Tumgik
#control writes
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rinse and repeat
His job was a grisly one- find the works of the avatars, document them, and then undo them. Then prevent them. Most of the avatars did not like him constantly 'destroying' their work. Most. Not all of them.
rated: T warnings: described death. AU: TMA Length: 1,500 words (short-medium) notes: i don't know much about TMA, but im having a fun time with friends talking about aus so :3
gift fic for @halfusek ft. magenda (as i unaffectionately call this one)
ao3 link here
The pervasive smell in the room clued him off before anything else. It was the sense of dread worsening that immediately followed, an apprehension that made his stomach knot. A flashlight was beaming towards his feet, red slick appearing at the edges of the fallen beam.
Johan did not want to turn on the light, though he could see the words superimposed on the wall above the small switch, a demand rather than a thought. Steeling himself, he flicked it on, filling the room with an unsteady, buzzing light. 
Immediately, regret- no, not regret, some other sad emotion- filled him. 
The filing room had a desk with three chairs in the center- or usually situated in the center, as they had been moved aside for a ladder that now took stage center left. A few papers were scattered about, ruffling Johan mildly. However, his job was not a pleasant one, and sometimes included observing mis-managed paperwork, and… other, worse things. Such as the corpse - his true purpose for entering the room. He noted the body, at true stage center, was perhaps two or three hours old. 
It was a gruesome death. 
Suffocation, electrocution, and decapitation all played their roles. 
It was hard to tell which had killed him, though Johan snapped on a pair of gloves, and set himself to documenting the gritty scene. 
A ladder. 
A box of tools. 
Electrician’s gear taken out. 
It seemed like Bert- the man had taken upon himself to fix a faulty wire. Johan followed the trail to the circuit board and fuse box, and broke past the paneling to see the back of the fuses. 
A group of four were miswired. The dead man had turned off the wrong one, without even knowing it. 
It made Johan frown and sigh. How pointless. 
He returned to the ladder, climbing upwards. Several wires were already dangling loosely, and Johan narrowed his eyes as he attempted to determine the sequence of events.
One of the wires hummed quietly.
Johan traced its path, noting the bloodied loop at one ridge. That would be the decapitation, potentially if the man had fallen forward. Pulling out a tape measure, he checked the likely trajectory. Unfortunately, it lined up. Which meant that indeed, the decapitation had happened last. 
A pity. 
It would have been the fastest death. 
Johan nudged the ladder. It was sturdy. He looked along the wire, along the corpse. 
The bruising by the neck was no longer severe, as it all had been, well, cut, but from what he could see, there had been significant pressure upon it. If Johan were to piece together the order of events (which was exactly what he was doing at the moment), he would have said as follows.
Bertrum turned off the fuse box, unaware that what he was turning off had nothing to do with the task he had taken upon himself. As the light switch was off, and the flashlight lay dimming, Johan decided that the man had not bothered to check the lights when he entered the room, setting down supplies. Had he paused to ensure that the fuse was off, he may have survived. 
Doubtful.
Some other unfortunate happenstance would have occurred, perhaps more grisly than this. 
Regardless. Continuing reconstruction. 
Bertrum had then climbed up the ladder, and began working on rewiring the faulty electrical system. A significant burn on his hand, searing through to his flesh, explained the rest. While he was removing the old wire, he had gotten entangled, and as he had tried to pull it off, his hand brushed an unexposed part of the live wire. Then, with his body stiffening to the current, he must have lost his balance.
Severing his throat on the wire. 
Johan was meticulous in his documentation. If he was not, he may miss something in the next run that would result in another failure. Or he might get himself… quite hurt. Usually the latter always left him snapping awake in his threadbare bed, gasping for breath and with a dull painful sensation in his chest, ready to try again. However, that was an outcome he tried to avoid. 
Speaking of things that one tried to avoid….
Johan heard him before he saw him, the slightly off rhythm gait giving him away. Glancing around the room with a sigh, he acknowledged that:
Magenta had some connection to the death;
OR
Magenta was drawn towards it, like a fly to rotting flesh.
It may have been both. 
He said nothing as the other lanky man entered the room, smiling. 
Magenta surveyed the scene calmly, suppressing a shiver of delight. He said nothing to Johan, who was marking which of the wires were live. Johan rolled his eyes, and went back to examining the bad wire to determine where its true source really was to make sure that when he corrected this misconstrued blip, he did it properly - once. Magenta watched him work with a smile blandly painted over his face.
Eventually, Johan pulled out a chair, on the opposite side of the table from the corpse, and sat in it heavily, another sigh fighting to escape him. Magenta watched keenly, though his eyes were half open. Johan moved back a second chair, silently expectant, and Magenta sat in it. 
“This one is fun, isn't it?” Magenta commented lightly, a smile still on his face. Johan shrugged glumly, staring at the paperwork before him instead of the body just beyond the desk. Unique, certainly; saddening, yes. Not quite so ‘fun’ for him, especially when one considered what his job entailed.  “Don’t look so down, Jo!”
“Kinda hard not to when there’s a dead body in f-front of me,” Johan retorted, brow furrowing and mouth twitching downwards. Magenta shrugged, smiling still. “And when it’s so….”
“Purposeful?” Magenta questioned, teeth glinting in his smile. Johan stared at him, not enjoying the shudder of upset that he tried to hide. Magenta noticed it anyway. “Well, maybe that’s not the right word. Artistic might be a better one.” 
“Right,” Johan mumbled. It surely was an artistic death. “Maybe the creator might have done well to warn me. Content warnings or w-whatever.” 
Here Magenta frowned. 
Johan looked away, abashed. 
“S-sorry. That was unkind of me. I’m on edge.” 
“Sure,” Magenta rolled his eyes, leaning back. Johan stood, picking up the clipboard, making some final measurements and documentations. “Don’t forget the dead fuse.”
Johan tilted his head as he looked at him. Magenta raised an eyebrow, a silent dare to check him. Johan saw no need to do so- as he would be able to check when he would do his… ‘cleanup’. Not to mention, despite the man’s goals, Johan trusted Magenta. Which may have been the fault of memories not his own.
The older man matched the tilt of his head, humorous.
“What?” he asked, a slight grin at the edges of his mouth. Johan’s lips parted to say something, and then closed. Magenta’s smile broadened cheekily, eyes flashing. “Oh, dear. Be more careful, Jo! We wouldn’t want…” Magenta glanced at Bertrum’s mutilated, burned corpse, fighting his smile from growing wider. “An accident.” 
“Why d-did you tell me about it?” Johan asked, faced with a troubled emotion that he locked up and decided that he would not think about or confront. Magenta’s smile remained unchanging. “Mag….”
The other man stood up, still evenly looking at Johan.
“You’re smart, Jo,” the avatar of The End chided, tapping the end of Johan’s nose. “Think about it.”
“The resetting, I kn-know,” Johan replied, pursing his lips. He knew why Magenta was much more tranquil and compliant around him than the other essences of fears, who generally disliked watching Johan undo their work time after time. Not Magenta, though. Magenta was quite happy with the fact that he was able to expand on his medium repeatedly thanks to Johan’s role. “But why warn me a-about the fuse not working? You know what h-happens to me if… an ‘accident’ does occur.” 
Magenta shrugged, smile still on his face. 
“Thought it might make your day a bit better,” Magenta brightly replied. Johan looked away, face warming. “I’m sure that whatever weird process renews you is no party.” 
“It’s… it’s definitely not, no,” Johan agreed, feeling pain creeping along his spine. He exhaled, softening, managing a small smile on his stressed visage. “So… I thank you.”
“It’s nothing, Jo,” Magenta’s own relaxed smile was dazzling, toothy and bright; yet sharklike. It made a trickle of fluster bloom in Johan’s chest, worsened by his next words. “I’m sure you’ll figure out a nicer way to thank me, don’t you think?” 
Johan did not reply, looking away, face heating considerably. Magenta laughed a little, a chuckle, and Johan’s blushing intensified. A hand brushed his cheek as Magenta sauntered out of the room. 
Johan watched him leave, words he could not describe resting on his tongue, unsure if he should go after the man, properly ‘thank’ him.
Instead, Johan checked his paperwork, inhaled, and reset.
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branchedman · 1 year
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hi yes boba/cassian? i can see them working together yes same fucked up childhood. yes. what do i have in mind? 👁👁🎙📸🤳🎤
sorry i went to have dinner anyway disclaimer that i have not watched andor so my cassian characterization is based on rogue one + all the time i spent thinking about him outside of that but yeah same fucked up childhood, same the people we work for don't give a shit about us as individuals, same we're just cogs in the machine, also this post that i made over a year ago so idk if it still even makes sense
(and of course the "saw gerrera hires boba to do odd jobs for his faction & radicalizes him in the process & then boba keeps running into cassian while working for the partisans and they antagonize each other/try to convert each other to their respective causes" au aka leftist infighting: star wars edition)
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piived · 4 months
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I am such a slut for Danny having supernatural strength and being able to kill someone with a single slap because he’s used to fighting ghosts who are built Sturdy (and literally can’t die, that is very helpful in a sparing partner) so he has to learn such meticulous control when he moves to Gotham where he starts regularly getting into scuffles with humans who think he’s an easy target (he looks like he has the sturdiness of a wet newspaper) and the whole time he’s more stressed about not drawing the Bats attention by being too good or accidentally killing someone so he has to walk that fine line of acting like a scrawny loser and dipping out at his first chance without being clocked as a meta.
Danny, laying on the ground and getting kicked repeatedly by a thug: *tries to angle himself so the guy can kick out a knot in his back*
Danny: *deadpan* oh, ow, stop that hurts, oof
Robin, watching from the rooftop and recognizing the dramatics from the Supers: father there is a meta
Batman, also watching and having flashbacks to Clark’s earlier days: *so so tired and already mentally getting the adoption paperwork ready*
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bluerosefox · 7 months
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Assassin Heir? Crime Fighting Furry? NOPE NO THANK YOU!
"Danyal, its time to end this game and return with me."
Danny should had known Clockwork had something in mind when he sent him on this mission. He knew he should had been suspicious of the time keeper when he noticed the little 'this is going to be fun' smile on his face when he sent Danny off into the portal.
"Get back here you demon spawn 2.0!"
But how was he supposed to know that he'd wake up in this world version of himself in a pit full of corrupted (AND NASTY) ectoplasim at the tender age of five or that when he swam up to the surface he'd be meeting face to face with what was apparently a cult.
"-O just spotted him a block away! I'll try to cut itty bitty bridie off!"
An Assassins Cult his, new to him, loving yet a little insane mother was in charge of (though during the few months he stayed in the compound he heard rumors and gossip from maids and others alike that if his grandfather returned from the dead he'll take over once again, no doubt punish Talia for creating another heir after the failure of the last one, most likely was going to kill Danny and that... that was can of worms Danny didn't wanna deal with yet)
"Ten bucks says they try to stab RR when we get the feral thing home"
"...Losers bet...."
Danny had lived with his mother for a while after being brought back from the 'dead' for apparently the first time, it turned out training a five year old with an actual sword and a dumbass hidden revenge seeking teacher was a terrible idea.
"I swear if this one tries to murder me like the others I'm asking Zatanna if there is a curse on me."
He dealt with her high demands of perfection, the endless training, and the constant comparisons to his apparent older brother Damain... Who didn't know Danny, or rather Danyal existed.
Nor did his father (when Danny, using his powers he's kept hidden since 'waking' up in this Realm, he sneaked his way around the base and discovered how he came into the world. And tbh he couldn't blame his mom how she made him, she was an assassin first and foremost, being naturally pregnant would had painted a target on her for to long... but he also felt it was unfair and an asshole move on his unsuspecting father as well)
"As your elder brother I demand you to stop running!"
Now don't get him wrong, he did like his new mother (total badass assassin lady and all that) and he knew she loved him in her own... deadly way. But yeah, she really shouldn't be taking care of kids. He could tell she struggled with wanting to be a normal mother but her first instinct after so many years was to be an assassin first.
Something she was trying to engrave into Danny with as well.
"Ah, hello Beloved. I see you've learned of our Danyal."
"Talia. Back away from him and leave Gotham now."
"I can not do that. The League needs an heir and since Damian refuses to return... I have decided to create a new one and I shall not be leaving until he returns with me."
"Talia."
Hence why when Danny, or rather Danyal al Ghul had gotten decent control over his powers he decided to leave the League. Again nothing wrong with the life his mom leads, to each their own, but he... really, really didnt want to be an assassin. Or an assassin heir.
So here he was, after almost a year on the run, using his powers and training to out smart and out maneuver his mother and her many band of Assassins, in Gotham. One of the last places he ever wanted to run to cause he knew his father and brother lived here.
It was just his luck that his mother had managed to intercept his train ride that passed into Gotham for a few hours and forced him to run into the city...
Add her assassins into the mix and running into Robin, who heard from Oracle his mother had been spotted chasing a young boy across the city, that same night.
After that it became a full on "catch me if you can" chase for not only his mother but for the batclan as well.
And after two whole days of chase, it seemed like the final showdown was about to begin because everyone was on top of this rooftop, his mother and her assassins on one side, his father and the batclan on the other and Danny well... he was right in the middle of all of it.
He just had to hope no one would notice him once the fighting started...
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zylev-blog · 3 months
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Danny and Sam were enjoying a date out in Metropolis when it happened. Superman had been mind controlled again, and was taking hostages. Neither Danny or Sam were worried, and were amongst the only people not running for their lives. They just sat outside the cafe, sipping their coffee and eating their food. As the ground began to rumble, they simply picked their coffee cups and held them in their hands to not spill the coffee within.
“So then Tucker says, ‘not my pda!’” Danny finishes, laughing along with Sam.
“I swear, he loves that thing more than life!” Sam laughs.
That’s when they heard it. The sunlight outside got a shade darker, and Sam and Danny turned to see the outline of Superman hovering in front of them. They both glanced at him, then at each other.
With a loud sigh, Danny out down his coffee. “Can you move a little to the left, Superman? You’re blocking the sunlight.”
Without warning, Superman reached out and grabbed Sam, who was closer to him. Sam grunted out in surprise as she was lifted into the air by her neck. Danny looked unconcerned.
“Seriously?” Sam asked, gesturing at Superman. “You’re going to ruin my necklace.”
“I don’t think he’s worried about your necklace, babe.” Danny leaned against the table, watching the encounter.
“Well, he should be!” Sam exclaimed. “I paid good money for it!”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible. We can just buy you another one once he stops choking you.”
“It’s not really like he’s going to get anywhere.” Sam agreed.
Superman seemed to take offense to this. His grip on her neck tightened, and while Sam’s face did flush red, she wasn’t gasping for breath or having her neck snapped.
“You remember the other day when I said Black Canary could strangle me and I’d be happy about it?” Sam asked, her voice a little breathless.
“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow, wondering where she as going with this.
“I like Superman choking me better. He would probably be better at it than a human.” Sam grinned at the Kryptonian.
“Shouldn’t he at least buy you dinner first?” He asked.
“You know, most boyfriends don’t talk so freely about their girlfriends being choked by other guys.” Sam pointed out.
“You’re right.” He agreed.
“But this is getting kinda weird. Superman, do you mind letting me go? This isn’t really working for me anymore.” Sam pointed to the ground.
A large crowd had started to gather around them. Some looked horrified, while others looked curious. Curious at Sam, who hadn’t died yet. Superman made no moves to remove his hand from her neck.
“Hey babe?” Sam asked.
“Yeah?” He took another sip of his coffee, completely calm.
“Can you record me beating up Superman so we can send it to your sister?”
“Why her?” He tilted his head.
“Little sister.” Sam clarified.
“Ohh. Yeah, sure, she’d love that.” He took a second and pulled his phone out—a latest WayneTech model. “Go for it.”
Sam wrapped her hand around Superman’s, and with an audible snap, broke his hand and pulled it off of her neck. Superman gasped in pain, but Sam wasn’t done yet. She proceeded to judo flip him and send him crashing to the Earth while she continued to hover in the air. She clapped her hands together and cracked her knuckles.
“This is going to be fun.” Sam grinned wickedly.
“You know, I could just touch his temple and cure him of the mind control.” He offered, but continued to record Sam.
“Don’t spoil my fun.” Sam flipped him off, then dove towards the ground. She kicked Superman in the nuts, then kneed him in the face hard enough to draw blood. She punched him a few more times until he fell unconscious.
Danny got up and stopped the recording. He walked over to his girlfriend and looked at the unconscious Superman. He bent over the man and pressed a finger to the man’s temple. Blue power briefly illuminated Superman’s skin, but it was gone as quickly as it came.
“You’re going to cause trouble for us.” He chastised her.
“But you love it.” Sam took his hand. “Let’s go home.”
She flew into the air first, but Danny took another second to dig into his wallet, leaving a $20 bill on the table they were sitting at. He then flew into the air after Sam, chasing her all the way to Amity Park.
—————
Six months later, and Danny and Sam were on another outing in Gotham when they were interrupted by Batman. They pulled a chair up for him, and eventually the man took it. They ordered him a coffee and a bagel.
“So, what brings you here?” Danny asked casually.
“How did you defeat Superman?” Batman asked, straight to the point.
“Huh?” Sam asked. “When did we do that?”
“Six months ago.” Batman responded.
“Ohh, wait— remember the day we went to Metropolis?” He hummed.
“Oh. I already forgot about that. Superman’s not pressing charges, is he?” Sam asked. “I do have a good lawyer, he’s just an asshole to deal with.”
“No, he is not pressing charges.” Batman grunted.
“Then what’s this about?” He asked, tilting his head.
Without answering, Batman opened a box on his lap. At once, the kryptonite took effect of both Sam and Danny, making their skin turn green and to writhe in pain. Just as Danny was about to take the box from Batman by force, the man had closed the lid and tucked it away.
“I had my suspicions.” Batman said, as if that explained everything. “So how did two more Kryptonians land on Earth when the planet was destroyed thirty years ago?”
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bixels · 1 month
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Posting a sneak-peak of this now because I'm about to be In The Shit school workload-wise, so this'll take me a while to finish.
Doing some character design exploration/expression sheets for Celestia and Luna. Figuring out Celestia's weird ass anatomy while I'm at it.
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whumpster-dumpster · 3 months
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Love it when a whumpee who's known to be especially emotive just goes blank. Dead quiet, glassy eyes, no thoughts head empty, especially if the change is super abrupt and unnerving
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ew-selfish-art · 6 months
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Dp x Dc AU: Bruce has a 'if you can't beat them, join them' mentality about the tabloids claiming he adopts too many kids- Developing foster homes that are paid for through the Wayne inheritance, personally vetted by the Bats, they're the leaders in the space for child health outcomes and family placement. Insert Danny.
---
Bruce has too much wealth, too many rumors and not enough reach into the abhorrent foster homes around Gotham to improve them. Tim ends up being the one to suggest it- He's the one who buys up their real estate for their safe houses after all- and Bruce is more than ready to pull the metaphorical trigger to get new clean welcoming spaces, Bat-background checked fosters and a new era of adoption in Gotham underway.
He's lobbied the state and the federal government for reforms of course, but this is a project he can micromanage. He spends time with every kid that comes through, talks with all the families that want to adopt and makes sure that these miniature homes are provided only the very best. Alfred personally hires all the staff, and with Barbara more than happy to help relocate the unhoused children she spots while they patrol, the project is a glowing success.
Occasionally, spots in their houses fill up, and those are the weeks were Cass takes on the Cowl of Batman- Bruce Wayne will personally invite a child in need to his home. He always has one of his kids present (they rotate on a pre-determined schedule) and he does his best to try and get them to understand that they deserve the world, have all the potential that anyone else has and can achieve a bright future. That he will personally aid them in their ambitions.
PR goes crazy for it of course, but Bruce and all of his children know its genuine. Almost too genuine, because a betting pool 'WILL THEY BE ADOPTED' regularly circulates between the siblings and the entire JL when someone spends time at the manor. And not just the black-haired, Blue-eyed kids get picked as favored outcomes- but obviously the running joke gets passed around.
It's a Thursday night when Bruce gets the call that the houses have once again filled up, and that there is a child in need of a home. The social worker (he knows her as Marsha and he has flowers planned to be sent on her birthday next week, like he does for all of his employees) (Say micromanaged one more time) explains that the kid is a bit cagey but has opened up with some humor. She explains that he has a few strange... mannerisms. She's not sure what to make of him, a non-gothamite for sure but something is, well, distinctly 'not from around here' about his energy.
Danny arrives at the house, meets Duke and Alfred, and by the time Bruce meets him at the dinner table it seems as though Marsha had it all wrong. This kid was laughing, he was teasing, he was totally playing along like he'd gone through nothing. Bruce is glad he's in high spirits but its just so... so different from all the other children he's taken in.
Bruce re-focuses on the conversation when Duke mentions something flashing, and its the first time that Danny goes quiet. Entirely still.
"...you noticed that?" Danny quietly asks, a bit of disbelief in his tone.
"You don't have a flashlight on or something do you? It was super bright whatever it is that you had in your hand a second ago?" Duke tries to sound chill but he's looking very much not chill. Bruce saw nothing, and that puts him further on edge.
"Look... I uh, I've been though... I've been through a lot lately. And the last lab I was in kind of, messed with me. I'm normally much better at dealing with it all, I promise." Danny sounds nervous, and the room seems to chill.
"Ah shoot, sorry." Danny notices something and frantically apologizes.
"Sorry for what Danny? You've done nothing wrong but I am worried about you- You said you were in a lab?" Bruce is desperately trying to calm him down while not slipping into Batman interrogation mode.
"Uh, yeah, like a lot of labs. It should get warmer in a second, its just cause I startled, I promise."
"You're a meta." Duke speaks softly and with hope in his voice- Danny is looking between them with wide eyes filled with fear.
"I mean I don't technically have the gene-"
"Danny, have you told any of your case workers where you were? Do any authorities know what you've been through?" Bruce needs to know, desperately, that who ever gave this young boy super powers is brought to justice. Danny goes quiet.
"I'm really sorry." He says softly, but he doesn't leave them.
Duke and Bruce try to ask a few more questions but the silence that meets them declares the conversation over, even with Duke admitting he himself is a meta. Danny didn't even look up from his plate. They watch a movie after dinner, and Danny seems to get back to the smile-y happy guy he had been before dinner.
Each of the bat-fam have their own interactions with Danny- And even if they're getting along amazingly, Danny won't open up. He doesn't open up to his provided therapist. Doesn't talk to Alfred. No one knows what's up.
So when Marsha calls Bruce back explaining they now have a spot for Danny and he can move out of the Manor... Bruce replies that he'd like to get started on Adoption paperwork, so long as Danny is fine with it.
---
Turns out, Danny is fine with it. he's both the newest Wayne and their newest case. (And godamnit, his new family is going to avenge him. If only he'd let them try.)
Danny figures out that Duke= Signal early on because of that dinner, and if he's going to keep his parents out of jail, he needs to be as close to the investigation as possible. He knows that he shouldn't protect the Fentons, but he feels the upset in his core at the thought of letting them befall any harm. He has to protect them. Has to protect Jazz and her hiding spot as a mole within their lab. Has to.
Even if it meant lying to his new family who loves him, and who he loves in equal return. Even if it means lying to The Bats.
---
Tabloids go crazy about the black-haired blue-eyed thing of course, but no poll was ever taken by the batfam or the JL who know the whole story.
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fandom-geek · 6 months
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i think the thing that really gets me about pre-canon durge is their absolute sense of duty, and their utter isolation outside of the cult of bhaal.
most of the cultists seem eager to see durge upon their return, and one even says they were the first to feed him flesh. gortash tells them of an exhibition of a bhaalspawn's corpse and another bhaalspawn's creations and durge immediately plans to attack the hall of wonder to recover them. they then apparently entrust said bhaalspawn's corpse to sceleritas fel to "restore" through taxidermy. they deride orin for her artistry with corpses explicitly because "bhaal will never care" and because orin "[does] not understand lord bhaal".
even their infamous prayer for forgiveness is framed around their absolute submission to bhaal's plans, and the crime that requires forgiveness? admiring his rival's chosen. that's one line, and the next three paragraphs are swearing to carry out his plan exactly as they've been told to, all for his forgiveness.
hell, even their room reinforces this. orin has barely touched the place aside from installing her mother's corpse and her manifesto - and that is some of the only decoration. what was it before orin, an empty room with skulls, a bed, a desk, some chests and a wardrobe?
the durge didn't have any semblance of a life outside of bhaal, aside from gortash. and is it any surprise? the only other hint they ever had a life outside of the cult is the flashback of kid durge murdering their adopted family, all thanks to their father's urging.
bhaal even tries to force them back into isolation after they've been tadpoled by forcing them to kill alfira, and then trying to force a durge who resists him to kill their lover. if they continue resisting, bhaal kills them. bhaal will not allow them to have a life outside of him and, if it weren't for jergal, he would've succeeded.
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luvrxbunny · 4 months
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i think Miguel would get turned on by little things. like little details that someone would normally overlook or have no reaction to
so what made me think of this is specifically when girls say to guys that they’re gonna like— “fuck the life outta him” because technically it’s the guy doing the fucking but i think the tiny bit of role reversal would haunt his mind. he’s distracted for the rest of the day. his boner that he acquired when you said that never goes away
also if omg— i think this is just gonna turn into Miguel secretly wanting to be dominated (or just generally wanting to be treated how he treats others in a relationship) so hold on tight
if you’re passing him in the kitchen or something and— AHAHAAAA okay wait
so Miguel is chopping something in the kitchen but you need to get past him for the fridge or something. so he’s chop chop chopping and you scoot by, resting your hands on his hips to lean him forward a bit with a small “sorry, baby.” as you scooch by. you’d just hear his chopping stop and he’s getting hard already. you have about 30mins before he’s fed up and comes to u begging.
AND IF U DEFEND HIM??? omg he loses his shit. like falling into subspace no matter where u guys are— maybe not fully under but man is slipping.
let’s say you’re at a bar w Miguel and you go to the bathroom for two seconds. a girl approaches him all like “wanna buy me a drink, handsome?” and he’s like “oh! i’m flattered but i have a girlfriend!! so…” she’s like scoff scoff!! “she doesn’t need to know” wink wink and that irks him. it’s rude to his character and it’s rude to u. “i would never do that to her” he’s done w the convo so he turns back to the tv behind the bar, opting to watch whatever is happening there rather than the bitch beside him. but she’s still yapping! “what?? babe.. this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for u!! u can’t bend your rules just a little? *batting her ugly lashes* for me..?”
he just straight up rolls his eyes at her. she looks nothing like you so— “you are far from what i’d consider beautiful” he doesn’t even turn to her as he says it— he’s done w the conversation! but this bitch starts throwing a fit. “you’re a piece of shit loser okay?? you don’t know shit about beauty!! have u looked in the mirror honey?? looking like a fucking meatball is not in style alright?? i was doing you a fucking—“ she’s going on and on. some of her comments are starting to actually hurt Miguel’s feelings a bit (w his body issues and all) he’s about to just get up and wait by the girls bathroom for you but he’s scared to be seen as a creep. he feels dread sleeping in. he doesn’t know how long he’ll have to endure this before you come back and you both can just leave. “you’re an ugly 👏🏻 mother 👏🏻 fuck👏🏻er okay sweetheart?? you—“
“i’m sorry. did you call my boyfriend sweetheart?” relief floods through him at the sound of your voice. his head whips to see you, you have a playful smile on your face— but he knows the anger hidden behind it. it sends a little shock of excitement through his body. the woman’s eyes are wide as she stares at you, like she didn’t believe him when he said he had a girlfriend. “i— sis, listen”
you cut her off “i’m definitely not your sister. go on.” she pauses for a bit— shocked at your coldness before continuing. “girl to girl. you can do so much better, okay? your man— although “loyal” he is—“ you cut her off with a genuine laugh at he way she put quotations around the word ‘loyal’. “baby? finish your drink, okay? we’re leaving soon.” you look right past the girl, barely acknowledging her presence. Miguel nods frantically and downs the rest of his beer as you turn back to the girl.
“look. he’s my boyfriend. my man. i don’t care what you have to say. i don’t care what you say he did but i bet you i can guess the entire scenario” you have a confident, almost smug look on your face that has a fire burning in Miguel’s stomach. “you.” you pause to look her up and down with a weakly suppressed laugh. “tried to get at him… and then threw a hissy fit when he rejected you.. right?” she’s obviously embarrassed, staring at her shoes with an angry look. “well he said that i was ugly.”
you’re grabbing your purse from the chair behind her as she whispers that last part. you can barely make out what it says but you’re not even surprised. “and?” is all you say before walking out with Miguel.
in the cab he’s silent, worried that you’re upset until you speak up. “sorry if i was a hit mean back there.” you laugh a bit embarrassed. you go on to say that you know you shouldn’t have been rude, that people should spread positivity and more but he has to cut you off
“that was so hot, baby.” you take in his obviously disheveled, incredibly aroused state and give him a smirk. “yeah?”
you end up jerking him off in the back of the uber 🤪
he’s super whiny, whimpering, and will not stop begging for more
when u guys get married he gets really into choking u cus it shows off his wedding band
omf you’d do something nice for him while he’s sick— like make him soup or something and he’ll get hard
“you- you made this.. for me?” you’re baffled. “yes..? Miguel you’re sick remember? oh god this is way worse than i thought… do you know where you are, baby?” he laughs. “i know where i am! i just— that’s so- that’s so sweet, baby.” you shake your head and give him a spoonful, feeding him like he’s a baby. you’re focused on his mouth, subconsciously making silly faces as you pour the soup into his mouth. he’s watching you the whole time.
after that spoonful you go for another but he takes the bowl and places it on the nightstand. “wha— you don’t like it?” he smiles and shakes his head at your immediate doubt. “i love it, baby” is all he says as he pulls you into his lap, pressing his dick into you and begging you to ride him for all he’s worth
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kenjakusbraincum · 5 months
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Heey, I LOVE your writings on soft sukuna, you write so beautifully🩷 please can you do one where he is jealous (fluff)😭🩷
Thank you sm for the kind words!!! Here's my best attempt at doing your idea justice <3
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Sukuna has no real reason to be jealous. He practically owns you, controls every aspect of your life, who or what could he possibly be jealous of? Every servant who dared approach you in an inappropriate way would be dealt with swiftly. And you're a good pet, who has eyes for no one other than your master. You really don't give him a reason.
But there's this one thing... Since you've been so good and obedient, Sukuna has allowed you many liberties. You're permitted to skip around the mansion, watch Uraume cook, even enjoy little hobbies. You've tried many before you found that crocheting particularly piqued your interest. Ever since you've learned the basics, you've been spending hours working on perfecting your skills. At first it was cute, watching you squint in concentration as you move the hook. But then the math became really simple - having this hobby to keep you busy meant you approached Sukuna out of boredom a lot less. And he noticed it. It irked him, but you're not technically doing anything wrong. You were still as happy to serve him as ever, he just had to ask. But why would he have to ask? You should be all over him on your own. He should have to push you away, not beg you to give him attention. He didn't like this disturbance in your master and pet balance that this little hobby of yours caused.
He stands at the door now. You're crocheting again. You and your favorite servant laugh at your failed creation so sweetly, you don't even notice he's waiting. He clicks his tongue to establish his presence, and your servant falls to her knees immediately. You however, are not held to that high of a standard anymore.
"Master!", you call him, and hop up to greet him with a deep bow. Before he can say anything, you've picked up the piece of fabric you've been working on and ran into his arms to show him.
He looks at the ugly form and scoffs. "This is what I'm sponsoring?", he says and pulls a loose piece of yarn, making your little creation fall apart. He always was a bully, but you note his bad mood.
"I'm only a beginner...", you sulk.
"That much is obvious.", he flicks the yarn away and it falls onto the floor. Before you can bend to pick it up, he seizes your wrist and pulls you back. "Aren't you a little young to waste time with hobbies for the elderly?", he asks. You look at him with your cutest, practiced doe eyes, but it doesn't work.
"Come, pet. I know an activity more suitable for your age.", he says when you don't respond, and steps out of the room. You hop after him, unaffected by his condescending comments. You know that they're just for show. If he really thought you were a hag, you would've been gone a long time ago.
"Sitting at your throne all day?", you tease innocently and join him at his side, sliding your arm underneath one of his. You hope your playfulness will distract him from whatever is bothering him. "Or in a bath?" His lower set of eyes peeks at you and smirks, noticing that you're feeling particularly daring today. He's not sure how he feels about that. "Or in your bed." He rolls his eyes gently and opens the door to his chambers.
"At least then you'd be serving your purpose and actually spending time with your master.", he comments and shuts the door. His comment catches you a bit off guard and you stop in front of his bed. He makes his way towards you, and you look up at him with an insulted expression.
"Master, are you jealous of a ball of yarn?", you ask playfully, and squeal when he suddenly pushes you down to sit on the bed. Now you're at eye level... with his crotch.
"You've got quite a big mouth today. Put it to good use for a change, will you?", he runs his hand from the crown of your head to the back of your neck. You seem to have struck a nerve, so it really is the ball of yarn. Is it possible that Sukuna is this clingy?
"Will you?", he repeats and tugs on your hair and narrows his eyes. You smile obediently and reach behind him to untie his obi.
"Yes Master."
-
You try your best to manage the time you spend crocheting from then on, working on productivity in the hours that you dedicate to developing this skill. And it helps that you have a specific goal in mind now: helping Sukuna realize that this hobby is a friend, not an enemy. He still catches you engaging in it sometimes, and gives you a dirty look, but you're as quick as ever to drop what you're doing and join him. That seems to satisfy him.
When you're finally happy with the result of your creation, you look for Sukuna around the mansion. It's not really that hard to find him, as he frequents three places most of all: the dining room, his bedroom and his throne room. This time, he's sitting on his throne, and a small line of people wait for their turn to be gifted his attention. You on the other hand, don't have to wait in line to get it. His lower set of eyes spots you the moment you enter the chamber. You're allowed to roam the mansion, but barging in unannounced is not standard even for you.
Still, Sukuna has learned that you usually only feel daring enough to cross boundaries when you're sure he'll like what you have in mind. So for now, he will let this slide. He's bored as hell anyways. The people are dismissed and you pass by them on your way to his throne, nestled on a pile of bones. You stop in front of it and greet him with a bow.
"Master, I come to you with a humble offering.", you say with your hands on your thighs and your eyes fixated on the ground.
"Show me.", he says simply, but you recognize entertainment in his voice. You climb up the bones and feel his stare scan you from head to toe, before you sit on his knee.
"May I ask you to close your eyes?", you ask and flutter your lashes. Oh the way you seduce him. Who else could ask Sukuna to do something as dangerous as close his eyes? Give his opponent valuable time to land an attack. Who else could dare? And who else would he ever listen to and really close his eyes? Really do as he's told? Oh how safe he feels with you.
You take one of his large hands into yours, and gently pry his long fingers away to open his palm. He has beautiful hands. The only ones you've ever known, but you're sure they're the most beautiful hands in the world. So dangerous, so elegant. You want to press a kiss to his palm, but you hope your gift will have the same, maybe even more profound effect.
Something soft touches his skin, and then you speak, as politely as before. "You may look.", in your softest voice. And when he opens his eyes, he finds himself looking at you first. You're an offering on your own.
Then he looks at his hand. Two crocheted plush figures resembling him and yourself lay flat on his palm, connected through their holding hands. At first glance, it looks like they're two separate creations. In a sense, they are, but... He tries to part them.
"We're sewn together.", you explain. He hums in amusement and inspects your gift more closely. His plush is bigger, recognizable by the pink hair and four buttons for eyes. It's even wearing his favorite kimono. Yours is smaller and less detailed. You look like any other human when placed next to him, insignificant. But in a sea of pets, entertainers and lovers he's had in the past, he would never fail to recognize it as you.
He's spent so long looking at it with that face of his that you just can't read. You're starting to grow restless in his lap, and he feels your eyes dwell into his soul. When he looks back at you with one pair of eyes, your brows are furrowed in worry and you're fiddling your hands in your lap. He pats you on the head and pulls you closer, so you have no choice but to lean on his frame.
"It's beautiful, darling.", his fingers run through your hair, scraping your scalp softly. "No loose threads either.", he looks at you with all four eyes now, and you feel so small in his arms. You're not used to receiving this many compliments from Sukuna at once. Not ones that weren't directed at your body or performance. Especially not when he's looking at you so tenderly, when every word sounds so loving and genuine. "You've improved so much.", his hand is on your face now, and you catch him glancing at your lips. You part them to start thanking him, but you already know how much he hates listening to that.
You stay quiet instead, and lean closer, letting him take you. And he kisses you so softly, fingertips light against your heated skin. You feel like you're floating, like a lily pad in a warm pond. The littlest gesture of his affection has you melting in his embrace. The power he has over you... and how wonderful it is to surrender yourself to it.
None of the liberties and privileges you've been awarded with compare to this. You know that many pets have walked these halls before you. Many warmed his bed and claimed the title of his favorite. But how many loved him like this? Enough to dedicate time of their day to making intricate gifts. How many could say Sukuna kissed them lovingly, for no other reason than to show gratitude and affection?
You're flushed completely red by the time his lips leave yours. You can't hold the intensity of his gaze, as he stares at you in adoration. "I'm happ.. I'm glad you l-like it...", you stumble through the words and win a giggle out of him. You are just so cute. Like a pet should be. He rubs your head again and pushes you away lightly.
"Go now, the people await me.", he says with a benevolent smile gracing his face. "I'll see you tonight."
You bow to him and leave.
And when you visit him that night, he is as gentle as he was when he kissed you earlier, still in a good mood after your gift. Caressing your hair, shoulders and back, as you lay comfortably with your head on his chest. Keeping you warm in his embrace. You're trying your best to follow the conversation, but sleep is slowly taking over you. Sukuna notices and plants a kiss to your forehead, wishing you goodnight. The last thing you see before your eyes close, is your handcrafted plushies sitting on his nightstand.
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insane-control-room · 10 days
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i dont have a pairing prompt but what if you just put some guys in a situation - working for the company? :3
tysm for the prompt <3
Coi_ Factory
Jack's in a bad mood. T'ḥiát takes care of it. May has a not great time.
ft. @greenghostlyjekyll's Jack & @ichaisme's May :3 based on a real conversation lmao
words: 1,250 general fic warnings: light/playful violence; coil-heads
Fic under cut!
Generally, Jack was pretty chill, T'ḥiát would tell you. But really, you should not trust T'ḥiát’s opinion for diddly squat, as they tended to be an idiot. People who had worked with them would tell you that it must be that TZP that they were constantly inhaling like it was oxygen that muddled their brain to hell and back.
Jack was chill, sure, but they also did not mind if you ended up becoming mulch, as long as quota was hit and enough was made to head out to that desolate, far away planet Titan. 
Jack, dissatisfied with the newbies, and finding that they had lost one of them on quota number two, decided that the 120 chip price was more than sufficient to enlist T'ḥiát’s services once again - an idea assisted by the fact that T'ḥiát’s price of a fresh TZP can (instead of the empty canisters that the company begrudgingly gave them as payment) was 70% off in the shop. Well worth it, in Jack’s eyes. 
Especially after they were bunked up with one of the newbies on the next moon, who asked something so stupid, so ridiculous, so uneducated about Jack’s home planet that Jack only looked at them like they were crazy and stormed off, hoping they would get eaten by a spider or something.
Unfortunately for Jack, the “or something” happened, and that something was ‘got back to the ship only minorly injured from a stupid fall’. 
T'ḥiát, darting around the ship in a spazzing manner that defied some law of physics (clearly trying to savor the canister of TZP, only using it on the moons) noticed their bad mood, and zipped over. 
“What’s the matter, Jacks?” they asked, bouncing up and down. They stilled suddenly, head tilting. Someone who did not know T'ḥiát might have been unnerved. “You seem a bit miffed!” 
“Nothing, nothing, it’s fine, just…” Jack gave a quiet growl. “Somethin’ stupid is all.” 
“You can always talk to me,” T'ḥiát shrugged, hopping up on top of the controls console. “Even if you think it’s stupid, if it’s bothering you, it’s bothering me.”
“Someone just asked me, and I quote,” Jack said, raising their fingers to make bunny ear quotations in the air. “‘Does Titan have coil factories’?”
T'ḥiát stared at them - or one could assume so, by the way their blank visor was pointed directly at them without moving. 
“Oh, no.” they remarked, in denial. “No one could know that little about the moons.” 
“Well, they asked!” Jack gestured without any specific motions. Their helmet was off, so they took the advantage of being able to pinch the bridge of their nose. “Like! Buddy! Where do you think all the damn coil heads come from, Experimentation? Yeah, right, the only good that place is for is faulty V-type engines!” 
“Who asked that?” T'ḥiát wondered aloud. Jack pointed at the person ringing the company bell, and growled, “The FNG, who else?” 
“I see!” T'ḥiát replied lightly. “I’ll go give ‘em a talk.”
“You go do that, buddy,” Jack grumbled, though their mood was a little uplifted. “I appreciate it.”
“A lesson they won’t soon forget,” T'ḥiát went on, probably with a smile. Jack blinked, raising an eyebrow. “Bye!”
Jack watched them leave, and put a stick of gum in their mouth contemplatively. 
“Alright. I guess.” 
T'ḥiát came back after a few minutes of chatting with the new employee. 
“Done,” T'ḥiát remarked. “We’re going to Titan next quota.”
--
The snowy expanse of Titan loomed around them. The FNG was already in the complex, gathering loot with T'ḥiát. 
Said addict slammed down into the ship, and nudged Jack. 
“Doing well!” T'ḥiát chirped, then pressed the can of TZP to the inhalation module on their suit for exactly nine seconds. Their voice slightly higher than normal, they went on, “Going back!” 
The next time they came back with a haul, Jack grabbed their arm.
“What did you do to the newbie?” Jack asked. “Why was she so excited to come here?” 
“I told her that there were no coil factories on Titan,” T'ḥiát replied calmly, ignoring the eye twitch that was no doubt occurring behind Jack’s visor. “I told them that there’s a coin factory here and that cash registers are all the rage.”
“Mhm,” Jack contemplated their words for a long moment. Then they nodded. “They're gonna die.” 
“Ya, probably,” T'ḥiát agreed, then their arm was by their side again, as though Jack was never holding it in the first place. “Unless I feel bad enough for them. Well, going back.” 
Jack nodded, and watched them sprint off, chuckling to themself as they went back to the monitor. 
Sure enough, there was a red dot in front of the new guy. 
The new guy was strafing, one inch at a time.
Jack leaned back and smiled.
--
“Uh… can I get a bit of help?” 
The newbie’s distressed voice bounced along the corridors. T'ḥiát sighed, making their way to the sound's origin. 
“Ask nicely!” they called out, gauging the location of the lost employee. “Quick!”
“Please?” 
T'ḥiát came up swiftly, tilting their head and walking up to the coil head. They circled around it, and nodded once. 
“That there’s a coil head, alright,” they commented unnecessarily. The new guy gave a wheeze of fear. “Don’t you worry, I’ll get you out of here just fine. I see you got your cash register. May, was it?”
“Yeah- yes,” May replied, trembling hard. “I want to get out of here. Now.” 
“Calm down princess,” T'ḥiát soothed, shaking their can of TZP. “If you want, you can have a bit of this, it’ll help your nerves. Just promise that you’ll apologize to good ol’ Jack about the coil factories question when we get back. They got pretty offended by it.” 
“I didn’t think that it was an offensive question!” she defended herself with some bewilderment. T'ḥiát sighed and pushed her along. “Where are we going?” 
“Fire exit. Keep moving forward. I’ve got Mr. Crybaby.” 
“Crybaby?” 
“Don’t question it. Make a left. Your other left.” 
“To the glowing red dot?”
“That’s it. Right out there.”
T'ḥiát waited until they heard the door shut behind them before they phased through the crack.
May was breathing hard outside of the door. T'ḥiát nudged her to get her to start moving. 
“You’re a jerk,” May hissed. T'ḥiát shrugged. “I’m going to- to hurt you.” 
“Sure, doll,” T'ḥiát replied, just as peppy as usual. “That’s a nice cash register you’ve got there. Better make it count. Better crack my skull open in one shot.” 
“I’m not going to do that!?” May gasped, shocked. T'ḥiát tilted their head at her as they jumped down onto the lighting - May taking the stairs, like a normal person. They asked; “Why not?” 
“Because- because I’m not going to kill you!” 
“Coward,” T'ḥiát hummed. May stared at them through her visor. “Jack’s probably going to kill me when we get back onto the ship. Be more like Jack.” 
“Why would they kill you when we get back?!”
“You.”
Sure enough, as soon as they stepped onboard, Jack clonked T'ḥiát on the head with a shovel. They dropped like a popped balloon. May did not like thinking about the fact that their suit looked the part.
--
“Why did you save them!?” Jack demanded when they were in orbit again, shaking T'ḥiát violently. They shrugged, now next to the computer and out of Jack’s grip. “T'ḥiát! Stop teleporting!” 
“I don’t teleport. Also - I felt bad.” 
May rang her cash register. 
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branchedman · 2 years
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haven’t actually sat down and made this squad of oc clone troopers yet but you can’t tell me the 212th given a little bit of downtime wouldn’t devolve into jackass-level shenanigans:
“Uh-huh,” Cody says. “And what was your squad doing, in these holovids?”
“Physical training, Sir,” he says, and he has the audacity to look bored by Cody’s questioning. What are the Kaminoans putting in these new batches?
“These exercises don’t exactly look regulation to me, trooper,” Cody drawls.
“We were improvising, Sir,” the squad leader answers.
Cody resists the urge to bury his head in his hands.
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fleursdesmorts · 11 months
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every year people get angry when ao3 requests donations but honestly in a world where almost all spaces online are slowly being eaten by corporations which censor the content on those sites, having a fan-run fan-sponsored place where people can create gay art without fear is great
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ardentlylesbian · 4 months
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Can you imagine kissing me hard and pinning me against the wall? Feeling me arch my back against you and moan into your mouth, so aroused from how you take control. Keeping my wrists held with one strong hand so the other touches me freely.
Can you imagine pushing my tiny dress up around my waist and ripping through my fishnets? Rubbing me through soaking wet lace as I try desperately to grind down against your fingers.
Can you imagine pushing my panties to the side and slipping your fingers inside me where I’m wet and warm, filthy sounds coming from both my mouth and my pussy as you finger me mercilessly. Feeling me clench around you. Hearing me moan your name.
Can you imagine the way I’d whine and gasp when you pull your fingers out just a moment too soon? My whole body shivering from the ruined orgasm, my lips finding yours as I whimper and beg.
Can you imagine grabbing me by the waist and tossing me onto the bed on my stomach, then grabbing my legs and pulling me down so I lay bent over the edge? Or the low moan I’d let out as you sink your strap deep inside? Or how I’d clutch the bedsheets for dear life as you fuck my brains out?
I can imagine that
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nyanbinary-catboy · 1 year
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"You're such a good pet," they tell me.
"I'm such a good pet," I repeat.
"So blank and obedient," they say.
"So blank and obedient," I say.
"You don't need to think."
"I don't need to think."
"You can't think."
"I can't think..."
"Pets don't think, they obey."
"Pets don't think... they obey..."
"Pets are horny for their owners."
"Petsss are horny for... for their their owners..."
"You're a horny pet."
"I-I'm a... hhhorny pet..."
"You're a horny, slutty, dumb little pet for me to use."
"I'm ahhhorny, slutty, d... dumb little pet for you to... to use..."
"Good pet."
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