#apologies for probably millions of errors

[likesomeoneinlovee]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫

Paring: Dbf!Joel Miller x F!reader

Words: 2.9k

Summary: Tonight’s the night Joel Miller finally let’s his feelings for you show. Or; Joel Miller half-assedly teaches you how to ride him.

Warnings: PWP. UNPROTECTED P-IN-V, big age gap, Joel is 57, Joel takes your virginity! Wow! Riding/lap riding, tummy bulge, daddy kink, creampie, pussy and cock pronouns, mentions of female masturbation, Joel, BIG DICK Miller.

Author’s Note: Here, take this no beta’d word vomit while I work on reqs! ;)

It was Joel’s neck covered in kisses, stained the color of your muted red lipstick. 

It was Joel’s hands firmly purchased on your waist as you humped his denim-clad thigh. 

Kissing him with a will and invite for his tongue. Vibrations of your moans shook down his throat. Your body finally starting to settle into his lap as he sat in the middle of your bed, your white shabby comforter detailed with a pattern of little pink flowers pooling around him, his legs tucked underneath his thighs. 

You sure as fucking hell were bound to lose the daughter-of-the-year award if your daddy comes home to a dirty house and a Joel in your sheets. 

He pulled away, the kiss ending in a sharp, wet sound. 

“This. Off.” He ordered, his eyes flicked to your top.

A free hand came up, his fingers curling underneath the hem of your tank –the same impossibly tight one that your tits have been threatening to spill out of all fucking day. Rolled over your head and thrown to the floor beside your bed, bound to be forgotten about and eventually hidden away underneath your bed skirt to be found again in the coming months.

Willing and ready you found yourself leaning in on your knees, hovering over his lap as you squirmed out of your shorts. Joel’s hands reached to pull it down your thigh at his best attempts to help you. Quickly those hands came in focused on his own clothes, his dick suffering underneath the confines of his tattered jeans.

He worked the clasp of the belt with his thumb, struggling to manage precise movements while the only light spreading into the room would be the pale glow of the moon that snuck through the slit between your curtains. Finally with a click the belt had loosened, able to thread out from the loops of his jeans, falling to the carpeted floor with a muffled sound of metal clanking against itself. 

Leaning back you awaited what you knew was to come- nearly whimpering just from the twisting low in your belly. Thick digits clamped the zipper of his jeans as he pulled it down. After a few difficult tugs down his thighs his cock sprung out. Quick, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it motion accompanied by the sound of the thick length slapping up against his tummy.

Luckily, you didn’t blink. 

You couldn’t sit, not yet at least. Your body stilling as your brain faltered for a moment, the sight of his painfully blushed tip, precum crying from the slit– well, was distracting. It made you ache.

You stood up, your legs bucking as you tried to fight off the dizziness, giving Joel time to kick off his jeans as you kicked your shorts off of your ankle, your panties followed up. It was slow, it was fucking messy. It was two seconds away from his palm and your waist already missed the warmth. Luckily, he was quick to the scene.

His hands squeezed into the plush of your thighs, pressing his nose into your navel, craning his head forward to draw a path down to your pelvis, pressing a firm, sweet kiss to the soft skin. The pull his hands were giving your legs was silently telling you he was ready. His bare chest inflating and deflating with every long, deep breath. 

Something different twisted in your gut now. You were anxious. 

“You know I haven’t–” 

“I know.”

He did know. But he also knew a couple other things too. He knows how you fuck your pillow every night to the thought of this, he knows how you make your fingertips abuse your clit till your wrist burns. Secrets that had flurried out of your lips as you two stumbled through the doors earlier that night. 

Things you most definitely admitted to too quickly, though, you felt it couldn’t wait any longer.

“Sit. He ain't goin’ in on his own.” He said simply. Truthfully, he made a good point. 

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you slowly began lowering yourself, his hand splayed on your lower back. Closer… Closer. Until you were there, your warm, wet, bare pussy pressed against his writhing dick, now bowed between your folds. Safe and warm but not quite happy. 

Joel was shocked he hadn’t lost his mind yet.

His fingers crawled up behind you, finding the clasp to your black push-up bra and undoing it, letting it fall into his grasp before– you guessed it, throwing it to the other side of the fucking room. 

He brushed your hair out from blocking your breasts, the flesh tender, swelling with each breath. 

“Fuck me. Why’ve you been hidin’ these from me, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, an act of attitude turning into one of pleasure half way as his calloused thumb runs over a half-hard nipple. 

“I wouldn’t have minded if you noticed them before.” 

You knew your pussy was making you say that. Though, there lied some truth. You couldn’t say if Joel did walk up to you and grab your tits before all this that you wouldn’t have slapped him across the cheek. 

He swallowed as he let his face nestle between your breasts, his nose dragged up your sternum before halting at your collar.

“You would’ve.”

He stated. Simply. The palm of his right hand soothed down your waist, running his thumb across the divot between the top of your thigh and your hip before working over to your cunt. Pressing the pad firmly against your clit. Swelling up under the hood. 

“You like touching yourself here?”

Oh great, he remembers. 

Oh fuck, he remembers. 

“Yes.” You breathed. The feeling making your hips stutter into the touch. 

You were quick to get impatient especially in your pretty little head beneath every other disgusting thought, you really knew you didn’t need the foreplay, or, any more at least. You came for the real deal and that’s exactly what you wanted from him. Needed.

“Fuck me Joel, c’mon.” You were frustrated.

He would’ve told you to wait another minute, get real ready which is what he was making sure you were. He could feel how you pulsed against his cock. The pressure he felt in his length was unbearably numbing. 

He guided your legs to tie a knot around his hips, wrapping a strong arm against your lower back. 

“Gonna put your hand here– right on my chest.”

Your fingers had clung around his thumb as he guided your hand over, splaying your palm flat against his chest, his nipple pressed between your middle and index. 

“Like that?” You questioned, bordering innocence. 

“Like that.” 

Your other hand rested on his knee, that light touch turned into a firmer grip at the feeling of his cock jumping between your slit. It was a warm, sticky mess of precum and your own juices. 

“Lift.”

His breath fanned out against your neck, a warmth already creeping up your skin there. You obeyed once again, lifting your hips just a bit so he could grab ahold of his base. Trying to ignore the pulses, he glided his cockhead through your labia. Puffy, aching, leading a path to your opening. Drenched. 

It’d be a tight fit, that was for fuckin’ sure. 

He started slow, pushing– pushing. His head in a constant nod to check between your entrance struggling to stretch around his bulbous head and your beautiful, little face. 

“Breathe.” He reminded. “C’mon babygirl, let ‘Im in.”

Your hand moved up, cupping his nape instead of contently settling on his chest. You had to breathe. 

You let out another mewl as it got heavier– the pressure, the feeling of him invading your cunt. He was unnaturally large. You could excuse that maybe the female body wasn’t built to take a cock so over the six-inch mark. 

That was until you felt it: Your muscles relaxing enough to take him in with a tender inhale. Popping past your virginity, your eyes glossed over as you finally let out the moan that had been stuck in the middle of your throat since you got in his lap. Your fingers threading between the damp curls that fell against the back of his neck. 

“There she is.” His breaths were quick to turn shallow, feeling your muscles clamp down. An unwelcoming-welcome into your walls. 

“Atta fuckin’ girl…” 

“Joel–” You’d whimper, the feeling was heavy, tight. You could only imagine how he felt. 

A broad hand finds your hip, guiding you into quick, strong movements as you worked your hips back and forth, soon enough– bouncing. Joel’s balls were heavy, hitting your ass in a staccato rhythm. He was a pleaser, there wasn’t a second doubt about that fact. He fucking needed you to feel every. Last. Inch. 

Though, there was a dichotomy. Fucking your brains out or trying his best to find the words to help you. Teach you. Ultimately, it had to be the second option. Another deep pump and his head curved to kiss a soft give on your gummy walls making you moan. Loud.

If only your eyes had the strength to open– turn your head to the side to look at the hands of your clock, though in the dark room you wouldn’t have much luck anyway. Dad would be home around one– AM, Jesus Christ, It’s not that you had hoping that Joel’s old cock would be outta you soon. But at this rate, you’d need to clean, do the dishes– wash your fucking sheets now, apparently. Worry was quickly fucked out of your head, an uncontrolled rut of Miller’s pelvis led to his tip bumping into your cervix, grazing along the tissue. Fuck, that made your head spin. 

“Don’t think.” He noticed. His lips pressed against the top of your breast, hands sliding to your ribs.

“He’s too big to think, daddy.” Shaky. You had enough in you to tease him. 

His lips traced all the way to the tip of your nose, planting a firm cloying kiss there. Then your cheek, your eyelid as it fluttered shut. He could’ve came right there. He pulled you closer, his hips jumping into yours. Every now and again the rocking would get fast– thrusts mean before they slowed to calm again. His brows knitted together before he found himself taking your hand into his again. Sacredly bringing it to his chest for the second time, right below his clavicle. 

“Right there– feel that? Feel how fast you got my heart goin’, baby?” 

At first you could think the worst and assume he was trying to insinuate he was going into cardiac arrest– no, he wasn’t that elderly. W–was he? 

“I– I do.” You stammered. Nodding quickly as you pressed your hand deeper.

But once you really felt it. Heavy bumps against the middle of your palm. A fast thump-thump-thump–. It wasn’t long until you felt your gut twist. Your mouth fell slack with a sharp whine, you could feel every motherfucking vein throbbing, your walls gloving him tight, giving him zero room to breathe. 

“I do.” 

You repeated. Your thighs felt hot. Hot as in; like all the blood in your body decided to all go there. Making them buzz, your legs occasionally kicking out. Now with your body ready and begging, screaming to just reach that climax already, you were really fuckin’ struggling. It was a war between you, your body and Joel’s cock. You’ve never tried harder to keep a poker face in your life. You were teetering the line, you were gonna cum. Joel could see that. See your facade slipping. 

“She’s real good, y’know.” He said, “Squeezin’ me like she needs it.” 

“She does.” You were quick to reply to his praise, it sounded more like a cry than anything. Something that was making his ego inflate. And his cock. 

“Hurry– my– Jesus. Christ.” It was like he was waiting for your next words to push deeper, harder. His thrust pausing midway to really drive himself in. “Dad– dad’s gonna be home soon–” 

Joel bit back a smirk at the mess he was making of you. Understanding how it must’ve felt for you. Poor, pliant girl. Completely cock-drunk and there was no way around the fact. Your body squirming, wriggling against him. His fingers dug into the soft plush of your ass. 

“Hm? Daddy’s right here, baby.” He cooed.

Oh, you were gonna fucking kill him after this. 

He withdrew, his jaw slacked as shallow, shaking breaths puffed out from salvia slicken lips. The slick, glistening head of his dick quickly forced right back into you, continuing the rhythm he had found that perfectly suited. Back and forth. Back. And. Fucking. Forth. 

His eyes locked on you. Not your face: your thighs, him between your thighs. The bump-out in the low of your tummy showing just where his cock was. His thumb ran right above where his base was buried, up, up, finding that pretty pink pearl hiding beneath the surface. With a firm pressure, he began thrusting his thumb forwards and back. Your cunt fluttering every time.

“Feel that? Feel me?” His cock curved up, pressing against yet another dizzying spot.

Your slender fingers moved down your highly sensitive body, haphazardly ghosting over your low stomach. And there you felt– him. So close, so intimately close. 

“C’mon, cum f’me, baby. I know you need’ta…” He urged.

It was your final straw, apparently your body’s as well.  

“Fuck, fuck–Joel–!” You felt the knot in your pelvis pinch tighter. “Daddy– fuck–!”

It was a choked cry as your hands spastically found his shoulders, fingers squeezing into the muscle painfully hard. A thick, pulsating numbness that made your walls spasm around Joel’s cock, forcing your head to be thrown back, eyes squeezing shut. You wanted to scream. Your body scorching hot, every damn inch of you. It wasn’t an orgasm you had given yourself from pure clitoral. No, so fucking different. It was– wetter. Joel’s hips slammed upwards a final time. This time faltering, stopping to press right into you as he came. Balls drawing up as thick, hot ropes of semen filled your poor, abused cunt. Painting your walls an opaque white. 

“Shh shh– s’okay.” He whispered, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear, salt and pepper facial hair tickling, testing your sensitivity. 

Your clit rubbed against the greying, wiry curls crowning his base, a mixture of your orgasms dripping down his shaft, your lips parted, heavy pants mixing with whines continued to shamelessly drip off your tongue. And suddenly, Joel stopped, you swore, from what you could see, the color drained from his face– 

“Pill?” 

Pill–? The fuck was he– oh.

Oh, motherfucker. 

The aftershocks of your climax still buzzed throughout your body, clouding every inch of your breathing– the fog especially swelling inside your head, though, you mustered up enough to reply.

“I thought I told you. No.”

You stated. Firm.

Funnily-e-fucking-nough, you did tell him. Granted, maybe it was mutterings of a half-baked version of you, but, inevitably, still you. Your head fell forward into his chest as his hand wrapped around his base, wincing as he pulled himself out of you. His dick throbbed, aching to bask in your warmth once again. It was one helluva way to kill a moment. Whatever moment that was supposed to be. 

Your body still bloomed with warmth as he laid back with you, soothing his palm down your arm.

“The pharmacy is right on my way here.” He murmured. “I’ll pick up Morning After’s before you even wake up.”

His promise was calming to you, a lazy smile came over your face as you relaxed with him. He was trustworthy, this wouldn’t be a man who’d say something like that and not follow through, this was, well, Joel. It was Joel. 

You could always rely on Joel. 

Sweet silence was soon rudely interrupted by the sound of a truck pulling into the asphalt, Fuck fuck fuck! That was your dad’s truck, the brights shining blindingly through your sheer drapes, you and Joel laying in bed, well, like deers in headlights.

You so rudely pushed away from Joel, stumbling over to the bath robe hanging on the knob of your closet door– and Joel, well, was too fucking slow is what he was.

“You need to get the fuck out!” You hissed.

Joel, standing in the middle of your room with a cock still slick with both of your cum, scrambling to find his fucking boxers– did you have a fucking void in your floor?! He picked his jeans up, tripping into them as you placed your hands on his arms, pushing him towards the window–

“Jesus, sweetie– h-hold on–!” 

That’s the thing, you couldn’t. As soon as you heard the front door open your stomach sank, nauseatingly low.

“Out, NOW!” 

You were harsh, sure. But for all the right reasons. You felt bad kicking him out in unzipped jeans and no shirt, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead only forcing him to do the walk of shame alllllll the way back to his house. Which luckily was only a block away. Anyone with eyes and a window facing the sidewalk could see him– so theoretically, everyone in the neighborhood. 

You were just about to slam the window shut into his fingers before he stopped you, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb running along your bottom lip like he had the time. 

“See you in the mornin’.” 

He smiled. Lazy, tired. But genuine. It made your stomach flutter. 

“See you…” You returned the smile. Shutting the window as silently as you could as you watch him stumble his way out of your yard. 

The fact you had turned this poor, fifty-seven year old man into a hormonal teenager again was starting to set in. 

[luvelve]

how i think my husbands seungcheol, wonwoo, and mingyu would react when you reach your climax

࿐ seungcheol

- he’d see your face crinkle in pleasure and he’d be soooo turned on by it that his face unknowingly mimicks your expression a bit too.

- he’d be mumbling sweet sweet praise. “fuck, that’s it princess, let it go. only i can make you feel like this, yeah? you’re so pretty like this baby, so so good for me.”

- smoothes out the hair from your face and gets drunk seeing your dazed post-climax eyes. he takes a few moments to just look at you, his pace slow and steady and his face in line with yours, just admiring you.

- he waits for you to fully come down from your high. he kisses you before he bullies his length again into you but deeper, apologizing in between thrusts for being so rough but he knows you can take it. he finishes himself off a few minutes later and cleans you up right after

࿐ wonwoo

- he watches your face with intent because he knows you’re about to cum. his free hand flies down to rub circles on your clit, stimulating you even more. your climax hits you like a truck, your vision goes white and you feel fireworks shoot all the way down to your feet, and you’re gripping onto wonwoo’s biceps

- he stops once your body writhes in pleasure and he suppresses your breathy moans by kissing you. your eyes are closed shut the entire time he kisses you but wonwoo opens his eyes moments in between the kiss because he can’t miss out on just how pretty you look all blissed out

- you open your eyes a few moments later and wonwoo’s trailing kisses down your body, not even caring about himself finishing anymore. he’s tracing your body in sweet and wet kisses but you’re still a bit sensitive and so your body jerks when he kisses in between your thighs. and the goddamn fool just smiles. “i’m sorry, my love.” how dare he

࿐ mingyu

- he’d be so enamored by you, seeing your back leave the bed and your mouth forming a small ‘o’. mingyu falls in love with you all over again and he can’t believe he’s able to do this to you

- you haven’t even come down from your high and he’s said “i love you” a million times already. cannot stress how much this six foot something man is so head over heels for you

- wraps his arm around your waist because he wants to be as close to you as possible, feeling the warmth of your skin and hearing your heart beat. “can’t get enough of you.”

- he loves the way you’re pulsating and squeezing around his cock that he can’t help but bury his face into the crook of your neck. he’s not thrusting into you but instead he just stays there because the feeling you’re giving him is enough already. now the both of you are making lewd and breathy noises that you’ll have to apologize to the neighbors for in the morning

a/n: this is probably the fastest thing i’ve ever written. if there are any typos or errors in this pls look away. i hope this is any good btw bc idk what got in me to write this buuuut yes as always, likes/reblogs/feedback are highly highly appreciated :>

[glitchedsera]

Divine Error

So uh, I'm just putting my old fic from AO3 here

*SUMMARY*

While grinding for some materials for your favorite character, you doze off, only to wake up inside the game world itself. Confused and stranded in a digital landscape, you now have to navigate the mechanics and dangers of a place you once controlled from behind a screen.

*NOTES*

the summary sucks i know, this is my first SAGAU fic I wrote for fun in high school. I'm just posting this bc I wanted to test whether the AO3 curse is real or not (which I hope it's real)

*CHAPTER 1 : The Shift*

“Their Grace is here!”

Amber shouted through the halls inside the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. Jean and the other knights waste no time preparing for your arrival.

Meanwhile, you find yourself at a Teleport Waypoint.

How you get teleported to your favourite game was a mystery. You last remember teleporting to a waypoint to do your weekly boss fight. But somehow, the loading screen was taking forever to load, and you fell asleep.

“This is probably just a dream. Although everything looks so…” You scan your surroundings, admiring it until your eyes land on a familiar group of cryo slimes. Panicked, you slowly back away from them, but they notice your subtle movement anyway. Before you could make your escape, you realized that they weren’t chasing after you, nor attacking you. They simply pay no mind to you, and you quickly use the opportunity to get away.

After some exploring, you make your way to a certain Winery since it’s the nearest place you were spawned at. On your way, crystalflies would sometimes gather around you, some would even stay on your head, and you couldn’t help but wonder why they would approach you. But you couldn’t complain since this was the first time, they would willingly come to you.

You finally arrived at the Winery, and to your surprise, all the people who would stand around here were nowhere to be seen. But you pay no mind to this and make your way to the front door. Before knocking, you realized you didn’t have any plans, you just started walking without really thinking much, and now you’re contemplating whether you should even knock or not.

‘It’s Diluc, you talked to him like a million times already.’

‘Technically, you didn’t talk to him, it was the traveller.’

‘Okay, fine. But if I just tell him what happened…’

‘He’s going to think you’re crazy.’

In the middle of your overthinking, the door suddenly swung open, revealing the red-haired man himself.

Upon landing his eyes on you, he looked as surprised as you are. But all of a sudden, he immediately bows down to you.

“Your Grace, how may I assist you?”

“Huh..?”

You panicked and quickly made him stand up, which he easily obeyed. That’s when you suddenly realize that he called you ‘Your Grace’ and you feel like screaming.

‘Is this seriously SAGAU?’

Meanwhile, Diluc stepped aside, insisted that you come in, which you hesitantly did. And you were immediately greeted by a shocked Adelinde, who almost lost her grip on the basket she was holding.

You awkwardly gave her a little wave before following Diluc to the living room.

“Adelinde, could you prepare a drink for Their Grace?”

Meanwhile, in Mondstadt, everyone was gathered at the Cathedral, celebrating their Creator’s arrival.

“Your Grace, can you tell us more about your adventures?” Asked by one of their acolytes, and soon more joined.

“Ugh, can’t you see I’m trying to enjoy my party here? Go bother someone else.”

They were instantly stunned by Their Grace’s response. Nonetheless, they quickly apologized for bothering them.

Suddenly, they felt a slight tug, and they glanced down and saw Klee holding out her specially-made bombs. But Their Grace just scoffed at the sight.

“Don’t talk to me so casually, and get that thing away from me.” They pushed her hands away, dismissing her gift.

The room went silent in an instant, and everyone stopped what they were doing. Their eyes widened when they heard those words coming out of Their Grace’s mouth.

Once they take in what they had just said, they quickly turn back to Klee. “Of course, I was only joking. We can go blast some fish someday, alright?”

The fake smile on their face effortlessly managed to fool those around them, and they all easily believed Their Grace’s words.

Back at the winery, you sat down on the couch anxiously as Adelinde served you some grape juice. You give her a quiet thank you before taking a sip of the juice.

While you were enjoying your drink, you noticed Diluc kept standing in front of you as if waiting for your orders. And this made you feel a little uneasy, so you patted the seat next to you, signalling him to sit down as well, which he reluctantly followed.

As you briefly glanced outside, you remembered that he looked like he was just about to head somewhere before he bumped into you.

“…Were you heading somewhere?” You managed to ask.

“Yes, I received a message to go to the Cathedral to attend to, well, celebrate your arrival.” He then hands you a letter, and you thoroughly scan it. And sure enough, there was a Knights of Favonius crest on the letter, which proves that it was real.

“A celebration? Just because I’m here?” You mumbled, trying to grasp what was happening.

“Wait, if they are holding a celebration for me, I should probably be there then...”

With that, you hurriedly down all the grape juice and quickly walk out. Diluc immediately rushed to follow you.

On your way to Mondstadt, you couldn’t help but keep getting this bad feeling. Every time you tried to brush off the feeling, it kept coming back. From all the SAGAU you’ve read, all of them just end with the player getting executed, and now you've started to fear for your life.

The sound of you slapping yourself back to reality caught Diluc off guard, and he immediately checked up on you. You reassure him it was nothing, and both of you continue making your way towards the city.

You both finally arrived at the front gate of Mondstadt, but you found the place in the same condition as you first arrived at Dawn Winery earlier. It was eerily empty. No guards guarding the gate, no people walking around, even Katheryne wasn’t in her usual spot.

“Everyone is most likely at the Cathedral by now.” As if he read your mind, he reassures you and leads you to where the celebration was held.

It was quite a walk, but you finally found yourself standing in front of the Cathedral. As soon as your fingertip touches the handle, you could feel your anxiety growing, screaming at you not to open the door.

Diluc, sharp as always, noticed your hesitancy.

“Your Grace, is everything alright?”

His voice managed to snap you back to reality, and you quickly composed yourself. You take a deep breath in an attempt to calm down.

“Mhm, everything’s fine.”

With that, you push the door open, and somehow, everyone in Mondstadt is here. As you walked in, one by one, people started to notice you, and soon, all eyes were on you.

Confused stares and whispers immediately filled the room, and before anyone could say anything, a voice, similar to yours, broke the whispers.

"What are you people standing still f-"

Standing in front of you was... you? It was like looking into a mirror. They're the same replica as you.

More gasps and whispers can be heard in the room, but you pay no mind to them. All of your attention was on your copy, or was it the other way around...

When a voice spoke, it was when you finally grasped the situation you're in.

"Seize them!"

[usedpidemo]

Voguish (Itzy Ryujin)

(Thank you for the commission! I hope its to your liking.)

—————

If you had any other choice, you’d rather be stuck at where you were previously: earning a modest income, just enough to get by from job to job, performing straightforward work, and most importantly, friendly clientele to attend to. It wasn’t surprising; you knew this industry was built on the backs of some of the most snobbish, arrogant people you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting, but—

“You’re late. Again.”

Shin Ryujin was probably among the absolute worst.

If you’re going to make an honest assessment, Ryujin isn’t that bad. Serving as her head stylist for the better part of a year, she’s by far the client you’ve spent the most time with. She doesn’t talk a big deal about the money she’s making or prattle into a conversation intricately designed to inflate her ego to the moon, unlike some of the other A-listers you’ve had the ‘privilege’ of working under. 

However, her attitude is definitely up there.

It’s not even a little over a minute. In fact, you’ve been standing at her entrance door two minutes before the clock hits ten. Doesn’t matter if you’re in the right; her style, her rules. She doesn’t care that you're sweating buckets rushing her newly minted outfit from across the street up to the 27th floor. Any moment where she doesn’t look like a million dollars is a moment wasted.

“My apologies, Ryu—”

Ryujin’s glare puts the fear of God into your soul. “What did I say about using my name?” 

You pause. Gulp your throat. “My sincerest apologies, Miss Shin.” 

“Hmph.” Grimacing with disgust, she hastily snatches the dress from your possession, proceeds to slam the door on you, tone bordering on shouting, “Come inside. You’re late.”

Entering the door shortly after, you’re welcomed by a film crew in the process of recording her as she struts around the living room suite holding your dress in her hands. If there’s anything you’ve learned from attending to her, she’s as effortless of an actress as she is as a model. The moment her eyes face the camera, she instantly transforms into the picture perfect icon that has all of social media buzzing.

Moving out of the way has become muscle memory at this point. When she’s in front of the cameras, you’re merely an onlooker. 

“So this is my outfit for tonight,” she says enthusiastically into the camera, proudly flaunting the outfit—a convincing facade to the untrained eye. For the press, she’s this likable, larger than life figure living her best life, attending all these invitation-only parties and wearing the most stylish dresses. 

“It was a risque design, and I wanted to try something bold for once. It was love at first sight when I saw it,” she comments, and you know very well this wasn’t her first choice. They won’t know that this was the 12th option, handpicked just last night after weeks of trial and error, only to be thrown away right after. At her request, you had it ordered on incredibly short notice, and the plan almost fell through. It was hard to deny Ryujin’s wants, no matter how impractical or unfeasible they were. 

In a way, this was to be expected. Ryujin emanates this young, it girl energy. Like any aspiring icon, she usually wants to stand out from a usually safe crowd. Not that it hasn’t stopped you from interfering a handful of times, much to her annoyance. After all, you’d assume she was going to a casual party or some red carpet event, not a prestigious gala with some of the biggest people in the world in attendance. You name it: politicians, CEOs of tech giants, industry titans who make the cover of Forbes and Time every other month. There are high standards that must be kept, and she’s doing anything but uphold those standards.

The camera pans away from her, and she immediately tosses the clothing aside with zero regard whatsoever. You manage to save it before it becomes near valueless. No matter how bothersome she acts, you can’t bring yourself to call her out on her antics; not just because there are several careers at stake, including yours, but you know what she’s capable of doing when her patience exceeds breaking point. It’s a firsthand experience to catch Ryujin in a state that isn’t picture perfect.

“Where are you?” Ryujin shouts from the other room, irate. “Slow as ever, my goodness.”

When you approach her, she’s on her phone, seated in front of the mirror with her legs crossed, having commanded the camera crew to vacate the room, leaving you alone with her. It’s only when you are together that she’s her true self, and it’s not far from what you usually experience even with other people around. They understand it’s in their best interest not to interfere.

Turning her eyes, she catches you idling with her sharp stare. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there and look at me all day? You already do that on the regular.”

Her behavior’s something neither cameras nor testimonies will ever publicly reveal: that Ryujin’s practically a spoiled brat behind closed doors. Any attempts to expose her have been silenced by huge settlements, NDAs, and every legal bind in the book. And when those don’t work out, there’s the strangely coincidental disappearance of potential witnesses that read like every tin-foil hat post written by some gullible conspiracy theorist on the internet. 

In retrospect, perhaps there’s some merit to the rumor that her father is supposedly the head of some mafia organization, but you digress. She has never brought her personal history up in interviews, other than she’s been adopted by the founder of a relatively unknown investment firm. An elaborate lie.

She’s engrossed on her phone, unable to keep herself still while you struggle to apply makeup on her face. Time’s of the essence, she usually says, but she’s purposeful with how much time is wasted, with the primary objective of finding an excuse to lay on you. It was never going to be fair from the start. All the moments where you were late, in her eyes, were intentionally done to put you in the wrong. 

To be fair, the numerous stylists who’ve taken care of her warned you in advance. You couldn’t deny the opportunity for a huge paycheck.

“Miss Shin, please stay still,” you say, carefully stringing your words together, delivered in the least offensive tone possible.

To your surprise, she complies. It’s a miracle. She never obliges with your requests, let alone direct commands.

Applying the rest of her makeup takes only minutes. Usually, you’d be going back and forth, and you’d be in front of the mirror for hours. See how easier everyone’s job is when all parties cooperate and collaborate effectively? You’re doing your part like it’s second nature; you only wish Ryujin was this accommodating more often, and not whether her brain flips a coin to determine her attitude for the day.

“You look amazing, Miss Shin,” you comment, staring at the mirror, her face radiating with the glow of a million bucks.

Taking her attention off the phone, even if it’s only for a second, proves to be a chore, as proven by her particularly grumpy expression. She scans herself, peers through every little detail in the mirror—showing more interest in herself during this brief moment than her dozens of photoshoots over the last month—and gives the smallest of nods. You even see the tiniest of grins escaping her lips, too.

Her steely attitude unwavering, she commands you, sternly, “Bring me the dress. Now.”

A clap of hands and the door opens like magic. Your co-stylist briskly walks toward you, outfit in hand, promptly handing it over before immediately leaving the room. No words are necessary; she makes it clear who’s allowed to touch her, let alone dress her, and it’s only you. Handling Ryujin was as meticulous and methodical as preserving a historical treasure.

She finally gets off her chair, hands prepared to loosen her robe before something catches her attention. “Door.”

It’s common sense. You hurry over to the opened door, slam it shut. Then the magic happens.

Ryujin nonchalantly slips her bathrobe off her shoulders, letting it freely fall to the floor. She’s draped in nothing but the thinnest of underwear, her asscheeks openly poking through the fabric. It’s amazing how she’s allowing you to see her like this, her barest, when most of her shoots and red carpet dresses have been nothing but conservative. Sometimes seductive, but mostly safe. There’s nothing left for your imagination. On the other hand, you’re so used to this vivid sight, it’s almost part of your daily routine. You shouldn’t be fazed, but her perfect figure has you staring, shamelessly, like it’s your very first time seeing nudity.

At times, it leaves you vulnerable. Like now.

“You were doing quite well too,” she comments, snarkily, gazing at your blank expression through the reflection, snapping you from your daze.

Gulping your throat, you find yourself embarrassed, ears flushed red. Even while you go through the methodical process of measuring and dressing her, the shame lingers. You find yourself unable to glance at the mirror. The very few flashes and glints that meet you when you turn you face your reflection, you find her suppressing a tiny giggle. 

As you put on the finishing touches on her outfit, she brings the point home, “We’re already late by an hour.”

A quick look at your watch tells you it’s almost eleven. Ten minutes before the next hour. At first glance, it’s still early, but it can be deceiving. Parisian traffic is notoriously unforgiving, event or no event, showing no partiality. Getting from one place to another is a whole day’s work.

Then you remember the fans and paparazzi congregated at the hotel’s entrance. This crowd that you had to brute force through just to get her dress on time. The hotel security can barely hold them back, and you can hear several sirens screaming miles away, most likely police presence. Many persons of interest will be gathered in one setting, after all.

“How do you feel, Miss Shin?” you ask, taking a step back to let her soak in her meticulously curated appearance. 

She blinks rapidly. Then she takes a deep breath.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

—————

Everywhere you look lies nothing but chaos. Chaos and cameras.

Barricade is filled with an indistinguishable mix of both paparazzi and media from all over the world. Lights, whether from above or from cameras, flash in every direction that it’s almost blinding. Deafening shouts pierce through your ears that whispering is impossible. You’ve been to as many red carpet events as these journalists and photographers, but you’ve never attended an event of this magnitude until now.

Left and right, there’s a random celebrity being interviewed by a news junket. The women you spot are dressed to the nines, adorned in colorful and graceful garb, while the men are decked as if they're attending Sunday service. You can see it now: another round of fashion bloggers berating and cursing the men for their simplicity and lack of creativity, but that’s to be expected. 

Your phone vibrates from within your shirt pocket. It’s Ryujin, having disappeared somewhere in the crowd.

> Where u at? 😤

You immediately reply back. Your conversations have been practice for your future relationship:

> Can’t find you in this crowd 

> Taylor Swift is just across me XD

> Scarlett Johannson too

> And I think I saw Zendaya and Yuna talking with each other, can’t confirm though, they’re far away

To which she answers:

> Stop playing around.

> Get over here NOW

> Do you style any of them? 

> You don’t.

> Come here. NOW.

It’s a simple but strong warning. Aside from the fact that you’re there to attend to Ryujin’s needs and not larp as a celebrity, there's a change in her attitude during these events. She becomes strangely more attached. It’s become a byword for you to mention other women around her, yet she interacts with them in a friendly light for the cameras to see.

Ryujin’s preoccupied with what’s presumably the umpteenth interview of many when you finally reunite with her. She takes another moment to pose for the next wave of cameras, picture perfect as always, then after, she finally turns her gaze, meeting yours. It has been ten minutes since her last text, and you have many reasons to say why you’ve vanished.

None of which truly matters.

“There you are.” She says, glaring angrily at you, tone laced with contempt, sounding like you were gone for days.

“I can explain, Miss Shin,” you try to say, but it has no effect as she approaches you, careful as ever to keep a picturesque facade in front of the media. You can see her holding herself back from popping a vein. “Apparently President Biden and his wife are in attendance and we were told to make way for his entire security team—”

The way Ryujin pulls you by the ear while you both retreat from the chaotic crowd is comical. In a sea of cameras and eyewitnesses, some tabloid’s bound to catch you, take the unfolding scene out of context, and write a rushed article that spreads like wildfire, but no, it doesn’t draw an ounce of attention. She's a small fry in a pond of bigger fish, after all. Over your corner, you see a dozen Secret Service slowly guide the president along the carpet, parting everyone around old Joe. In a way, watching him brings you to a strange realization: that you can empathize with the poor geezer. You’re both in the same predicament, being strung along to places you have no zero interest in.

It’s an effective distraction. An air of tense, awkward silence falls upon you both as you stare at each other, your personal conflict hidden away from the public eye. You open your mouth, about to say a word, and—

Whack!

Ryujin hits you with the hardest of palms, all her pent-up frustration released with a single, powerful smack of your cheek. The force echoes throughout the enclosed space like thunder. Your lips draw a little blood. A quick rub of your face reinforces the consequence for your actions. Rough. Still, to say she looks unhappy after enforcing her will upon you is an understatement.

And just when you try to open your mouth (without the intention to complain; you’ve given up at this point), she follows it up with a second slap, with about half the impact of the first. This time, the other cheek. Her gaze is scathing, lethal, hypnotic—as if challenging you to try her already short patience. Say something, motherfucker, is subtly etched on her expressive lips without the need to verbalize them. 

Another tense moment of silence. She makes sure your eyes never leave her contact. When it finally breaks, her judgment echoes in your head like the toll of a death bell—a lingering reminder that you’ve truly fucked up.

“You’ll be seeing me after tonight,” she says, each word delivered like an arrow straight to your heart. Before facing the world again, she adds another devastating blow, “My hotel room. Midnight. Sharp.”

—————

For the most part, in the eyes of the public, you seem to have done a fantastic job styling Ryujin for tonight’s gala. Within hours of the event, numerous articles published of the event list her among the best dressed stars, praising the bold nature of her outfit, as she intended in that vlog-style video from earlier. It’s all smiles as you watch her from afar, casually mingling with every celebrity in attendance. In case she needs to remain fresh, have new makeup applied, or change into a new dress for afterparty purposes—sometimes all of the above—you’re closely on standby. Ultimately, she doesn’t; not a single time she has called or texted for assistance. In a way, it’s alarming.

Her reminder sticks firmly on the back of your mind. Every word she says, she means it—no matter how small or big they are. It lingers even as her personal driver and bodyguard messages you with the instruction to return to the car, where she’s mysteriously absent, having been commanded by Ryujin herself to send you and the rest of her personnel home. It’s uncharacteristically strange; either she’s changed her mind and is having a good time at the event, or she’s probably drunk out of her mind, and the latter is typically the norm.

When you retreat to your room, you nervously watch as the clock slowly ticks towards the inevitable. It’s like witnessing your death. You know you can’t stop it, and you can’t look away, either. With the understanding that you’ll likely see the sun rise when it’s all said and done, you don’t even bother to slip into your sleepwear. 

The clock turns midnight. Seconds later, you receive a text on your phone. The message. It immediately disproves any theory or hope of meeting her good graces:

> Meet me in my room. Don’t even think about hiding or running, cause I will know

Of course you comply; you really have no other choice.

Five minutes later, you’re at her door again, with nothing but your suit, ready to face her judgment. It swings open of its own accord. Without any formalities, you step inside the familiar living room, now tidied up and cloaked in near darkness—a stark contrast to the mess it looked earlier in the day. Not a sign of her presence can be seen or felt. If you’ve been feeling uneasy before, now you’re straight up anxious, and the terror leaves you pale.

The door slams shut. Now you’re completely in the dark, with nothing to latch or cling to but your own resolve, which is slowly fading too. You want to speak her name, but you know you’ll be trying fate again, and fate has dealt you a cruel hand already. You didn’t want to fall even further. 

Your slow breaths are the only sign of life.

And the faint voice in your ear.

Wait—

Before you know it, you feel your throat tense up and your body tremble frantically. Faint shadows coil around your waist and neck, and in that moment, your fate has been sealed. 

“At least you’re not late this time.” Ryujin whispers into your ear. Then your eyes snap wide open.

“Agh!” 

A powerful surge of pain overwhelms your entire body, renders you weak in the knees. You fall to the ground, barely keeping yourself from completely melting onto the carpet with your hands. Still, the pangs remain too much. You can barely hold up on all fours, let alone move your arms and legs. 

It’s not enough. A soft hand hovers across your arched back, brushes through your hair, before it’s immediately followed by a direct blow to your nape. Your shout of agony reverberates throughout the dark room while you’re forced further down on your knees. Nearly forced into a prostrate position, you’re barely holding on. Another hit of this force could knock you unconscious, maybe worse.

“You’re going to learn your lesson today,” says Ryujin, strutting from behind you, cloaked in what appears to be a white gown. She’s holding something that you can’t identify, but you can tell she’s not in the mood to play games. Sparks of electricity flash and fade close to her hand. It was a taser all along. You probably would have guessed that from the intense shocking pain you’re currently feeling.

“Bedroom, slowpoke,” she sternly commands you as she saunters toward the room first, leaving you alone to pick yourself up. You’re still reeling from the two shocks of electricity applied to your waist and neck; it stings. Your body struggles, aches, cries out in despair, but you ultimately muster up enough power to follow her minutes later.

What greets you in the bedroom is a dimly lit bed, with Ryujin as its centerpiece, and both ends of her figure bathed in a faint wave of orange lamp light. She’s draped in nothing but the same hotel-issued bathrobe from earlier, her legs crossed, gazing at you from behind designer shades, smirking with malicious intent. It’s regal, seductive, inviting, intimidating. You honestly could stare at this sight all day long.

Before you entertain the thought, she cuts it off. “Strip.”

Her gaze lingers as you quickly bare yourself in front of her. She grins, giggles, adjusts her glasses with each piece of clothing removed. It flashes at her widest when you’ve divested your shirt and your pants, revealing your chest and your evident bulge, unknowingly growing hard behind the elastic fabric. It seems to spark a new idea within her, even though she’s the type of woman who follows through with her plans after they’ve been organized and premeditated.

She hops off the bed, slowly saunters toward you with trained, modellike fashion, using you as a makeshift catwalk. Turning the corner, she retreats behind your back, gripping a hand on your neck, craning the other down your bare chest. Her tongue tickles the back of your ear, which morphs into the smallest of smooches while she drags you to the bed like a hostage. As she hauls you over the mattress, she continues to feel your skin and body, your ears titillated by the gentle moans and whimpers from her sultry lips.

Your bump knees with the bed before she sends you flying over the edge. Temptation comes knocking at the door of your suppressed lips; you’re itching to cry out in pain, pleading for a bit more consideration. You know it’s a futile effort. When it comes to sex, Ryujin was anything but gentle. 

“Don’t look. Stay still.” 

Following her command is second nature to you; even when your positions were interchanged, it was merely an illusion—you were never in control. Ryujin plants a palm around your throat, forcing your stare against the bedrest. The clanging sound of something resembling a belt or a buckle keeps you curious. Tense, breaths keep you calm. Deep down, you know what’s about to happen; there’s no stopping it, you can only brace for impact. 

In the gap between the point of no return, she tells you her mindstate, how her frustration and apparent jealousy never receded. “I hated every minute I spent there. You have no idea how difficult it was to keep a face in front of everyone, especially after seeing Yuna. Fucking. Yuna.”

Your reaction comes out, not through coherent words, but through a labored groan. You feel her finger circle rings around your ass, sticky and wet. Of course she was there, social media couldn’t stop buzzing about her appearance—and she rarely shows up to these galas. Now it’s all making sense. After all, you were Yuna’s stylist before Ryujin snatched you away. 

Ryujin continues to apply lube around your sensitive hole, occasionally fingering you. Holding in the groans from the discomfort proves to be impossible, but she prefers to hear you whine, especially when her name is spoken. It’s the perfect reprieve from the evening’s frustrations, keeping her from raising her voice to the ceiling. “She pisses me off so fucking much. First stealing my thunder at every fashion week, now this? I thought she hated art galas?”

It’s evident that she doesn’t like Yuna in any shape whatsoever. If not for the cameras and all the famous people in the building, she’d already be trading blows with her. If there was any one person she wanted dead, it would have to be Shin Yuna. Of course, knowing this, you never included your time with her on your job application, let alone mention the fact you briefly spoke at the event behind her back. She was in an already spiraling mood, and you didn’t need to make it even worse.

“I was thinking of using dildos for tonight, maybe just my fingers even, but I don’t think it’ll be enough. I really hope you understand.” That last sentence—she sounds apologetic, remorseful, but the warning is ultimately shallow; she’ll rough you up, wreck you, ruin you, and enjoy every moment of it. You’re merely a blank canvas to her twisted fantasies.

“Oh, oh–fuck!” She cries out, joining your deep scream in harmony as she plunges the dildo into your warm, wet hole. This isn’t your first experience on the receiving end of Ryujin’s strap, yet every plunge feels as destructive and spine breaking as the first. No pleasantries or formalities, just apply the lube then hit. The idea of teasing you goes against her very blunt, assertive nature.

“Shit—oh fucking shit, you’re so goddamn tight,” she says, snaking a hand around your waist as her plastic dick slowly penetrates your hole, little by little. She has you grasping at pillows, staring at the ceiling then down to the sheets, until you find the twisted image of her hips slowly pounding against your ass, letting the pleasure of pegging overwhelm her. It should be excruciatingly painful, an agonizing reminder to never get on her wrong side, but no, there’s something hot about getting dicked by a tough woman like her that arouses you.

Eventually, she comes to her senses, finds her footing, and remembers that she’s meant to punish you, not reward you. She knows how good you make her feel, even if your cock is meant to be inside hers, not the other way around. You can’t help speaking your mind, and it boosts Ryujin’s ego to the moon. “Please. Fucking use me, Miss Shin. Fucking ruin my hole like how I ruin yours, miss.”

Even upside down, you can see how visibly delighted she is to hear those words every single time. Can’t hide that wide smirk plastered on her lips, no matter how upset she is. It’s intoxicating. No matter how hard you’re huffing, the pleasure she derives from using you keeps you going. 

Slamming your eyes shut, Ryujin does what you both want. Fucks you with her dildo hard, clenches and quelches with each careful, intricate stroke. Sometimes you’re in that position, taking her ass and ravaging her body as your own. Now it’s her turn, and she’s been taking after you. Between thrusts, she slaps your cheek, pulls on your neck and hair. You’ve built this alarmingly toxic work relationship, but the sex has never felt this invigorating, so cathartic. The perfect use of frustration to be channeled into something pleasurable and rapturous. 

You’ve never seen Ryujin this focused, this committed to wrecking you. She’s using your hole with such ferocity you think she’ll make you bleed out. Behind those glazed, pleasure-filled eyes, she sees nothing but red. Difficult as it is, you follow a string of moans from her lips hidden beneath a continuous echo of groans from your end. It doesn’t help that these walls are thin and everyone on this floor can hear your escapades.

Neither of you care. There’s a good reason as to why she booked the whole floor to begin with.

The bed quakes, and quakes, and quakes—until it doesn’t. 

A puzzlingly calm fills the room after countless minutes pass. Ryujin’s frantic breaths close the silent gap, having pulled the dildo from your hole. It’s slick. You realize the change of pace. 

“Miss Shin, why did you stop?”

She doesn’t reply immediately. When she does, she’s still catching her breath between spoken words. “I told you—it wasn’t going to be enough. Lay down for me, will you?”

Without a second thought, you comply. This gives you an opportunity to truly see her in the flesh for the first time tonight. She’s wearing a combination of corset and lingerie, her juicy thighs layered with lace garter. Hopping off the bed, she unbuckles the strap around her waist, tossing it aside to the floor. You then focus on her plump ass, accentuated by her slim thong.

Damn, she looks better now than she does naked. You feel proud that she’s wearing your tailor-made lingerie.

Before you entertain the thought of undressing the very underclothes you’ve prepared for her, she slips the boxers off your ankles. She climbs onto the bed, stands atop you. Even with her short stature, in this position, she’s larger than life, a dominating presence that only desires complete control. 

“Hmm, I don’t know what I should do. I could let you fuck me, but that doesn’t sound right for a punishment,” she comments, playfully placing a finger on her chin, jokingly thinking. For a brief moment, it does appear that she’s stumped.

When the idea hits her, her eyes widen, and she has this self-conceited look, as if she’s got it all planned out. 

She reaches a hand down to her knee, slowly peels one of the stockings down to her ankles. Then she does the same for the other half. The way she positions both legwear on your cock is intentional; it’s to stir the idea of pounding into her cunt a real possibility. Your gaze remains fixated on Ryujin’s face, ever flawless in her scantily-clad figure, being her model self atop you. 

As she tugs on the lace of her panties, you start reacquainting your mind with the image of her tight cunt. She lowers it, barely down her thighs, enough space to tease, enough to make your heart race. Her attention is nowhere close to you; she has other priorities, and fingering herself is one of them. She rubs a digit around her heat, moans out in ecstasy with the same energy as getting fucked. The trembles of her body send aftershocks that reverberate all over the bed. 

It’s already hot enough to get fucked by Ryujin’s strap, but this—the sight of Ryujin pleasuring herself, mouth gaped wide open—is a hundred times better. This is the same reaction she has shown throughout the numerous times you’ve railed her, even though you’ve seen that face during sex. Against the mirror, against the water’s reflection, against the tinted windows of her cars—her face serves as motivation that keeps you hard whenever she demands it. Your hands begin to move on their own, reach down to the groin unknowingly, unsure of whether she’d want you to masturbate or not.

You feel your hard cock, already partially soaked with precum, dripping on her garter. As much as you want to keep them on, you can’t go against the deep seated urge to masturbate with her. Her foot begins to lean against your waist, right as you begin to stroke your shaft with your fingers. Moaning alongside her, you thrust your hips upward, passionately murmuring her name, with nothing but a singular thought: her pussy.

It’s etched on your needy lips. “You’re so sexy, Miss Shin. Please let me fuck you, God—”

She whines as though your hot breath is against her neck, growling a tone higher than normal. Her left foot is slowly clenching around your balls, the other at the bridge between your thigh and your crotch, gently nudging your free hand to move aside. She’s beginning to apply pressure on you, perhaps a subtle gesture to make you stop and give way for her feet to take over, but you’re engrossed in the moment to fully realize. Then again, subtlety isn’t her speciality.

It’s only when her foot presses down on your active hand that you slow to a complete halt. You gently rest her soles on your shaft, slowly wrap her soft toes around your tip. For the most part, their grip is shaky, but when they stick, they feel so slick, so warm, and significantly better than whatever effort your fingers can muster. She can’t wear heels without a few kisses placed on them, you recall; something about being Cinderella growing up, how she prefers to be treated, to receive nothing but showers of praise and attention, and you’re doing just that.

Her digits seemingly acknowledge what they’re stepping on, and soon enough it becomes the perfect makeshift ring to stimulate your cock. Her toes just feel the best, most direct spots around your sensitive shaft, gradually building momentum for when you eventually paint her pretty feet. At least, that’s the goal. You’re both drowning in pleasure, chasing separate highs, but using each other’s bodies as conduit for your own personal gain.

And it’s not that she doesn’t know; she knows. You’ve caught a glimpse of her half-lidded eye peeking down. She sees it, merely chuckles at the notion, and continues to finger herself atop your helpless body. Mutual trust brings you together; she won’t stop you as long as you won’t do the same to her.

“Yes, fuck, I’m gonna cum so hard,” you say, breaths hurried, and it isn’t a matter of if, but when. “Every part of you feels so good, Ryu.”

You’re past formalities at this point. She’s too far gone to care that you've called her by her casual name. Her fingers, both slick and warm at once, are catching fire from the frenzied pace she’s rubbing her clit, certain her dripping juices will find solace on your splayed figure. Racing with her orgasm, her underwear is halfway down her meaty legs, her very foundations shaking. Inadvertently pressing her foot tightly on your cock, she’s holding on for dear life, and it threatens to steal your soul before you reach that immaculate high.

With friction at an all-time high, one rough, slippery slip between her toes, all while your loins burn , moving as if you’re burying yourself deep in her cunt, eager to fill her with seed. The thin thread snaps. Sends you careening over the edge.

Your fall is accompanied by the endless scream of her name. To have your cock be graciously drained by her feet, it would be disrespectful not to. She’s still going, chasing that high even as your cum geysers all over her feet, spills over your knees, your belly, on the sheets, as if her own slick didn’t already make an utter mess of this five-star bed. You’re mentally cheering her on, distracting yourself from the endless cascade of seed gushing beneath you. 

This disastrous mess finds you again, this time in the form of Ryujin’s orgasm. She orgasms, cries her loudest cry, her features at their most corrupted. Her pussy gushes like a rushing waterfall, completely soiling her legs and panties with her slick juices. Your groin manages to salvage whatever her thighs haven’t absorbed, and it’s a sticky pool that latches onto her dainty feet. When she steps off your cock, the squelch of wet seed splatters on the sheets until she touches the ground.

You both take some time apart, let the aftermath of your orgasms fizzle out. Ryujin assesses the damage to her body; she’s still a model, after all. She hastily rids of the soiled underwear, treating it like some kind of contaminated object that can only be cleansed by fire. From the looks of it, she’s committed something dangerous, and you’ve done something scandalous. 

“Shit. We got carried away,” you say, lifting your head from the bed, panicked.

“No. You got carried away,” she replies, facing you with that familiar icy gaze. The honeymoon period is over. “Did I allow you to plant my feet on your cock? Huh?”

Swallowing your throat, you understand that she’s technically right, but also, she most certainly enjoyed the feeling of stepping on you—something you can use against her. Still, Ryujin’s word overrides all reasoning, no matter how logical they are.

You see her facade fall apart when she approaches you again. She climbs onto the bed like a cat, arches her back, and sends you back down to the mattress when she pounces on you. On her lips is the widest smirk you’ve ever seen on her. 

She wants more.

Rising to her feet, she plants her toes directly on your chin, oozing with the remains of your cum mixed with hers. “You did this, now you’ll clean it up.” 

As your tongue laps it up, she occasionally disrupts your rhythm by kicking you several times. Not that you’re hurting her (you couldn’t even if you tried) but for the delight of bringing you misfortune. It’s completely in line with the typical abuse and inhumane treatment you face from her during work hours. You won’t complain, but that was never in the cards, anyway. 

“I can’t believe my stylist is a complete freak. Fucking hell,” she comments, glaring you down as you give her toe the occasional kiss. She’s visibly disgusted by the realization sinking in, but deep down, she knows you’re the exact stylist she’s been looking for. 

—————

And as if that’s not enough, she’s found a punishment perfectly suited for you. 

“Just so you know, you’re not getting paid after the stunt you pulled on me today,” says Ryujin, in reference to your accidental disappearance during the red carpet. You’re laid out on the floor, prone, your groans stifled by the living room carpet. Meanwhile, her feet tread all over your bare back at a steady tempo, leaving what could have easily been hickeys red marks and footprints on your skin.

“How long do I have left, Miss Shin?” you ask, voice almost indiscernible.

“About ten minutes,” she replies, looking out the hotel room window, watching dawn slowly break over the Parisian sky. “Don’t ever disappoint me again, do you understand? Freak.”

——————

(A/N: First commissioned work complete! Definitely exploring elements out of my specialty, did you expect her to peg OC? Fun dynamic to write, thank you for reading!)

(P.S. If you want to have your own story/idol written, you can send me a commission :D)

[dandysworldhcs]

Hello! 1st time sending a thingy in ^^ Idk if others talked abt ginger a lot, but I really really enjoy her! so! Also apologies for any grammatical errors :) !! I HC ginger as chronically ill, and is probably one of the more sickly toons compared to others. Constantly having chills, splitting headaches, fainting spells, and a difficulty concentrating/being quite spacy. She really doesn't like others worrying about her, so she got really into makeup to help hide the fatigue and to help herself feel more confident in her own body after the whole "losing a chuck of her head" incident. She also got much more into decorating sweets after her accident, as a mental exercise to help her be able to concentrate/focus more. She can spend a few hours now just decorating cookies now, and sometimes she gets really attached to her designs so she shoves them into the freezer for eternity. Bobette tries her best to help out Ginger without overstepping her boundaries. Showing her support for her hobbies and giving her compliments throughout the day on how good her makeup looks, or about Ginger's baking. She make sure that Ginger doesn't overexert herself, and has plenty of breaks to relax. During Christmas time when the Christmas toons aren't hibernating or whatever, Bobette enlists Astro's help to make sure Ginger is sleeping well. Not every toon is aware of what Ginger is going through, since Ginger isn't the most vocal of her health conditions, but the ones who are try to make sure she is the most comfortable that she can be during her short stay out of the Christmas closet they're stuck in 11 of the 12 months :) - Vampire anon!

welcome to the blog !!

ouhh thats so sweets.i love this hc and the fact of the few toons that know about her struggles helping her warms my heart.i give this a million

[vicsnook]

Good Luck, Babe! | Jake Seresin x Reader

word count: 6,560

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, 18+, Unprotected PinV

notes: Hey friends! I know I've kind of dropped off the face of the Earth since the new year. I've had massive writer's block due to some personal stuff but I think I am finally out of the funk. Please forgive me for any errors, I wrote this on and off the past few months so I hope it doesn't come off terrible. I plan to make this a 2 possible 3 parter so leave some feedback and let me know if you want more. Hope you like it & please don't forget to like and reblog! 🫶🏼

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I agreed to come on a date to the famous Hard Deck but thankfully I’m not disappointed yet. The jukebox is playing old country songs and some couples are dancing on the makeshift dance floor, "this is definitely my kind of place," I think. 

I approach the bar and look for my date Mickey, who waves me over from a corner booth. He kisses my cheek and slides his arm around me as we slide into the cozy booth. “So m’lady what can I get you to drink?” he asks, his eyes scanning my face but before I can answer a blonde man slides into the seat across from us. 

Mickey’s face turns red immediately as the blonde grabs his beer and takes a swig. “My apologies, am I interrupting anything, Fanboy?” asks the blonde with a southern drawl, flashing me what I could only describe as a million-dollar smile. “Yes, Hangman, so I'd appreciate it if you could make yourself scarce,” growls Mickey, beginning to stand up and holding his hand out for me to follow. 

“And leave this lovely lady alone with you? Not a chance,” responds the blonde, now standing in front of Mickey and in our way. “This lovely lady would also like you to make yourself scarce and stop bothering her date,” I said to the blonde, who just like Mickey turned to me with a look of shock. 

Before “Hangman” could respond, I grabbed hold of Mickey’s hand and led us out the side door and down the ramp onto the beach. When we came to a halt, Mickey was still looking at me slack-jawed. “That was awesome! No one’s ever put Hangman in his place,” he raves, as I giggle in amusement. “Yeah, well he sure seemed like he needed it. Anywho, I don’t take it, he's a friend?” I ask. He shook his head and then explained all about how Hangman was just his insufferable coworker who thought that because he had the only confirmed air kill of this generation he was above anyone. 

“And that’s the story of Hangman, anyway, fancy getting some ice cream mademoiselle?” asked Mickey while extending his arm for me to hold. “Of course,” I reply and chuckle as we make our way to the ice cream parlor by the boardwalk.

The rest of the afternoon went by without a hitch as I learned more about my date whose call sign was “Fanboy” due to his adorable obsession with Star Trek. That night I didn’t waste any time texting him that I had a great time and looked forward to seeing him again.

Maybe my mom was right when she suggested I needed to get back to the dating scene. As I lay there waiting on sleep to come, an image of Hangman flashes through my head and I can't help the feeling in my stomach. Shaking my head, I bury it deep down with memories from my date with Mickey.

I won't let anything ruin my happiness at this moment. That was until I woke up this morning and saw that my blue text had turned green and was unanswered.

Just my absolute luck to get blocked after what I thought was a good first date.

-

I went on with the rest of the week trying to feel unbothered about being blocked but it still crept into my mind every once in while. And that’s how I ended up parked in front of the Hard Deck on what seems like a very busy night.

I sigh and put the car in reverse, this is pathetic. But before I go any further, a blonde Ken doll look-alike catches my eye and I realize it’s Hangman walking in, which I hope means Mickey is probably inside. 

Putting the car back in park, I take one last look in the rearview mirror and reapply my red lipstick. Time to show that WSO what he missed out on.

I’m immediately surrounded by a sea of aviators in their dress whites when I step inside, and a couple of them shoot me hungry looks. I take a deep breath and plunge through the crowd to make my way toward the back where I think catch sight of Mickey and his friends but I soon collide with a very very hard chest before I can reach him.

“So we meet again, lovely lady?” I hear as I tilt my head up and make eye contact with the owner of the hard chest whose hands are holding my waist steadying me. And wouldn't you know it, it’s none other than Hangman who is once again sporting that blinding smile. Up close I can see how green his eyes are and good lord all I can think is how this man is way too damn perfect.

I clear my throat and back away as his hands fall off my waist but I don’t get very far because his hand firmly grasps mine and I’m spun back into his chest once again. “What the hell are you-” I try to ask but my words die when I see the hungry look in his eye. “Not so chatty now, are you?” He smirks at me and I feel my cheeks burn. “What do you want?” I manage to croak, feeling now even more embarrassed to have come here tonight.

“Well for starters, I want to lead you out the door to my truck, then I want take you somewhere nice to dinner, and what I want most is to have those pretty red lips of yours around my cock by the end of the night, darlin’" He whispers in my ear, his breath on my neck making my head spin.

Usually, I would slap any man who spoke to me that way but my brain was currently short-circuiting tonight so I just nodded and followed him out the door into the parking lot to take part in what will probably be a very big mistake tomorrow.

His hand sits on my lower back as he leads me to his truck that is conveniently parked at the very end of the parking lot and before I can convince myself to back out of this we have reached the passenger door. He opens the door for me and helps me into the seat before rounding the truck and getting in too. His scent fills my nostrils, sage and sandalwood. 

“I’m not sure I ever properly introduced myself, my name’s Jake Seresin.” He tells me as he pulls into the highway and I pull myself together long enough to mutter mine back. I take him in as he drives and notice the scar above his eyebrow and how rosy his lips look, and I can’t help but think of how good they would feel on mine.

I doubt any of my friends would be supportive of me throwing caution to the wind but something about Jake makes saying no, impossible. A spark goes through me when his hand comes to rest on my thigh just below the hem of my dress, and I sure hope I haven’t soaked the seat.

-

We pull up to a restaurant downtown that I only ever heard of because of because of it being expensive but before I can protest he is getting out of the truck and coming to open my door. “Jake, this is too much. I -” his fingers come to rest on my lips effectively shushing my protests. “Baby, I’m going to lavish you tonight and I mean that in more ways than one.” 

His eyes are locked into mine as I nod. No man has ever managed to render me speechless, much less make me so agreeable but I guess that changes tonight.

The food and wine are exquisite and the conversation flows smoothly between us and I can’t help but want more of this man. My once disdain for him now vanished.

He tells me of growing up in Texas on his family’s ranch and of his rodeo days that ended too quickly when his father passed. He talks of how he joined the Navy to be able to support his family. I notice his eyes darken as he talks of missing home and how lonely his job can be because he acts like an asshole to keep people away, and I feel myself reaching for his hand to comfort him. He smiles gratefully, then casually turns the conversation back to me.

So I tell him of my sister, Meredith, who died a few years back because of a drunk driver which led me to pursue a career in law seeing as the man who killed her is free and she didn’t get justice. He squeezes my hand in comfort and I tell him that I moved to Miramar to get away from my hometown because everything reminds me of Mer and I wanted a fresh start and how I’ve been here a year now and hardly know anyone because I’ve thrown myself into my work instead of dealing with my grief.

I shudder when I’m done when I realize I’ve bared my soul to someone who I hardly know but I don’t overthink for long because Jake’s hand reaches out and caresses my face. He settles the bill and ignores my pleas to let me pay for at least half and once we’re back in the truck I realize that it’s nearly midnight and he asks for directions back to my place which I give without a second thought.

-

He follows me in and I curse at myself when I see the mess of paperwork on the living room table. “Sorry, I don’t usually have guests over,” I tell him, and he shrugs it off and helps me straighten the papers up. We settle in the small couch and I can feel the heat radiating off his body and the nerves finally kick in. “Um, can I get you something to drink?” I ask, looking over at the TV that is not even on. “No, thank you, Angel. Look, I know what I said at the bar but we don't have to do anything you don't want to do.” He assures me, my eyes finally making contact with his. But I don’t want him to go and I feel an urgent need to feel his skin against mine so I do the only thing I can think of and kiss him.

He kisses me slowly and carefully like I might pull away and dismiss him any second so I move closer to him and then climb onto his lap. He groans as I straddle him and I take the chance to slip my tongue into his mouth, savoring the taste of him. His fingers dip into my waist as I bite his lip and pull back. His eyes are blown with lust and I know then there is no going back.

His mouth kisses along my jaw and down to my neck and I moan loudly as he finds that spot just below my ear that drives me crazy. “Are you sure about this?” He asks, leaving kisses just above the neckline of my dress. “Yes, I need you, Jake, please,” I beg as he slides the straps of my dress down and his mouth trails down kisses, latching onto my perky nippe.

I arch my back and the dress pools at my hips, the cold air on my skin making me shiver for a moment until his warm chest presses against mine and I realize he’s ditched his shirt. I run my hands through his chiseled chest and think to myself that this is the kind of body that Greek statues are made of.

“Where’s your room?” he asks, between kisses and I feel another current surge through me. “At the end of the hall,” I manage to croak and he moves forward so I can wrap my legs around him and then he leads us to my room. The very short hallway feels infinite as he holds me against the wall and his hands run all over my body and I’m now shaking with desire.

“Jake, please,” I beg and I feel him grin against my neck and I blush in the dark as he nibbles on my neck leaving what I know tomorrow will be a very noticeable hickey. He finally takes us into my room and places me on the bed and as he towers over me it sinks in what I’m about to do and a shiver of excitement runs through me.

He pulls down the rest of my dress and I am left in my very small thong, he places his hand over my core and I quiver against it. “Eager aren’t we?” He whispers as he cups the thin fabric of my thong and slowly slides it down, pressing kisses onto my leg as he finally gets it off and stuffs it into his back pocket.

I raise an eyebrow at him in response, but he ignores it as he slides off the bed and pulls me to the edge of the bed where he kneels on the floor. I blush as I feel his warm breath on my thigh as he kisses his way to my core pausing just before reaching it, our eyes lock and I see that he is looking for reassurance. I nod, not trusting my words and within seconds he is eating me out like he is starving and my pussy is a full-course meal.

I moan his name loudly and tug at his hair but he doesn’t slow down and I feel myself getting close when he eases a finger in and he must sense that I’m close to reaching an orgasm because he pulls my thighs even further apart and adds another finger. My moans turn to whimpers as he keeps edging me. I shake against him while he uses his fingers to coax me through my orgasm.  “Good girl,” he mumbles as he slowly raises himself and placing a kiss on my lips and I want more.

“Fuck me, Jake,” I whimper as he settles beside me in the bed but I get a response that I was not expecting. “Not yet angel,” he whispers as he caresses my arm that fills with goosebumps as he gets further up and he turns my head to look at him. His green eyes are staring into mine so deeply I think he can read my needy thoughts. I run my hand down his chest and stop at his belt buckle, his eyes following my every move, and I decide to give him what he asked for at the beginning of the night.

Pulling him off the bed with me I take notice of my shaky legs but still, I kneel in front of him and undo his belt. I can feel his eyes on me as I ease his pants down and palm him through his boxers. A groan escapes him as I slide his cock free of the boxers and suck on his swollen tip. “Fuck,” he moans as I take him in my mouth and I feel myself getting wetter as he starts to fuck my face.

But he’s careful yet again so I grab onto his hips and increase the pace, eliciting various groans from him and when I meet his eyes he slowly stills me. “I want to come inside you,” he says, his voice husky with lust. His arms reach to pull me up and I’m back on the bed before I can protest.

“I’m not going to be as slow and careful, honey. I’m going to fuck you so hard that you can’t walk tomorrow, so stop me now if that’s not what you want,” he whispers in my ear and I shiver with excitement. I reply by pulling him down to me and kissing him as hard as I possibly can. Without warning he’s stretching me open, and before I can even catch a breath, he’s thrusting hard into me again.

His fingers are digging into my waist as I scream in pleasure, “Taking me so good, baby,” he groans while leaving more hickeys on my neck. He continues to thrust hard and fast and I’m shaking with pleasure.

My moans get louder as his finger finds my clit and I worry the neighbors will call the cops. But he seems unfazed as he continues to fuck me through it. I whimper loudly, my legs sliding off his sides as I reach my orgasm. “I’m almost there, honey,” he whispers in my ear but I barely acknowledge him, still lost in my high.

He fills me with his sweet release as I come down from my own. His green eyes boring into mine as he slowly pulls out and I feel his cum slipping out of me. “Look at you, baby. I made a mess out of you,” he grins, laying at my side and pulling me to him.

I lay my head on his chest as exhaustion takes over and any thought of getting myself sorted out flies out the window. He kisses my hairline and the last thing I hear is him saying “good girl” as sleep envelops me in his arms.

-

I wake up to my body aching as memories from last night flood back in and I smile, turning over, only to find the bed empty. Only my dress is in the corner of my bedroom floor, no sign of Jake or my thong. I curse to myself as I get up and feel even more sore if that’s even possible. He sure meant that he would fuck me til I couldn't walk.

The apartment is deadly quiet and I head to the bathroom which I find empty as well. Pulling on my robe, I check the living room which to no one’s surprise is also empty, and as I look out the window, I notice Jake’s truck is gone and then it hits me that my car is still parked at the Hard Deck.

Fuck me.

I check around the rest of the apartment and find no note anywhere. Disappointment creeps in as I decide to finally go shower and get him off my skin. When I catch sight of myself in the bathroom mirror, I see the damage he left on my neck and chest is extensive. Angry reddish marks stare back at me and I doubt all the concealer in the world can help cover what he did.

The next few weeks are a blur as I throw myself into my work and vow to never return to the Hard Deck. Long nights working keep me occupied so much so that I don’t realize my period is late for a week, and that’s when it dawns on me that we didnt use protection and of course, I hadn’t been on the pill.

The pharmacy is crowded as I buy a pregnancy test, and I glare at the cashier who very loudly yells “Good luck!” as I walk out. Traffic is awful too on the way home and I feel myself getting more anxious by the second.

I practically run to the bathroom as soon as I’m home and finally pee on the stupid stick. 5 minutes feel like an eternity when your future rests on the other side. The timer goes off and as I flip the test over, I grab hold of the vanity to steady myself as I stare back at the two pink lines that signify my worst fear.

I’m pregnant.

click here for part 2!

taglist: @harperdoodle , @weirdothatwritess , @rosiahills22 (y’all let me know if you dont want me to tag anymore)

[typewritingyip]

I was about to sleep, but new chapter dropped, let's go (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

"They wouldn't be able to rest till they got back to the apartment and that was just dragging them further down."

It will be a miracle if once they touch their beds they don't fall into coma. A well deserved one, though.

"Heroes were meant to be shining metal and indestructible, something out of a sparkling-tale, polished and refined by time. Time was something that the pilots did not have."

Toxic mentality ( ` ᴖ ´ )

And, oh god the last part I'm sorry but I have to comment about it and why I love it so much.

If they're not already surrounded by enemies, who don't care and can just spam until they get tired they don't have time to rest, they have to protect.

They don't have time because a simple slip could cost them everything.

They don't have time because this battle could last thousands of years, and even if for the Cybertronians it's nothing, for the pilots is a lifetime they coukd only dream or have nightmares of.

"Aside from Bluestreak and Sunny, who were priming the suits in the bathroom. New paint would be needed before they could go on another mission"

I cant help but imagine this.

Sunstreaker: why's he taking to long?

Bluestreak: sorry, I had to get this. *opens box he's carrying: more than a hundred different kind of waxes, solvents, paint, etc... carefully labed* i thought this was an ocation to use these, what do you like?

Sunstreaker: oh god. Im gonna keep those and bring them to earth.

Of course, if Sunstreaker hasn't already discovered Cybertronian variety and got a few for himself.

Don't worry, they both are gonna make sure the heroes keep shining, literally. (˘ ˘ ˘)

"Everything was cast in a yellow glow, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly..."

I thought he was hallucinating at first, but then discovered it was a nightmare, so, cool? No more hallucinations for an hour? Even if it was a shitry nightmare??? Haha.

"they were bleeding down his neck like a nosebleed."

Is this guy gonna get anemia? Idk, he loses a litter worth of blood every week, minimum.

" there weren't nearly as many people as he'd expected.

Maybe that was just from his perspective though."

Someone hold his hand while they tell him.

"one with green and a battle-mask covering his mouth and the other with red and blue."

Im struggling, I know for sure one is Wheeljack, it the other Skyfire??? God I'm blind as fuck.

"It was nice to know that the Lord Protector had his back"

He does Hound, he might be a hater and will probably hear your goverment even if he discovers you are a little organic bc he hates gorverment more than he could hate organic or a lie of this level.

But he hates Starscream even more and will use every excuse he has to hate on him.

Did this Megatron and Starscream beat the shit out of each other every chance they had? Every time starscream tried to kill him? Did he tried to do it?

"(Translation Error) Bar"

Im curious, could one get a name? (◔ ◡ ◔)

"the translator had placed an accent on the scientist"

(◔ ◡ ◔) 👉👈

""I'm confused," The large scientist's voice was soft, "Is he apologizing for saving the city? Or getting the data?" The other one shook his head, "No, I don't think it's that," He stared at Hound intensely and it made his skin crawl, "Maybe it's an error in his translator." Nodding a bit, he seemed content with that, "Yeah, error for his translator.""

Hound panicking and then both of them are just, mm, kind of stupid, or oblivious. Maybe both.

""You don't understand." He chuckled weakly."

They don't and most of them will not after discovering the organic thing probably, they will find new ways of hate, they are certified haters millions of years of war proved it.

""The air commander for not intercepting their ship! Perhaps I shall go with that one, yes."

Look he's a hater, he uses every chance to be one, even if trying to tell pther to love themselves and not be haters of themselves, the hypocrit telling other not to be haters. (ᴗ_ ᴗ。)

"That fuzzy electric feeling returned to his skin, across his plating."

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

≧ヮ≦

""So, it wasn't a translation error?" The big scientist was still holding back Starscream even as the other scientist nodded, "Yeah, I don't think it was. Damn.""

Those are the ones Hound is afraid of, let me remind you.

Does wheeljack have the tendency of blowing up things here too? Bc they shoukd worry about that.

There are so many things I saw and was suspicious about but there are so many. Sorry if my english is off.

👁👁

Love the new chapter, thanks for the food, I'm eating this whole. Have a good night and take care <3

I love this.. let’s get down to it!

A very well deserved coma.

I’m so glad you dug into the time thing, because like, I wanted there to be multiple interpretations of it.

Oh yeah, Sunny has the stuff he’s found and likes. More than any of the other pilots, it’s cute really.

Not a hallucination this time! Just a bad dream, full of dread.. least with his past it isn’t always bad.

Pilots are always anemic.

☺️ Yeah, he vaguely knows the population is small but it still throws him off every time.

It is in fact Skyfire.

Megatron cares so deeply for Hound, cause Hound has thrown himself at every situation before he himself could.

Uh, no. Spoilers.

Hehehehe

Oh yeah, these are the scientists we’re talking about here.

Certified haters, tm.

I loved this moment, cause like.. he almost backed himself back into the dog house so he pivoted to the familiar instead.

Ahh indeed.

Oh yeah, Hound is petrified rn.

[littlexscarletxwitch]

another idea! someone harrassed you online and Yelena does her spy stuff, gets the dude to Actually apologize and Mean it. and then as she's comforting you she's like...sneakily going down to eat you out and make you forget about stupid boys.

-💦🍯

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝘄𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗵𝘂𝗿𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂

paring: yelena belova x fem!reader

tag(s): nsfw, smut with some plot, it's actually not that dirty, I mean it is but I was hoping for it to be sweet and lovely and cute, not sure if it worked out tho, yelena being the overprotective gf she is

warning(s): MDNI, +18 ONLY read at your own risk, explicit wlw smut, wlw sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, mentions of online harassment, mentions of a boy being a dick (I hate men), yelena wanting to kill said man because he made r cry, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 1.7k

note: NONNIEEE, I'm sooo sorry it took me so long to write this. But I'm so glad I finally get to post this one. I really hope you like it, and I'm sorry if it's not as dirty and smutty as you wanted it. I still need so practise lol. Thank you for the request, anon, ily. I'm not an english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Love y'all, M <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

To say she was pissed was an understatement, she was furious, she felt as if her blood was boiling, and all she could see was mad red.

She closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing and all she could see was you. Everytime, her mind took her back to a couple of hours earlier in the day, and there you were crying, brows furrowed, bottom lip trembling and your phone in front of your eyes. Her heart skipped a beat once she took a look at you. She felt the muscular organ breaking into a million pieces, you looked so small, and fragile, like a lost puppy.

“Y/n? Baby, what happened?” Yelena asked, concerned and worried in her tone.

“Nothing, nothing. I just…,” you sniffed. Tears rolled down your cheeks as Yelena’s thumbs gently brushed them away.

“It’s not ‘nothing’, Y/n. What happened?” she took your phone from your hands, leaving it on the floor and wrapped her hands around yours.

“People can be so mean. Why are they mean, Lena?” you sobbed, your head fell on her shoulder as you let the river of tears flow.

It took you a while to finally open up to her because you wouldn’t stop crying. Yelena’s heart sank into her tummy as she listened to your words carefully. The sadness she felt for you soon shifted into anger as she realised the reason why you were crying was because of some stupid miserable insensitive boy.

Some brainless damned bored fucker had made some online comments about you. She scoffed, how did that asshat dare to make you cry? How did he dare to say those awful things about you? Was he really that bored to mess with you? Was he really that miserable to make other people cry? And you of all people. Why did it have to be you? You who were so sweet to everyone, including people you didn’t even know. You who would never talk shit about anyone. You who would always take care of everyone else before yourself.

It was Yelena’s job to take care of you. All she wanted was for you to stop crying and to make you feel better, so she made it her mission, literally. She wasn’t good with her words when it came to you, she felt like she could never say the right thing to make you feel better, so she did what she did best, and made it her next mission to find this repulsive freak and make him pay for all the tears you had shed because of him.

You were so tired from all the crying that soon enough you had fallen asleep on her shoulder. She carried you up to your shared bedroom, tugged you in, left a soft kiss on your forehead and got to work.

Tracking this guy down wasn’t hard at all, the jackass was careless, he probably thought that leaving hate comments here and there wouldn’t cause him any kind of problems. But boy was he wrong.

She breathed out one last time, trying to not let her anger get the best out of her, and then she opened up her eyes. There she was, parked right outside Jared’s house. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, she felt like she could just kill Jared for what he put you though. But she knew you wouldn’t like that nor would it help you.

“Okay, here it goes,” she said, getting out of the car.

She impatiently knocked on the door, making no attempt to stop the loud knocking until Jared dared to open up.

“Jesus, I said I’m coming,” she heard someone say from the other side.

As soon as the door was unlocked, she pushed it open and made her way in.

“Hello, Jared,” she said, shutting the door behind her with a fake small on her lips.

“Who the fuck are you?” he sounded as angry as Yelena felt.

“We are going to have a chit chat, Jared.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you are. You are going to leave or I’ll call the cops,” he stepped forward, trying to intimidate Yelena. She just rolled her eyes at the action.

“I’d like to see you try,” she said, pushing him back strongly enough for him to lose his balance and fall on his butt. “You see, Jared—.”

“How the fuck do you know me?”

“You said some things that I didn’t like,” she ignored him. “In fact, I’m really pissed off at the moment, so much that I feel like I could just rip your head off,” she chuckled as she watched the horror in his eyes. “You fucked up, Jared. Big time. You made the person I care most on this planet cry, and I hate you for that.”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You got the wrong guy, I swear I didn’t—.”

“Oh, really? So you are not @jaredrocks.com?”

“I, um…,” he hesitated, swallowing down the lump that had formed on his throat, which didn’t go unnoticed by Yelena.

“Yeah, I figured,” she clicked her tongue in annoyance. “So here’s what you are going to do, Jared,” his face went pale as he noticed Yelena’s mood change, he could tell she was getting angrier by the second and he didn’t want her to snap. Not after she pushed him to the ground so effortlessly.

All he could do was nod as Yelena talked, “You are going to come with me, apologise to her and you’ll promise that you would never do bad shit ever again, Jared. Because if you do, I will find out and I won’t be holding back next time. Got it?” she raised her brow at him for Jared to quickly nod again. “Great! Get on your feet.”

Once Jared and Yelena made their way to your shared apartment, she quickly pulled him out of the car and to the front door. You were waiting for them, well actually just Yelena. She had called you earlier and told you to be outside, she said she wanted to show you something. You felt a chill crawling up your back once you saw a man walking next to her.

“Baby, this is Jared. He has a lot to say to you.”

“Jared? I don’t understand—.”

But you were quickly cut off as Jared began to ramble about how sorry he was, that he didn’t mean to hurt you, that he was just bored and sad, that he was a pathetic little douche bag —Yelena made him say that— and that he would never do something like that ever again. That he regretted ever doing something like that. Suddenly it hit you, he was the prick who wrote that shit about you.

“You really hurt me, Jared.”

“I now can see that. I’m really sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise,” you could only nod at him, biting your lip to stop it from trembling.

“Okay. You’re done here, Jared. Now, get lost,” Yelena patted his back motioning for him to walk away.

“But I don’t—”

“Get lost, Jared,” Yelena repeated herself, this time her tone was harsher and Jared got the memo.

Once he was out of your sight the two of you made your way inside the comfort of your home. You still felt weird about the whole situation. You appreciated Jared’s apology, but you couldn’t stop thinking about all his mean comments.

“Y/n, stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“I know you are thinking about everything he said, but you must know that he was full of shit,” she said, making her way towards you on the bed.

“Lena, I just…” she could see the tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

“Y/n, you are the prettiest, smartest, kindest girl I ever had the pleasure to meet. You are so full of light, Y/n. Don’t let an asshole like Jared put you out, you hear me?”

You nodded, battling the tears.

“Let me show you how special you are, Y/n,” she said as she brushed her nose against your cheek, her lips impatiently searching for yours.

Her lips muffled a gasp coming out of your lips. Like usual, her lips moved perfectly in sync against yours, soft and rough. Her tongue danced around with yours. Her teeth biting your bottom lip. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as your skin set on fire just with how close she was.

“Make me forget, Yel,” you said breathlessly in between kisses.

Your back hit the bed as Yelena got on top of you, her lips never leaving yours. You wrapped your legs around her hip and quietly moaned once your clothed core made contact with hers.

“I love you so much, Y/n,” she mumbled against your skin as she trailed a path of wet kisses along your jaw.

Somehow in between kisses and soft caresses, Yelena got your body bare. She left a kiss on your forehead, one on your left cheek, another right in between your breasts, and one on your abdomen before making her way to your aching wet core.

“So perfect,” you heard her say before the room was filled with your loud moaning.

She sucked, bit, kissed and licked as she pleased, making a mess out of you. Gently but eagerly she pushed two fingers inside of you, a moan escaped from Yelena’s lips as she felt your cunt clenching around her fingers. She kept a steady pace, slightly curling her fingers to get you to enjoy it as much as you could, as her lips worked on your clit.

Your hands flew to her hair, tugging at it, pushing her even closer to your cunt. And with a loud cry you came undone on her mouth. Yelena’s lips moved fast to drink up every bit of your juice she could as her tongue helped you ride your high. Once you were finished, she left one last kiss on your cunt and went to cuddle you.

She tugged you in, making sure you were warm and wrapped you in between her arms, leaving small kisses on top of your head.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again, Y/n,” you heard her saying as you drift off to sleep, tiredness getting the best of you. “Never again, I promise.”

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[ggjunkie]

Heavenly Hazards

Chapter 1

It was your official 5-week anniversary of heaven. And although you may be far from an expert, you’ve gained enough experience and went through enough trial and error to create a list of rules. These rules, under no circumstance, are to be broken, bent, nor rewritten. You may need some reminders every now and then, as they’re all extremely persuasive, but you refuse to falter.

Ahem! So without further ado, here is your list of “Heavenly Hazards!”

Number 1: Steer Clear of the promenade food court’s smoothies.

You made the honest mistake of indulging, and paid the price. In your defense, you really didn’t know any better. Even the worker seemed surprised you had wanted to order. One sip was the equivalent of one hour spent crouching near the toilet. You spent that time wondering if there was an afterlife after this one, or if you’d be forced to die forever. Based on those two days, the second option seemed the most comforting. No more fancy promenades and no more poison-smoothies.

Number 2: Don’t look too closely at the street performers

One fact about heaven they don’t write home about is that these angels will sing. That doesn’t always mean the same thing as “can” or “should,” but you will always find fun numbers on the street. However, watch for too long and that solo will become a duet. Sometimes it can be exhilarating. But when you have concrete plans you’re already running late for and suddenly you find yourself triple time-stepping to the latest edition of “Count On Me,” it can be frustrating.

And the final, most important, at all cost followed, never to be broken rule:

Number 3: Avoid Adam.

Being the first man, he came with a lot of titles. For instance, “the first— and therefore the biggest- baby” and “the first face your fist may meet” were both strong. Or alternatively, something fitting a bit closer to home for you: “The first hookup you had in heaven even though you know you shouldn’t have, and now you have to ignore and avoid his stupid smug face.”

Real catchy name.

It was a serious problem though. Especially since he seemed to want the opposite of that– for whatever reason it may be. Knowing him, it could range from craving a Hookup the Sequel, to wanting to slut-shame you for sex before marriage. However, day after day, you’d always end up “mysteriously” bumping into him. From the streets to your place of work, it’s only a matter of time until he finds out where you live and manages to start bugging you there too. You wondered if he harassed all his past hookups like this, before shaking your head and realizing “yeah, probably.”

The hook up wasn’t your fault though!

Upon arrival into heaven, there was a mysterious ticket slipped into your brochure. It was rich black– a stark contrast to everything else behind the Pearly Gates, everything alternated between white and off-white. Scribbled in a gold marker was what you assumed to be a signature, but you couldn’t be too sure. If anything, it more closely resembled a stick figure– somehow. You would’ve marched back up to that gleaming angel sitting behind his desk and handed over the ticket, only to have been assured it was some sort of mistake and now be promised a million heaven-bucks or whatever other apology he would’ve offered. However, there was one thing stopping you.

Up at the top of the ticket, above the not-quite-signature, was your name. Granted, it was scrawled in a hard-to-understand handwriting. But you can recognize your name anywhere. Or wait… if you squint hard enough, it sort of looked like a second stickman.

Looking at it made you nervous though, so into the trashcan it went. As you tossed it, you clapped your hands clean, ready to open back up that brochure and find out where you will be staying when suddenly everything went black. You sputtered, reaching for your eyes to find something covering them. You peel it off, staring back at none other than the ticket.

With a shocked yelp, you threw it to the floor, watching as it immediately flew back up into your hand. It obviously wasn’t alive– or at least you hoped not– so, maybe enchanted?

“Problem?” the angel behind his desk smiled softly, tilting his head to complete his look of the pinnacle of all things sweet. Quickly, you hid the ticket behind your back, afraid to accidentally be caught with something bad, and shook your head ‘no.’ Ever trusting, the angel grinned back, noticed one of his pens out of place, quickly pushed it right, and then delved straight back into his boring paperwork.

However, the pen he had moved was gold.. Or, wait… yeah no it’s white. Curse this bland place!

With his attention now diverted, you exited the building, started walking– you’re afraid you’ll never get used to these wings–and pulled back out the ticket. Due to most angels taking to choose to fly and soar above, you didn’t have to worry about bumping into anyone. You flipped the ticket back and forth, looking for any sort of clues or hints as to what it could be.

You came back with nothing.

However, because of your distracted pacing, you found yourself at some sort of open area. You swapped out your ticket, fumbling around in your pockets for your brochure and checking the attached map. According to the red star marked “You are Here,” you had found yourself at the promenade. There were places to relax and eat, something that seemed very much appealing after dealing with both death… and this stupid, impossibly infuriating ticket!

Your wings fluttering- a new and weirdly uncomfortable feeling--you moved to join in line and order food. Unfortunately, most of the food lines were a tad bit long. Ever impatient, you decided to hop to the most empty line, which seemed to be…

You squinted up at the sign– oh!

Smoothies!

[breadsticvk]

@cagneyblooms Hey bud! It’s me! The one you didn’t wanna talk to because I associated with Sam. All I really wanted was your side of the story and to sort things out but that’s not clearly gonna happen cuz you blocked me when I hadn’t even messaged you, so I’m taking it on here if you still can’t seem to remember me this is Paige, and I also made that confession, and no, Sam did not send me. I’m doing this out of my own volition because of the crazy ass fucking injustice that’s happening. I tried to be nice and mature about it, but nothing is getting done that way. Everything’s been oh sam this sam that but what did CAGNEY do? In most of peoples eyes you were the sweet old suicidal victim with a horrible mother but oh youre far from that. From what I’ve seen you’re extremely manipulative. In all of your breakdowns you wreak havoc among others, and get angry when they try to lend an helping hand. Sure you apologize and woo hoo everyone acts like nothing happens until you do it again. You put no effort into improving who you are. You victimize yourself, put the victim as the problem, and push everyone away from them to make you seem like the angel. You also use your little breakdowns as excuses to say some insane shit. But everyone’s gonna forgive and forget that one too. Autistic people are subhuman? White people can’t be Muslim? Hey so that’s fucking racist! But forgiving and forgetting right??? Your behavior broke people, you had people worried nonstop and you don’t even appreciate them. Yet you curse them out. and let’s not forget about how you lied quite a bit! Also, you want everyone to stay away from sam because he knows the kind of person you are, and you’re trying to lock that away from everyone. Whoever sees this, I advise you to message him, for his story. Since Cagneys probably twisted the story in all sorts of ways. My point being, Cagney you might be a victim in some cases but not all. You blame everything on sam, yet you were at fault to. All the screenshots you sent of Sam, did you show what you were saying? I know that wasn’t the “peer pressure” it. Also with the little fucking lie that Cagney was uncomfortable with intimate conversations. You know damn well you were completely ok with it just switched up at the end to make it seem like she was doing it without your consent the entire time. Very victim coded! Get to know both sides of the fucking story before you get to hating. Lastly, my final point you guys give Cagney a million chances even tho she fucks up each one yet you all act like nothings ever happened and move on. Sam has a few errors most extremely exaggerated (and lied about) yet you all, wrapped around her little finger, followed with whatever she says and throws Sam out. Cagney, be better. Just because your mom’s a bad person doesn’t mean you have to make it generational.

@frangusmadgator @gamecubestellar @kitty-katt-caramelled @autumnteawithfriends

[carionto]

The Power of Error!

Titan! What a name for a moon, the jewel of Saturn, boundless scientific value, the works!

Bureaucracy! The most horrifying eldritch abomination Humanity has ever birthed. It is all pervasive, unavoidable, unfathomable, unkillable. A singular stroke on a piece of parchment (it's all digital these days, but hush now, dramatic words) can decide the fate of all.

Captain Knoslark, the head of the Warp Gate project and general overseer of the Dyson Ring construction efforts, was not enthused with paperwork. Unless it was a character sheet or notes for his drama plays. Get in, get out, minimal effort so he can go back to running four hundred million terawatts between two closely located quantum entangled particles. Why not, maybe he can turn string theory into string fact!

One day, after yet another report about the construction efforts, the captain was visited by Vice Admiral Krastina, one of the primary officers in charge of patrolling the inner Sol system and also managing the assistance with any nearby construction efforts.

"Captain Knoslark, a word."

He didn't like to have "words" with people like her. That always meant something bothersome, like responsibility.

"These are the materials requisition forms you signed off on, yes?"

He didn't know. Probably? Whenever someone asks a question like that, they already know the answer, and that means it's bad news. Could she just not do that? We can skip this.

"We will not be skipping this, Captain."

Witchcraft!

Well okay, the captain was notoriously bad at any social deduction games as he could not lie or pretend to save his life, except when he's explicitly roleplaying. If he weren't an actual captain, he could pull this off, but he is, so he can't.

"Care to comment on what happened to Titan?"

As a matter of fact, Captain Knoslark didn't care to answer that, mainly because he didn't know, but the Vice Admiral seemed to want something, so he brainstormed and came up with a brilliant plan.

"Right, can we instead do a thing where I say "Smokebomb!" and I leave and this conversation ends? Because I do not have an answer to that and this is incredibly awkward. I think we can pull this off. Okay, ready?

Smokebomb!"

The Vice Admiral maintained a steely gaze on him, narrowing her eyes just a tad with each passing second as Knoslark slowly crouch-walked backwards for the door, also maintaining perfect eye contact with her.

With an unchanging expression of expectation throughout, the good captain leaves the room after a solid minute.

Krastina shakes her head, she also doesn't want to deal with explaining to the government and even less so to the populace why Titan was unceremoniously broken apart and used up to further the construction of the Dyson Ring. To be fair, it has sped up the process tremendously.

Still. Damn. How did he misspell Thyone so badly? Nobody cares about that random moon. Of Jupiter, no less.

__________________

This whole thing exists because I wanted to use the joke of smokebombing out of a conversation by just saying the word. Heard it on a podcast a few years back and just suddenly recalled it. Titan in this verse is gone now all because of something dumb like that. I will not apologize.

[allfandomstan]

After Dark~(Batman x Vigilante Reader), Chapter 4.

Genre: Action, Mystery, Suspense, Noir, Crime.

Setting: Gotham City Hall from ‘The Batman’ 2022..

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, Swearing, Dark themes, descriptions of blood, Cynicism, Psychopathic themes.

Word Count: 1.9K

Hey its me back with another chapter to the series! Finally after an 8 months hiatus or so, I conjured up the will to publish this chapter I’ve been working on. It’s not much but just something to smoothly carry the series forward🫣..

And my apologies if I screw up the movie timeline in upcoming chapters!😫 it’s been a while since I revisited the movie as a whole so you might see some errors here and there🙃.

Hope you enjoy!

***

Here you were, back at in your apartment.. again. Millions of thoughts ran through your mind like a flowing river that won’t stop at any point unless an intentional obstruction to the constant flow of water was put in place. Like a dam of sorts. All you could think of was about the event that unfurled earlier. From your argument with Sam to meeting Bruce Wayne, for the first in your life. Although you weren’t much sure about it..

The way his gaze met yours resembled some kind of shocking recognition and truth. Those deep ocean eyes looked familiar as ever, but you couldn’t quite pin point where you saw them. Yet..

His expression changed from monotone to slightly ‘intrigued’ when he laid his eyes on you. You noticed him scanning your face for something, like trying to read you like an open book. But why?

‘Had he seen you somewhere before?’

It sure looked like he did.

‘But where?’

****

The final touch you needed was your dark crimson coloured lipstick and then you were ready to go. To the Mayor’s funeral to be exact..

Today was the day Mayor Don Mitchell Jr. would be laid to rest six feet under, and you won’t say he will be resting in peace. You don’t think he’ll be resting at all because of the way he was taken from this world.. Brutally hammered to the head by a madman.

In a way you felt bad for the deceased Mayor even though you knew he was a corrupt-to-the-core asshole, but at least he should’ve been given a not-so fucked up death.

He died absolutely humiliated. With the words ‘No more Lies’ written on his taped up head with his very own blood. Not only did the Riddler kill him in the most devastatingly gut-wrenching way, but also tried to expose his deep seated secrets… The ones he feared would soon come to get him. And get him it did..

Bats hadn’t contacted you at all for two days straight. Not that you minded, really. You figured he was just busy getting his knuckles bloody from beating up the average Gotham thug he crosses more than once in the night. The city was crawling with them, especially during the late hour. But not just that, He’s most probably working on the case involving riddler, of course. The average Gotham thug was nothing compared to the chaos Riddler would bring if he’s not taken care of.

You wondered if The Bat had a life beyond crime fighting. Well of course he did. He’s human too, after all..

‘Why the fuck do I even care?’

You snapped out of your daze and tried to focus on the task at hand.. The Mayor’s funeral. Sure enough, you had to be there. Incase something happens.. And you had a tad bit of a gut feeling, that it would. You supposed he might be there too. Watching in the shadows, hidden from view. Of course he wouldn’t miss such a vital event if it means catching Riddler. This could be his right time to strike and evoke chaos among citizens in that town hall. You’d just had to wait and see if you were right. But you hoped the fuck not.

You finally put your trench coat over your self and grabbed your bag which contained your keys, burner phone and of course, your blade. You just had with you whenever you went out. Just in case..

****

The streets surrounding the Gotham Town Hall were packed with eager citizens who wanted to catch a glimpse of their coffin-ridden Mayor one last time. The Press and media were there too, to report and keep updated the curious minds of people who couldn’t make it to the funeral. The crowd was large pushy and suffocating.

You tried to get to the front, pushing past the crowd of people. When you finally got to the front you let out a deep breath. You had to say you were surprised as to why you you weren't smothered to death but you were grateful to make it out of the restless crowd alive.

At your current position you had a clear view of the road and the front of the Town Hall. There you saw police officers, prestigious politicians and a bunch of celebrities standing around, waiting for the venue to open. But your eyes landed on one particular person..

Carmine Falcone.

At the sight of that man, your fists subconsciously clenched inside of your coat pockets.

'What was he doing here?'

Then it made sense. Since the late Mayor himself wasn't the sinless of people, of course it was expected of him to have ties with someone as notorious as Falcone.

As you were focusing in on the Mob Boss, you became distracted by the sudden yelling of the people around you.

"Oh my Lord! It's Bruce Wayne!!"

Your gaze immediately took itself off Falcone and focused on the new subject at hand.

And there he was, The Gotham Prince.

Clad in a dapper black, wool coat and sporting the typical rich-guy look, appeared Wayne from his black Corvette.

Hmm, expensive you had to say. But of course.

You refrained from subconsciously rolling your eyes at the display. Bastard, making poor people eat shit.

You watched as he gave his car keys to an officer so he could park it elsewhere, and then walking off to climb the steps leading to the entrance of the Town Hall. You noticed his slight heaviness in step and the light hunch of his shoulders. And shit the guy looked like he hasn't slept in ages..

He involuntarily talked to the people around him which included Cops, celebrities and the Mayor candidate herself, Bella Real.

You watched as his head slowly turned to acknowledge the ungodly Man standing behind him with a crooked smile etched onto his face. Bruce then too, reluctantly met his gaze and engaged in a not so jolly conversation. Falcone placed a hand on Wayne's shoulder and patted it a few times before returning to talk to his henchman, Penguin.

'The guest list is just fucking incredible', you thought.

First you had the displeasure of finding Carmine Falcone and now, Penguin.

You watched as Penguin laughed, flashing his crooked brown stained teeth at Falcone. You bet whatever the asshole said must have been very funny indeed.

You looked away, disgusted. Men like Penguin had no right to laugh when so many lives had been ruined because of their deeds. Men like Penguin had no right to even breathe.

You would take care of that, soon enough..

****

About 45 minutes had passed and you found yourself pushing past crowds again trying to get into the Town Hall. You somehow managed to get in, all in one piece and stood by the side of the Hall along with the many citizens who already got in before you. After a while, the officers cut off any more citizens trying to come in as it was getting suffocating with the amount of people already inside the buliding. After entrance doors were closed, a metal barrier was put in place to separate second citizens, standing at both sides of the building from the first class. And among the second class citizens were you, of course. And among the first class were Falcone, Penguin, Bella Real and Bruce Wayne.

You sighed at the unlawful segregation, but you came to accept it eventually.

After about fifteen minutes the loud chatter quite down as the speech began. Several people, mainly Mitchell's Family and some politicians came up to deliver their honary speeches to commemorate the life and apreciate the accomplishments and 'good work' of the late Mayor. You scoffed at this. ‘How naïve where these people?’ Believing blindly to whatever Mitchell did was correct and truely for the betterment of Gotham. You doubted the man gave a single shit about this City or it’s citizens. The continuous speeches went on and on and you found yourself zoning out, voices becoming muddled and vision unfocused. Your mind started racing with thoughts consisting of ‘other things’. You couldn’t help but reimagine your first interaction with Vengeance. The way he pushed you against the wall, your chest flush to his abdomen. The way he held his intense gaze on you for longer than you’d wanted.. The way the rough fabric of his glove came to rest on the tender flesh of your neck, bruising it lightly..

All of this reminiscing totally had you off guard. You noticed that things were different now. In that very moment, it felt different.. You suddenly noticed that everything was abruptly called to a halt. Time had entirely stopped for a moment or so. Silence.. Chaos hidden in the element, waiting to strike like a serpent. There was complete silence until..

“Everyone, get the fuck out!”

You heard a man shout, possibly an officer on patrol. Then it all began. You heard multiple screams from behind you and then it all turned to chaos. People started running one by one trying to get away from something coming through the front. You wondered what it was and pushed towards the frantic crowd and towards where you supposed the danger was coming from. And then you saw it. Suddenly a GCPD SUV crashed through the glass doors of the building and skidded towards the Mayor’s casket. It all happened so quick you thought it was all in your head. Only that it wasn’t, unfortunately. You took a quick look around and there you saw Bruce on the floor with the Mayor’s Son in his arms. The boy must’ve been in the car’s way, you thought. And Bruce must’ve ran to get him out of the way before he got hit. Your focus was glued on Bruce and the way he gently helped the boy get back on his feet and tenderly guided him back to his Mother, horror etched onto her worn out features. Before you knew it a hand wrapped around your forearm rather harshly. You whipped your head around to stare at your intruder in the eyes but was met with the ones of a worried-sick to the bone Cop’s. “Mam’ you need to get out of here”, he calmly said trying to keep his cool in spite of all the chaos. You just stared at the officer for a moment or so without emitting any words in his direction. You found your eyes wandering back to Bruce once more. He was also being held by the forearm and being escorted out by some officers trying to get him to leave before the situation gets worse. You noticed his frantic eyes searching the place for something, or more like someone.. And then those Ocean blue eyes you found so mesmerising just a day ago found your own. You almost wanted to look away out of embarrassment because he caught you staring. But you didn’t. You kept your eyes glued onto his and his to yours. You two held a moment of eye-contact before your attention snapped towards the cop shaking your forearm. “Mam’ we don’t have much time. You have to evacuate.. Now!”

You nodded your head hastily and followed him to the evacuation exit. You looked back one last time, trying to catch a glimpse of Bruce, but he was long gone..

***

[red-lights-of-doooooom]

league of idiots season 2 part 2

hey what's up, boys, girls, and error-gender-not-found. welcome bad to my bad faith takes. it's ya girl ash, and i've finally finished watching the second season of the show "insane", based on "league of assholes".

(yes, i know i'm three weeks late. bear with me, okay? i've been really fuckin' busy and work is kicking my ass.)

so there's an episode which is surprisingly heterosexual for the league of lesbians. i mean, it's all about that "alternate universe" bullshit everyone loves nowadays. typical normal high school AU with ekko and jinx/powder/crazy blue chick. but of course, blue hair and pronouns has a nice little high school prom with mr. teen genius before he goes back to reality. they dance to a little french song. cute. it's...nice. :)

also, the song is by stromae, who is cool as fuck. j'aime beaucoup stromae. le même gars qui nous a donné "papaoutai"!

the next episode is WHOA NELLIE. russian science jesus has gone nuts! also he turns into some evangelion robot and fights hobo genius zac efron because he's bad now or whatever. galaxy brain is bad, i mean. not hobo genius zac efron. zac efron is not bad. just....okay. definitely traumatized.

meth hair is in jail, but escapes, because this show wants to fuck with me and make sure that nobody solves problems like a well-adjusted adult.

AND THEN THERE'S A LESBIAN SEX SCENE WITH VI AND CAITLYN!!!!!!! WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOO!!!!!! LET'S GO LET'S GO LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOO!

(we apologize for the inconvenience. the sound you hear in the distance is the sound of thousands of lesbians cheering. and also bisexual women, and sapphics in general. and ME.)

sure, it probably wasn't, like, a FULL sex scene. but i'd prefer it over the one in season 1, which was interspersed with clips of a literal explosion, if i remember correctly.

kind of surprising how quickly vi took her back, though. i mean, british woman was literally fucking the new coworker. LITERALLY. i'd see it as an abuse of position, but whatever. maybe i have it wrong.

the kid dies, and pow-jinx gets a haircut because she wants to blue-da-ba-dee-da-ba-DIE. too bad groundhog day junior won't let her.

more war and shit. i'm starting to feel real bad for politics woman (mel), even if she gets to be some sort of wizard now or whatever, which is cool. politics woman gets too much shit in this series.

british cop purple woman almost dies, but the new coworker dies instead because politics woman saves the day! cue blue bitch showing up in a Cool New Uniform™ and raining hell on all these motherfuckers like something out of a bible passage.

viktator science yahweh wants to turn everyone into darth vader, and i think that's hilarious when i type it out. he's already succeeded with himself and werewolf dad. but zac efron stops into and says "nah fuck that". what the actual fuck is going on?

and then everything gets really trippy again. what else is new???

then jayce says "all i want is my partner back." welp, i guess it's confirmed. we've got the second official gay couple in this show! i think. the real form of science man looks really fuckin' aged. like a washed up rockstar or some shit. like mark hamill in the rise of skywalker or something. jesus christ.

everything gets a million times more evangelion than before, which is saying something.

and then blue woman performs a heroic sacrifice for real, which legit made me want to cry.

rest in peace, jinx.

...so yeah, that's the story of live, laugh, lose everything.

i hope you all enjoyed my review, and lemme tell, i DEFINITELY enjoyed writing this. i really enjoyed watching arcane: league of legends, and although i'm quite sad to see it go, there's always the game.

i did NOT expect a netflix show that was based on a fucking fighting game played by basement-dwelling redditors to be this emotionally gripping. and i loved it. I LOVED IT!

if you've made it this far, thanks for reading this. i'm happy you've entertained my insanity. now go outside and get fresh air.

[an-affectionate-heart]

Gracetopher Week Day 4 (and 3ish)

I've never really written for TSC or TLH, but after how strongly Chain of Thorns hit me, when I heard there was a Gracetopher week going on I couldn't really resist doing something for it. I kinda wrote this in a rush over the past few days - apologies for any errors! It's also a kind of dual submission for yesterday's prompts and today's. Partially because I didn't have it done yesterday (whoops!).

Anyway! Hope you enjoy. 😊

<><><>

When all is said and done, Christopher comes back to them.

After Belial disappeared into the heavens in a swirl of bright light, after Lilith was cast out, there was a moment of stillness in the abbey, and outside. It felt as though time was suspended, being held in place. Grace didn’t understand it, until she heard an ethereal voice in her head. Like the Silent Brothers, but… different.

What do you desire?

Afterwards, when trying to describe this moment to others, no one was really able to articulate how they understood what was happening. Only that they knew, deep down, they were being granted a very special, nearly impossible gift. It seemed the only ones truly aware of this phenomenon were their core group, scattered though they were.

Grace only had one thought. And she was certain she wasn’t the only one to think it; Anna, Thomas, James, they all recounted their own experience in a hushed sort of voice that spoke of hardly daring to hope. No one said what they’d wished for, but it was clear nevertheless.

Christopher.

The moment came to an end. The sky returned to normal, the sounds of the city and the aftermath of a battle returned. The doors to Westminster Abbey were thrown open, and the members of the Clave rushed in with a distressed clamor.

Grace exchanged dazed looks with Lucie. Jesse came over and touched her shoulder; there was a moment where he hesitated, and Grace didn’t know what to make of it.

They were swiftly bundled up by parents and aunts and uncles and brought back to the Institute. James especially was transported with care, Cordelia’s hand firmly clasped in his and Matthew trailing resolutely behind. It made Grace’s chest twinge.

Now, back in a packed Institute, Grace stands alone. Some of her friends – can she really call them friends, she wonders? Now that they are no longer bound by a bigger fight? – like Ari and Lucie take some steps toward her, but they’re intercepted by adults eager to check on them and ask a million questions. Jesse is in a cluster with Thomas, Alastair, and Thomas’ parents. Grace knows Gideon and Sophie are Jesse’s family. Technically, they should be hers too, but she has a feeling they won’t see it that way. And truthfully, the Blackthorn name hasn’t hung right on her for a long time now.

Feeling out of place and uncomfortable, Grace slips away. She has no idea where she’ll go now; with James’ parents back and likely to learn the truth of what she did to him, they probably won’t want her to stay at the Institute. Jesse might attempt to vouch for her, but she couldn’t say she was especially confident in that these days, no matter how well they worked together while London was under Belial’s control.

Until she’s kicked out, though, she has a room she can escape to. The raucous bustle of everyone downstairs gets quieter with each step she takes, though there’s a moment when the volume seems to pitch even higher, Shadowhunters yelling and crying out. It catches her, makes her freeze in place until she realizes they are sounds of joy rather than fear or pain. It truly is over this time, it seems.

Grace shuts her door firmly behind herself and leans back against it. There’s an emptiness in her chest that, while she’s always felt its existence, is sharper now. More prominent. She supposes it doesn’t take a genius to see why.

The war is over. Good prevailed over evil, and now the rebuilding can begin. But while others might see hope in the future, Grace still sees shadows that have yet to solidify into anything real. Her mother – as much of a mother as Tatiana was – is gone. She has no other family save Jesse, and he’s already made more headway in building a proper life for himself than she has. She’s barely had any training, most of the Enclave hates her, and the one true friend she seemed to gain, the one person who practically offered her a future, is dead.

A sob bubbles up in Grace’s chest at the thought of Christopher. She presses her shaking hand to her mouth, trying and failing to suppress it.

“Ave atque vale, Christopher,” she whispers to herself. She barely knows the Shadowhunter traditions, but she knows that much. And she knows he was robbed of the chance to be properly mourned, what with everything else that had been going on. He deserved so much more than he had been given.

Sometime later, after Grace moved to her bed, a knock on the door makes her sit up. She expects it’s Jesse, come to check on her and possibly offer some food. He’d been very vigilant at getting her to eat when she was working on the fire messages, and that habit likely isn’t going to go away.

She stands on unsteady feet and crosses to the door. When she opens it, though, she’s met with lavender eyes instead of green.

Christopher offers her a bright, crooked grin. “Hullo, Grace.”

Grace thinks that if she hadn’t grown up in a literal house of nightmares, she might scream. Because while Christopher isn’t a nightmare – could never be that – it isn’t right for him to be standing there before her. And she checks – he is standing, and not floating like a ghost. He looks as solid as ever, as solid as Grace herself.

(She checks that too, glancing at her hands and down at her torn, stained dress.)

“You’re -” she says, and stops. Her eyes are filling with tears, and her breaths come in rapid pants. It seems her body has caught up with what her mind cannot process, not yet.

Christopher seems unbothered by her inability to speak, though somewhat alarmed by the sudden appearance of tears. “I know it’s a shock,” he says. “I think I gave everyone the worst fright downstairs when I walked in. Anna held me so tight she might’ve bruised my ribs, and Tom nearly fainted. I know that I went away for a while, but I must say, I didn’t really expect that kind of reception upon my –”

Grace cuts him off by throwing her arms around him and pressing her face to his neck. Christopher sputters a moment in surprise before quieting and pulling her close, arms snug around her waist.

“I’m sorry,” he says, softly. “Jesse warned me that you might be startled by my appearance, but – I wanted to see you.”

Grace only hugs him tighter. A thousand emotions are racing through her right now: Disbelief, joy, grief. It is hard to reconcile the memory of his death, still so fresh, with him standing before her, once again flesh and blood.

“Are,” Christopher tentatively says. “Are you going to say anything?”

Grace takes a deep breath and pulls back only enough to properly look at him. At his spectacles, already sitting crooked on his nose, and his surprisingly delicate features.

“I missed you more than I can say,” she confesses.

Christopher smiles then, and Grace thinks she’s never seen anything quite so beautiful.

“I missed you too,” he says. “I think. It’s hard to say what happened after – well.”

Grace knows this isn’t the end of it all. Regardless of how he is now, Christopher died, and that can’t be easy for someone to come to terms with. Even now, with a sweet smile on his face, she senses some unease within him.

But that’s when Grace makes a vow to herself. As long as he wants her around, she silently vows to help him get through whatever demons he now faces (this includes the literal ones, she decides; Jesse can start her training again). He won’t have to face anything alone.

“Christopher?”

He hasn’t let go of her yet, and vice versa. She won’t be the first to pull away, propriety be damned.

“Yes, Grace?”

“If I offered my services to your lab, as a partner of sorts, what would you say?”

For a moment, that unease fades in Christopher as he lights up, his eyes shining with happiness.

“I’d say that’s a capital idea, Grace.”

[longwindedbore]

This nosferatu consigliere claimed that he had EVIDENCE!

But as it turned out ‘…he falsely claimed [that he had a video which] showed the two women cheating and scanning ballots multiple times to benefit Joe Biden.

‘[HOWEVER] a hand-count audit in Georgia found votes to have been tallied correctly in the 2020 election, and a years-long investigation by the Georgia secretary of state's office found the accusations against Moss and Freeman to be "false and unsubstantiated."

‘"There was no evidence that suggested they did anything wrong, except show up for work and work hard," testified Frank Braun, who oversaw the investigation for the secretary of state's office.’

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Neither he nor Trump ever let up on these people even after the AFTER the recount.

Giuliani never produced one iota of evidence in the Media or in the pre-trial discovery or in his own defense in the Courtroom in the penalty phase.

Leading to a pre-trial Summary Judgment and what was probably twelve “He’s LiABLE” first round votes in the jury room.

Rudy re-slandered the ladies after losing in the same way the Donald re-slander E Jean Carroll.

Being perpetually-aggrieved, never-wrong, complete-assholes means Trump and Giuliani have never admitted an error or apologized in the lives. Just st like a typical MAGA voter.

If you can’t accept you were wrong, then you are incapable of learning. If you can’t learn, then when the world around you is in conflict with your beliefs you dont change. You simply assume that reality is a false pretense orchestrated by a secret cabal.

GOP - Grievances Obsessed Paranoiacs.

[beardedjoel]

Hi again Julie, I’m the anon who reached out yesterday about medication and mental health. It’s ridiculous how I’m on anon but still feel embarrassed about having written all that out and asked you to use this space to help me figure my shit out (I need help for being this annoying 🥲) but I wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart for your thoughtful and honest response. Truly everything you said was super helpful and appreciated and I have already revisited it a few times. I’m sure I will again. I worry often since I’ve dealt with this stuff for ages that it simply must be a *me* thing, at the end of the day. I had experiences gone terribly wrong with prozac and zoloft in the past, like they made things worse. So I’m like… it is deeper than a chemical imbalance, probably a personality disorder idk. I am just plain fucked up. But anyway all of that is to say, I am grateful to hear about your experiences, some of the similarities with chronic health issues and not wanting to take more meds, and how there inevitably is a degree of trial and error with this stuff. And just nice to hear about someone working to remain flexible through it all. Which is very hard when you’re in the thick of it with being depressed. It’s silly because when I hear you describe what you’ve been through, I think it’s very courageous and cool, how you’ve worked through the doubts and frustrations and keep moving forward. But it’s dumb how it feels impossible to extend that grace inward. How easy it is to hate one’s self. It’s the thing of how we’d never talk to our friends the way we berate ourselves sometimes haha. This is already longer than it should be, but I just would be remiss if I didn’t say thank you times a million. I still don’t know exactly what getting beyond this place I am in looks like when everything feels scary and debilitating. I know shit isn’t linear and you (as in people with depression, in general) have to come to accept things ebb and flow and it is just a thing you manage but you can grow and learn how to do that. I am so so so sorry again for blowing up your spot on your blog talking about this but I love you for being so kind and I hope you feel my gratitude.

pleaaase don't be embarrassed or apologize about it! i'm glad that it was helpful and brought you some form of comfort cause honestly i was just rambling about my experience and seeing what came out.

it's always the hardest thing to extend grace or kindness to ourselves vs others, or at least i feel that same way. so i know how hard that is! it's probably one of my worst habits actually but we'll keep workin on it. i do hope that you find yourself a good psychiatrist if you do decide to try medication and that either way you start to feel better and find some relief soon 💗

as i said before, my dms are open too if you ever want to be off anon but if not then that's okay too!