For the person commenting on not taking a pay cut, he HAD to change his lifestyle to be able to afford to pay his employees a living wage. He talked to accountants and they helped him break the numbers down based on data about the cost of living and various factors about the commute, housing issues, etc. All inspired by his best friend going nearly into debt over medical costs meanwhile he had several houses, a jet, and drank champagne daily.
He sold stock, houses, and changed his spending and as a result, his employees were overall happier and the way they worked improved. They all bought more shit and had more kids and did all the consumption people want for us while also enjoying their work and their boss enough to band together and buy him a fucking Tesla as a thank you.
And you know what he realized after taking his pay cut? He didn’t need the champagne or the girls or the “lifestyle” of being a billionaire. He feels fulfilled in his work and with the people he’s surrounded himself with and he feels that he’s made a step in the right direction that other businessmen and billionaires should follow.
Please read the article and his statements on twitter because it’s eye-opening to see that you CAN be successful doing things ethically.
my fav Junji Ito story is the one with the /fit/ neighbor guy who lifts gravestones for the ulimate gainz+attention combo and who gets kicked out by everyone because he won’t fucking stop lifting their ancestors graves every goddamn night in his underwear
alisa with her intern… under a cut because it’s extremely nsfw & contains triggers up the wazoo.
It had been awhile since they had conversations, really. She kept him busy at the office for days, but things had…changed. Alisa had taken on extra work, convinced Richard he needed time to be home. For his health, she had said. After all, he wasn’t any good to her if he was sick from being overworked. He’d been in bed for a full day. Hadn’t returned any of her calls, and the messengers came back with the details that the door was locked. A frown set upon her lips each time, and had she known he would blow her off after the order? She wouldn’t have sent the useless bastard home. While she was the only other one with a key to the door, she couldn’t send the messengers with it- the home had valuables. And with it being her home, one would assume that the poor kid would have answered the door.
Today, instead, she simply gave everyone a paid day off. She hadn’t truly been back in her home in a few days, opting to sleep in the office. Grabbed a room at the nearby ‘hostel’ type. Kept herself clean, fed, simply sent someone to buy a new outfit if she needed it. But it was time to overcome the nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. The truth was this- the two of them had been in an awkward place after the news of Sam’s death came to her office. Sure, they hadn’t even been together (had they ever?) and she was with Dick, but… Hell, it had been a month since the news happened. And she had a hell of a secret about it. Maybe, just maybe, telling him would be the best thing for their relationship.
After all, she had agreed to marry him.
The path up to Olympus Heights was filthy, again. As if it wasn’t bad enough that the entire damn city was coming down around them, the people didn’t care enough to keep it clean. Huffing in annoyance, she took to walking quickly. There wasn’t any time left to waste. By the time she reached her door to insert the key into the lock, she was practically sprinting- her heels clicking loudly on the concrete flooring. It opened with ease, her skirts sweeping inside in one fluid motion. Making note of the state of disarray, she locked the door behind her. Sweeping her chocolate curls behind her ears, Alisa set up the stairs to the bedroom.
Dick was laying in the bed. He didn’t greet her, but simply lay- staring off into the unknown. Alisa fought a smile as she slid her shoes off and sat on the bed near him, not looking at him. She reached for his hand, cold as the room around her. Giving it a gentle squeeze, she inhaled sharply. The truth had to come out.
“Richard, I-” she started, unsure of where to actually begin. “Sam. You remember Sam, yes?” Her voice sounded proud- her English was improving. Dick had taken so much time to teach her. She should have been grateful. “I loved him, you know. And when he died… I could not handle the heartbreak. It was the first time I ever used ADAM, you know. I froze Twilight Fields. And to this day… I hope she was in there with him. To take care of him in whatever is after this life.” Her voice transitioned into dreamy as she went on, as if it was a fantasy of some sort. Something she imagined doing so many times, and finally had the nerve to. Alisa turned on the bed, sliding her form up to Dick’s.
She lay her head on his chest, sliding an arm around his waist. “But you.. You will never leave me, will you? You love me as he did not…” Quieting, she reached up to caress his cheek. Cold, so cold. A smile crept across her lips as she pushed up slightly to kiss his cheek. Her lips pressed against cold cheek, and she pulled away slowly, smoothing his hair. “I see the medicine I gave you worked… Now you can never leave.”
Because his skin was a twisted shade of blue. The blue of ice reflected in the deep of the ocean. His eyes were glazed, lips void of their fleshy tone. His body was rigid against her, just the way she liked him. Silent, not able to create a rebuttal against her feelings. No longer able to degrade her for having loved before him. Because Dick… Dick was dead.
[HUGE TRIGGER WARNING FOR VIOLENCE, BLOOD/GORE, AND TORTURE! this is an old one that i had written for a hateship, and i’m really glad i found it again. please don’t read this if you’re squeamish. under a cut for triggers and the extensive 1.4k words uwu]
1957; Apollo Suites
Her feet were crossed at the ankles, worn leather boots donned them. Rising to nearly mid-calf, the cognac color melted into the black of her pants, though they were not as fitted. Long and lean, knee bent ever so slightly, up to her hips- where met with a black blouse. Fitted through the arms, enough that the fabric wouldn’t cling when wet- precisely what she needed for this. Her fingers held a knife, which she slowly twirled between them- gloved, of course. The lock to this home hadn’t been hard to pick, but perhaps he was simply too trusting. After all, he had the protection of, essentially, Andrew Ryan. Well, he had. Had.
Until he told her he wanted out.
To Alisa, he essentially slapped her in the face. He suddenly wasn’t okay with their ethics, their job. The moral high ground was where he chose to run, citing that he had a family to think of. Perhaps what disturbed her the most of his decision was his sudden claim that they were a group of sadists- psychopaths, even. She simply did her job, the same thing that had been asked of her for months, now. The same things she told them would be asked of them from the beginning. And truthfully, she had a theory why he was suddenly backpedaling so quickly, back to the depths of the shithole he came from.
Jacob Norco was scared, simply a Parasite on the Great Chain.
The front door clicked, as she hadn’t bothered to lock it again behind her. She heard his voice, whisperings to his family- the wife and two children. She sneered, waiting for him to enter his office- the very first place he runs to. And she knew, because there was a gun sitting in the very desk that she rested her feet upon. She’d let him have it, sure, there wasn’t any form of ammunition in it, anyway. And the moment that he would panic… She would savor it before she let him to his fate. To the suffering he would certainly be forced to endure.
And if he survived, she’d be sure he was known for his betrayal.
The door to his office stood ajar, and she saw his shadow before he made it to the doorway. “Come in,” she purred at him, accent pouring through her words. Sounding alluring, almost… as if it was an attempt at seduction. But let it be made clear- there would be no such action. This visit was not social, but business. To take care of and end a working relationship. For sad as it may seem, one simply couldn’t walk away from the Aoi Tori! And he was to learn this, and be made an example of. Perhaps she’d even sign her handiwork, this time around.
He appeared finally, leaning against the doorframe. They shared a moment of intense silence, tension so thick it was nearly suffocating. She motioned for him to sit across her, as if a client. Hesitance, before he sat, eyes on her. Without missing a beat, she plunged the knife into his palm, effectively trapping him in his seat. But he didn’t cry out, though the edges of pained tears were apparent on his eyes. He said nothing, as she grinned at him. He was going to be tougher to break than she thought.
Blood had already begun to pool around his hand, and she came around the desk, her expression twisted into a form of mockery and anger. Resting her palm against the edge of the handle, Alisa licked her lips, savoring the pain in his eyes. He knew what was coming, they both knew. His mouth opened, then shut again. Shaking her head, she placed a finger against his lips. “No more words,” she whispered to him, twisting the blade in the top of his hand. He grunted, but did not cry out. Shaking her head again, she pointed towards the door.
“Call them,” she ordered, but he ignored the request. Alisa sighed, gripping the blade. “Call them,” she ordered again, with more edge on her voice. He did not want her to search for them, their fate would be worse than his. He again ignored, earning him a frustrated grunt, her left fist meeting with the center of his face. Hard enough to certainly break his nose, but not cause more damage- she needed him to stay conscious. Blood poured from his nose, and she sighed. This was going nowhere.
From the corner of the desk, she reached for a piece of rope, tying his free hand to the chair. “Wait here,” she purred, almost crazed, and headed through the door. She could hear his sudden cries of anguish, knowing what he’d done. That she wasn’t about to just leave him there to be found- he was an example. The family stood at the front door still, and she clicked her tongue, shaking her head. Crooking a finger towards herself, she kept her eyes on them, so they could not run.
“It will be easy if you follow. Run and suffer.” The threat was very, very real. The Wife said nothing, and stood defiantly. A sigh escaped Alisa, as she stalked towards them. “I warned you.” Reaching out quickly, she grabbed the woman by her hair, and yanked hard- dragging her behind her. “You two. Follow.” The children didn’t hesitate to listen, struck by fear. A feeling of elation filled her, and the four of them entered his office, where he sat helpless in his chair, the blood already becoming sticky. The Wife gasped in horror. Alisa tossed her towards the back of the desk, motioning for the children to follow.
“They did not need be involved,” Alisa said to him, reaching out to brush stray hairs from his face. “This is your fault.”
Within moments, the Wife and children were tied together, tightly. Her expression had softened, almost as if she felt for the Wife, before offering her no sympathy. Standing, she smoothed her blouse, stepping back over the desk. Palming the knife, she tore it from his hand- which by now was entirely useless. “Now you watch,” she said gleefully, returning to his family. The Wife would be easiest. Alisa plunged the knife into her sternum, allowing her to bleed out, but not quick enough that she would die before her family. The woman gasped and choked, and Alisa surveyed the children.
And quickly, she decided, they would not be touched- by her, anyway.
Looking back to him, she shook her head. “This is what happens. You cannot walk away. You cannot get ‘out.’ You knew it was until death- and this is death.” Taking the flask that was tucked into her blouse, Alisa doused the wooden desk with liquor, removing a matchbook, striking one, and dropping it on the desktop- which immediately burst aflame. There was silence and horror on his face, his Wife struggling to breathe, children screaming.
“You cannot save them, Norco.” A caress to his cheek, and Alisa dropped a kiss on his forehead. “In the next life, may you have the honor you lack in this one.” As she left his home, she could hear his screaming, cursing her, cursing Ryan. Damning her to hell. She laughed. Didn’t he know- they were all damned anyway, here in the bottom of the ocean?
The door clicked behind her, and she made sure to keep it locked and bolted, placing a notice on the door. It was signed with a bloody print- his own blood. It read ‘WHERE IS YOUR GOD NOW?’, the ‘A’ smeared across the bottom with his blood. Wiping her hand on the torso of her blouse, Alisa slid the knife back into her boot, before slipping back into the shadows- and back to the sacrilege of the Aoi Tori. Back to her home, where she sat on a throne- untouchable. A lesson to her members, you cannot run away from what you are.
[UNDER A CUT CAUSE SMUT. it’s very long, i am not sorry. should have written romance for a living. enjoy.]
When Andrew had called her into his office, she had expected it to be her getting yelled at- again. Things lately had been rocky between them, their business relationship beginning to fail due to circulating rumors. Or, well, that’s what she had assumed his distant nature was for. The soft smile on her face was pasted, she was a complete bundle of nerves. Was this it, was she finally being fired? But no, the man behind the desk was all smiles.
“Alisa,” he began, motioning her in. “Do lock the door. Our business to discuss shouldn’t be interrupted.”
She nodded, punching the lock code without question. Dread filled her as she crossed the room to him, not taking the seat in front of his desk. Instead, she stood, hands folded primly in front of her. In silence, she waited for a reprimand, the “you’re fired” speech. But it never came. Instead, Mr. Ryan rose from his desk, rounding it to stand behind her.
“Surely you know why I called you here,” he murmured, hands on her sides. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she could only exhale a gasp. He chuckled, breath hot on her neck.
“I’m sure you’re aware of the circulating rumor, Miss Volkov?”
Unable to find her voice, she simply nodded. This response seemed enough to him, as she felt the fabric of her dress begin to inch up her thigh. She shivered, though unsure if in anticipation or fear. A hand met her thigh, fingertips inching towards her core. Her heart hammered in her chest, so loudly she was sure he could hear.
“M-mister Ryan…”
“Shh, there’s no need for that here.” His fingers pressed against her as she began to protest, her breath instead hitching in her throat, coming out as a strangled gasp. The other hand followed the curve of her bottom, to the top hem of her panties. And not gently, he yanked at the fabric, causing it to tear. She said nothing, but silently cursed at him- she liked that pair.
He teased her with his index finger, thumb gently circling her clit. She uttered a moan when he inserted a finger inside her, pushing it deep. Repeating the process a few times, Alisa found herself using the counter to hold herself up. The sudden absence of his hand caused her to turn her head, where she caught the belt of his pants sliding out from his waistline. Shivering with anticipation, Alisa licked her lips.
The hem of her skirt flipped over her waistline, exposing her bare ass. Without warning, the belt in his hand cracked across her skin, and she let out a hiss of pleasure. She could hear him mumbling something to her, in Russian. But her mind was swimming.
His hand swept across the red marks where the belt had met her bare skin. He inhaled sharply before burying his hand in her hair, yanking her towards him. “You’re causing me lots of trouble, Miss Volkov. I hope you’re worth it.”
Alisa said nothing, as he moved her enough that she was seated on the desk. And she knew exactly why- the expression on her face. Impulsively, she reached for the waist of his pants, desperate to free him of them. He allowed her, eyes fixated on her hands.
Finally, she freed him, taking in a deep breath as she held his length in her hand. “Andrei,” she breathed, leaning forward to, for the first time, meet his lips with hers. Surprised by the passion he met her with, Alisa groaned, guiding him towards her entrance. Luckily enough, there was less work to do- she was already slick from his rather talented fingers.
There was a low groan emitted from deep in his throat as he entered her. For a moment, there was silence. Then, forehead rested against hers, he began rocking his hips, slowly guiding in and out of her. Something escaped her, some random words. Almost incoherent babbling. He chuckled, but wasn’t fixed on her expression, but where their bodies met.
His breath came out a low hiss, hot on her chest. Pace quickening, Alisa moaned, her hips moving against his. Almost matching his pace. A hand took a fistful of hair, yanking her head back to meet his gaze- hot and commanding. Her own wild and bordering on the edge of losing it. She felt him shift subtlety, and slam into her, right against that sweet spot. She cried out, arching towards him.
One arm came around her, holding her there, thrusting harder. His breathing came in short spats, a grunt inbetween. She felt pressure building in her, dizzying sweet as her mouth opened in a silent scream. It overtook her and she reached for him, nails digging into his side as he slowed, giving a final few, hard thrusts.
Her body felt limp as she slumped, head against his chest. She didn’t expect to be held, nor did she attempt to cling. Once she was able to breathe again, she slid off the desk, straightening her dress.
“Is there… Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Ryan?”
Nonsexual acts of Intimacy - Your muse falling asleep with their head in my muse’s lap. (the wording on this is weird. I’m assuming that she’s basically holding him k)
The field was green- lush and full, dewy from an earlier sunshower. Their blanket was thick, red woven with intricate golden filigree. It was her favorite, so he obliged her whenever they were here. There was laughter as they sat in the sun, watching the patrons of the park around them. Alisa teasingly threw grapes in a half-hearted attempt to land them in his mouth. It was more amusing to watch his reaction as she failed, truthfully. He’d make jokes about how her sniping skills must be rate, and a sad silence would fall; reminding them that they were, in fact, still in a war. Despite the small reprieve they had of each other’s company. Aldo pretended not to know where the two would sneak off to, as guidelines typically forbade that they met outside of squadron planning.
Alisa cast her eyes away from Hugo for a beat, watching a family play with their child. “It is sad,” she commented bitterly. “We will never have that.” She turned back to him, to be met with a lingering kiss. She pulled away slowly, a dull ache beginning in her heart. The sunshine beat down on them as he lay back, resting his head on her lap, talking about the clouds. Alisa pretended to listen, but was enthralled by how this simple task took years off the hardened German’s face. Subconsciously, she moved her hand to stroke his hair. He fell silent, closing his eyes to relish the feeling. There wouldn’t be too many more days of this before the next phase of their plan went into play.
He spoke her name, rough accent chopping it just a bit. Alisa chuckled, leaning to kiss his forehead. “Do not worry, lyubov moya, right now we have all the time in the world. Let them see us this way. We are human as they.” His response came in German, and she sighed. The world around them seemed to slow as his words turned into mutterings, and he finally fell silent as the calm of the park took him to sleep. A smile crept across her lips as she brushed a loose hair back from her face. It was funny, how this one man took her heart in the palm of his hand and lit it so intense it burned. And even if it was only for now, they could enjoy the one thing they had tying them to this reality- their love.
// Under a cut for obvious reasons. There is torture. There is gore. There is violence. Weak stomachs really should stray from this one. But it’s how things were done, so… //
1958; May Day.
Curfew was quickly approaching, and only half the members had shown. This was a great insult. One that would be remembered for quite a long time, severely punished. They took an oath when they enlisted, one to come when they were called. They couldn’t afford the risks of losing to Atlas. Her face was stone, waiting at the door for the other members to arrive. But they weren’t coming, and everyone knew it. But she needed to seem confident for them, the morale was sorely needed. Whatever it took, they needed this. To get the upper hand over Atlas.
Finally, she locked the door to her apartment. The final announcement happened, the security bots began to whir outside her door. Whoever was coming now? They were dead. She wasn’t fighting the security system for them. It’d jeopardize their position. She had a good thing going still, working on the side for Ryan. Still, it left a feeling of unhappiness in her- this is just what she needed. A deep-set frown took over the previous expression as she turned towards the entertainment area of her apartment. They were half-mass at best, a few more than ten others sat in front of her. It wasn’t enough, and they all knew it.
Drinks were passed around silently, each person afraid to look at another for fear of showing each other what they all felt- anxiety, disappointment, fear. The general consensus that they’re going to lose the war. That they couldn’t prevent it from starting. Taking her seat at the front of the room, she sipped her drink thoughtfully, eyeing the lot around her. She, their leader, one who was supposed to be fearless, lead without hesitation, sat there… Completely and utterly afraid. She knew their ranks were dwindling day by day. That more and more of them were defecting.
This would not be tolerated.
She cleared her throat. Now a smile tugged at her lips. One that held a dangerous edge. Raising her glass, she spoke finally. The Russian accent unmistakable, no matter who you were- you knew who she was. “Comrades,” she said with an air of confidence they all knew she did not feel. “Tonight is important. Tonight we weed out nonbelievers. Tonight… we make an example.” Of course, it would be through the backroads but that didn’t matter. What did matter is that people suffered, and that they knew exactly what kind of power she still held. And they would be afraid.
The room was silent for moments, and she turned her attention to the glass for moments until there was a meek request to her, causing her eyes to shift from the red liquid it held- they almost always opted for red wine during these events to cut costs. “Miss Volkov,” she was petitioned quietly, and instead of a verbal response, the woman nodded. Urging them to continue.
“Miss Volkov, how…. How are we getting around the checkpoints and the turrets? Can you still get us through?”
Silence. One moment. Two moments. Three moments.
“Of course,” was her sultry response. “As you may see- we are losing face. People defect to Atlas. They know not what they do- but we will make them see.” As she stood, she used one hand to smooth the front of her skirt. “We take them under guise of midnight. You have three hours.” Draining the glass, the figurehead turned from her group, effectively ending conversation about that. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled patronizingly. “Artemis Suites.”
—–
Hopefully, the cards that she had made for them still worked. Claiming them as her ‘Inspection Team,’ they needed only a few things before they arrived- proper weaponry. The bench she sat on was growing uncomfortable, and she definitely wore the look on her face. A soft sigh escaped her as she heard footsteps. Glancing upwards, a small bit of relief flooded her- they made it.
There were no words spoken as the team embarked up into Artemis Suites, counting the numbers on the apartments until each of them was stationed. She nodded to them, and each entered a room. She walked softly, making sure that her heels didn’t click against the floor. A man lay in front of her as she entered the bedroom of this particular suite- his wife, heavily pregnant, next to him. For a moment, she considered not doing this.
But just a moment.
It didn’t take long to unsheathe the knife that was hidden in the garter near her waist, feeling it sink into flesh as she plunged it into the lumbar portion of his spine- mere inches above the tailbone. The man gurgled something to his wife, though he could not make a move to push her away from him. The woman roused herself from sleep just in time to watch the blade come across her husband’s neck, blood showering her face.
Shaking her head at the woman, she grabbed her by the hair, dragging her from the bed. “If you scream, I will kill you. If you attempt to run, I will kill you. If you speak, I will kill you. Nod if you understand.” The woman, now sobbing, simply did as told, and was forced from her home. Glancing around for her followers, the assailant noticed the blood dripping off the hem of her skirt, and almost sighed. Most unfortunate.
Within minutes, they returned to the square. The pregnant woman was bound, yet there were several others to be strung up, necks slit open- a few of them disemboweled. But she couldn’t help the feeling of glee as she reached into a man- one whom was still breathing- and pulled the organs she could reach forth, spilling them onto the floor. The same was to be done with them all. Within minutes. She could hear the sobbing of the woman on the floor.
It didn’t take long. No, the entire process, maybe fifteen minutes. The blood of each man was on her skin. She knew she smelled metallic, that she’d have to shower before leaving just to cover herself up. But that didn’t matter, not yet. There was one more thing to be done. Next to the pregnant woman, whom was easily covered in the blood of her neighbors- men she likely had known well, possibly one of them being the real father of her child- there sat a teenager. One who could see what was going on around them.
A smirk from their leader, as she knelt before the boy. “You have a choice. Join us, or join them.” Though there was no choice, not really. The boy said nothing, he was maybe all of 17, but old enough to understand what was going on around him. She frowned, the bloody knife against his cheek.
“Do you join them, then?” But the boy didn’t speak. Instead, he spit at her. She frowned, taking him by the cheeks, and shaking her head. “You will pay for that.” So she forced his jaws apart- and cut out his tongue.
Bellows of pain escaped him, as the pregnant woman screeched next to him. She frowned, and did the only thing that she could to cover their tracks- cut out the other woman’s tongue, and then took out their eyes. See no evil, speak no evil.
Before heading back upstairs to clean the mess off her, the assailant took the time to write on the walls, in the blood of their victims:
[with a bunch of oc’s, if i remember correctly. nsfwish]
1956, Alisa’s Office
It had been two hours. Two. Hours. That he had left her waiting. With the claim that he was simply going to deliver the notice for her, but wasn’t that what the post was for? No, likely it was some woman who lived in the ghettos. One he’d be ashamed of letting his boss see. Though this was her experience- the women of Rapture had no class.
They were becoming too spliced up, courtesy of Fontaine. They could be heard like the little whores they were, moaning and ensnaring men for money. The lithe woman huffed, reaching into her drawer for a cigarette. To her dismay, there was one left in the pack- and she couldn’t leave the office until he returned. Cursing under her breath in her mother tongue, Alisa slammed the drawer shut and rose.
She began to pace, and too quickly finished the cigarette between her fingertips.
A deep frown set itself into her lips, until finally the massive door to the office creaked open. Her head whipped in the direction, scowling. The cigarette had been long burned out-maybe fifteen minutes before- and she had grown irritable. So much for a damned intern! She licked her lips, turning away momentarily to smash the burned butt into the ashtray.
“Where were you?” She nearly screeched, her form whirling around and thundering towards him. “That delivery was ten minutes, not two hours. How dare you?!” Her nostrils flared in her rage, and before he could dare respond to her, she reared back and struck him. Her arms quickly crossed against her chest, with no sign of apology.
He stared at her, shock in his eyes, face set grim. There was silence for minutes, until he finally produced what was his true motive- a bouquet of professionally dip-dyed roses, the ends of which were a deep red into a white. His expression faded into sheepishness. “They took longer then I had wanted,” he admitted. “But I wouldn’t dare return with nothing less than perfection.”
Another moment dragged on, and she finally looked away. As if upon instinct, she smacked him again, before stalking back to her desk. Her form dropped into the plush chair, fingers entwined together. They stayed this way for some time, the intern awkwardly holding the roses in his hands. He spoke.
“Have I offended you?” He made a move towards her, slowly. Her temper was volatile enough on its own. He cleared his throat, crossing the room to her desk, setting the roses down gently. His hands up in the air to show his intentions, he crossed around the desk to kneel before her, as if to grovel.
Slowly, a smile spread across her lips and she reached forward, gently caressing his cheek. “No,” came the response finally. She leaned forward, brushing her lips against his forehead. The fabric of her blouse brushed against her bare knees, sending a chill up her spine. Reaching forward, she gripped his hair, and yanked him up to her level.
“No, not at all.” In fact, it was flattering, dare she admit it. “But not on company time.” With that, she shoved him towards the ground, rising from her chair to watch his passive behavior. Excited, she straddled him, getting a firm grasp on his tie. Her smile was still there, albeit replaced by a sadistic expression.
Beneath her, she could feel his chest heaving against her. She chuckled, the excitement of the situation coursing through them both. “I am your employer, Richard,” she hissed. “On my time, you shall not do such things. I do not pay you to court.” And they thought chivalry was dead.
His strain was forced against her lower back, and her expression twisted, becoming unreadable. And it was just like that- he was in her web, and they both knew it. He’d never be free, not unless she took his life. Emitting a sigh, Alisa stood gracefully, stepping over his painfully erect form. Perhaps she’d pit him against Norco, should either of them live long enough.
“Lucky for you, you arrive right on time- 5pm sharp. I am going… are you coming with me?”
i finally found my old drabbles from my rp account. i guess i’m gonna start moving them over here since i can’t login to it anymore and i want a nice little archive of how terrible my writing used to be.
snowghoul
gummygunk
yousharknotpass
dededos
tangentwithtanner
origamiaround
2087
