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idyllicidols · 4 months

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Desire.

Shin Yuna. The world sees her as a world famous idol, a paragon of beauty of grace. An individual to look up to, a person to aspire towards. Some might see her as untouchable, in a social sphere somewhere near the clouds. But she is more than just an idol with a hectic schedule and a busy life. Yuna is a real life human being, and every human has their flaws, their desires, their dark secrets that they need to keep hidden from the world.

And right now Yuna sure is living up to desires.

"You gonna do it? You gonna cum on my face?"

There she is, the picture perfect idol, sitting on her feet, naked as the day she was born. Surrounding her are three hand selected males, her hand vigorously pumping the cock directly in front of her. Yuna's eyes are firmly set on the glistening knob that her hands are wrapped around, her fingers nimbly moving from tip to hilt, her thumb digging into the meat and tugging and massaging with ferocious intent.

The other two aren't just standing idly by—they're groping and spanking whatever they feel like, an opportunity like this one is unheard of, but a gift Yuna loves to indulge. You see, underneath that cute and bubbly personality, and beyond all her flawless photoshoots and iconic concerts, the fact remains that Yuna is, above everything else, a cock obsessed slut.

The feeling of multiple hands and several hard, throbbing members grazing her petite body always fills Yuna with a pleasure that no amount of her fingers can ever truly match. The pinching of her nipples, the light and harsh spanks to her ass, the feeling of a cock throbbing in her hands. All of these things send her reeling into euphoria.

"Do it! Cum on my face. You gonna make me work for it? Do I have to suck you off? Make you cum by slurping your juices? My hand not enough?"

Her questions comes with a gentle lick to the underside of his shaft. It makes the cock twitch violently in Yuna's firm grip. He's already reaching his climax, that much is evident to Yuna. The only thing she needs now is for him to vocalize.

"I'm gonna... Yuna, I'm..."

"Come on, babe."

With a guttural moan, Yuna feels her cheek being covered by a blast of sticky warmth, followed by spurts of cum across her lips and chin and nose.

She looks down, mouth gaping, tongue hanging out, eye's narrow. The feeling of the sticky substance smeared over her skin, a marking that has her feel warm all over.

"Who's next?!" Yuna moves away from the well spent man, turning her attention to the other two behind her. One has his hands clasped to Yuna's ample ass, the other never stops roughly groping and grabbing her tits, pulling her nipples this and that way.

Yuna doesn't even know these lucky bastard's names—and that's precisely the point. All she knows is that they're some of her biggest fans, and because Yuna's not one to disappoint her supporters, the only reasonable thing for her to do is invite them back to her hotel room for an honest to God gangbang.

No real names, no exchanging numbers. Just a night of fun.

It's Yuna's idea of an ideal way to unwind before an important gig, and she's taking it upon herself to fully indulge.

"You know I offer more than just hand jobs right? My mouth, my pussy...my ass."

Yuna puts some emphasis when she says the word ass—she knows how taboo it is, to be an idol who loves to be fucked in her forbidden hole. Tempting over eager fan boys is such a power rush to Yuna, especially since she always gets what she wants in the end. And tonight will be no different.

Not only does the sudden spurt of her words catch the other two guys off guard, so do her slender fingers, that have already found their way around the nearest cock.

She looks up into his eyes, practically staring into his soul.

"So what do you say sweetheart? Which hole do you wanna fuck? Do you want my mouth? Is it my pussy you craving?"

Yuna smirks.

"Or maybe," her other hand slowly reaches to her asshole, "you're gonna shove your cock right here and treat me like a total anal slut."

She isn't quite touching her tight hole, but her fingertips hover tantalizing close. Close enough to make the guy think of exactly what she's describing, all the dirty details, from start to end. And the mere thought is starting to make him go crazy.

"Have you ever done anal before?"

Her soft and playful tone is hard to resist. This entire experience has left the guy totally speechless. He shakes his head, unable to verbalize any words of any kind.

"Well what do you say Hun? Wanna pop your anal virginity with a world famous superstar?"

Yuna doesn't even give him a chance to answer—she bends down on the bed, ass up face down, spread apart in a position that leaves her totally open to her new fuck buddies.

He watches in absolute shock and disbelief as Yuna playfully wiggles her plump behind, teasingly caressing her puckering asshole in a display that leaves him unable to hold off. He licks his fingers, saliva coating his palm as he reaches forward to insert his middle finger into Yuna's butt. She wasn't lying; Yuna is an anal loving slut, a star whore, and this position is making her squirm. The soft, coos leaving her lips are proof of the immense arousal coursing through her veins. The fact that her pussy is dripping means even more.

"I don't want your finger," Yuna turns back, staring into his eyes again, "I want your cock."

He pulls his finger out with a lewd squelching sound, only to replace it with his cock—hard and pulsating, a sheer result of the slutty actions from the girl splayed out in front of him, seemingly on a platter.

The tip presses against Yuna's eager asshole. She starts to whimper, just slightly, an involuntary reflex as a wave of pleasure fills her veins. It's about to begin, and that moment is like heaven to Yuna.

"Do it," she utters, more quietly now that the tip of his cock is pressing up against her most private place. "Don't tease. Fuck me in the ass. Do it. Please..."

Those few simple, begging words are the green light the guy has been waiting for. A cue to fully penetrate her rear, spreading it open with a searing, heavy thrust. It doesn't matter that it's his first time—Yuna loves to fuck. She loves it in any position, anywhere, in any circumstance. Yuna was made to be fucked and tonight is no exception, that is a fact.

So the feeling of his heavy prick ramming her open, and the sweet, familiar burn that comes after sends Yuna into a total blissed-out state. Even though this is what Yuna was begging for, the thrusts are slow and inexperienced—her new living dildo seemingly afraid to hurt his favorite idol.

"Don't be gentle! Fuck me hard, deeper...please, please! Wreck my asshole!"

Those words are enough. They spur the young man into action, and instead of taking it nice and slow, Yuna feels her whole ass shuddering at the rapid pace her lover is now setting. It hurt. Oh God did it fucking hurt.

The kind of pain that leaves her feeling filled with the greatest pleasure. The kind of pain that reminds her that she's alive—not some brainless idol robot with an image to protect. Yuna is a woman with sexual needs and she's not afraid to admit them.

"Faster, don't stop. More, oh God yes!!" Yuna is spouting out all the right things and it's certainly having an effect. "Fuck me!" Her hands grope her perky ass cheeks, trying their hardest to keep them spread open for the fuckfest raging on in the depths of her backdoor.

Her insides felt great to her new partner, especially as he gets more adventurous and drives her over the edge of euphoria with a thrust here, a squeeze there. His hands are gripping her hips, driving his rock hard length further into her cavern.

It must have been such a fucking miserable sight. The third guy in the room ignored and forgotten, sporting a massive erection whilst sitting on the edge of a King sized bed. Yuna didn't even notice it, nor did the guy currently drilling her ass. But she definitely notices it when he lifts her head and presses his tip against her slightly parted lips. The action catches her off guard, almost. It's just a quick glance and a lust filled smirk, but the quick understanding between them has her open her mouth to swallow the intruding piece of flesh.

"You want me to suck your cock while I'm getting fucked in the ass?! What a joke!"

The man looks dejected. That is until Yuna licks her lips and flashes a coy smile. She shakes her head, waves of dark hair falling around her cheeks and onto her back.

"I'm not gonna suck it. But you can fuck my face. Spit roast me. Make me choke me on your cock, choke me as his big, hard dick fills my little asshole."

Yuna opens her mouth, her tongue laid flat and waiting to be invaded. There's an overwhelming desire to be filled from both ends, a carnal hunger. If that's what it takes for her to receive this much pleasure, then so be it. She just wants her holes stuffed, fucked hard until they're so worn, so well used that her mind blanks into total ecstasy.

Yuna sucks and moans and mewls as he's driving his cock down her throat. Any cries of pleasure from being torn apart from behind gets muffled and lost under the garbled and sloppy sounds of the face-fucking.

She takes his cock hungrily into her mouth, bobbing back and forth, not even worrying about the gagging sensations or the burning in her throat, or the spit dripping from her mouth, nor even her eyes beginning to water.

The taste, the scent—the full sensory overload from receiving both a full frontal assault on her gag reflex and a rump fuck all at once is driving her crazy. Her clit is swollen and sensitive, and everytime she shakes her ass to guide his cock deep inside, her clit brushes against the silk-soft sheets and tenses something tight and coils deep within her core.

It builds, tighter, hotter—and the wetness trickling out of her needy, untouched cunt only aids the thrusts from his eager tool.

Her whole body shakes and trembles. A total body orgasm as she's used and abused by two strangers, faceless tools for her sexual pleasure. They take her, use her, violate and violate, spanking and penetrating wherever they pleased.

And through it all she takes it with grace, glee, and happiness. The pain mixed in with the pleasure was intense. Overwhelming. Every time another palm cracks against her reddening cheeks, every time that she's choked and pounded harder, deeper, it leaves her begging for more. Every thrust from either end sends another surge of the hottest, fiercest tingling through her veins. Yuna's completely submerged into the moment, so lost within it. A cocktail of sheer masochism and perverted need to be nothing but an object for her boys' enjoyment.

Then it happens, with another hard thrust into her slutty backdoor, everything snaps—and Yuna screams into a prolonged, euphoric moan. She cums, and she cums hard. Her second one in such a short space of time. It's so intense—so overwhelming.

It takes a whole minute before the world starts to spin again, the rush and adrenaline is almost too much, the double penetration pushing the boundaries and making Yuna realize how she could die right here, right now, and still not care. She almost forgets she's an idol for a moment, the label seeming so alien and irrelevant as the rest of her facade disintegrates along with her mind and body, dissolving under a sea of pleasure. Slowly fading as her partner finally bursts with an eruption of hot, thick, cum, coating her insides, filling her ass until it can hold no more and starts leaking out onto her skin and the plushy fabric of the covers.

The constant moans of joy must have been too much for the man occupying her throat. Cuz shortly after her ass is stuffed full, so is her mouth, spurt after spurt, sending Yuna straight into an orgasmic daze.

It's incredible—such a heavenly, amazing, thrilling and powerful feeling of a double load pumped into both of her holes.

She swaps from feeling like an object, a fuck toy, something to be used and abused, to just Yuna. Yuna who craves pleasure, needs love, and wants a feeling of validation that she's doing her very best to fill up with constant sexual trysts and promiscuous nights. It doesn't work though, because she can never truly be satisfied. No man, no orgy, no gangbang has ever been enough, never even been close enough. But when it's all over, these times, these moments are what Yuna lives and breathes for.

There's four bodies on the bed, laid out and completely wrecked—Yuna, the man with the enormous cock that spread her anal walls, the man that got the handjob of a lifetime from none other than Yuna herself, and the forgotten dude who eventually got to fuck her throat. Yuna can barely see or talk after being ravaged, but even still she's smiling like the cat that got the cream—because in essence, she had three extra large creamy loads.

It's not enough, no amount of cock could ever satisfy Yuna, but this is good enough for tonight. Tomorrow brings another night. Another night to find a nice gentleman to stuff her pussy that was left unfulfilled, left on the verge, twitching and ready to burst. But tomorrow is a worry for the future—now is the time for rest and relaxation, for recovery.

#kpop smut #yuna smut #shin yuna smut #itzy smut

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 5 months

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How To Adapt To Fire (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: Fire(s), intended harm, mentions of death, murder, crime, corruption, arsonist mystery plot, pining, protective!Johnny, flirting, intense banter, etc.

A/N: This is based off of US Firemen just because that's what I'm most familiar with!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There was an arsonist in the city, and you were going to catch them.

Getting out of your car, you slap the door closed behind you and rush out, heels clicking over the concrete as the roaring flames continue violently—orange and red going high into the air, all centered around an abandoned warehouse building. Through the darkness of night, everything was lit up like hell.

Your satchel hits against your thigh one fast step at a time, arms pumping as your eyes find the flashing lights beyond the glare, squinting.

“MacTavish!” You shout, jogging to the line of yellow tape and slipping under it through a small crowd of locals who call to you sharply. Voices going in one ear and out the other, you only search for that familiar helmeted head and the Scottish accent that accompanies it.

“What is she doing?”

“How come she gets to go closer!?”

“Stop that woman!”

Your white blouse does little to push back the gusts of molten heat on the roaring airwaves, and neither do your dress pants. You push on with stubborn righteousness, even as the mulling firefighters groan under their breaths when they catch sight of you, all pausing in their various duties and panic of grabbing the hoses and getting the water going.

The iconic red trucks sit stationary, but the man beside one of the three vehicles has his head nearly snapped off when he darts it over to you in a fast instant.

“MacTavish!” You call out again, locking onto wide blue eyes that blink rapidly at your appearance.

An under-the-breath curse is leveled out, heard in between shouts and the spray of water, droplets hitting your hard face.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus. Not again.” Heavy boots jog over, tan and yellow uniform loose beside the places where the straps of his gear attach various items and tools to his body. “What in the hell are you doin’ here, Pencils?”

“My job,” you call stiffly, your finger going out to tap at the small plastic card attached to your blouse.

‘PRESS PASS’

“So be a good informant and tell me how much damage this is going to cause,” your hand is already inside of your satchel, flicking on a hand-held recorder, as your eyes scan about. “The fire was bigger here,” you begin without wasting any time, and the firefighter in front of you sighs in exasperation, clenching his jaw. “Was it because this place was abandoned unlike the last four scenes, or because there was a different accelerant used.”

“I’ve told you, Hen,” MacTavish’s hand moves out in appeasement gestures, glancing at the fire and the rest of the teams that rush to get the rest of the hoses going. “Ya can’t be here when the fucking fire is still ongoing. Do you want to get burnt to a damn crisp?”

“I need answers,” you level, gaze darting back to stare into cerulean blues.

John MacTavish, who everyone just calls Johnny or Soap, for some reason, had been a familiar face to you for upwards of two months. In that time, there had been an alarming amount of suspected arson cases—twelve, counting this one. There was an unprecedented spark-up, most taking place in older neighborhoods and abandoned buildings barring the previous four, of which two people had been seriously injured, and three had died.

But now, it was back to out-of-the-way properties, and you wanted to know why. You needed to.

Such an escalation just to suddenly drop back down to no casualties? It didn’t make sense. If it wasn’t for your career as a journalist, then it was for your morbid curiosity of which Johnny was intently familiar with.

The Scot clenches his jaw, dark eyebrows under his helmet stuck into a line. Around him, the others were getting the blaze under control the best they could—there was no need to go inside to search for anyone and all that had to be done was keep the fire from spreading. So, he had no trouble trying to get you to see sense yet again.

“Do you ever give it a rest,” he asks gruffly, accent thick. “Christ, I’ll be gray before you learn to stop sticking your hands where they don’t belong.”

“You’re not my mother, MacTavish,” you speak, lowering the recorder. “Do you have anything for me?”

Johnny moves up a hand and runs it over his face, groaning. A smirk flickers to your lips.

“You’re worse than a fly,” he breathes, unimpressed eyes opening to stick to you. “I can’t say much right now, most of it is left for forensics. Just from the blaze alone,” he glances over, taking it in. “I’d make a guess that an accelerant was used. Especially with how fast it popped up and the intensity of it. I’d have to get the dogs down here for a sniff, but it’s likely.”

“Do you think it’s—”

“Connected?” Johnny interrupts, lips twitching at the annotated gimmer in your eye. “Aye. This was man-made. There was nothing here that could start a blaze like this.”

You click the recorder’s button and move back with a sigh.

“Lovely.”

The Scot raises a slow brow, looking you up and down, confused. “That’s it?”

“It’s all you can give me right now,” you mutter, sliding a look at him as your eyes squint at the rabid flames. Pieces of screeching metal fall into a heap, a loud boom of spreading smoke and lifeless coughing of material in the air.

“Fucking hell,” you murmur to yourself. “This had to be one of the biggest ones so far.”

It was getting held back from the surrounding buildings—slowly but surely in the morning, the entire place would be a smoldering pile of ash and metal, only more questions left behind.

Johnny sets his hands on the collar of his gear, sighing. “Won’t be the deadliest, though, will it? I’m just glad there won’t be bodies to drag out.”

You send a side-eye his way, feet shuffling. “That, I can agree with. But the pattern doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Well, sorry, Hen, but you’ll catch me a bit more concerned about the potential next targets than the pattern.” He grunts, rolling his shoulders. “We need to catch this prick. Soon. Resources are stretched thin.”

“It’s like the guy completely switched his M.O.,” you ignore him, eyes narrowing. “Abandoned buildings, then to taking people's lives, then right back to where he started? That doesn’t happen overnight.”

Johnny grunts. “‘Cept here.”

You sigh, tapping your fingers against your bag. The man at your side looks over, shrugging as he takes in the firmness of your expression—the same that he usually wears to any scene he gets called to. Determination.

“I’ll get the report to you soon as I get it,” Johnny breathes, tilting his head. “Figured with all of your connections, you’ll have a better chance at piecing it all together.”

“Thank you,” you nod. The man hums.

“Now, get the hell out of here, yeah? Makin’ me nervous. Tape’s there for a reason Dearie.”

Scoffing, you toss up a hand and shake your head. “I live to make people nervous, MacTavish. You don’t help bust criminals and not make people nervous.”

You begin backing back up, studying the land one more time. Johnny’s lips are thin, and he shifts his legs to stare after you.

“Just be careful,” he calls, fingers tightening at his collar, strong jaw moving as he fixes it. His heart stutters in its course. “Don’t stick your neck where it doesn’t belong, Hen.”

You wave a hand, and then you’re off again, disappearing into the crowd with flames rising high behind you.

The fireman watches tightly, licking his lips before shouting, “I’m serious!”

—

Your list of enemies was seemingly endless.

Drug busts, criminal enterprises, hitmen—there was no shortage of stories you’d broken and your name being printed into the papers; you weren’t at all unknown to the city or the various police or fire stations. Many described you as a public nuisance, but…you were viewed with a modicum of respect as well—even if it was kept under breath.

Yet, where there was respect, there was also the less savory emotion of contempt from the related individuals of those whom you’d landed into the eyes of the law and behind bars.

Perhaps you’d taken this arsonist for a disorganized fool…but you were about to get a very violent reality shift.

“This is the report?” You ask, Johnny sipping from his coffee cup as you both sit in the park three days later, the bench stiff as your fingers play over the manila folder you’d been passed.

“The public one.” Soap huffs when you slide him a look, his finger pointing at you as he holds his drink. “What? Pencils, I don’t care who you think you are, I’m not about to risk my career for something I can just tell you first-hand.”

You sigh, muttering before your hand pushes open the papers. “Go on, then.”

Johnny smugly smirks, chuckling as his free hand goes up to fix the backward ballcap on his head. Under the tight hold of his athletic shirt, gray sweatpants sharply contract your put-together and professional appearance—like night and day. He still smells of smoke and metal.

“You’re bein’ more snappy than usual. Publisher still on your arse, Bonnie?”

“Telling me I need to drop this goose chase,” you grumble, scoffing, eyes skimming down the printed words ahead of you. “As if.”

“Ah, he’ll come round,” Johnny’s lips flicker, flesh crinkling under that stubble of his. An overgrown mohawk leaks from the sides of his hat. “C’mon, tell me what ya need. I’ve got it all up here,” he goes to tap his head, taking another gulp of his coffee.

The morning air is cold all around you, and people pass pushing strollers or jogging—Saturday just beginning to spread over minds and wake those who’ve slept in. Johnny and you weren’t quite like that.

“Our theory about the accelerant?”

“My theory,” Soap grumbles but nods. “Gasoline. Dogs found traces all over—there was a damn lot.”

You tilt your head, glancing at him. “Fits the profile from the other cases except the ones involving casualties.” Your lips pull into a frown, Johnny’s face going more serious. “Weren’t those all started with matches to the curtains in the living rooms?”

“Aye,” Johnny tips his chin to you. “Couldn’t figure that out until—”

“Until you found the matchbox out in the lawn at one of the crime scenes, plus the busted locks on the front doors. All exactly the same.”

The fireman grunts, lips flickering as his face goes a bit red. “Know my job better than I do.”

You pause, a small heat coming to your cheeks, eyes pausing in their search for new information. “I’m not the one who willingly goes into burning buildings, give yourself more credit.”

Johnny leans closer, chuckling. “Was that a compliment, Pencils?”

“No,” you slide out.

He hums a sound of amusement, moving back as his form slouches into the bench. A bird darts past overhead, chirping. “Goin’ soft on me. ‘Bout time—I've been waiting.”

You roll your eyes heavily, closing the manila folder and shifting it into your satchel.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” You face Soap head-on, taking in the deep blue of his eyes and the tease hidden in them. “The station? Home?” Your brow raises. “Animal shelter—I heard they take in strays.”

“Ah,” Johnny flinches, hand raising to his chest as he feigns hurt. “This how you thank your favorite public servant?”

“You’ll live,” you grumble, standing and flattening out your long black coat. “Come on. Seeing as you’re not entirely lost to me, I’m getting breakfast today.”

Johnny’s beaming grin makes your lips pull in a low smile.

“And just like that,” he chuckles, standing up so that his boots hit the ground and his hand falls into his pocket. The empty cup in his hand is tossed into the trash. “I’m a picture-perfect specimen. Not that I wasn’t already, eh?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you breathe, voice exasperated even as your smile breeds along the lines of your face.

The both of you take off side by side, legs mirroring the others’ pace one slow movement at a time. Throughout your meetings for information, Johnny and yourself have grown close to one another—Violet’s Dinner one of the many places that was the unfortunate hub for your intel swapping. However, it was only unfortunate for the patrons, not you.

Soap gave what he knows about the fires and the ways they were started, and you gave over potential next targets based on whatever you can piece together from your police informants as well as others.

You hum as you both walk the trail, slowly weaving away from the bench and down to the gated entrance of the park, slipping past the black iron as John holds it open for you.

“Besides the ol’ fire-freak, then,” Johnny begins, smiling over at you as he itches at his neck, large arm reaching up and flexing. “Any other big breaks?”

Head turning his way, you speak easily. “In which article—the multi-generational money laundering bust at Warren’s Electrical or the murders near Fifth Ave? Or even the drug smuggling near the docks?”

Blue eyes blink. “...Eh…any of ‘em?”

You snort, turning back to the sidewalk and shrugging.

“You asked.” You slyly begin, before getting into the mental paper that you still had to type and send into editing. “Roy Laurence committed the murders near Fifth Avenue—my informant with the SWAT team says he was arrested and booked within an hour of the green light. DNA and fingerprints found at the scene of the last victim.” You raise a hand. “Now, I just have to try and get a spot in the courtroom when a trial date is released.”

“Well,” Johnny breathes, sending you a veiled look after a moment. “Don’t mean to brag, Pencils, but I got to help an old lady cross the street yesterday.”

You laugh, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as Soap chuckles. The sidewalk continues, men and women passing at their slow paces as cars zip past; the fireman taking the chivalrous stance of the person beside the street unconsciously.

“And I’m sure she was very pleased, MacTavish,” you push out, shifting closer to him as an individual passes by, bumping your arm into his.

“Aye, she was,” the man huffs proudly, puffing his chest. “Called me a handsome bloke and kissed my cheek. Blushed a bit.”

“Playboy,” you tease, eyes narrowed over at him. “Cheating on the mutts back at the station?”

Johnny gasps, putting on a serious face. “Don’t you call Mr. Spots a mutt, Dearie—that’s too far.”

“Christ,” you breathe, and an arm settles over your shoulders, shaking you a bit and squeezing your flesh before chuckles follow.

Trying not to sink into the feeling of heat and the promise of fire, you live in this moment of nearly something. There was the close sensation of borderline affection—just brushing the sense of care and…pining.

You knew the Scot was interested in you, or, at the very least, knew he had some modicum of attraction to you. Hell, the way he’d flirted with you when you’d propositioned him to be your link to the fire department was nearly laughable even today. All smirks and glinting eyes.

John was funny, no one was denying it.

There was that firm push and pull between the two of you, a string attached to your wrists that wouldn’t snap—that had seemingly only grown stronger over the months of mystery. But the arsonist took precedence.

Play can only come after work, and you were the picture of professionalism. Or maybe just stubbornness.

“The regular?” Johnny asks, letting you go as he pushes open the front door of Violet’s with his shoulder, keeping it there as you move inside and nod.

“Sure. Same seats?”

The fireman smirks. “Always.”

You smile, walking off to the corner booth as John goes up to the front, waving down the familiar face of the waitress to let her know that the both of you are here. The two exchange pleasantries as you sigh and lean back into the red-cushioned seats, letting your satchel drop near your feet. Sending a text to your editor, you tell him that you’ll have an article written up about one of your ongoing fixations by Monday.

Johnny’s broad shadow soon graces you once more, carrying a plate of fresh bread with butter on it.

“Lady’s a fuckin’ lifesaver,” he breathes. “Gave us free bread today.”

Your eyes dart over to Tammy, the waitress, who winks at you before disappearing to help another customer. Hiding the twitch of your lips, you raise a brow at John.

“Don’t you usually get pancakes, too? Your stomach will explode,” you huff.

“Ah,” his face scrunches in dismissal. “There’s always room for fresh bread.”

His large fingers are already around the body of a knife, slathering gooey butter on a steaming piece of the carb, chomping down and swallowing before he speaks—reaching for another.

“So, spill it on me.”

Your fingers reach out, grasping some bread and bringing it to your lips. You chew, swallow, and ease out, “I think there are two arsonists.”

Johnny pauses, wide eyes stuck on you as he stops his hand from bringing up the next piece of food. He blinks, his face tightens as he wonders over the information that you have, and then the groans out a long, “Fucking hell… one who’s doing it for kicks, the other who’s settling scores.”

“Precisely,” you shrug. “It explains the complete break in character, and we have enough fires to show that not only is the way the flames started different, but for different reasons as well. One wants to kill, the other can’t control it. Impulse.”

“Makes sense,” Johnny grumbles, amused mood for the moment dropping to one of flashing anger. He taps his knuckles slowly on the table, thinking. “You tell the police this theory?”

“Nah,” you shake your head as your legs shift along the seat. “You know how the chief gets about me—I need to do some of my own leg-work. Get more evidence.”

The Fireman is already shaking his head with a chuckle that has no ounce of tease or jest in it. “Nah ah, no fuckin’ way am I letting you get involved with two arsonists—certainly not one that kills people, Hen.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking permission,” you smirk as your breakfast plates are brought over. Johnny’s is full of eggs, bacon, and pancakes, and you, your regular. You thank Tammy with a nod and take a sip of your small drink. “There has to be a connection between the victims. I’ve written about them before, my notes have the answers, I’m sure. I need to focus on one at a time—”

“Bonnie—”

“A possible Revenge-Motivated Arsonist is a far bigger threat than one that only has an impulse to light fires and not harm others. I’ll leave the ladder to you—”

A hand grabs at your own, grasping it firmly. Head snapping up to the square jaw ahead of you, which is tight, the stubble moving the scar along his chin one frown line at a time, you pause your quick rant. Face steadily heating as callouses run along your flesh like un-cut granite, your heart stutters.

“You’ll do nothing without me.” Johnny’s expression leaves no room for discussion.

Mouth slightly parted, your eyelids blink before a squeeze is leveled out on your hand, and the Fireman shifts back. Your eyes follow, stuck on how his shirt hugs his large biceps and the gentleness of how he held you—how he always held you.

Focus.

“You’re not getting dragged into this,” you chuckle, tilting your head seriously. “It could cost you your job.”

Johnny shrugs. “Only if I’m caught. If you're half as stubborn, as I already know you to be, Pencils,” he sighs, low smile coming to his lips. “Then I know you’ll be needing my level head.” Cobalt eyes twinkle.

You stare at him, blinking. Ignoring that skip in your pulse. As hard as you would like to try, you can’t say no to that face of his—that open expectation and firm choice.

“As level as a steep decline,” your grumble meets Soap’s ears, and the man’s face twists with an ingrained amusement that breeds the closer you are to him. It was easy to bounce jokes with you—like a pair of birds, squawking and puffing feathers, only stopping at strange intervals to preen one another before the loud chatter started anew.

“And stop it with the dumb nickname already,” you glare. “It happened once.”

John drags his plate closer, picking up a piece of bacon and taking a bite out of it. “It isn’t every day you see a bonnie Hen with seven pencils in her breast pocket, is it? Hell of a first meeting with that serious face of yours and the sight of fabric practically ripping open.”

“I was in a rush,” your face burns, jaw rotating. “At least I was prepared, MacTavish.”

“Well, who’s sayin’ I wasn’t prepared?”

“Me!” Your fingers grab at your fork, pointing it at him. “You were practically covered head-to-toe in ashes!”

Red cheeks on his part, but always that adorning sheen to his expression.

“I was just in from a damn fire!”

Breakfast went as it usually did—good food and better company—but there was a deeper level to it now; a sharp edge of purpose. By the time the both of you were done, you’d already made up your mind to make it back to your apartment and gather the intel that you had. Find a starting point.

But, as mysteries like these always go, the good times came to a rapid cliff-drop. Johnny was muttering about his work schedule back on the sidewalk when he got the call.

Phone to ear, you’d seen his face tighten—feet going completely still as you have to halt and look back at him, confused. A breeze goes by on the air, and your nose twitches to a sharp tang that leaves your fingers twitching.

“What do you mean, ‘fire on third street?’” Your body locks up, and Johnny’s face becomes devoid of pigment, watching yours closely. It was a strange emotion on his face; a hard and hesitant thing all at once. He was staring, brows pulled in as your lungs seemingly went to concrete inside of your ribs.

Third street? Fire?

Soap’s voice goes even lower. Spine even more straight. “...Stillview apartments?”

You’re already running before you can understand the severity of the revelation—dashing as Johnny yells after you to stop.

That was your apartment building.

“Dearie!” The fireman shouts, his boots pounding after, but you had a head start, shoving through the crowds, dodging strollers and trash cans—bags and thrown curses. “Fucking hell, stop!”

Your form darts fast, heart hammering. Already your mind is running through every possibility and explanation. How could this be happening? Why? Has one of the arsonists found you out? But even then, it could only be the one intent on murder—countless others lived in your building; this was more than intent…it was a massacre.

Fires don’t just spark at a time like this to not be called connected.

Even over the air, you could hear sirens above Johnny’s loud pleas to slow down, moving as well as he could through the rush of people.

He’s still on the phone, barking questions and the will of his legs to take him in the direction of the department building. But you. The back of your head in his black-sided vision.

The man knows that if he doesn’t catch you, you’ll run straight into that blaze not only for the principal but your evidence. Your cork boards and their red strings—your pictures and printed articles. Johnny knew you had them, he wasn’t an idiot.

You were too smart for your own good.

He was nearly there—just a few more steps and he could grab the back of your jacket like some stray cat, pull you back until you were in his arms. A fireman, yes, but he’d never get used to the inferno that was you; you consumed him utterly. It was an instant feeling for him, and even with the initial flirting, the immediate latching of his attention held fast. A bird to a wire. Hopeless, he was. Johnny was afraid at how much you trapped him in your ways—your looks and your…you-ness.

And you were only making him more afraid at this very instant.

Soap was the only person ever supposed to be walking into fire.

“Hen!” The fireman barks, sharp and visceral. But you only take the next corner faster, satchel slapping against your thigh.

“No,” you pant, legs dashing. “No, no, no. I left everything I need for this case in my filing cabinet!”

This is what you get for trying to be organized for once.

You smell the smoke before you see it, and feel the heavy hand on your coat collar not a moment after you lock on it.

“MacTavish!” Your angered voice moves out, but it’s all strangled away in a fast moment of the screaming of sirens and the visible fire from your tall apartment building strikes you. Watching blankly, your face falls as strong arms reel you back into a chest.

“Fuck,” Johnny growls, eyes wide as he looks on, phone clenched tightly in one hand. His jaw writhes with tension, vision darting from one fire truck to another and the men available to help. People were doing a myriad of things—screaming, running, watching—but through it all, there was the presence of fear coupled with a static anticipation.

Panting heavily, you watch your life’s work go up in flames, and feel the tight arms of your informant keep you close.

You learn that if you don’t adapt to this fire sooner or later, it’s going to consume you. And still, you can’t understand if you’re talking about Johnny, who murmurs quick words of comfort into your ear, or the case that just locked you in with chains of commitment and rage.

The real work had just begun as ashes fell like snow to the street; the spray of the firetruck’s water flew with sure aim. Your face hardens, and you feel that worried grip tighten, bringing you into a ramshackle hug.

You have an arsonist to catch, and not a single person would stop you now.

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting, @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

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drchucktingle · 3 months

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queer horror memory lane

i know this screenshot above is just way of some algorithm but seeing these books together i am so honored youve allowed me to open my heart and trot out my art in this unique way. having two well received queer horror books (and third on way) is amazing given where i started my trot. thank you

easy to talk on 'death of unique art' these days but if you look at my story it is powerful example that buckaroos have a taste for challenging or untraditional figures in art. this is NOT to my credit, this is to YOUR credit. YOU have supported queer autistic art. i am so moved

i am already a pretty optimistic bud but still BLOWN AWAY by way my trot has been embraced over time. i recognize my perspective is 'strange' to many but to see the way this unique way was once treated with irony and now sincerity has bloomed in its place. it brings tears of joy

as i trot down my QUEER HORROR memory lane i am going to repost TRAILER for each book just because i have been basking in these memories and recalling the slow embrace of this timeline around me. thank you for allowing me this space i am so humbled and honored. LOVE IS REAL

STRAIGHT

When a strange tear in the cosmos appears within Earth’s annual path, the consequences are disastrous. For one night a year, the vast majority of humans now undergo a frightening mental change, transforming into hateful, rage-fueled zombies who will stop at nothing to satiate their desire for brutality.

While not much is understood about this horrific mass hysteria, the demographic it effects is very specific: cisgender straight people.

A few years after the first of these tragic events, four friends from across the queer spectrum look for safety in solitude, hunkering down in a remote desert cabin for what is now known as Saturation Day. With a vaccine available for straight people to curb their violent episodes, some predict the worst is over. Others aren’t so sure.

As night falls, it becomes clear that survival isn’t guaranteed this Saturation Day.

GET STRAIGHT HERE

youtube

CAMP DAMASCUS

From beloved internet icon Chuck Tingle, Camp Damascus is a searing and earnest horror debut about the demons the queer community faces in America, the price of keeping secrets, and finding the courage to burn it all down. Welcome to Neverton, Montana: home to a God-fearing community with a heart of gold. Nestled high up in the mountains is Camp Damascus, the self-proclaimed “most effective” gay conversion camp in the country. Here, a life free from sin awaits. But the secret behind that success is anything but holy. And they’ll scare you straight to hell.

GET CAMP DAMASCUS HERE

youtube

BURY YOUR GAYS

Misha knows that chasing success in Hollywood can be hell.

But finally, after years of trying to make it, his big moment is here: an Oscar nomination. And the executives at the studio for his long-running streaming series know just the thing to kick his career to the next level: kill off the gay characters, "for the algorithm," in the upcoming season finale.

Misha refuses, but he soon realizes that he’s just put a target on his back. And what’s worse, monsters from his horror movie days are stalking him and his friends through the hills above Los Angeles.

Haunted by his past, Misha must risk his entire future―before the horrors from the silver screen find a way to bury him for good.

PREORDER BURY YOUR GAYS HERE

youtube

i am blessed by your support, your love, and your kindness. cannot believe how lucky i am to trot with you in all in this way and i cant WAIT to see what the future of this timeline holds for us. thank you for proving love with me from the past to the future

#queer horror #horror #tingleverse #lgbtqia #straight #camp damascus #bury your gays #chuck tingle #love is real #Youtube

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yourstrulynix · 1 year

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god is a woman || cl16

social media!au | charles leclerc x singer!reader

synopsis; celebrity sweetheart and f1 dream boy leave the internet spiralling face claim; ariana grande

voguemagazine

liked by chanelofficial, flowerbomby/n, livelaughlove, nicolapeltz and 983,232 others

tagged: yourusername

voguemagazine a teaser for the y/n l/n march 2021 vogue cover next month. the young singer continues to take over the world, one record breaking record at a time. with continuous yearly grammy nominations and wins, y/n has become the top name in music. she sat down with vogue for an intimate interview in her own home to show the side away from performances and award shows. we can't wait for you to see and read about the beauty inside and out of the young superstar

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yourusername i loved every minute of it x

voguemagazine thanks for having us 🤍

flowerbomby/n what an absolute icon ✨ i can't wait to read about her new album she's been working on!

mimiy/nlove we our literally watching this woman make history! i just want her to have the world 🥺

yourusername

liked by zendaya, f1, y/nfandom, dualipa, ellemagazine and 6,140,885 others

yourusername hope i don't have helmet hair ;p

comments on this post have been limited

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bellahadid see you next week in Monaco my love!

f1worlds stfu is y/n going to the grand prix next week because i seriously might pass away????

leclercmania there's no way my two worlds are colliding right now 🤯!

y/nsflower what a queen 👑

scuderiaferrari we can't wait to have you with us next week 🏎️

fangirl21 wtf is a ferrari account doing in y/n's comments??

hoefory/n all the comments are freaking over our girl going to some f1 race? don't understand the hype 🙄

f1paddocknews

liked by f1fandom, charlesheart, ferrariboys, papayared, y/nsslut and 2,734 others

f1paddocknews the ferrari boys after qualifying today, speaking to y/n l/n and charles looked very smitten 🥰

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papayared charles is absolutely fangirling inside!!

charlesleheart he didn't even look at Charlotte like that and they were together for 2 years 🤭

ferrariloves i can't wait to see pictures of y/n in the paddock - greatest race weekend everrrrrrr

yourusername

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, dualipa, daydreamy/n and 11,048,444 others

location: monaco

yourusername brb moving to monaco and marrying an f1 driver

view all 5,224,643 comments

f1 it's official, we've made her an f1 fangirl 🙌🏼

yourusername it's true, i'm obsessed

scuderiaferrari we've got just the man for you y/n 😉😏

ferrariboys not ferrari admin setting up charles and y/n - iconic

lewishamilton lovely seeing you this weekend, looking forward to seeing you in silverstone 👍🏾

hammy4life lewis what you doing here????

daydreamingy/n isn't he like 10 years older than our girl 😧

charlesheart16 charles with the sneaky follow and like....

Twitter

charles_leclerc

liked by scuderiaferrari, yourusername, georgerussel63, carlossainz55 and 1,642,431 others

charles_leclerc a good few days by the sea and in the outback before the season begins 🌊

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danielricciardo man...that is definitely not the outback

pierregasly dropping a quick shirtless insta to keep them interested 😉

pierregaslyyyy22 pierre knows something we don't....

yourbestfriend I'm offended you called utah the outback

charles_leclerc and you called monaco france - we're even

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, dualipa, flowery/nbomb, pierregasly and 6,941,071 others

yourusername hot summer nights mid july when you and i were forever wild ♡

view all 3,343,087 comments

lanadelray you beautiful girl 🖤

yourusername i love you 🤍

tchalamet it's mid january

yourusername i'll shave your head chalamet

landonorris very violent....

yourusername watch those curls norris

girlcrushy/n eh...who is that fine man ???

charlesbabygirl i recognise those calves....🫢😮

boychuckleclerc no it can't be?? there's no way...

Twitter

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, tchalamet, voguemagazine, isahernaez and 8,203,008 others

location; marseille, france

yourusername oh la la

comments are disabled on this post

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, arthur_leclerc, yourbestfriend and 1,538,542 others

location; marseille, france

charles_leclerc it was a weekend of ups and downs. we had pole position in the bag but I made a mistake on lap 19 and it cost us a win. i had great company with me to bring the ups. we'll keep working on things before the final race of the summer 👊

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carlossainz55 tough luck today but as you say, we'll come back fighting 🔥

scuderiaferrari our boys have got this!! off to hungary next

ferrariboys22 excuse me, sir? how dare you throw this at us after everything we've been through today 😡

f1girlie charles with the soft launch but who that with him???

yourusername 30 mins ago

side note; part ii will be out soon x

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc social media au #f1 imagine #f1 social media au #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc instagram edit #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #ariana grande #social media!au #f1 fandom #ferrari boys #f1

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willowpains · 1 year

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DON’T STOP THE MUSIC

pairing: drew starkey x fem. reader!

summary: cast member reader goes out with the obx cast to a bar

warnings: mentions of alcohol, drinking, being tipsy

disclaimer: inspired by don’t stop the music by rihanna, the song always makes me daydream!

it was friday night, and after wrapping up filming for the day in Charleston, mostly everyone in the cast had decided that going out for drinks in town sounded like a solid plan, so after everyone gathered their things they split into cars to drive downtown into a bar JD had heard good things about.

you were in Austin’s car, and while he was driving, drew was sitting in the seat next to him, and left to chat and be the life of the drive where madelyn, madison and yourself in the back of the car.

you guys couldn’t stop laughing, making jokes and singing to the songs on the radio like you were all doing karaoke, and the boys in front of you just keep laughing and singing with you three.

every now and then drew would look back and lock eyes with you, sending you a playful wink or replying to a joke you made. this was something normal in your friendship, so it wasn’t something weird for your friends, even though they saw that the way you two acted was as if you two were more than friends.

but that was not the case, you two had instantly kicked it off, even though you had different personalities, that didn’t seem like a problem for you to become close and have a fun time whenever you were together.

at first, you were intimidated by drew. getting to be the new cast member in a show were everyone else already knew each other was hard, and then, when you realized that the person you needed to have more chemistry for the sake of your character was tall, handsome and with a sarcastic personality, it was safe to say you were scared.

but you quickly realized that everyone was really nice and welcoming, as well as getting to know drew and finding out that he was the sweetest man you had probably encountered. he always made sure you felt comfortable with him in every scene, cause even though his character was pretty violent, he always wanted to make sure you knew that it was all an act, and I mean, you two were great actors, and made a great match in the show.

so your friendship in real life was not something that came as a surprise to anybody, you had most of your scenes with him the first few days, so rehearsing and going through lines together was an everyday thing. and thats how you became an iconic duo, as the fans would call you two.

arriving at the bar, everyone gathered around at a table and ordered drinks, starting to chat and laugh at the jokes and funny stories from set everyone was sharing.

“y/n, we should do tequila shots!” madelyn suddenly gasped grabbing your arm, as she was seated next to you.

“that’s the best thing I’ve heard all night!” you answered looking at her “who’s down for some tequila shots?” you shouted so everyone could hear, and immediately approving noises were heard.

“we’re starting out strong huh?” drew asked, as he was seated next to you, sipping on his bear.

“we’re not wasting any time which is different” you smiled to him as you saw the waiter approach with many shot glasses and a bottle of tequila.

“then I guess we should get to it”

Drew got up and started pouring the alcohol on every glass, handing one to everyone as we all cheered.

“to great friendships and an awesome filming season!” chase shouted as we all cheered and clashed our shots together.

before i could take my shot, drew took my arm and tangled it with his so we could drink our shots together.

“we need to do it this way” he said as he finished crossing both our arms while we stood face to face holding our shot glasses.

“says who?” I asked laughing enjoying the dynamic way too much, as well as liking to have him that close to me.

“everyone knows it, this is the right way to do shots!” he shouted as he raised his hand a little ready to drink.

“let’s do it then”

I smiled before we both downed our shots at the same time.

after a few more rounds of shots, french fries and sloppy drinking from the bottle, people around started dancing and letting loose, which made us want to join the fun.

plus, the alcohol in our system definitely made us more confident than usual.

madelyn and chase were the first ones on the dance floor, while the rest of us stayed drinking and eating at the table, watching them like they were part of a rom com.

after a few songs had passed, drew stood up next to me and offered me his hand.

“let’s dance” he said as he gave me a smile.

he knew I couldn’t say no. not when he looked at me like that.

I quickly took his hand as he guided us to the dance floor, where everyone was singing and jumping up and down, moving to the rhythm of the songs.

i was glad the lights were dim, because the blush on my cheeks was something that I couldn’t hide, not when the alcohol made me react to him like it always happened.

Do you know what you started? I just came here to party, but now we're rockin' on the dance floor, actin' naughty

around us, everyone was dancing, and staying apart was difficult, so we found ourselves dancing very close to each other. not that we would’ve liked it any other way.

“I didn’t know you liked dancing” i shouted a little, getting close to him so he could hear me over the music, which was a lot louder in the dance floor.

he smiled while letting out a laugh.

“I’m not the biggest fan, but I know you do love doing it” he answered leaning down as he took my hand and gave me a little spin making me giggle.

lord did he make me feel some type if way.

“so if I told you I love going to the beach and swimming in the ocean at midnight, would you come with me?” I asked getting closer to him, looking into his eyes.

he smirked while he let out a small laugh, leaning down on my ear.

“I would go anywhere with you, even if you didn’t ask me to”

Your hands around my waist just let the music play, we’re hand in hand, chest to chest, and now we're face to face

his hands held me by the waist, while we swayed slowly side to side, trying not to stay still in between the sea of bodies jumping up and down to the music around us.

my hands went from resting on his chest, to around his neck, letting them hang on his back, making us closer than ever.

i could feel his gaze on my lips, as I couldn’t tear my eyes from his, being fully captivated by the blue color, that seemed darker under the lights in the bar.

“I really wanna kiss you right now” drew said as one of his hands went from my waist to my cheek, brushing some of the hair out of my face.

I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, or the adrenaline of him telling me that, but i was scared that he could hear or feel how fast my heart was beating, almost wanting to get out and answer for myself.

“and what’s stopping you?” it almost felt like a whisper, but his smile gave away that he had listened to me.

so he closed the distance between us.

his lips were soft and hungry at the same time, like he had been waiting to do that for a long time. and i wouldn’t be surprised, because this was something i had found myself daydreaming of a few times.

one of his hands still held me by the waist, as the other one was between my cheek and my neck, keeping our faces together, and i didn’t want us to pull apart.

how long can someone survive without breathing? I’d be willing to find out.

Don't you feel the passion ready to explode? what goes on between us no one has to know, this is a private show

after breaking the kiss, i rested my head in his chest, attempting to hide my smile while trying to catch my breath.

“oh don’t go shy on me now doll” he said as he slowly lifted my face with one of his hands, softly stroking my cheek.

his eyes softened as his smile took over most of his face, and he laughed a little when he saw my flustered state.

“will it make you feel better if I told you that i had been wanting to do that for a long time?” he said as he looked me in the eyes.

drew just couldn’t let me compose myself.

“now you’re just bluffing” i said as i hit him in the chest in a playful way.

he laughed with me in between his arms, as i placed my hands in his chest, looking up to him with a smile on my face.

“did you really never noticed how down bad i was for you?” he asked as his arms kept holding me close to him.

I smiled as I confidently stood on the tips of my toes and kissed him again, this one being a bit shorter that the other one.

he smiled looking to the side trying to hide his now rising blush.

“I guess i thought something a couple of times, but i didn’t wanted to disappoint myself, it could’ve all been in my head” I said honestly.

drew turned to look at me, and we stayed like that for a bit, staring at each other, being close, and soaking in what had just happened between us.

“well, for the record, this is real” he said motioning to us “and it was never in your head”

drew leaned down and pecked my lips.

“let’s get out of here” he took my hand in between his as we started walking towards the exit.

“what about the rest?” I asked trying to find them in the now crowded bar, while we headed to the door.

“they’ll figure it out�� he laughed as we were now on the parking lot.

“and where are we going?” my eyes locked with his, that shined under the moonlight.

drew smiled while he held me between his arms.

“I’m taking you for a swim at midnight, just like you wanted”.

*I loved this one<3

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thebramblewood · 5 months

Text

Julia Zhao in The Mystery of the Copperdale Creep

Previous / Next

Julia's Playlist: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Location and music overlays by @pxltown

Julia: [lowers headphones] Double scoop of strawberry, please.

Elli: Dude, have you even read past the headlines? There's no way that thing's human!

Guy: Yes, I can read, and it doesn't sound like any animal I've ever heard of.

Elli: What is it then, some sort of eldritch creature of the dark?

Alma: Does it matter? The lesson, burnouts, is stop getting high as fuck in the woods at night.

Elli: Well, then where are we supposed to do it?

Julia: What the heck are you guys talking about?

Alma: Oh, hey, Jules!

Guy: We figured you were too cool for us lowly pier-dwellers.

Elli: Yeah, now that you're a style icon and all. [snickers]

Julia: Shut up! I'm never going to live that down, am I?

Elli, Guy, and Alma in unison: NOOOOOPE.

Julia: It was an online exclusive. Hardly anyone even saw it!

Alma: Your Social Bunny follower count says otherwise.

Julia: Whatever. So are the tourists making Sasquatch claims again?

Elli: Aren't they always?

Alma: It's the terminal brain rot, I fear.

Guy: Joke about the out-of-towners all you want, but I take the word of locals like gospel.

Alma: Especially when it's your druggie friends rambling about their bad trips.

Guy: It's not just them, okay? It's in the papers! Something is attacking people in the woods after dark. It comes from out of

nowhere. All anyone recalls is being tackled by a flying black blur then pinned to the ground with inhuman force and fucking pierced

by needle-sharp teeth. This thing takes enough blood to leave them just barely alive, and the crazy part is it seems sorry after, like it just can't help itself. It dumps them by the roadside where they'll be seen

so they don’t bleed out. They call it the Copperdale Creep.

Julia: [scoffs in disbelief] This town is nuts. And you guys have been watching too many scary movies.

Guy: If you don't believe me, just check the front page of the Courier!

Elli: Skate solo at your own peril, Jules!

Alma: It's broad daylight, cowards. She'll be fine.

Julia: Banjo, we’d better run inside before the Copperdale Creep snatches us up! Wait till Helena gets a load of this, huh, boy?

[knocking vigorously] Helena, open up! You'll never believe what I just heard. There’s some sort of violent maniac on the loose!

Banjo: [scratching and whining]

Julia: Helena, are you okay? [wiggles doorknob] You've been locked in there since last night.

Banjo: [aggressive barking]

Julia: Can't you hear how much Banjo wants to see you? Helena?...

Helena: Go away, Julia!

Julia: But-

Helena: Leave me alone. I'm fine.

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts4 story #simblr #story: hzid #blood tw #julia zhao #helena zhao #helena is not fine #not fine at all #how did she make it to copperdale without going on a cross-country killing spree?#good question but you're going to have to answer it yourself #i'm so nervous about this one ahhhhhh #i don't fully know where i'm going but it's OKAY we will FIGURE IT OUT!!!#alma nishidake #guy aoki #elli ball

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palesweetscherryblossom · 2 months

Text

Surprise adoption

Warning: Mentions of violence, non consensual hypnosis and kidnapping.

Even as a young kid, the forest always creeped you out. With all the urban legends about monsters roaming around, hunters disappearing or ending up gravely injured, it certainly didn’t help your bias against it.

So imagine your horror that your older brother, Izuku wanted to take you on a little expedition in the damn place. You and Izuku were orphaned, but were generously taken in my Toshinori, head hunter and beloved icon of your town.

Whereas you preferred to stray clear from all the gritty things hunting entailed, Izuku was fully invested in it.

“I wanna go home, please Izuku?” You asked, hands tightly clutching your clothes.

The moon hung overhead, sounds of chirping from birds, water flowing through streams and crunching of leaves highlighted your surroundings.

Izuku looked at you, his hand reassuringly patting your H/C locks.

“Don’t worry Y/N! Just one more thing and then we can go back.” He said, handing you the lantern.

You frowned as the two of you walked on. One thing Izuku noticed was how pungent the air was over here, it reeked of venom and rot. He cracked out his notebook from his satchel, quickly writing it down. “How weird.” He muttered, you huffed.

“Izuku, it smells over here.” You whined, visibly cringing at seeing a rabbit’s skull.

“D-do you think we might be in naga territory?” You asked, Izuku’s breath hitched at the possibility. Ah, naga. Fearsome creatures with deplorable reputations to boot. Half man, half serpent.

Toshinori once recounted his encounter with a naga once, who was bold enough to attack him head on. Long fangs, red eyes that rivaled rubies, shaggy blue hair.

Many legends circulated about this particular naga, especially about his thirst for destruction and murder. Izuku looked down at you, a friendly smile on his face.

“Probably not, it’s probably just some poisonous frogs or something. But even if it was, I would never let them hurt you.” He assured, you felt a little better.

“We’ll sock them in their faces and skin them for boots!” You announced, Izuku nervously smiled.

“Probably not sis.”

Another notable thing about naga is how some tended to hunt at night, at least Tomura Shigaraki did. The most feared creature in the jungle, by man and beast alike.

It didn’t help that he was accompanied by his equally violent and dangerous mate, Dabi. A alluring, handsome creature but equally deadly.

Blue and black scales slithered across the floor, as the two searched for a late night snack. “Seriously Tomura, I don’t know why you insist on doing this at night. It’s too damn late for this.” Dabi complained, Tomura regarded his mate with a mere look.

“The big and juicy rabbits tend to come out at this time of night. Besides, those stupid, fucking hunters drive away our larger game.” He said, sniffing the air.

Dabi shrugged, his mate did have a point. Possums, sloths and the occasional taste of human flesh wasn’t cutting it. “I thought that those dumbasses would take the hint from the last time.”

Shigaraki gave a raspy chuckle. He really outdid himself that time, they still had the chunk from the hunters leg in the den! “You’re quite the sadistic bastard.” Dabi said in a loving way.

“Which is why you mated with me~” Shigaraki taunted, nuzzling Dabi’s face before narrowing his eyes and sniffed the air again.

“What? What do smell?” Dabi asked before sniffing the air himself. Humans, filthy humans. Shigaraki loathed them, Dabi loathed them.

The two followed the scent, eventually finding themselves in a tree, spying on you and Izuku.

“Oh, it’s Toshinori’s brat.” Shigaraki hissed, his rattle shaking slightly. His hate died down a little once he saw you, clutching onto Izuku’s hand as he gave you some facts.

Oh, how you looked utterly adorable to him. Shigaraki and Dabi had been wanting some hatchings of their own, as nagas tended to feel that way. “She’s precious.” Dabi muttered, a paternal spark igniting in him.

Shigaraki nodded, turning towards his mate. “I’ll go greet our guests.” He said, slowly slinking into view.

“Well now, it’s a hunter in training!” You froze at hearing the raspy voice, Izuku flinched as well. He turned around and was met with the sight of the naga. “GAH!” Izuku yelped, nearly dropping his lantern as you gave a yelp.

“Now now, there’s no need to be scared.” Shigaraki said, Izuku frowned whilst you hid behind your brother. “I’m a friend, always eager to assist with a weary traveler.” He assured, his red eyes looking at you.

You whimpered and hid behind Izuku. “Aw, what’s a little cherub like you doing out so late?” Tomura cooed, Izuku cleared his throat. “Back off, we don’t need your assistance. Besides, we all know what you really want.”

Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed, Toshinori sure knew how to raise a stubborn brat. “Oh? Would you mind telling me then?” Shigaraki taunted, inching closer to Izuku.

Their noses barely touching. Izuku could smell the venom from Shigaraki’s breath, he remained firm. “Tsk, tsk, so stubborn.” Shigaraki said, his tail prodding at you softly.

You yelped as Izuku stood protectively in front of you. “L-leave us alone!” He snapped, Shigaraki didn’t flinch, only giving an amused look.

“You must be so tired, let me fix that.” The naga purred, inching closer from his branch perch. Izuku instinctively stepped back as you hid behind your brother. “No need for the fear fawns, you’ll fear as right as rain once we’re through..” Shigaraki assured, his voice raspy yet sweet. Like candy covered poison.

Shigaraki had a variety of powers but his most useful one was hypnosis. Often used to ensnare his victims into a state of calmness. It was his method to use if he was feeling lazy. Izuku stepped forward, a dagger in hand. Oh, how naive was this poor boy? No worries, Shigaraki and Dabi could make it right.

Izuku attempted to speak but nothing came out, his body felt heavy, all thoughts of resentment, escape and fear slowly melted away. It was like he was trapped inside his own body. His mouth felt unusually dry, like it was stuffed with cotton. Yet, he felt nice? Oddly relaxed even. His joints went relaxed and posture was lazy, his legs felt like jello.

“Izuku?!” You cried, tugging on your brother’s clothes. “Zuku!” You helplessly whined. Shigaraki frowned before inching closer, Izuku couldn’t hear you. He stumbled around like a newly born deer before ultimately dropping his weapon and almost collapsed to the floor himself. If it wasn’t for a black tail with horrifying purple scars, which caught him with ease, it wrapped around your brother’s torso. Much to your horror, you attempted to run but Shigaraki tripped you and swiftly coiled his tail around your ankle. The flaky and rough scales dug into your skin, causing you to whimper and wince at the pain.

“Don’t worry fawn, he’s alright and soon, you’ll be too.” Shigaraki said, quickly ensnaring you in his power as well. You weakly fought back as your defiant words withered away into weak whines and squirms. Your body eventually succumbed to Shigaraki’s control, your vision hazy and eyes droopy. “Zuku..” You muttered softly. You wanted to go home, the smell of the venom and dirt made you sick.

You craved the crisp vanilla and poppy smell of Toshinori’s manor. To be tucked into your bed, surrounded by the comforts of knowing that the monsters couldn’t get you.

“Aw, my sweet hatchling.” Shigaraki crooned, picking you up and cradling you. He nuzzled you, obviously excited to bring you to his nest. Dabi joined Shigaraki’s side, a lazy smirk on his face.

“She’s quite precious.” He mused, kissing Shigaraki’s cheek. “But, what about her brother?” The two looked at Izuku, who was still in Dabi’s grip. The black haired male frowned. Izuku kinda reminded him of someone he desperately wanted to forget. Shigaraki handed you over to Dabi before taking Izuku in his own grip. He regarded his mate with a devious smile, his fangs on display and crimson eyes filled with satisfaction and plotting.

“Well, you know what they say, two is always better than one.”

You and Izuku should’ve stayed home

@thecuriousquest

@messedupcookiejar

@yanderefangirl

#platonic yandere #yandere mha #yandere shigaraki #naga shigaraki #naga dabi #yandere dabi #izuku x reader

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oneshotnewbie · 4 months

Note

I hope your feeling well. I would like to request an Amelia shepherd x reader where the reader is in recovery of self harm and one day Amelia comes home and finds her harming herself. First angst and then fluff if you are comfortable <3

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of self-harm, blood and the brief mention of suicide. These plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

ᕚ---ᕘ

In a dimly lit room, you sat at a shabby old desk belonging to your predecessor. The room seemed cramped and suffocating, as if the bare walls were getting closer and closer the longer you stayed there in your chair. You stared at the screen of an overloaded old computer, your eyes wide open and your forehead furrowed thoughtfull, the table littered with all the papers from a new case, scattered in a chaotic arrangement while the coffee in the cup next to it has long since become cold, ignored and forgotten.

Your hands clinging to the mouse, sweaty and shaking, the cursor on the screen frantically darting over various tabs and icons as you desperately tried to get anything done amid the pressure, stress and sleepless nights of the last few weeks. Your breathing was heavy and shallow, but your chest was still falling quickly and in an irregular rhythm. The air around you thick and the pressure within it palpable, as if invisible hands were constricting your throat.

"Hey, y/n. Are you okay?" A bright, feminine voice asked, her fitting figure standing in front of your desk. Your eyelids flickered as you lifted your head, the thoughts in your head swirling wildly as you tried to keep control of them and yourself. But the only thing you wanted at that moment was to go back to the blade and relieve yourself, even though you had already been clean for three months and had promised yourself never to fall back into this addiction.

"Y-yeah, everything is fine," you lied in a broken and raspy voice, the desk lamp next to you flickering dimly as the room filled with a muffled, monotone sound that seemed to penetrate through your ears and lodge in your head. "Are you sure? You look pale and you are sweating. Do you have a fever?"

The pressure inside you grew with your colleague's questioning, heavy like an unbearable weight that rested on your shoulders and pulled you further and further to the ground. Every second that the blonde's eyes were on you seemed like an eternity, and the pressure inside, mixed with a deep panic, felt like a bubbling volcano, ready to erupt and consume everything around you. "You know what? I feel sick. I am going to go home and rest."

ᕚ---ᕘ

As soon as you got home, you quickly ran to the bathroom and looked for a brand new disposable razor, which you had disassembled in seconds. The world around you blurred into a diffuse mist of colors and shadows as you sat down on the bed and violently tore your jacket down. Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears and your gaze was blank, fixated on the cold silver between your fingers. Your hands shook as you placed the blade spasmodically against your thin skin, fighting the inner storm to hurt yourself and destroy the promise you gave Amelia.

There was an ominous silence around you, broken only by the dull thumping of your own pulse. Your body was heavy, bound by an invisible chain, your legs rooted to the ground. Your face marked by fear and desperation, but also relief as you pulled the blade through and a thin line of blood appeared on the cut. It helped you release the pressure you were holding inside, pouring out the stress of the days.

It was a moment of liberation that no one understood. Another cut brought you repeated relief and at the feeling of burning and escaping emotions, you closed your eyes as you tilted your head back and took a deep breath. In your trance, you didn't even hear how the front door closed and your girlfriend checked on you in every room. "Y/n? My love, where are you?" Amelia called but you did not hear her, the environment around you seemed unreal and vague.

Amelia had come home after your colleague called her and told her about the incident that had happened at work. She was worried that you really were not feeling well, leaving you go home alone in case something happened to you, so to be on the safe side she had called the emergency contact number listed in your file to make sure you were not alone and someone could look after you when you got home. "Elizabeth called me and said that you-" she stopped perplexed in her tracks, her jaw hanging low as she spotted you, bloody razor just inches away from your wrist.

Close to it, there were cuts, angry red blood dripping down onto your thigh. "Hey, what are you doing there? Put that down, please" she demanded softly, mostly out of fright and shock. You looked down at the ground, refusing to meet her gaze as she dropped her bag on the floor and immediately made her way to the bathroom to grab some bandages. Amelia returned with a small, wet rag, which she gently placed over your wrist and pressed firmly onto it. There was not much bleeding, she did not have to worry about serious injuries, however tears threatened to fall. The brunette was scared- terrified for you.

"Why?" she asked sniffling, not showing the slightest bit of anger in her voice. You looked up nervously, your shiny and relieved eyes meeting her sad hazel brown ones. She ran her fingers delicately through your strands of hair before her hand came to rest on your cheek, her thumb lightly stroking your cheekbone. "You were clean. Why did you do that, darling?"

„I just needed to escape the harsh and bleak reality. Life recently got so rough and I felt like I may burst,“ you began to speak and she pulled you into her chest by the back of your head. Amelia kissed your hair, ran her hand through it and gently rocked you from left to right. Her chin rested on your skull, her eyes closed to calm her racing heart. She was not mad at you, never could be. She herself knew what it was like to fight an addiction; it took her several attempts to be sober for a good three years. "I am sorry, Am."

"It is okay. Please only answer one question," you nodded your head, still hidden in her chest and held by her. "If you could kill yourself right now, would you?" You quickly jumped and tore yourself away from her, your eyes wide at the shocking question. Placing your hands on her thighs, you gently rubbed her knees and looked deep into her eyes. "No, because suicide means that you have given up on yourself. And I am not going to do that. I just had to let the pressure go because I did not see any other option."

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aaagustd · 6 hours

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room for two | jjk: prologue

a series from the "Misfit Parent Collection"

⌞banner and dividers by @itaeewon

title: room for two

pairing: heir/retired boxer!jeon jungkook x single mother!reader

genre/rating: angst, slow burn, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, ceo!jungkook, divorced!reader, aged up characters (in their mid thirties), surrogacy/pregnancy au; 18+

summary: As you signed the contract, you thought all your problems were solved—and so did he. However, no one can predict what life will throw your way.

Despite your prejudices, this journey will reveal that the bond you share goes deeper than your womb.

wc: 1.7k

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions a sh*tty parent, character death, borderline inappropriate workplace relationships but nothing has exactly happened, swearing, mentions boxing & knockouts, people either like jungkook or they hate him, let me know if i missed anything

release date: april 26th, 2024; 10:50pm est

note: the prologue is here !! i hope you all are ready for this ride. it's been a two year journey for me and i'm so happy you all get to join me. we have a lot to cover and so many people to meet. i hope you're ready !!

series masterlist | main masterlist | inbox | join the taglist? | read on ao3

One year ago.

The doors open to reveal the setting sun on the horizon. Shades of orange and red paint the sky as the faint presence of stars patiently awaits the giant orb's final departure.

Jungkook steps out into the crisp evening air without regard for the gusts that violently displace his perfectly styled bangs. His urgent steps have nothing to do with the conditions. After a long and exhausting day, he enjoys the nippy pre-spring breeze.

He's almost completely drained of his energy when he approaches the exit. The first step he takes out of the building is like an instant charge. The wind hitting his face is like a slap that brings him back to reality.

If that isn't enough to wake up his brain, the sharpness of his security personnel's tone will surely make him alert. Two men of large stature guide him to his Porsche. He can only imagine the twinkle in his eyes when they land on his baby—resting idle while she waits for him to claim his rightful seat behind the wheel.

Jungkook nearly bypasses his guards as he takes excited strides toward his vehicle. However, a muscular bicep forms a barricade directly in front of the young CEO, reminding him of the dangers of wandering ahead of them in public.

Only authorized people are allowed on the premises, but even a company as large as Sport's 5 cannot dictate who stands on a public sidewalk. Besides, the people who choose to spend their time out here are harmless, but he still understands the importance of safety.

Some people are so desperate they'd do anything to get a picture with the Big 5—a panel Jungkook used to sit on before being offered an executive position.

Sport's 5 is made up of five individuals who have had exceptional professional sports careers. Mainly, retired sportsmen and women who still have love for the game.

Jungkook was offered a seat at the table before he could even properly hang up his gloves. Everyone wanted to know his story, his inputs and opinions, and, of course—the firsthand account of the KO he delivered right to Joey "The Rhino" Reese.

Although it was the best highlight of his career, he's never publicly spoken on that night out of respect for the legend and his family. It'd be pointless to keep retelling the events when they're online for everyone to see.

Despite keeping his mouth shut about the fall of an icon, he still receives his share of hate from the boxer's diehard fans.

"Coward!"

He hears a man shouting insults somewhere from across the street, but most of his words are inaudible due to the distance. Though it can't be anything good because a family walking by promptly covers their child's ears every time the man opens his mouth.

Like on any other occasion, Jungkook shrugs off the spew of hate and gets into his car—wishing security a safe night. The engine roars as he pushes start, the sound of purring grasps one of the men's attention and he turns around with a point, a silent compliment that Jungkook accepts with a nod as he speeds away.

With nothing but headlights in his rearview mirror, Jungkook zooms through the city—wondering where his journey will take him. After the day he's had, home seems like a great option, but he isn't in the mood to spend a weeknight surrounded by silence in a large penthouse.

So, he drives downtown, aiming for any bar without a crowd. That shouldn't be too hard. Most people have work tomorrow. They aren't in the mood for a party, and neither is he.

A distraction is all he needs to ease his restless mind.

He reaches the heart of the city and parks near the curb. Heads turn as he gets out of his vehicle, wondering who he could be. With his shades on and natural hair color, it's hard for people to recognize his identity these days.

Still, everyone's captivated by the car he steps out of. They could care less what he looks like. The wealth that oozes from his body and his Porsche are the real attention grabbers. Without money, he's just another guy.

Jungkook adjusts his suit as he scopes out the area. He notices the establishment across from him has upbeat music blasting through the speakers. Judging by the people lined up, waiting to get in—it's more of a nightclub than a lounge.

He sighs as he eliminates one place after another, eventually deciding to walk the strip and see what it has to offer. He nearly misses it as he strolls aimlessly, but tucked in the corner—dark and rustic—is just what he's been searching for.

Somewhere laid back and secluded; just somewhere you go for a drink and maybe a few rounds of pool.

He can count on one hand the number of occupants that are in there, so before anyone can figure out who he is, he steps inside and removes his glasses. He scans the room and acknowledges those who randomly lock eyes with him.

Jungkook can't help but admire the way this place is set up. The outside doesn't do it any justice; he can't even remember the name on the sign. He'll have to check on his way out; maybe tell some of his colleagues to visit so it can gain some more customers.

He'll have to look into that another time, though. He doesn't want to spend too much time here, so he makes his way to the bar.

Two women stand on each side; one is at the register printing someone's bill, and the other is already waiting for him to order.

The greeting he receives is warm and sincere. One you won't find in too many places. He offers a smile, the best he can give, at least.

"Hey. Just a Jack & Coke for me,” he replies.

With a small nod, the bartender begins preparing his drink. While he waits, he starts going through his phone, checking texts he missed while he was up to his neck in paperwork.

Most of them are from associates, his trainer, and…

His assistant?

The number isn't saved because he hasn't used it, but he sees the name in a previous message—letting him know he's speaking with the woman he hired four months ago.

6:54 pm (###) ###-####: Hi! I think I dropped my earring in your car when we grabbed lunch today. Can you check?

He doesn't have to.

Jungkook saw when the earring "fell" between the center console and the passenger seat. It happened right after it was dropped there by its owner.

He can't help but laugh at the whole thing. Had he remembered, he would have said something immediately, but he has to admit that the low cut blouse was a great choice. He can't count how many red lights he almost ran sneaking glances.

Usually, he has no problem with keeping things professional, but with all the flirting and teasing that's been going on over the last few weeks, the temptation is becoming a bit unbearable.

Maybe he should take a detour on the way home and return the "lost" item.

7:49 pm Him: I'll look in a few

After he sends the message, his drink is placed before him, and he abandons his phone without hesitation.

"Tab or no?"

"No, love. That’s it for me.."

He places a twenty dollar bill on the bar, and pushes it towards the woman standing behind the counter.

"Keep what's left," he insists.

She takes the cash and walks to the register, leaving him alone to sip his liquor and bob his head to some classic rock.

As soon as the glass touches his lip, he takes a large sip, and regret washes over his entire body.

"What the—"

"Don't drink that," the other bartender whispers sharply.

She rushes over and takes the glass from his hand, replacing it with a new one instantly.

"She's trying, but…"

Jungkook understands entirely. She's still learning. Everyone's been there, even him.

"Don't worry about it," he insists. "Let me grab my wallet—"

She declines.

"It's on me, sweetheart."

Before he can argue, she walks away and disappears with the horrible drink her coworker made.

Despite the little hiccup, Jungkook is glad he found this little gem. It seems like a nice place for a good time, but also somewhere to unwind. There's a bar, a dance floor, a billiards table—and whoever is in charge of the music has great taste.

He'll definitely be back, maybe even tomorrow.

The next sip he takes does exactly what it's supposed to do. "Goddamn it."

The liquor makes his mouth and throat tingle as it travels into his body. He can feel his body relaxing already. Now, all he needs is a shower, and—

His phone buzzes in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Once again, the number is unknown. Jungkook has every intention of ignoring it, but his thumb accidentally presses accept. He stares at the screen in disbelief as he hears the faint sound of someone's voice on the other end of the call.

Slowly, he brings it to his ear and acknowledges the caller.

"Hello?"

"Hi, son."

Great, this is just what he needs right now. A call from his father, someone who basically disowned him for chasing the same dream that led to his wealth and success.

"Yeah, I'm kind of busy. Can I call you back?"

He lies so he can end the call. There isn't a drink here that can give him enough strength to put up with this man. He can't deal with this tonight, and he won't.

"Hold on!" he shouts through the phone, making Jungkook release a defeated sigh. He's entirely prepared to hang up in his father's face if he has to, but he'll entertain him for a few more seconds.

"I don't know who pumped your balls up so large that you have the audacity to call me, but—"

"It's your grandfather, Jungkook."

There's a pause.

A long dreadful pause. It's as if Jungkook already knows what he's about to say, and unfortunately—his instinct is right.

"He's dead."

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fics #jungkook fics #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic #aaagustd.fics

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secondratefiction · 12 days

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Hi there! Hope you’re doing well! Kicking that funeral services degree’s ass with any luck!! I was wondering if you would be up to writing a drabble for Jason or Tim (whoever you think fits the scenario best) as the boyfriend of a law student. Maybe where they’re living together and she’s just barely getting 3-5 hours of sleep a night while trying to study for finals, writing a full legal brief, practicing for oral arguments, getting ready for her summer associateship, and applying for moot court and law review. (Is this based on some poor law student’s real life? We may never know!) And just like her needing someone to be there and take care of her, but also her wanting to take care of him too even though she is very much Trying Her Best to Survive™? (Btw thank you so much for blessing us with batfam content galore, absolute ICON <3 )

Oh good lord… bless you and this ‘hypothetical’ poor law student. I know my degree is kicking my ass all across the state and back, so I can only imagine… They keep telling me the degrees are worth it… we’ll ride it out and see. Good vides, and better times love 💜

—

Now I fully believe that Timmy would be wonderful at this in his own right… but every single thing about this request violently screams Jason Todd to me…

There are only so many hours and so many spoons in a day, and unfortunately a law degree takes up almost every single ounce of both of them

However, Jason has this innately ingrained need to take care of the people that matter to him, so this is exactly where he shines

He was always Alfred’s best protege, so the man cooks and cleans house like a pro. Not only that, but it’s something that he genuinely enjoys because they are simple and repetitive tasks that let zone out and go through the motions to decompress from his ‘other job’.

While he’s happy to take care of all of that and leave you to focus on the proverbial, ever-growing mountain of work you have - He’s not above making you stop to take a break.

It is not an uncommon occurrence for this man to literally close your laptop, throw you over his shoulder*, and haul you out to the kitchen table to sit down and have a meal with him.

((*I do not care what size you are, or what hang ups you might have about your weight, if this man can hold up a collapsing ceiling, he can carry you across y’alls apartment))

“Ok, I have physically seen you putting food and water into your body, you can go back to your cave now.”

This happens at least 2-3 times a week

He is concerned. Just humor him and let him love you.

Jason is 100% the type to be actively learning from anything you tell him

Some nights, when the insomnia and the nightmares decide to double team him, he’ll even sit up browsing through your textbooks just to try and understand everything you're doing more.

Tim get’s labeled the nerd of the family a lot, but really Jason would have been the family scholar if he’d had the chance

The second bedroom in your apartment is both your office and his library. That shit is floor to ceiling.

With that in mind he is always more than happy to be a sounding board when you need him to. Listen to what you’ve got, argue the other side if necessary

Dear god, just know what you’re getting into there… he lives for that kind of stuff, and he will come prepared. This is one of his all time favorite games, that comes second only to aggravating the living shit out of you (which, if he’s lucky, will be a bonus here)

95% of the time, Jason has got this, got you - focus on your school babe, I’ll take care of it… but that 5%? That bit where he’s not actually infallible? He so very desperately doesn’t want you to see that.

What you’re doing is important, and he doesn’t want the fact he had a rough night to be a distraction for you. This is where you enter a bit of a balancing act…

As much as you may want to put everything aside and take care of him, that is the fastest way to make him shut down.

Instead, grab a textbook and a highlighter. Go ‘make yourself some tea’ and pour him a mug too. Set everything up in the living room and drag him onto the couch with you.

Put his head in your lap, and just run your fingers through his hair while you do some reading.

Bonus points if you put a blanket over him

Poor baby is gonna melt in an instant and be out cold before you know it. Just keep playing with his hair and let him sleep.

And do not mention it if he is emotional when he wakes up… he’s never going to be good/get used to receiving love and affection. Do it anyway, and don’t make a big deal about it.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #batfam #reader insert #requests

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prismatic-bell · 1 year

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Anti-Racism in Glass Onion: It's A Whole Thing, Part Two

Picking up from here.

We’ll pick up this part with, finally: Helen herself. The heroine of the piece. When we first meet her she has natural hair, a sort of Southern/AAVE-mix accent, and she. Is. PISSED. I think this is the most important part, frankly--the heart of the glass onion of racism deconstruction in this movie, to just pile more burden on this poor overworked metaphor (it deserves a raise, frankly). I'm 34 years old and trying to remember a single other movie I've seen in my entire life where a Black woman is not just angry but enraged, furious, livid, seething, and isn't An Angry Black Woman. Helen is raging--and so are we. Helen is fuming--and so is Blanc. Helen is as angry as it's possible for one person to be--and the narrative says she should be, that we should be, that her anger is normal and natural and any person put in her situation would feel this way. Helen is destructive—and we relish and celebrate her acts of destruction. Black anger in movies usually comes in two forms: either it's carefully modulated so a white audience can take it seriously, or it's over the top and you're meant to either laugh at it or feel threatened by it. Helen is damned near homicidal--and the narrative is firmly in her corner. Helen is a Black woman and she is angry. She is not An Angry Black Woman. And that anger is shown through multiple lenses! We see her pour out her heart to Benoit, who she (correctly) trusts not to judge her; we see it cold, calculated, carefully modulated so as to not look like An Angry Black Woman to "the disrupters;" and we finally see it completely unleashed in a literal glass-smashing fire-setting explosive rage--that ends in her destroying an icon of Western white beauty standards. That picture didn't have to be the Mona Lisa. If the point was "Klear destroyed an extremely famous painting," it could as easily have been Starry Night. Or a Picasso. The choice of Mona Lisa was deliberate--not just the most famous painting of all time, but the most famous white woman. Also worth noting here is that there’s a theory that actually isn’t entirely crackpot (unlikely but possible, in other words) that the Mona Lisa is actually a self-portrait of da Vinci. (This theory posits that he painted himself as a woman as a way to express his sexual orientation, based upon the not-100%-but-pretty-solid theory that he was gay.) Add that in, and you’ve got Helen destroying the-man-Miles-wants-to-believe-he-is (artist, inventor, philosopher, legend). It’s white hegemony all the way down.

Now that we've looked at how Miles uses Black imagery, how the Black characters use Black imagery, and at Helen (who we'll come back to), I want to go back to "the disrupters" and not just who they are, but what they did to Andi.

Duke speaks for himself. He's racist, sexist, chauvinist, repeatedly attempts blackmail, and carries a gun like he thinks it's a way to advertise his dick size. We all know who Duke is. We've seen people just like him all over YouTube. We also see him get in "Andi's" face, basically telling her she's worthless--openly stating what I said above about the mammy, that she was worth something until she wouldn't feed them their pap anymore and then she was scum. He has no problem supporting the narrative that Andi was an ignorant hanger-on and (white, male) Miles the true genius.

Whiskey says she's on Andi's side, but we quickly see her fall into stereotype--she tells "Andi" she's going to leave Duke, she says "I just left him" while crying, "Andi" says "Duke got what he deserved!" (meaning: he deserved to get dumped), and Whiskey immediately goes full-blown "holy shit homicidal crazy Black lady, she's violent she's psycho she's dangerous." Yes, I realize Whiskey is deeply emotional at the moment and thinking more about what’s just happened than a conversation she had a few hours previously, but she instantly assumes "Andi" murdered Duke and is going to kill her. She's an ally until she's not, and it doesn't take long to scratch the surface.

And then we get to Claire. She casts herself as a progressive politician in the Independent party, but we see her first perjure herself on the stand against Andi, and then do it again after Miles burns the napkin (albeit not under oath at the time). She will not actually stand up to protect the name, life, livelihood of not just one but two Black women. Oh, sure, she looks ashamed. But what good is silent guilt to Andi’s work, Andi’s legacy, Andi’s life, Andi’s justice? No good. No fucking good at all. If she’d spoken truth to power, Andi might still be alive. If she’d done the job she swore an oath to do in upholding the law of the United States, Andi might still be alive. Her silence didn’t just let Miles get away with grand larceny and character assassination; her silence killed.

Aaaand Birdie. Birdie is white-weaponized-womanhood writ large. Birdie is the victim because her phone was taken after she said something godawful. Birdie is the victim because people don't understand her blackface was a tribute. Birdie is the victim because she compared herself to Harriet Tubman and nobody understood she meant "in spirit" (or, frankly, probably what the hell she meant by "in spirit," because I see about as much similarity between Birdie and Harriet Tubman as I do between an apple and a seahorse). Birdie is the victim because nobody explained to a grownass woman that "sweatshop" means "factory built out of spit and human rights violations" instead of "place you make sweatpants." Never attribute to malice what can be adequately explained by stupidity, but to an extent there absolutely is malice in Birdie's actions. She never bothers to stop and ask why people are so damned mad at her, or why her career has taken two separate nosedives over antiblack statements. She never bothers to learn what "antiblack" means. And when confronted with the evidence Miles murdered Andi, she quickly pretends she didn't see it.

Finally, for living members, we’ve got Lionel. And he’s interesting because we see so little of him, but what we do see is Miles threatening him. Almost every time he’s got a speaking line, he’s trying to be a voice of reason, and every time, Miles shuts him down. This is part of the meta-narrative—Lionel isn’t a real person, he’s a person Rian Johnson dreamed up. Lionel could be any color. Lionel could be white, he could be Native, he could be Indian or Chinese or Slav. But he’s Black, and that’s on purpose, because he’s the only person in the movie Miles threatens onscreen. Duke gets killed, but Lionel is kept around even over strenuous objection—why? Because when Klear fails—and I think Miles knew it would fail—Miles will sail off into the sunset with the bankruptcy money and leave a Black man to take the fall.

And finally: Andi. We know, from seeing Helen at Benoit and Phillip’s, what Andi-not-glammed-up looks like. But now think of how she presents herself: straightened, dyed-blonde hair in the most I’m-not-just-a-white-woman-I’m-a-WHITE-woman haircut there is; Helen notes that Andi has schooled herself into a white-socialite “rich bitch” accent, even saying “who you fooling, girl? Not me”. Andi has lightened herself, whitened herself. And is it a surprise? She’s entered two fields that are notoriously white: STEM and business. She can’t have natural hair. It’s “unprofessional”. She can’t have a Black accent. It’s “ignorant” and “unschooled”. She can’t shed her skin to fit into a world that wants to put her “in her place,” but she certainly tried.

As an addendum to Andi—since it’s her wardrobe Helen is wearing—there’s some amazing color symbolism going on there, and I don’t mean the children’s hospital kind. When we meet “Andi,” she’s wearing a dress that’s mostly red and reminiscent of a blood splatter, with a tiny amount of brown near the hem. The rest of it is black and white, and the design of the bodice makes it such that the black and white are laying right against each other in opposition. Later that night, she’s in all white—and this is what she’s wearing when she’s shot and then comes back “bloodstained” with a red sauce Miles gave to Benoit. White hands put that “blood” on her, white hands created the opportunity for it to happen, and now there’s metaphorical blood on white—Andi’s blood, on Miles’ white hands. (There’s an additional bit of this in alive!Andi’s clothing, by the way, if you’re not convinced. When we see her in the Glass Onion bar she has straightened black hair and is wearing mostly black with just white cuffs and collar. When we see her in her office at Alpha she’s in dark gray, and in court, she’s in light gray. She dies in a pink sweater—the color of a scratch, before it turns into a bloody cut. Her wardrobe lightens as she tries to make herself better fit into the white ideal of what a businesswoman should look like...but it still ends in blood.)

Now let’s talk about Benoit Blanc.

What little we know of Benoit is that his family was probably either French or Cajun, based on how he pronounces his own name; that he’s a gay man with a husband; that he’s “the last gentleman detective” (if you watched Knives Out); that he’s apparently a bit of a comics fan; and, famously or infamously, that he’s Southern. So white Southern man in his mid-fifties—what do you assume you know of Benoit Blanc, if you don’t actually know him? I think it’s safe to say there’d be an assumption of antiblack racism. And yet—remember that pin I told you to stick in Kareem Abdul-Jabbar? We’re back there now—the first thing we see of him in Glass Onion involves him getting told off by a Black man and not only taking it with grace, but accepting that he needs to open up about his problems because of said Black man. He’s not threatened, nor does he feel the need to assert some kind of superiority or dominance—he just goes “okay, you’re right” and spills. And from there we jump immediately (timeline-wise, not movie-wise) to him listening to Helen’s story and agreeing to help her. Now this does not mean he’s some kind of perfect beneficent dude with no problems; he did something pretty shitty with the way he handled the whole “you have to go with me or it can’t be done” thing, and the narrative wants us to forgive him for it because he’s the protagonist. It serves the story, I realize that’s the point, but I do think it’s worth noting simply because if he falls victim to prejudice or stereotype at any point in the movie, it’s right here, with the idea that Helen is A Strong Black Woman—he absolutely could have used more delicacy handling this, given this woman’s twin sister was just killed. A positive stereotype is still a stereotype.

With that said, I feel like his own momentary dip into bias is actually what gives him the idea that really helps him spring the case open—as he realizes what he assumed, he also realizes he’s walking in as a white Southern man in his fifties. He, too, can be the victim of stereotype, but in this case he decides to weaponize those biases and prejudices among Miles and “the disrupters,” explicitly telling Helen he’ll “turn up the Southern hokum.” They want to be biased rich people relying on stereotypes? Oh, he’ll show them stereotypes. They’ll think he’s an idiot because of how he talks; they’ll assume he’ll take their side over Andi’s because of his origin. And they do! They confide in him openly about what Miles did to Andi, because he’s a white Southern yokel, right? He’ll assume Andi deserved it.

Except he doesn’t, because he’s bettered himself from that. Is he perfect? No. We see he’s not perfect. But he’s putting in the effort “the disrupters” don’t or won’t. And being willing to face that legacy and reputation is how he solves the case. It’s the tool in his arsenal that makes Miles underestimate him.

And finally, let’s go back to Banksy, who you may remember I initially ignored. There are two reasons for this, and both tie into the “is the Mona Lisa real?” thing.

First, Banksy is pretty famously anonymous. A single interviewer has met him and given us a gender (male), rough age (late 20s at time of interview), and race (white), but that’s all we’ve got. Miles didn’t commission Banksy because Banksy can’t be commissioned, and the kind of work he does suggests he’d tell Miles to shove his money up his ass. On top of which, Banksy is a graffiti artist, not a glassworker.

But more importantly, we’re never told it’s actually Banksy.

Someone on the boat says “Is that a Banksy?”, but this is never confirmed. And here’s where it gets interesting and is about to tie into the Mona Lisa: it can’t be a Banksy. Because, and this is a thing you probably wouldn’t know if you never got bored enough to do a Wikipedia deep dive (thanks, ADHD!), the reason Banksy works with stencils and flat colors is that by his own admission, he’s not actually a very good artist. He’s too slow to do the kind of work he wants to do without the aid of stencils. I’m not slagging off on Banksy, here, good on him for finding a way to do what he wanted to do anyway, but the point is you have to be fast to work in glass. He gets name-dropped specifically so someone can look bougie. That’s it.

But even without knowing that extra detail about why Banksy can’t do glass sculpture, we know he doesn’t. And this makes all of Miles’ art immediately suspect, and it’s supposed to be. I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to teeter back and forth for most of the movie on whether the Mona Lisa is real. But it’s important to note the callousness Miles treats it with, because it’s an early clue as to him being the murderer. To wit, the Mona Lisa is deeply fragile. We literally can’t clean it to see what it’s supposed to look like because the way da Vinci painted it made it inherently unstable (if you want to see what a truer-to-color version would have looked like, one of da Vinci’s students painted alongside him a piece now known as the Prado Mona Lisa that we’ve been able to clean because it doesn’t have that same instability). When it travels—which is basically “when the Louvre has to put it in storage for awhile” and that’s it—there’s an insurance policy on it bigger than the GDP of some countries. It literally makes the news when it’s moved. And it doesn’t actually go anywhere! It doesn’t join traveling exhibits, it doesn’t get shuttled around for tests, if you want to do work on the Mona Lisa you go to the Mona Lisa. It does not come to you.

Knowing all of this, if for some reason the curators at the Louvre came to you and said “hey, you’re in charge of the Mona Lisa for awhile,” what would you do? Put it in a case you perpetually keep open to humidity and corrosive salt air (remember, they’re on an island), with a hidden switch inside a badly-painted figurine? Like regardless of whether you think the safety measures around the painting in real life are excessive, you’d probably show it at least a bare minimum of respect and not needlessly expose it to potential severe damage. And if you loved it the way Miles claims to love it, would you even accept charge of the painting? Or would you be like “dude no, you have the experts and the resources, leave it there, you can take way better care of it than me”? (It’s not even in my top ten favorite paintings, possibly not even in my top fifty, but I sure as hell wouldn’t take it. I can’t even imagine what I’d do if the MoMA handed me The Persistence of Memory and said “take care of this for awhile.” I sure as hell would not have it in an open case in my dining room.)

And this is why 1) the Mona Lisa is real and 2) you’re supposed to go back and forth on whether it is or not. Because…surely he’s not that callous? Surely he understands the concept of respecting other people’s things, especially other people’s priceless property? Yes, he can certainly afford to damage the Mona Lisa, but—he wouldn’t, would he? Ah—but here’s the genius, the vacillation on whether it’s real tells us he’s the murderer, because one of two things is true. If it’s a copy, then he’s a compulsive liar. Plenty of people, including very wealthy people, the world over own high-quality replicas of extremely famous works, and it’s not seen as shameful or embarrassing—being able to say “this is as close as anyone will ever get to owning the original” is a kind of clout all its own. Miles would have no reason to lie about owning a spectacular replica except extreme self-aggrandizement. And if it’s real, then we know that no, actually, he doesn’t love it as much as he says—it’s a trinket to make him look good, and if the Mona fucking Lisa is nothing but a trinket, then what are the people around him? The ones he claims to love so much? It must be real for the ending to make sense—losing his own copy wouldn’t be “the end of Miles Bron”—but long before we come to that conclusion, there is literally no way for his treatment of the painting to come off as anything but borderline deranged.

And here’s where we get back to “this whole thing is literally just a takedown of racism”: the last time the Mona Lisa was appraised, estimates put it at several hundred million dollars—but adjusted for inflation, the estimated value in 2020 would be about one billion, and appraisers agreed when they valuated it that any price they put on it would almost certainly be surpassed at auction.

And the movie ends with a final explosive “and it’s not worth shit compared to a Black woman’s life.”

It’s not just about “a life is worth more than even the most precious piece of art.” It’s a takedown of racism all the way through.

#glass onion #racism #media analysis

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priestessame · 1 year

Text

Succubus 101

Aahhhhhh omg this is one brain rot I cannot get out of my head.

§.•´¨'°÷•..× 🎀 one shot 🎀 ×..•÷°'¨´•.§

Nerd Tartaglia x Novice Succubus reader

Summary: An unsuspecting Tartaglia accidentally summons a real succubus. Warnings: penetrative sex, slight awkwardness, choking, FLUFF, Tartaglia being pussy drunk, overstimulation, dirty talk. AFAB reader.Switch reader sub-Tartaglia, needy Tartaglia.

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Ajax dragged himself back to his room. Judging from the mess Scaramouche had left behind, it looked like even his emo roommate had things to do on a Friday night.

Childe tried not to overthink it. After all nothing wrong with solitude. And he was even looking forward to the time alone until he stepped inside. The empty room dawned on him, no matter how much he tried to cheer himself up he could press the bitterness of the situation down.

He looked over at his side, at one of his biochemistry textbooks lying open on his bed. Suddenly regretting not taking up the offer to go drinking with itto and the others, now that he knew exactly how his evening was going to play out.

Not long after he was already switching tabs, typing in the name of his go-to hentai site. Palming himself through his pants as he scrolled through the video icons. It wasn't new for him to spend the night pumping his cock watching some random hentai. It was almost routine to him at this point. It felt fucking great while jacking off, but by the time the high wore off, he just felt very alone. After a few minutes of scrolling, he finally found a video he found somewhat appealing. Showing a lovely pink-haired anime girl, playfully flashing her breasts.

He groaned as the click instead made 3 other pop ups appear, sending him to random corners of the internet. With an annoyed grunt, he pulled his hand out of his pants.

He tried to find his way back to the porn site, but another click sent him to a pop-up article on how porn was harmful.

'Did you know that watching porn also can also cause you to lose all cerebral fluid??!' it said in bright yellow lettering.

"yeah sure." Ajax chuckled to himself, clicking away from the weird website. He should have gotten the new firewall system Albedo was telling him about. Maybe that way he could go back to watching hentai without all these damn pop ups.

"What now?" He complained aloud. The screen seemed to have gone completely blank. The white cursor froze on the screen. He moved his mouse but the cursor remained where it was. Ajax felt a pit in his stomach, if his computer actually caught some virus right before the end sem- He clicked at the screen aggressively. Slamming random keys to get some kind of reaction.

The computer screen glitched suddenly, with a sharp hiss that made him jump. The lights in the room flickered before going out with an eerie 'woosh'. For a few seconds, Ajax sat in the complete dark blinking.

The computer screen lit up, bathing his face in a red glow. Ajax brushed his curls from his face. The language on the screen was nothing like he has ever seen before. It had flickered on just as the room had darkened from the short circuit. White and red runes appearing out of nowhere. All placed around the screen in strange concentric patters. If he stared too long it felt as though they moved across the screen like some optic illusion.

His blue eyes peered over his glass, "what in the world… is that Enochian?" He murmured. At this point, Ajax had started to get a little scared. His ears rang, eyes playing tricks on him as he frantically tried to find the cursor. All he really wanted to do was get off this cursed ass site.

"Like the coding on that one? I did it myself!"

Ajax jumped violently, spinning around in the dark to see a figure sitting casually on his bed. With a gasp, Ajax slipped from his chair, landing on the floor hard. "What the actual fuck!" He cried out. You gave him no reaction, continuing to read through his textbook sheepishly.

"Biochemistry." You sighed laying down on your stomach, your tail flicking lazily, "honestly I would have preferred someone who was studying humanities."

He stared at you, "okay so I have lost all my cerebral fluid and gone completely mad."

You tilted your head to the side, "i don't think loss of cerebral fluid causes hallucinations though."

Ajax was still too much in a daze to hold a conversation with you, "All I fucking did was click that website, and it would cause a whole ass person to appear."

You pumped up your fist in the air, "I KNOW RIGHT?! it works!" You said, rolling on to your back, and kicking your legs happily. "God that's bound to get me an A, I mean not to brag but I might have just revolutionized the plane for succubi-human interactions!"

Right. A strange half-naked woman had suddenly appeared talking about demonic coding. And he still had his cock out. Ajax held up a hand, while furiously trying to zip up his undone pants.

"Okay hold up. So you're telling me you're a… Sex demon?" "A Succubus," you corrected him pointing at the little black horns on your head, Still, on the floor, Ajax gave out a hollow laugh, slapping his forehead, "there's a sex demon on my bed."

You frowned at him, "I'm a Succubus, it really isn't that uncommon of a word." Ajax continued to stare at you, now perched cross-legged on his bed. With your outfit, you looked more like an adult cosplayer than an actual demon. Firstly the small bat wings on your back were more cute than daunting. The black spade-tipped tail swished lazily. Your skirt god save him, was just perfect on you. The leather digging into your skin lightly. Ending right your mid-way thigh, with gorgeous slits down both sides. And the leather halter top had a heart cut out for your chest. Fuck they looked so soft-

He forced himself to look at your face. If it wasn't for that ominous Golden glow in your eyes, he would have thought you had walked out of one of his hentai videos. "With that outfit, you don't really look like a demon."

Your eyes slit, and the lights in the room flickered. The temperature around him dropped so suddenly that his ears popped. Your golden eyes flashed at him teasingly, "Wanna see proof?" You warned. Ajax felt his cock twitch at your tone. "Nope." He gulped, attempting to stand up.

He tried to get his brain working again. "So I summoned you? Through that website?" He asked. You smiled proudly, clearly very pleased with your academic endeavor, "that's right." He cocked his head to the side, a lopsided smile that meant trouble appearing on his face. "So that means we have a contract ?"

Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your skirt. "I was just testing out my website, but I guess it does."

You looked up at him, unable to keep the desire from pooling between your legs. You really liked this cute human before you, and you'd love to indulge him more. You patted the mattress beside you softly, watching him practically trip over himself trying to sit down. Ajax bit back a moan as you settled onto his lap. Warm core pressing up against his bulge.

His fingers rested on your skirt. Your breasts squished up against his chest. God he loved this outfit on you. He couldn't help but run his hands along your sides.

Ajax scratched his head, "So this is like your job?" "It's not my job" you snapped at him, "It's how I collect souls."

Ajax's face paled, cerulean eyes wide.

You gave out a soft giggle, "I'll make an exception this time." You promised, "after all.. your voice trailed off.

"You're kinda my first." You completed with a blush.

He arched an eyebrow "So you're a virgin succubus?"

You give him a pout, "you see, virginity as a construct is much more human than you realize, doesn't really apply to demons."

"I don't know, I thought you would have had some… Practicals." He said.

"T-that's not what they covered in class." You murmured.

"So what do they teach in succubus 101?"

You looked at him as if it was apparent "You know, consent and stuff!"

Ajax ran a hand through his hair, "Of course." Your thigh dug into his growing erection. "You know if you want… I mean now that I am here." You started, breasts almost aching with need. "I could you know, help you out?"

Ajax felt his mouth go dry. "You really want to?" His cerulean orbs drank in your curves, what he would give to actually be able to touch you. You grinned at him, sliding your hand down his abs over his aching cock. You leaned in close to his face, "I'd love to~"

He pulled you in a breathless kiss. Hands running down your body greedily. His touch grew hotter with every second, fingers sliding under your top, rubbing up against your soft mounds. His hot tongue ran down your lower lip, needing, begging you to let him taste you more. You squeezed his cock lightly before rubbing your finger along the sensitive slit, oozing precum. Tracing the fat vein down to his base.

Ajax gave out ragged laugh against your mouth, "Fuck, it's like you can read minds."

You stared at him. His smile slipped. "YOU CAN READ MINDS?" He asked.

You grinned at him, "From any dirty thought, down to every pathetic porn search, you have ever made." You replied with pride. "My mind-reading skills are pretty good."

"So if you're feeling a little embarrassed to tell me what you like…~~"

His stomach dropped, "Don't you fucking dare -"

But the mischievous grin you had, told him it was already too late. Your eyes flashed a molten gold, as demonic magic churned inside, a small smile on your red-painted lips. "Choking? Really?"

Heat crept up his face, he opened his mouth but you shut him up with a little coo. You leaned in hands sliding up his torso towards his pretty neck.

"Like getting your neck squeezed sweetheart? Like it when you're tied down all helpless and can't even breathe?" You took his disgruntled yelp for a yes.

"Aww, you just wanna be a good boy for mommy~" You mumbled against his mouth, urging him to kiss you more. His tongue meeting yours. You loved how hot the kiss was. How he flicked his tongue to keep up with you. Following your lead almost obediently, soft lips parting for you. He tasted like the ocean. You slipped your hand over his cock, guiding the tip towards your entrance. Your thumb brushing over the leaky mushroom tip. Ajax moaned into your mouth. His tip brushed sloppily against your folds and he threw his head back. You reached forward to kiss the corner of his mouth.

"Want me to ride you, baby boy?" You asked.

Ajax gave out a low groan, "Oh God, fuck yes. Please, please ride me." His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips as you lowered yourself on his cock. You felt him tremble under your touch as you sink down to his hilt. His blue eyes widened as you wrapped your fingers around his neck. You felt him get harder inside you.

"You like that baby?" You cooed, tightening your grip slightly. Your laughter was straight out of hell, ringing in his ears as his vision blurred. Poisonously sweet. Fuck he wouldn't even mind if you took his soul at this point. Till the time it meant he could keep milking his cock with your sweet cunt he would even give it to you voluntarily. Fingers wrapped tightly around his neck as you bounced on his cock. Fuck it was too much. Too much.

He gasped as you tightened your grip. Small hearts forming in your eyes, "cum for me big boy? Pretty please~" Ajax was already seeing stars, just cumming inside your warm pussy felt like a fucking dream. He practically came on command as you squeezed another orgasm out of him, cock still throbbing as the leaky tip slipped out. He panted out head rolling back. Mind blanking from the most intense orgasms he had ever had.

Ajax was too gone to answer you. You kissed down his jaw, along the fine lines your fingers had left around his neck. His head rolled back. Giving you more surface to drag your mouth over. You scrape your small fangs against the hollow of his throat, as you felt his fingers wrap around your shoulders. His grip on your shoulders was firm as he drew you back. When he raised his head again, the gaze was practically feral. Eyes darker and hooded. You licked your lower lip. You might have just awakened something darker. Your pussy squeezed with excitement.

You squealed as he flipped you over. The mattress sank under your weight as he climbed over you. Your tail curled around his torso almost protectively. He sank into you again, making you give a sigh of pleasure. Your walls squeezed his cock as he dragged it out, You loved how needily his cock twitched inside of you, pulsing as he tried to push it in deeper. Like he still couldn't get enough. How sweet, honestly you didn't mind. All you wanted was to play with your pretty man all night long. Make his pretty cock fill you up over and over again until it dripped down your thighs.

Oh hell, you had really gotten yourself such a pretty boy at that. The faint flush on his face, the freckled cheeks. You wrapped your legs around his waist, watching his face twist with pure pleasure. You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, a feverish haze of pleasure taking over you. His fingers ran over your stomach, finding your breasts. "It's still a few hours till sunrise right?" He panted out.

You smiled at him stupidly, "yup, still time."

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Ajax loved fucking you from the back. The way your little wings flapped lightly as he thrust into you, his balls slapping against your ass. And perfect breasts he couldn't help but grope. He could just get off of how much you seemed to love getting fucked by him. Arching your back as he fucked into you and squeezing his cock just so good. God, he knew your Succubus cunt had practically ruined him for anyone else. His tip hurt from the friction now, but he felt like he just couldn't stop. Your pussy just felt so warm and so perfect it was driving him insane.

His fingers slid against the base of your tail. Your knees buckled. With a yelp, you stumbled forward into his whale-printed duvet.

"So the tail's sensitive huh?" He asked. His thumb dragged along the spade-shaped tip. Your legs trembled. "W-wait" you tried, the touch on your pretty tail was overwhelming. It sent chills of pleasure right down your spine, making you quiver under him.

"So cute, so pretty" he purred out. You couldn't help but fuck your hips back into him. Practically mewling as he stroked your lovely tail.

"You won't mind me being a lil rough with it do you?" He asked, You shook your head, as you felt him curl his fingers around the base again. With a teasing caress, you felt him yank your tail as he bottomed into you. Your vision doubled as Your pleasure finally peaked. You came hard on his cock with a whimper. Your walls squelched around his girth.

"Ah fuck-" Ajax moaned, wrapping his hands around your waist as he continued to rock into you. Fucking you through your own orgasm. He groaned against your ear, "fuck, I'm gonna fall in love with you.' "You don't have to disappear right away, do you?" He panted against you. You sank into his warmth, arms protectively against your body. "I guess I don't." You replied.

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