you don’t mean to hurt him but, you do. 
“Thank you for pointing out the obvious,” he tells you bitterly. “As if I needed another reminder that I’ll never belong here.” 
You roll your eyes, “I’m not trying to remind you that you don’t belong here, I’m trying to tell you that they don’t care about you. Coriolanus Snow does not care about you.” 
“And how exactly would you know that when you only care about yourself?” he snaps at you. "He has been the only person who has ever been my fri-"
“Well then you are as stupid as you are willful, Sejanus Plinth because Coriolanus Snow only cares about Coriolanus Snow,” you cut him off.
Irritation seeps into your voice because what he said wasn’t true about Coriolanus or about you.
You were fiercely protective of those you care for and love - your military grandfather said it would be your downfall - and right now, despite your unwavering allegiance to the Old Guard, you were stupidly trying to protect him. 
“He’s going to get you into trouble or worse- but you know what? What do I care, right? So, whatever- here.” you shove the box into his hand. “My thanks for your help.” 
You don’t give him time to process, swiftly turning and walking away once you feel his hands take hold of the medium-sized gift box - baked goods from District 2. 
That would be the last conversation you’d had with Sejanus Plinth before he was hanged for treason in District 12 only two months later. 
You’d hardly known him and yet you cared for him; his death still hurt.
The truth of Sejanus's death would find you eventually, haunting your relationship with Coriolanus; unable to completely trust him.
-
Can you guess where the Blizzard family has made their wealth?
-
All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.
Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.
bookofbonbon 2023. All rights reserved.
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linguisticdiscovery · 8 months
Text
7 undeciphered writing systems
(While reading, remember that it’s possible to decipher a script and still not understand the language that the script represents.)
(Each heading links to that script's respective Wikipedia page.)
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Byblos Syllabary
The Byblos syllabary is attested in 10 inscriptions found in Byblos, a coastal city in Lebanon. It likely represents a Semitic language, but despite a handful of attempts at decipherment, there still isn’t a consensus as to what sound each character represents.
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Cypro-Minoan Syllabary
The Cypro-Minoan syllabary appears on ~250 objects—especially clay balls and cylinders that were used for recording economic transactions—on the island of Cyprus.
The script suddenly disappears in 950 BCE and was replaced by the Cypriot syllabary, which was used to write Greek, and based on Cypro-Minoan. This evolution allows us to infer the sounds of some of the signs in Cypro-Minoan, but we still don’t know what language it represented—probably either Minoan or Eteocypriot.
There are only ~2,500 total instances of signs for Cypro-Minoan, which is significantly less than Linear B when it was deciphered (~30,000).
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Indus Valley Script
The Indus Valley script is known from ~4,000 objects with very short inscriptions found in and around the Indus Valley, and represents the Harappan language (the unknown language of the Indus Valley civilization).
It has about 400 distinct signs, which is too many for each sign to represent a single sound or syllable, but too few for each sign to represent a word. Scholars thus think the system is logo-syllabic (basically a mix of the two).
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Linear A
Linear A: Everybody’s favorite mysterious undeciphered script. Linear A was used by the Minoans on the island of Crete, and is called “linear” because the script is written by cutting lines into clay, rather than pressing wedges into clay like cuneiform.
Linear A was adapted to write Mycenean Greek and became Linear B (deciphered in the 1950s), and because of this we can infer many of the sound values of symbols in Linear A. However, 80% of Linear A’s signs are unique, not shared with Linear B.
Linear A itself probably developed from the earlier Cretan hieroglyphs, which are also undeciphered.
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Phaistos Disk
The Phaistos Disk. Also from the Minoan civilization on Crete, yet seemingly unrelated to Linear A. This disk is the only certain attestation of this (assumed) script, spiraling around both sides. There are 242 tokens comprising 45 distinct signs.
The Phaistos Disk also happens to be an early example of moving type printing, since each character was made by pressing seals into clay.
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Proto-Elamite
The Proto-Elamite script developed alongside Proto-Cuneiform, and was used for similar functions and in similar ways until it was replaced by cuneiform. Proto-Elamite, like cuneiform, began as a system of marking tokens and spheres with details of economic transactions.
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Rongorongo
Rongorongo is a system of glyphs used on Rapa Nui (Easter Island), found only on about two dozen wooden objects. According to oral history, the tablets were considered sacred, and only a small elite class could read them. Unfortunately, that tradition was wiped out after slaving raids and epidemics caused the collapse of Rapa Nui society.
Though the glyphs, if they are writing, undoubtedly represent the Rapa Nui language, little is known about it because modern Rapa Nui has had heavy influence from Tahitian.
---
Want to learn more about the world’s writing systems and their history? Check out my curated list of books on Writing & Writing Systems!
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artsytheimaginative · 2 months
Text
Yandere Catnap x Fem! Reader (Part 3)
Poppy Playtime Chapter 3
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Warning: Same as the Part 2. And the orange font belongs to Dogday.
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You shook your head as you noticed a tiny catnap plushie in the corner. You picked it up and grinned observing this adorable smile of Catnap. It looked so pure and innocent!
But how did Catnap turn so gigantic?! You hugged it closer to your soft chest as you squeaked in joy like a fangirl. I wish I could just steal it away and keep it to myself. This boy is so precious! Who wouldn't buy it from my company merchandise?!
Your fingers brushed through its fur gently and hummed in satisfaction. You want to embrace it for so long but choose not to as you put it back on the nightstand and walk the hallway again. What if someone saw me steal this plushie away and kill me? I better not take a risk then. Your negative thoughts filled in your brain.
When you get closer to the wall, you can finally see the patterns precisely. The patterns are Poppy and the black strokes of them were drawn so fine! Whoever the wallpaper designer made this was so elegant and precise. These wallpaper designs were elite and awesome.
Once you are done observing it, you go back a few miles away and continue to explore the hallway in Home Sweet Home.
⏩️⏩️⏩️⏩️⏩️Time Skip⏭️⏭️⏭️⏭️⏭️
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Once you stepped into the play care and soon found Dogday with 2 chains tied up on his hands while his legs were ripped off. His voice was meek and hoarse as he told you're Poppy's angel plus his angel who intentionally came back to the company just to save every toy but for Dogday... He warned you he could not be saved by you due to the smiling critters and The Prototype aka Catnap's God was trying to kill you.
When the mini smiling critters planned to crawl up to his upper body with a huge hole, Dogday said "You know I can really use your help here angel?" While you're chopping the left chain he said it frantically "Quickly!"
You quickly chopped off the chains and his body dropped and crawled out of his cell.
"Thank you, Angel... Now l-let's get out of there..."
He crawled to the other tunnel and he continued to crawl deeper with loud thumping noises.
You continued to escape from the daycare as the smiling critters chased after you.
⏩️⏩️⏩️⏩️Timeskip⏭️⏭️⏭️⏭️
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You went out of the Playcare with the front doors shut, and you heard Ollie talking with you again from your pocket.
After you listened to him and started to do your next task given by Ollie, you walked forward until you heard Dogday's voice again behind you.
"Hey Angel, wait! Ahahahahahaha! Look what I've found! My own legs. Woah feels a little weird to walk still. Oh? What's that Angel? No worries! Our toy bodies worked a little differently. You see, we can easily reattach our limbs... If they fall off..." His cheerful smiling voice was filled with joy mixing with calmness at the beginning of his sentence??? However, when he saw your frown, his tone suddenly felt concerned and asked you gently. Once you told him your concerns afraid his limbs would fall easily/again, he reassured you with a smile as you can tell by his tone even tho you couldn't see his facial expression move.
In his last sentence, he seemed a bit off or emotionless as you felt chills go out your spine.
You continue to view the whole surroundings while he is walking behind you acting like nothing happened that he had said it before.
When you stopped at the cutout from Dogday, he simply tried to replicate his original voice just to match its voice. "Well, that felt weird..." His voice filled with suspicion and felt odd.
⏩️⏩️⏩️⏩️⏩️⏩️⏩️Time Skip⏭️⏭️⏭️⏭️⏭️⏭️⏭️
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A Catnap's worn-out stand piqued your interest as Dogday stood beside you on the left-hand side.
You can see that the picture of Catnap's face was gone except for his body parts (Idk how to describe this).
“Uhhh... Catnap..." When Dogday sees it, his voice suddenly turns disheartening and gives you a vibe of coldness. "Whatever happened to him, Angel..." "He killed every single one of the critters except for me..." "Me in particular he left alive because he wanted to see me suffer." His words are filled with hidden anger as he despises Catnap in great infinitive power. (Used Maths terms to describe the level of despite XD)
"I feel like jealously got into him... He always looked at me in a weird way... I sensed his anger towards me. I thought he always wanted to be a leader instead of me... Anyway... We need to stop him, Angel... He's become an obstacle for us if we wanted to get to the prototype... You must hurry to the office. I'll see if I can find a blue battery to charge for the gas machine."
He gave you a new task to go to the counsellor's office where originally before The Hour Of Joy, the orphans usually confess their feelings or insecure thoughts to the counsellor. Just like confess their sins to a god... You accepted your 1st new task from Dogday as you went in there and did what his instructions said.
⏩️⏩️⏩️⏩️⏩️⏩️⏩️Time Skip⏭️⏭️⏭️⏭️⏭️⏭️⏭️
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Once you finished your task, you walked out of Ollie's basement(I forgot what that location is called. Sorry💀).
You saw Dogday standing meanwhile staring at the photo frame of him and Catnap in the cartoon version hugged together happily. He glared at it longingly until he felt you were watching him as he shifted his head toward you and acted like nothing happened. Your gut was telling you, something was wrong...
You walked closer to him slowly as you told him not to hide from him not in a forceful way but in a gentle tone.
He told you that before the Hour of Joy occurred, Catnap was his old best friend and they usually were cheerful together when they were young. They promised that they would stay forever like this in a BFF way.
You hugged him as he wrapped his arms around you with a sweet grin. You endearingly snuggled his chest as he chuckled softly and caressed your soft hair.
After he let you go, you wished u could embrace him forever like this but you can't. Before you want to speak, Dogday suddenly turns angry as he sees someone behind you.
You felt a pair of strong arms suddenly lift you up and you looked up at who was the one carrying you. It was Catnap again... Your pupils dilated in fear as you internally screamed you should self-defence and attack him. Nevertheless, your limps didn't listen to you but stiffened like a statue unable to move freely.
You opened your lips and were ready to talk to Catnap, he suddenly emitted red smoke for the 2nd time and you felt tired again. He doesn't want you to talk yet, he jumped up on top of the statue of smiling critters while Dogday attempted to chase after him. Dogday cannot jump so he kept sprinting after Catnap until Catnap teleported into another location that Dogday had no idea where he went in.
“Damn it, Catnap! It's all of my fault! I should've protected her! I can't give up now! I must find her before she gets killed by him or the prototype!"
But was Dogday's hypothesis true that Catnap would kill you? You'll find out soon in Part 4...
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angelofwoe · 9 months
Text
Bloodlust
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Leon, an elite monster hunter, meets a mysterious vampire heiress. Will his strange curiosity for her get in the way of his mission?
(Nsfw // f!reader // sorta sub leon // blood & minor gore))
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Another job in the middle of fucking nowhere. Surrounded by foggy woods, Leon gripped his crossbow tight, trained eyes darting from side to side - up and down. Stay alert. He has to stay alert. No matter how many times he's been sent out to remote locations to exterminate unearthly vermin, he can never be too sure of what he may encounter.
The moon is high in the sky, crescent luckily, a werewolf problem would be the last thing he needed. No, no mutts tonight. Tonight was a special one, a less common type of monster. A high vampire. Not the regular night-crawling leaches but rather a unique form of creature. A high vamp was a rare strain of vampire's that had been born into their form, not turned. This made for quite a few 'improvements' on normal vampire abilities. High vamps can walk in the sun; survive without blood for extended periods of time and given their lineage they're usually born into some amount of wealth.
To be quite frank, Leon had never dealt with one of these types before. He'd only been told about them back when he was in training. It wasn't often that a job would get his heart pumping this hard but it was fair to say he was uncharacteristically nervous. He takes deep breaths in attempt to steady himself as he approaches the edge of the woods, nearing his destination. Just up ahead he can see the looming old mansion. The mansion he knew you'd be in.
Thick mist dances through the darkness, making it all the more difficult to see, leaving only the impending shape of the building ahead. With careful, quiet steps Leon creeps up to the large double doors. Oddly enough they seem to swing open as he nears, almost inviting him inside. He knew better than to let his curiosity get the better of him though. Raising his crossbow, he checks all around him and peeks through the doorway. Nobody in sight. Strange. There must he a reason the doors had been unlocked or perhaps it was pure arrogance on your part. Maybe this was a tactic you used to lure unsuspecting squatters or burglars to their gory demise, earning a meal in the process.
Regardless of his theories, Leon knows he still has to go inside. Taking a steadying breath he steps through the threshold and takes in the luxurious interior. Red velvet carpet lines the floor, he feels like some sort of celebrity. Well, he would if not for the impending doom potentially lying ahead. Cold blue eyes wander from wall to wall as he makes his way quietly through the corridor. Reaching a wide set of oakwood stairs, Leon takes slow steps up, glad the floorboards don't creak beneath his weight.
What the man failed to realise, though, was that it didn't matter how quiet or careful he was. You knew he was here. You can smell him - taste his blood in the air from a mile away. Naive little thing doesn't even realise how strong his scent is, an overpowering musk with tones of cinnamon. Matter of fact, it was quite divine. Perhaps that's why you'd allowed him to step foot into your home.
It's amusing, really. To know exactly where he is from the sound of his thumping heart, that heart pumping delicious blood, without even needing to see him. Although, you can't deny that the sight of him was almost equally as mouthwatering. Dressed in a black peacoat; matching black leather gloves and heavy combat boots he looked like a mix between an aristocrat and an assassin. He surley was a hitman of sorts, evident in the way he carries himself -not to mention the weapon he was pointing ahead pf him. As if that could protect him. How cute. At least he looked like he actually knew how to handle it. You'd met many a 'hunter' who had tried to claim the bounty on your species only to disappoint you with their lack of capability. This one though...he was clearly the real deal. It's enough to light a fire in your stomach. A feeling as close to butterflies that a creature such as yourself can reach.
You can't help yourself- you need to get a closer look. Two swift steps and you've already closed the distance, moving with such elegance that it doesn't even make a sound. He doesn't see you. Doesn't know how good he looks in the dim candlelight with his face scrunched up in thought. It's almost a shame to disrupt his focus but when he reaches a hand for a doorknob (one that leads to the housemaids chambers) you have to stop him. You'd never let anyone disturb your ladies beauty sleep.
"A little rude to be nosing around my home uninvited, don't you think?"
The sudden voice makes Leon's hesrt leap into his throat. He snaps around to face you, his crossbow aimed at your chest with a renewed hardness in his eyes. He doesn't know you can smell the fear on him, or the excitement for that matter. His blood pressure spiking as his gaze lingers on yours.
Leaning forward, you flick out a finger and tilt his weapon just an inch to the left. Now the arrow is one click away from piercing right through your heart.
"If you're going to shoot me you should at least aim properly" you taunt, words coming out in an amused purr.
Leon swallows and lifts his chin in an attempt at defiance. "I assume you're the one I was sent to exterminate"
A scoff leaves your lips "I see you've heard all about me. Now, if you really want to kill me let's do it away from my staff's bedchambers"
"And...where do you suggest we take this then?"
"My parlor. Follow me" you snap your fingers and turn on your heel, giving him no moment to argue or rethink.
His footsteps sound behind you, following obediently. Silently, you lead him through the mansion and into a room more suited for the two of you to 'discuss' this little intrusion. A heavy door closes behind you both. Leon's skin starts to prickle with anxiety, worries of what he'd just walked into flooding his mind. He was supposed to shoot you dead and leave! Not take a leisurely stroll through your establishment and join you for a chat.
Taking a seat on a plush, antique sofa you look up at the man who stands awkwardly gawking. "So, human boy, are you going to tell me your name? I believe introductions are in order"
The words make him snap back to reality and he cautiously places his crossbow down on the spruce coffee table. He removes a glove, offering you a handshake.
"Leon. My apologies for encroaching on your privacy, miss"
He didn't know why his brain was failing him like this. All his logic was gone, replaced with only burning inquiries. You were so different from other supernaturals. He couldn't help but feel a sense of...humanity within you.
What's worse is- he can feel the heat in your palms. Warm skin and a soft touch. Nothing like the cold, stone skinned bloodsucking freaks he's hunted down many times before.
In return you introduce yourself. Name and title and all those formalities, although Leon already knew all that from his mission briefing. "So, you’re a monster slayer yet you stand here talking to me as though I am one of your kind. How curious..." you muse aloud. He still stands in front of you, like some sort of hound. Whether he's waiting for a command or a chance to attack you’re unsure. Meanwhile his scent was only becoming harder to ignore.
Rising back to your feet, you circle around him, reveling in the way his heart pounds against his ribcage. Leon can feel himself melting. His resolve crumbling. Something about you just made him want to let go. "You smell incredible, Leon" you murmur as you stand behind him, pressing your lips against his ear.
His breath hitches as he surpresses a shiver. "A-are you going to-?"
"What? Bite you?" You practically laugh at his question. His vulnerability is delightful. "Only with your permission, dear"
At that he feels his inhibitions vanish and all he wants is to feel you take his body and mind. "You can...it's not going to hurt, right?.."
"Oh, sweet thing, no. My bites aren't like those of my crudely turned cousins. Mine. Well...let me show you"
Just like that you press your lips down his neck, kissing the delicate skin. Leon shivers and gasps. He has no chance to recover as your fangs extend and sink into his flesh.
He tastes just as good as you'd hoped. Better, as a matter of fact, he tastes like heaven itself. Your hands slip around his waist and his own lay over them, keeping you there. Deep gutteral moans escape his lips as the initial surprise turns into a tingling sensation. That sensation spreading throughout his being, down and down his body. The tingling becomes so strong it's like he's vibrating.
Your own moans mix with his as his crimson essence fills your mouth. Blood smears across your lips, the exchange primal and euphoric for you both.
The pleasure it creates in Leon's body is more than he's ever known. More than the best sex he's ever had. In fact, he can feel himself leaking precum into his pants as his abdomen coils up from desire.
"Please...please..god. More" he begs, his voice scratchy and straining.
You don't need to be told twice, you know exactly how this experience effects mortals. One hand pushes across his stomach and down into his waistband. Futher grunts and moans fill the room as your nimble hand slips inside his clothes and takes a hold of his desperately throbbing dick.
His hips buck into your fist, making you bite harder into him. He whimpers, needy for you to stroke him. Using his precum as lubricant, you gently set a teasing pace. His blood continues to trickle into your jaws, drawing it nice and slowly so you may prolong the feed.
"H-harder, please. Please mistress"
Hm. Well that was new. Cute almost. Unable to deny his pathetic whines, you speed your motions and jerk him until he's twitching in your hand. Carefully you remove your teeth from his skin. Dexterous tongue flicking over the wound until it stops weaping crimson.
"Ff- gonna.. fuckin' cum" Leon blurts as he drives his hips back and forth into your grasp like a mutt in heat. His cock pulsing as his orgasm hits.
You have to grip him harder to your chest as his knees buckle and the high takes his last ounce of strength. Hot cum shoots over your fingers and into the fabric of his pants. Delicately, you set him on the couch, holding him gently. It's only good practice to care for your plaything after a feed.
Leon's senses are completely overwhelmed but he's barley able to register the sight of you licking your fingers clean - your tongue coated with an amalgamation of red and white.
"Rest little one, I will have you cleaned up in the morning"
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hellishattempt · 3 months
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𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 - the girl in new york
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cr sybbatra on twitter, sourced from pin
🢥 summary : celebrity!au gojo satoru and rumours swirling around your established relationship, 3.1k words 🢥 series includes : choso, fushiguro toji, geto suguru, gojo satoru and nanami kento, part one of five 🢥 content : celebrity!au, gn reader, angst mostly, established relationship, cheating, paps being an ass, lying, use of baby/love/darling and other pet names, song cr goes to nessa barrett, not proofread lol kinda just wrote this instead of studying for exams. don't like the ending, but i never do. 
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 . . . GOJO SATORU SEEN WITH ANOTHER WOMAN AT NYFW was not the headline you wanted to wake up to. it was a lazy saturday morning, and you didn't have any plans for the day. your boyfriend, the prominent gojo satoru, was currently in new york for fashion week. you had been dating for almost a year, having met a little over six years ago at club heaven in los angeles on his birthday by pure accident. the japanese born model had been dragged to america for his twenty first birthday, and spilled his drink on you. he hasn't left the states since. he's established himself in the modeling world, and fashion week was the busiest time of year for him. being a singer / songwriter yourself, you had quite the busy schedule. your bustling schedules were part of the reason it took so long for you and satoru to get together. there was mutual pining, but you both spent so much of your time in different cities and airports, that there seemed to be no point in it. but geto made a joke that if satoru didn't bag you, then he would, and that about did it for satoru. sure, dating hasn't been easy, but you've made it work. satoru had moved in with you in your luxury apartment in the hills of los angeles, though neither of you were there often. after all, you were both a lister celebrities. everyone knew your names, especially the paparazzi. 
neither of you were big fans of the paps, satoru especially. you tried to show grace, after all, they were just trying to do their jobs. but their jobs were to be nosy and wrongfully invade your privacy. there were always headlines about you and satoru, the rumours and scandals never seemed to end, but for some reason, this one hit home. your phone read 10:01 a.m. you were in your los angeles apartment, so you were three hours behind satoru. you didn't have any notifications from him, which was weird, because he usually made a point to send you a good morning text before you woke up, no matter what timezone you were in. even if it meant satoru had to set an alarm for two a.m. so that you would wake up with a "good morning, baby," then he would set an alarm. in fact, the only notification you had was a text from shoko, with a link to the article. "have you seen this??" her text read. you clicked the link and it opened a separate page for people magazine. it took all your strength not to roll your eyes. people was your number one enemy when it came to tabloids. they always fabricated such stupid things, so you didn't think much of it at first. still, you read the article word for word. 
"gojo satoru was seen today eating lunch with fellow model, iori utahime, at new york's own per se. gojo and iori have been friends for a while now, but are they more?" you scoffed, adjusting yourself in your large bed, continuing on. "gojo and irori are currently in new york for fashion week, and were photographed outside per se for a late lunch before tonight's opener. the photos were quickly posted, and the response was a mix of emotions. in the string of photos, we see gojo and iori sharing a laugh... while holding hands? in a few, his arm was tightly wrapped around iori's waist as he escorts her out of the restaurant. a few nights prior, photos had of gojo and iori sharing drinks at an elite club on eighth had been released, where they seemed more than friendly. that same night, the took shared a taxi, stumbling into the hotel together. social media shares our reply: has gojo's partner seen this and what do they have to say about it?" the article was short and sweet, but it did the trick. the photos had been attached, as well as a slew of twitter posts. #satohime was the third trending tag on twitter. tears stung your eyes as you white-kunckled your phone in your hand.
you were torn between believing and not believing the article. you knew satoru would never cheat on you, but the evidence was right in front of you. he was out with another woman, someone he's known longer than you, holding hands and wrapping himself close to her. you'd never met utahime, but satoru always returned from fashion week, brimming with stories about her that made him laugh until his stomach cramped. you knew they were close, despite only seeing each other twice a year, they'd grown up together. you tried to tell yourself that maybe it was just a rumour, photos taken out of context. after all, it wasn't anything drastic, like a vulgar makeout video, but it still made you sick. so you did the only thing you knew hot to when it come to your emotions: you wrote a song.
. . . NEW UPLOAD : THE GIRL IN NEW YORK flashed across gojo satoru's screen. it was a youtube notification for your channel. he frown slightly at the words, wondering what you were thinking about when writing this. he was at work right now, so he silenced his phone. satoru would listen to the song on the cab ride back to his hotel. he hadn't heart about the people's magazine yet, despite it being published six hours ago. satoru had been so busy with the fashion week presentations and rehearsals, that lunch with utahime had been the first time in a few days he'd left skylight clarkson. in fact, he'd been so busy, that he'd forgotten to charge his phone the night before. it was currently charging, thanks to utahime letting him borrow hers. satoru felt bad for failing to send you a text, but surely you'd understand if it was just one time. utahime wasn't a model like satoru, instead a manager for one of the labels. fashion week in februar and september were some of the only times they saw each other anymore. every february they swore they'd try to see each other more that year, but sepember would always be the second time they saw each other that year. their schedules just didn't allow for it. and even though satoru was a major pain in the ass to utahime, she prized his friendship. they made a point to spend as much time together during fashion week as possible, hence the drinks and lunch.
when the night had finally ended, satoru was exhasted and couldn't wait to return to his hotel bed. it wasn't as good as sleeping next to you, but he could fall asleep on a bag of dirt at this point. satoru stumbled into a taxi, giving the location of his hotel, and pulled his phone from his bag. it was charged now, and your youtube notification sat prettily on his lockscreen, which was a picture of you laughing with your head thrown back. satoru fumbled in the dark of the cab to find his headphones, finally pairing them to his phone and playing the song. "bags in your hand as you kiss me, tellin' me you're gonna miss me. promised me you'll be on you best behavior." your sultry voice entered his ears as the song started slow, a gentle piano and slow guitar riff. "gave me your flight information, call me when you land, say you made it. sweet little me told you, 'go have a good time.'" the song picked up the pace, transitioning into the pre-chorus and chorus. "i didn't mean forget about me, riding in a yellow taxi. who the hell are you on your way to?" satoru was almost too tired to notice the lyrics. almost. "you said i was yours, but maybe just on the west coast, cause as soon as you left home, you got wandering eyes.
"so i guess you lied when you called me special. you're not as smart as you think you are. who the hell is she, taking you from me?" as the song continued, he was more awake with every bar. "fuck you for making me crazy, while you buy her drinks out on eighth street." were you talking about utahime? wait, did you think he had done something? satoru was so confused, consumed by your obscure lyrics. the song ended too soon for his taste, none of his questions being answered by your final line. "baby, i know about the girl in new york..." your voice faded, his headphones going silent. having reached the hotel, satoru rushed to his room, immediately opening his laptop to do some digging. his phone had been silence all day, and when satoru opened his messages app to see if you had said anything, he was instaed hit with over three hundred texts from shoko and suguru. neither sounded happy with him, while satoru still had no idea what he did. before even acknowledging their texts, he went straight to your conversation. "darling, what's going on with your new song??" he typed out quickly, then added, "not that i don't love it! just kinda confused." he watched as delivered turned to read, which resulted in those damn three dots making two additional appearances before completely disappearing. satoru let out a groan of frustration, going to google and searching your names together. the first thing that popped up was an article from people magazine. "gojo satoru seen with another woman at nyfw." the headline read. fuck, how he hated the paparazzi.
satoru skimmed the article, not pleased with what he was reading. his confusion dissipated into annoyance, both towards you and the fucking paps. you always told him to be nicer towards the media, they were just trying to their job, but these fucking rumours were getting out of hand. how dare they make you think he would ever cheat on you? satoru didn't suffer a friendship with you for five years while being enamored with you every action for one damn article about him and utahime. all of those pictures had been taken out of context. the one where they were holding hands? utahime had tripped on a sewer grate and satoru had reached out so she didn't fall flat on her face. the one with his arm around her waist? they were both completely shitfaced and barely standing on their own. the ones about them at the club and the taxi? satoru can handle a drink or two, but uta gets hammered after two drinks, so of course he was going to take her back to her hotel and make sure she got up all right. that's what friends are for. but now, thanks to the media, he's got a lying article, pissed off friends and a song tearing him to pieces written by the love of his life, who may not ever want to see him again. great, just fucking great.
he dialed your number. you declined it before the first ring. he did this four more times, with you rejecting the call instantly. on the sixth call, there was no rings, and an automated voice responded, "i'm sorry, the number you are trying to reach is not in service or temporarily disconnected. please try again later. good bye." oh my god, you fucking blocked him. irritated with you, the media and with himself for making you feel so insecure, he scrolled to his group chat with shoko and suguru. neither of them were happy with gojo. he didn't bother to read all their messages, he got the gist of it. satoru hastily responded, "i didn't fucking cheat. the article's lying. one of you need to tell them that because i'm fucking blocked." he sent the message, standing in a silent fury. a moment later, satoru threw his phone at the wall with a yell. the device bounced off, falling onto the hotel bed. there was a small dent in the wall nothing extremely noticeable, and his phone was fine. "fuck," satoru breathed, sinking into one of the chairs in his room. he held his head in his hands, mind racing with what to do. an idea formed in his frustrated mind. it was stupid, but it was something. satoru grabbed his jacket and his phone from the bed, storming out of the hotel.
. . . THE SOUND OF SOMEONE POUNDING ON YOUR DOOR pulled you from delirium. groggily, you checked your phone. it was just past four am. who the hell would be at the door at four in the morning? you rolled over in bed, hoping whoever it was would go away. they didn't. they just kept beating at the wood. with a groan, you rose from the mattress. a headache slammed into you as you stood, and you had to sit back down to steady yourself. the last eighteen hours hadn't exactly been fun. after you uploaded "the girl in new york", you had turned your notifications for everything off. although, every five minutes you checked if satoru had texted you. when he finally did, you didn't know how to respond, the images from the article flashing across your mind and filling you with sickness and sadness. you had been out all day, drinking and trying to forget. after getting kicked out of two bars, you went home, where you drank more. throughout the night you emptied the contents of your stomach and eyes, vomiting and crying more than what felt humanely possible. it felt like you had barely lied down when the knocking began.
when you had mustered the strength to stagger your way to the door, you wished you had stayed in bed. a red eyed, messy haired, heaving gojo satoru stood at your door. neither of you spoke. what was there to say? he had cheated on you. you had retaliated with an exposing song. or maybe he hadn't cheated on you, and you simply misunderstood. either way, what had happened, happened. as far as you were concerned, he was here to beg for your forgiveness. you began to shut the door, but he stopped you. with a sigh, you let him in. it was his apartment, too, after all. you wobbled to the kitchen, leaning against the counter and pouring yourself a glass of water. satoru watched you in silence. "well?" you croaked out. "come to apologize? gloat?"
"baby..." he whispered, stretching his arms out to you, but retracting when you took a step back. satoru took a breath, steadying himself. "i didn't cheat," he stated plainly. "i know you think i did. but i didn't. uta is just a friend. i've never thought of her that way, and i'm never going to think of her like that. i'm not dating her, i'm dating you." his words sounded slightly reheards. he must've been practicing on his flight here. it dawned on you that it was four in the morning in los angeles, and seven a.m. in new york. satoru was missing fashion week, here, trying to fix things. a flight from nyc to la was just over six hours, so he would've had to get on a plane by one am est. he had texted you just after eight fifty p.m. pst, so eleven fifty new york time. which means almost as soon as he heard your song, he was on his way to the airport to fly to you. "please baby, you gotta believe me. those paps fucked everything up, the photos-"
"are they fake?" you cut him off. "the photos. are the fake? photoshopped or otherwise edited?"
gojo slightly squirmed, "well, no, they're not edited, but they were taken out of context." he rushed out the last part of his sentence. "please, love, just hear me out."
he looked like a disaster. satoru's normally bright irises were dim, the usual joy gone. he looked sleepless, violent violet bags forming like bruises under his red-rimmed eyes. his fluffy white hair was flat against his forehead, matted and lifeless. he was still in his work clothes, with his favorite blue jacket hanging open on his shoulders. satoru looked like he hadn't ate or slept in the last eighteen hours. maybe it was how pitiful he looked maybe it was how much you still loved him. but you nodded your head, allowing for satoru to explain. his sigh was audible, and some color returned to his eyes.
"okay, first, i love you so fucking much. i've loved you since that first night we met into the bar six years ago. if you don't forgive me tonight, or ever, i'm still going to spend the rest of my life trying to make up for the hurt that i've cause you from that stupid article. i didn't cheat on you, not with utahime or with anyone else. i spent five years trying to work up the nerve to ask you out, i'm not going to let you go easily." satoru meant every word he said, his tone convinced you of that. "second," he continued, "is that the paparazzi are always pulling things out of their asses, we know this. the first photo they talked about, the one with me and utahime at per se, where we were holding hands? her heel had got caught on a sewer grate, and uta tripped. i grabbed her hand to prevent her falling on her face, which honestly, would've been funnier." you chuckled lightly, and a smile formed on satoru's lips. from his perspective, this was going much better than he had anticipated. "the next photo with my arm around her waist, utahime was so drunk, she could barely stand. i was pretty drunk, too. we were the only ones keeping each other up. same with the pictures of us outside the club on eighth. i wasn't as drunk in that one, but she was pretty hammered. i didn't feel comfortable just sending uta off in a cab back to her hotel. something easily could've happened to her, so i went back with utahime to her hotel. nothing happened between me and her," satoru finished. quiet settled over you two again as you contemplated his words.
everything he said made sense. you wanted to believe him so badly, but you weren't there yourself. "okay," you said slowly, after what felt like an eternity to satoru.
"okay? wh-what does that mean? does... does that mean you believe me?"
you took a deep breath. "i believe you."
those three words were all he needed to hear. satoru rushed over to you, his body engulfing you in a crushing embrace. "oh, thank god," he breathed into your hair. when he pulled back, his blue eyes were shining once again. satoru almost kissed you, forgetting his exhaustion, but your hangover still gripped at you. you winced at his strength, your arms hanging limply at your side. satoru whispered out an apology, guiding you back to bed. before you both finally found the sleep you desperately needed, you mumbled, "i'm sorry about the song."
satoru laughed quietly, resting his head in the crook of your neck. "don't be, i think it's your best one yet."
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izanazqueen · 11 months
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.manjiro sano fem x reader
a/n: was hit with insomnia mixed with a little manjiro brainrot last night after staring at too many images of him before bed that brought the inspo for this piece. mikey is so precious i just had to get this out of my mind when it came up.*⋆.✩
warn: NSFW 18+mentions- use of pet names // intercorse // smut // public sex //
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.boyfriend manjiro that you can visually tell is obviously pleased by seeing you squirt and cum on his dick in the bathroom of his favorite ramen restaurant after one of his officers meetings. your head spinning, in a tizzy you felt elated as he purred, 'baby, wanna hear you moan for me.' your heart lept feverishly at his words, ' 'jiro, ..ssh, not here!' shocked at his sudden boldness you murmured softly as you could despite attempting to in that moment not make any one aware of the lewd, wet noises that were coming from the stall where mikey was railing you thoroughly.
-
it was late one evening when you and your boyfriend and the other captains from toman decided to go celebrate with a few drinks ever since they won the most recent battle they'd fought and you figured that you would invite them out after their meeting ended because they all had really deserved to unwind and have a fun night. pretty much every member was excited to go to their favorite local food destination that they got to visit sometimes, and your bf manjiro was no exception.
-
you however were ecstatic, seeing as it had been the first time in weeks since you could go out on a date together thanks to how occupied he always was with being the boss of the most elite biker gang around lately but he feels you honestly do understand him. he makes you aware of all the things that go on with them and you know all of what he does to maintain his position which over the time that you've spent together you really learned what it means to be in a relationship with the fearless leader of the tokyo manji gang.
-
they decided to challenge each other to a drinking competition based off a game played with a regular deck of cards that you had recognized and been somewhat familiar with from your childhood. while the evening progressed, you noticed how all around you everyone was laughing more and getting tipsy from the copious amount of booze they were taking in from playing the adult rendition of the kids game.
-
about 45 minutes in you began to feel a little buzz from your overly sweetened cocktail you were idly nursing that mikey happily picked out for you when you arrived and it left a tingling feeling in your mouth making your lips pucker whenever you took a sip of it. after almost getting to the bottom, the drink was really beginning to mess with your vision so glancing up after who knows how long you found your blonde haired partner positively beaming with the biggest smile painted on his face looking over at you and it felt as if your body would melt away. if you were being completely honest mikey had a strange kind of twisted spell over your mind and definitely your body. he was your muse and couldn't allow yourself to ever find doubt in him.
-
when both of you were first introduced he was always nervous and so shy. in the beginning, if you came around the group he would be so fussy with every little thing down to the last detail wanting it to be perfect when you were with him. he would always make the cutest faces when ever you would catch him sometimes from a distance admiring you when he thought you wouldn't notice him. the first time you showed up after a small afternoon gathering for toman, he didn't have any clue who you were just that you were one of chifuyu's classmates that he would bring up sometimes in conversations once in a while to hint at a possible hookup between you two (and later you couldn't have thanked him enough♡)
-
leaning in, he crashed lightly with his clumsy drunken lips against your earlobe and you could hear he was breathless. 'need you baby, right now..' he pulsed into you intently as he was fixated, deeply inhaling your scent. you could feel his heat rising in a place from where he had discreetly placed your hand over his member that was madly aching under you beneath the table. his stiff grasp against your thigh tightened every time he saw you smile at one of his friends jokes and when you noticed it, you turned and saw the rosy flush that had spred over his cheeks from the few drinks he had. you thought about how his face was so sexy, filled with adoration for you that you'd cum on the spot. though the moment when he started pawing up your skirt and eyeing you hopefully, you knew that would get what you desired.
-
after you gave him a subtle nod to confirm, nothing could prepare you for the way he basically flew towards the bathrooms with you in hand to 'use' the restroom when you caught sight of the other captains all looking subtly amused, some shaking their heads as they saw your noticeably aroused lover urgently lead you away from the table to some where he could be alone with you, unable to contain himself any longer as you tried to kindly excuse yourselves.
-
he was so needy and simply couldnt wait to fill you up, knowing how his unit fit so well inside you as he shoved your pretty skirt on the petal pink dress you were wearing to the side and forced apart your ever wanting thighs while you waited there, begging him to penetrate you. he entered and as he did his ebony irises watched quietly making sure that he got up in you without hurting you but still deeply inside enough for him to hear you hum knowing how much you loved when he forced himself all the way in.
-
the cold steel on your back from the metal divider of the bathroom stall felt jarring against your skin startling your body in sharp comparison to the pleasure he was sending flowing through you. you'd wished that you could both be at home right now in an actual bed, where you could really ride and fuck him with passion. also because of the fact that it's his favorite position to see you in, naked on top of him pleasing yourself with his dick as he pumps up into you while he eagerly watches your display, completely mesmerized.
-
he bit his teeth down, sucking on the small exposed part of your chest from the dress you had on, leaving his personal love notes that were so tender it made you mewl in his praise. he saw as you tried holding your hand over your mouth and giggled at the combination of how cute you looked in that moment and the feeling of your fluids running down his shaft that was pulsing, preparing him for what he was looking to achieve to you all along.
-
his thrusts he was putting up in your cervix had you on the edge of tears and when he noticed how you were in ecstacy, mumbling his name he quipped into your ear, 'mm, s' good baby.. cum for me.' while pumping his cock without remorse until you felt like you were going to break 'ah,m-manjiro!' your small plea escaped as natural as the air you breathe. there was no stopping yourself as you called out the name of your beloved who'd give you anything you desired especially the climax you were chasing that you so craved.
-
the two of you had lost control at around the same time when you heard both draken and baji's voices as they came in the bathroom to take a leak. they were mid conversation as you attempted to hold his body close to yours, in vain to silence the filthy sounds leaving your bodies in the stall that you both resigned, since mikey refused to listen to your desperate hushes and kept burying his dick inside of you, bouncing in and out of your folds that were so wet from how gratifying he was.
-
'i love you babe♥︎.' he hummed on your ear smugly as he stared up at you with a small satisfied grin before snuggling his face in your neck, leaving your heart in a frenzy from how his soft skin felt touching on yours. his bulging tip found your sweet spot and it took all of your power not to yelp out in relief as you started to spill your juices all over his cock again as you heard him exclaim ' just like that for me, ..m' gonna cum too bab- '
-
the hushed faint laughter quickly exited the wash room area and you heard the door close behind them. 'heh, shit think they heard us?' he smiled at you while still chasing his release. 'no, duh manjiro you are always so loud.' you quirked at him. '..mm sorry darling.' he proudly almost sang, pulling you closely as he brought his lips, pressing them against yours while pushing his tongue inside and swirling it around tempting you to play with his too. if there was one thing, he could care less about what his crew mates opinion of him was cause they knew at the end of the day that he was the one that they answered to. in that moment you could have cared less either, you were focused on only him.
-
lifting you up by your hips, manjiro felt his body getting closer to his limit and at the point he was at he felt when his knees started to shake slightly as he fucked up in you with devotion. you'd felt your third release start to come on and he left you in sheer bliss from how good he was using his unit to work your insides. you could feel the tight knot around your abdomen begin to unwind and with such intensity that you started to sob, 'm-manjiro fuck, i love you!' as you came crazily again with charisma.
-
his onyx eyes started to sparkle at the sincerity and fondness in your words and how truly he felt you meant them for him and he began whining your name as he started to release, quickly pulling out his cock soaked with your juices before any of his could spill up inside. 'fuc-' he breathlessly spoke after a moment, unable to manage finishing his thought let alone get a single other word out. your body slowly regaining what was some form of consciousness, hoisted yourself up with what little strength had came back to you, as you affectionately made out lazily while you both tried to recover your energy.
-
you knew in that moment, that you loved manjiro sano more than any one or thing else and you would do absolutely anything for him, cause we all know that mikey gets what mikey wants, no matter what or when he wants it.
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adelphenium · 21 days
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for your consideration: pawkey tknp. personally I think tk would be a weird little jack russell mix and Nolan Catrick would be a very big orange tabby cat. Thoughts?
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agreed !! 100% sold!!
big orange nolan catrick + yappy terrier konecny is elite; tysm for sharing :D💗💗
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moronkombat · 5 months
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Yo glad you're back!! Platonic hcs on being the Lin kuei bros youngest sister who's a cryomancer? How likely will the line blur to being your older brother to father figure with Bi-han? Kuai feeling alienated to their bond as siblings due to being a pyromancer. Tomas feeling more left out even when we try to
As much as I love fun healthy family dynamics, the dysfunctional fits more for them.
you have no idea how badly i had to resist making this dark and nasty
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Bi-Han:
Although he knows he is your elder brother, he treats you more as someone to lead and guide
His resentment for his father burns far too brightly for Bi-Han to sit idle and let him father you
He often speaks for you when it comes to interactions with your father and once your father dies, Bi-Han takes it upon himself to mold you into the perfect Lin Kuei
Very harsh and critical of your cyromancy and will have you train relentlessly until the technique is perfected
This is done not out of cruelty but out of concern for you and the desire for you to be strong and capable
Bi-Han plans for you to be part of his elite along side Sektor and Cyrax and so he needs to to be able to take care of yourself and have strength that can match his own
Kuai Liang:
Kuai Liang is the only one of his siblings that knows the kiss of a flame and when you were born, he was hopeful that you would too
Alas, you did not. You a cryomancer just like his elder brother but for a long time he held out hope that perhaps you'd be gifted with both abilities. This was wishful thinking
Still, this did not stop him from forming a close relationship with you. He's a protective brother but not overly so
Although he knows you will never wield fire, he still teaches you some of the skills he has in the hopes you can adapt them to your cryomancy. The results are mixed
Upon his departure from the Lin Kuei, he pleaded for you to join him but you refused to leave Bi-Han
Kuai Liang was absolutely crushed and even thought about stealing you away but what would that accomplish? You'd only hate him more
Now he must settle with the fact that you two will one day clash blades. It is no easy task for him
Tomas:
You were but a small baby when Tomas was accepted in your family and so you grew up knowing him as a brother
Tomas enjoyed playing with you when you were younger. It seemed he finally had someone to connect with, someone who wasn't so naturally gifted in elements
It did not last. Your cryomancy manifested and Tomas felt disappointed but kept it to himself. He told you he was happy for you
But the discovery of your abilities meant less time together. You needed to train and master your abilities
This left little time for you and Tomas to play like you always used to. That chapter of life so harshly closed and naturally you drifted apart from him
Tomas missed you horribly and felt even worse when you spent more time with Bi-Han and he often caught himself wishing things were different
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frownyalfred · 5 days
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i feel like fan works include a lot of clark and bruce meeting or interacting at a gala. is this something that actually happens a lot in comics? i can't think of any time this has actually happened in canon other than that one time in batman v superman
I don't think they meet for the first time at a ton of galas other than in BVS. There are several interactions that happen at galas in comics.
I think galas provide a very convenient and compelling vehicle for fic writers to create first/subsequent meetings. In no specific order:
they have to stick to their secret identities because they're being observed, which creates an interesting, if forced, scenario.
lots of room for OCs or in-universe characters to be mixed and matched depending on the situation at hand. oh you want Clark to be jealous of Bruce? let's have some models hanging off his arm. oh, this is about Bruce hiding injuries? let's have some random "friend" from polo come and whack him on the arm.
it's a somewhat plausible situation in which the press and the elite would, technically, be rubbing elbows. (as someone who attends galas occasionally I have some notes about how this is sometimes written, but it's usually plausible!) So Clark Kent might never see Bruce Wayne up close and in person if not in this capacity, at this event.
they allow for comparisons to be drawn. both Bruce and Clark can be shown acting in different capacities, identities, personas, etc than normal. they are both masters of their own respective games, and a gala is a great playing field to demonstrate this.
breaking the "rules" in this setting feels particularly egregious, and therefore desperate. does one of them truly feel a certain way they can't hide anymore? do they have some sort of intel that can't wait? when they meet up at a gala and pierce that invisible barrier between them, readers realize it's a big deal.
identity porn is 10x as compelling with an audience. "I know something no one else knows" is a powerful thought.
They have to get dressed up :)
Galas are temporary, isolated events with clearly defined beginnings, ends, etc.
Gotham galas are known breeding grounds for chaos and random attacks.
Any accidental media exposure at a gala has the potential to make the tabloids/gossip rags and create greater interest in a certain pairing, occurrence, etc. If you're setting up a media push (cough cough, ASOH) that's a great place to do it.
As I noted above, I have some thoughts on how galas/reporters interact irl. I actually think the BVS gala scene was a really good example of that being a little more grounded -- Clark was invited on a press pass specifically to cover the literary (?) foundation. He was there mingling with guests specifically assigned questions (that were probably pre-approved by the foundation/hosts) and approached Bruce Wayne, who expected to give a canned quote to the random reporter, only for Clark to go off the rails and ask about Batman.
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