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dandelionsresilience · 2 months

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Good News - July 22-28

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my new(ly repurposed) Patreon!

1. Four new cheetah cubs born in Saudi Arabia after 40 years of extinction

“[T]he discovery of mummified cheetahs in caves […] which ranged in age from 4,000 to as recent as 120 years, proved that the animals […] once called [Saudi Arabia] home. The realisation kick-started the country’s Cheetah Conservation Program to bring back the cats to their historic Arabian range. […] Dr Mohammed Qurban, CEO of the NCW, said: […] “This motivates us to continue our efforts to restore and reintroduce cheetahs, guided by an integrated strategy designed in accordance with best international practices.””

2. In sub-Saharan Africa, ‘forgotten’ foods could boost climate resilience, nutrition

“[A study published in PNAS] examined “forgotten” crops that may help make sub-Saharan food systems more resilient, and more nutritious, as climate change makes it harder to grow [current staple crops.] [… The study identified 138 indigenous] food crops that were “relatively underresearched, underutilized, or underpromoted in an African context,” but which have the nutrient content and growing stability to support healthy diets and local economies in the region. […] In Eswatini, van Zonneveld and the World Vegetable Center are working with schools to introduce hardy, underutilized vegetables to their gardens, which have typically only grown beans and maize.”

3. Here's how $4 billion in government money is being spent to reduce climate pollution

“[New Orleans was awarded] nearly $50 million to help pay for installing solar on low to middle income homes [… and] plans to green up underserved areas with trees and build out its lackluster bike lane system to provide an alternative to cars. […] In Utah, $75 million will fund several measures from expanding electric vehicles to reducing methane emissions from oil and gas production. [… A] coalition of states led by North Carolina will look to store carbon in lands used for agriculture as well as natural places like wetlands, with more than $400 million. [… This funding is] “providing investments in communities, new jobs, cost savings for everyday Americans, improved air quality, … better health outcomes.””

4. From doom scrolling to hope scrolling: this week’s big Democratic vibe shift

“[Democrats] have been on an emotional rollercoaster for the past few weeks: from grim determination as Biden fought to hang on to his push for a second term, to outright exuberance after he stepped aside and Harris launched her campaign. […] In less than a week, the Harris campaign raised record-breaking sums and signed up more than 100,000 new volunteers[….] This honeymoon phase will end, said Democratic strategist Guy Cecil, warning the election will be a close race, despite this newfound exuberance in his party. [… But v]oters are saying they are excited to vote for Harris and not just against Trump. That’s new.”

5. Biodegradable luminescent polymers show promise for reducing electronic waste

“[A team of scientists discovered that a certain] chemical enables the recycling of [luminescent polymers] while maintaining high light-emitting functions. […] At the end of life, this new polymer can be degraded under either mild acidic conditions (near the pH of stomach acid) or relatively low heat treatment (> 410 F). The resulting materials can be isolated and remade into new materials for future applications. […] The researchers predict this new polymer can be applied to existing technologies, such as displays and medical imaging, and enable new applications […] such as cell phones and computer screens with continued testing.”

6. World’s Biggest Dam Removal Project to Open 420 Miles of Salmon Habitat this Fall

“Reconnecting the river will help salmon and steelhead populations survive a warming climate and [natural disasters….] In the long term, dam removal will significantly improve water quality in the Klamath. “Algae problems in the reservoirs behind the dams were so bad that the water was dangerous for contact […] and not drinkable,” says Fluvial Geomorphologist Brian Cluer. [… The project] will begin to reverse decades of habitat degradation, allow threatened salmon species to be resilient in the face of climate change, and restore tribal connections to their traditional food source.”

7. Biden-Harris Administration Awards $45.1 Million to Expand Mental Health and Substance Use Services Across the Lifespan

““Be it fostering wellness in young people, caring for the unhoused, facilitating treatment and more, this funding directly supports the needs of our neighbors,” said HHS Secretary Xavier Becerra. [The funding also supports] recovery and reentry services to adults in the criminal justice system who have a substance use disorder[… and clinics which] serve anyone who asks for help for mental health or substance use, regardless of their ability to pay.”

8. The World’s Rarest Crow Will Soon Fly Free on Maui

“[… In] the latest attempt to establish a wild crow population, biologists will investigate if this species can thrive on Maui, an island where it may have never lived before. Translocations outside of a species’ known historical range are rare in conservation work, but for a bird on the brink of extinction, it’s a necessary experiment: Scientists believe the crows will be safer from predators in a new locale—a main reason that past reintroduction attempts failed. […] As the release date approaches, the crows have already undergone extensive preparation for life in the wild. […] “We try to give them the respect that you would give if you were caring for someone’s elder.””

9. An optimist’s guide to the EV battery mining challenge

““Battery minerals have a tremendous benefit over oil, and that’s that you can reuse them.” [… T]he report’s authors found there’s evidence to suggest that [improvements in technology] and recycling have already helped limit demand for battery minerals in spite of this rapid growth — and that further improvements can reduce it even more. [… They] envision a scenario in which new mining for battery materials can basically stop by 2050, as battery recycling meets demand. In this fully realized circular battery economy, the world must extract a total of 125 million tons of battery minerals — a sum that, while hefty, is actually 17 times smaller than the oil currently harvested every year to fuel road transport.”

10. Peekaboo! A baby tree kangaroo debuts at the Bronx Zoo

“The tiny Matschie’s tree kangaroo […] was the third of its kind born at the Bronx Zoo since 2008. [… A] Bronx Zoo spokesperson said that the kangaroo's birth was significant for the network of zoos that aims to preserve genetic diversity among endangered animals. "It's a small population and because of that births are not very common," said Jessica Moody, curator of primates and small mammals at the Bronx Zoo[, …] adding that baby tree kangaroos are “possibly one of the cutest animals to have ever lived. They look like stuffed animals, it's amazing.””

July 15-21 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

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xxanaduwrites · 3 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

sweet talkin’

main hive 🐝 | next part here: honey, are you comin’?

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which “uncle benny” picks up johnny’s girls from school and finds some honey along the way ;)

warnings: not much of anything besides talks of danger & some side eyes from on-lookers. an absolute fluff cake of a piece really. enjoy! x

author’s note: ngl there is some inaccuracies. i fully made up locations & such. never been to chicago or illinois even, but maybe someday :)

word count: 2.8k

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You remember it like it was yesterday, the very first time you met Benny Cross. Ironically, it was one of those sticky sweet days in June, just before the start of summer ‘65. The Chicago heat was hard to beat in the cramped little classroom you worked in on Phipps Avenue. Your third graders were all flushed faces with curly cues frizzing about, and their red little cheeks burned in exhaustion. It was no surprise that you lost their ears to the tsk tsk tsk of sprinklers swirling about on the school grounds. Even though the principal was against it, you were rather relieved to see your students running about the wet grass come dismissal.

It was a lovely reprieve, truly to be out of the shoe box you worked in at the end of the day. Sure, the heat hadn’t let up. It was awfully sweltering passing clammy hand to clammy hand to their designated pick up person. But you loved being a teacher. Moreseo you loved those sweet turned up smiles that graced those baby faces of your students as they chatted about their after school plans. Heading down to the local pool or picking up a firecracker pop at the corner store was such a sweet treat. It made you miss being that young again, finding hidden treasures through the little bits of life.

You moved like clockwork during dismissal, attentive as you made small talk with parents and hugged your students goodbye. The pick of the cycle was usually smooth on your part. You knew who tended to be retrieved right away and who was left hanging, so it took you by a hint of surprise when you found yourself still hand in hand with Mr. and Mrs. Davis’s little girls.

You knew the Davis’s well — as well as anyone could holding residence in the quaint village of McCook, Illinois. Mr. Davis and his wife Betty were perishoners at the local church you frequented with your Ma and Pa. St. Caron’s on the corner of Rose and Dawn. You’d see them all together in their Sunday best, the kids in puff pastry kind-of dresses packed together in a pew with their Ma, while their Pa was mulling about in his pressed suit and tie. There was no trace of the Vandals you’d come to know, the Johnny that would be amplified under that some-what imposterous clean cut demeanor. You’d see him solemn as ever ushering pew to pew with the collections basket for the poor and at communion during the mass.

Yet, if you had to name one thing that complimented Johnny to Mr. Davis, it had to be his consistency with being on time. Never once was he ever late to church. 12pm sharp he’d be looking at his watch, waitin’ for the priest and deacon to do their thang. The same applied for his children and their respected school schedule.

It took you a moment to remember the note from the office that was sent up in the afternoon. In your defense, mastering concentration in this heat proved almost impossible. Until it wasn’t. You could see the lovely writing of the secretary with that neat cursive of hers in the back of your mind, reminding you that the Davis girls would be picked up by their Uncle Benny come dismissal.

That would explain it, you thought. But would it really? Fathoming a member of Mr. Davis’s family not being as meticulous as him? You momentarily wondered how the man would react to such a thing as being late. You were sure it wasn’t in his vocabulary by any means.

Your fingers, engulfing the petite ones of the Davis girls, squeezed their hands reassuringly. “M’sure your Uncle Benny will be here any moment.” Neither of them said anything as you glanced between the two flanked at your sides, little eyelashes blinking up at you without a care in the world. And here you thought they would be just as anal-retentive as their father.

They weren’t.

Since the school yard was becoming less compact with people, and the principal put an end to the fun with the sprinklers, you figured some chit-chat wouldn't hurt to keep them occupied. “You girls have any fun afternoon plans?”

The Davis girl on the right, taller, darker hair, lookin’ far too much like her father — a carbon copy if you will — spoke up then. “Yes! Uncle Benny is takin’ us to a picnic. Gonna see Daddy race his bike, Miss. Honey.”

A bike race, huh? You couldn’t remember seeing anything in the McCook weekly papers ‘bout an upcoming cycling event. But, hey maybe you happened to miss it on your skim of the thing, when your Pa just so happened to put it down for a second durin’ dinner.

“Well, ain’t that sweet!” You chirped, smiling brightly at the girls with genuine excitement in your eyes. “Sure it’ll be tons of fun.”

“S’not when Daddy gets all muddy.” The smaller girl, the one that looked more like her mother. Lighter hair and lighter eyes said. Her tiny face contorted into a grimace.

Muddy? Weren’t cycling races on the roads?

Surely the town would block off the streets like they did for those celebratory parades. The little one was probably exaggerating.

“Aw,” you hummed, a frown dousing your features. “M’sure your Pa is just real dedicated, y’know?” You tried to bring out the bright side for your student. “S’like when you buy a fresh book and worry about those pages dentin’. Y’won’t know if you like it if you don’t read it, right?” The girls nodded. “Dentin’ the pages just goes to show all that love you had for that book while readin’ it.”

“I guess…” The Davis girl shrugged, tiny fingers wrapping about the strap of her pretty pink backpack. Seemingly, she wasn’t as impressed as her sister to the right.

You were gonna change the subject. Gonna start chatting ‘bout something else, when a twist of tiers against the pavement sent a squeak across the air. Your mother-hen instincts kicked in instantly, protective hands pulling the girls behind you without a second thought. All heads turned simultaneously to the intrusion on the road, expecting the worst. Expecting a crash of sorts. But no, there was no crash, just a slick car pulling abruptly up against the sidewalk and jerking to a startling stop. One that could only be equated to the driver going far above the speed limit in a school zone.

It went quiet. Far too quiet as the lot of remaining faculty, students, and parents alike kept their eyes peeled back sharply at the reckless driver. Funnily enough the attentive stares of onlookers could have very well been just as bad as those witnessing an actual crash.

You weren’t any better than the rest, collecting snap shot after snap shot like a roll of consecutive film. You could still hear the engine cutting out, the door swinging open and closing with a solid flick of his wrist. A wrist that would do far worse to you in the bedroom. Far worse in the eyes of your religious upbringing, but would feel too holy to you to be considered a sin.

You only caught a glance of him for a second until his back was facing towards you, thick white letters staking his claim with a skull and crossbones for the Chicago Vandals on his cut down vest.

You’d heard a thing or two about those motorcycle men. Your father ranting and raving about the disturbances near route 95 and police chases. But never, had you ever seen one of them in the flesh up close and personal. A shrill of unprecedented delight shot up your spine at the colorful sight, no longer reserved to those blurry black and white paper cuttings.

Stopping in his tracks, you figured his car must have broken down or somethin’ – but no. He was putting out his cigarette with his worn down boot before making his way over to you, and oh he had his eye on you alright.

A relative unease wahed across the school yard, harder than the obvious heat wave as he sauntered across without a care in the world. As if dozens of heads weren’t makin’ disgusted faces and whispering about. Yet a clear intimidation set over them, people stepping out of the way without a word as if he was a Bible figure. Like Moses parting the red sea.

“Uncle Benny!” One of them chirped. Who you didn’t know, couldn’t know with the sudden flush creeping against your cheeks. Your heart dropped to your stomach once you realized who it was and that the man himself with dirty blonde scruff, calloused fingers, and a black inked layer over a honey toned canvas was makin’ a beeline to you. A beeline to you and the girls.

It was the taller Davis girl that must have called out his name, cause suddenly she was pulling you and her sister forward to meet Benny half way. You almost tripped down the stairs within the broken bubble of her excitement. Barely having a moment’s notice to collect yourself, you found your pristine baby pink ballet flats toe to toe with some scruffed up biker boots that had seen better days. You managed a breath before you looked up and boy were you glad you did.

The wind was practically knocked clean out of you when you were caught face to face with the Benny Cross. It wasn’t because you were scared of him — no. You were more taken aback with how pretty he was. How his deeply set ocean eyes managed to speak volumes without saying a word.

And suddenly, on the front steps of Phipps Avenue School you felt seen. More seen than you had ever felt in your life. He wasn’t the only one sticking out like the sorest of thumbs. So were you with your baby pink tank to match your shoes with your signature embroidered denim overall dress. Hair up and out of your face, loose honey curls frizzing about. Your kitsch tastes and unpolished attire were rather baffling for the picturesque depiction gracing the magazines your Ma read at the salon.

Some would say you were lost somewhere in Neverland. Lots of your fellow teachers would crack jokes here and there ‘bout it too. Sure, on a bad day a jab or two could get to you — but hey you liked what you liked and you weren’t gonna change that. Not for anybody. Not even for your Ma or Pa who grimaced at your bedazzled pins wedged into your messy curls during Sunday mass.

So Benny, well who were you to judge him?

“Hi, you must be Uncle Benny,” you greeted the brood of a man in front of you, flexing a sweet-like-honey smile that was just oh-so-you. You let go of the Johnny look-a-likes hand then, allowing her to wrap her small self around Benny’s leg in pure delight to see him as you outstretched your hand in a shake. To your dismay, he didn’t take it. Instead, his free hand that wasn’t mushing up Johnny’s girls dark locks as he patted her head fished for his pack of Marlboro reds in his vest pocket. That didn’t stop you from introducing yourself though. “I’m Miss. Honey.”

He gave you once over, eyes tracing you from head to toe before the edge of his lip tweaked up in a sly smile. “Honey, huh?” He mused, that deep set voice of his, thick and smokey sweetin’ up something deep inside you.

Dropping your hand back down against your dress, the material felt rather rough on your clammy skin. “Yuh-huh.” You nodded, that tight smile of yours making your eyes twitch just a bit.

A fresh cigarette materialized between his teeth then, unlit. A strange courtesy you found rather charming on the midst of educational grounds. “Hm,” he hummed, the narrow cylinder vibrating against his lips as his eyes devoured you a second time. Yet, you figured he was more unimpressed. Most were anyways.

“Benny! Benny! Can we go see Daddy now?” The girl wrapped around his leg yanked his belt loop with a small finger. The little one was still at your side, hand in hand with you. It was kind of amusin’ how different the two were. It was simple figuring out who was the bigger Daddy’s girl of the two.

“In a ‘inute, sweet-art,” he mumbled, that cigarette of his disrupting any fully coherent sentence from spillin’ out. “C’mere ‘ittle one,” he motioned to the shorter girl who was rather uninterested in leaving. In the midst of your conversation, she managed to keep her hand raised, keeping herself conjoined to you as she sat down on the bottom step in complete and utter protest.

“Don’t wanna.” She pouted down at her bunny tied saddle shoes that matched her pretty little pick-tails.

In a sense, you couldn’t blame her. Now it was all adding up. What was really going on. This wasn’t just some run of the mill village cycling marathon. This was a Vandals bike race.

Any other teacher would have probably made a stink, called the parents in for a sit down with the principal over infiltrating their kids in a biker environment infused with criminal records. But, you weren’t like that — no. Especially when you’d see a child’s eyes light up with so much delight. It was clear that Mr. Davis’s look-a-like was really proud of her father. Who could blame her? Respected throughout the community, a family man who put his all into a trucking' job.

A picnic with some bike racin’ wouldn’t be so bad, right?

Not with Mr. Davis involved.

So, you gave the benefit of the doubt. Sure, it could have been for all those reasons that were swarming about your head, but in actuality your heart was working double time over your mind. The image of the Davis girl clinging to Benny’s leg had teddy bear written all over it, giving you all the sweet talkin’ you’d need. Ironically enough, in due time that soft side of him would turn into plushy lovin’ reserved just for you.

“Lemme,” you mouthed to Benny before getting down to the little one’s level. Flattening out your skirt you took a seat next to her and rested both hands over her own in her lap. “Remember when we were talkin’ about a good book? Dentin’ the pages?” The girl nodded, but didn’t meet your eye. Instead, Benny doing the opposite, his eyes practically grilled onto your peripheral vision. “Well, sometimes if we are too protective of it. Too keen on keeping it all in tack, we’ll never learn not to and we’ll just be more and more disappointed when we come across a little crack we never created in the first place. We may not like it, but it’s there, and there is so much love there.” You squeeze the little girl’s hand. “Just like your old man racin’. You may not like it, but he does, and that’s quite alright. You know why?”

“Why?” She looked up at you then, little doe eyes attentive as ever, clinging onto your every word. It was times like this that reminded you why you were a teacher.

“‘Cause you love him, no matter what” You replied, tilting your head ever-so subtly to observe her reaction.

And oh did Benny love you. He didn’t know it then. Couldn’t fully compartmentalize it until later. Yet, unbeknownst to you, it was one of the first of what would become many of Benny's thoughts on how damn good of a teacher you were, how fine of a wife you’d make, and how sweet of a mother you’d be.

Thankfully, your words must have resonated with the little girl. It only took a moment for those delightful dimples of hers to grace those little features before her lips turned up in a sweet smile. “We gotta go Uncle Benny!” The girl declared suddenly, standing up straight with a whole new attitude. You were glad to supply the optimism. That’s what you were all about. That was the lesson you hoped to instill to your students the most.

You couldn’t help but smile yourself, feeling like a warm blanket was being draped over your shoulders soundly. Not uncomfortable. Not contributing to the intolerable heat wave. You’d only been in your second year of teaching, but hey — small victories like this made it worth it. Made you proud of yourself, even if you couldn’t find such gratitude from others.

Little did you know, Benny — he was so fuckin’ proud. Proud to see you spreading such honey-coated wisdom to a youngin’. And there on the steep steps of Phipps Avenue school as the little one wrapped her arms around you and thanked you profusely before grabbing Benny’s hand and heading to Johnny’s car, he found his mission.

You were gonna be his wife.

He was sure of it.

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this was so much fun to write! i hope you liked it :) i’m thinking of also including some honey interviews curtesy of danny ! stay tuned for “from the hive” 🎙️🐝

also to note, my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝🍯:

@nervousnerdwitch

@sunnbib

@rose-deathman

@austinbsblog

@thegabbyh

@jihyowrrld

@bellesdreamyprofile

@superemobitch

@m00npjm

@imusicaddict

@astrogrande

@alana4610

@cynic-spirit

@mariaenchanted

#miss honey x benny cross #benny cross x reader #the bikeriders fanfiction #benny the bikeriders #johnny the bikeriders #johnny davis #benny cross #austin butler #tom hardy #austin butler fanfiction

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explicit-tae · 7 months

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Little Doe

An alternate world in which Predator Hybrids are the top of the Hybrid hierarchy. It’s Valentine’s Day and you, a Prey Hybrid, decide to help a Predator Hybrid through their heat. @whipwhoops @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632 @darkuni63 @babycandy111

Word Count: 5.161

Warning: smut, hybrid/shifter universe, wolf hoseok, doe/deer reader, heat/rut sex, dirty talk, licking, oral sex, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, knotting, biting, impregnation/breeding kink,

Valentine’s Day Masterlist | Alternate Universe

“Jung Hoseok.” the man says, arm spread out to offer his hand to you. You take it with a smile, shaking it. His grip is firm, but polite.

“Y/L Y/N.” you introduce yourself before sitting down behind your desk. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jung-ssi.”

“Hoseok is fine.” the man smiles, flashing you a pair of perfect teeth.

Your body flushes and you nod. “Yes, Hoseok.” you murmur, slightly embarrassed by your sudden change of attitude. “I-I got your paperwork. It appears to me that you are a Predator Shifter…?”

You were what was called a “heat partner”. In a world where Shifters walk freely alongside humans, predator Shifters and prey Shifters such as yourself, it was important for Shifters to have something for themselves. Such as a heat partner when they aren’t “mated” to anyone.

Heat partners are exactly what they are described, perfectly designed to assist a person through their heat - male or female. You had made the business proposal back in college and the business has since grown national - even as the CEO, you participated (only when top dollars were made to be earned).

Such as now, with Jung Hoseok.

The man is charming, you’d admit. Tall with broad shoulders and a sculptured face. Smooth skin with soft eyes and a pair of heart-shaped lips. In order to afford your services, the man was obviously wealthy - having stated in his application that whatever price you listed was what he was willing to pay.

The kicker was - he was a predator Shifter. Your agency does strictly prey. That didn’t mean that you didn’t open another separate business for Predators - you had! You, however, were not running said business.

“Yes, I am.” Hoseok nods his head after your question. “I take suppressants to…mask my scent.”

No wonder, you think; There wasn’t any scent on him and that meant that he was dousing himself with suppressants on the daily. The thought frightened you a bit - just what type of Predator was he?

“As you know, Jung - Hoseok,” you begin. “We typically serve Prey Shifters here. Is there a certain-”

“Excuse me.” Hoseok suddenly interrupts. “I’m well aware of what agency I applied with. You are the person I’m looking for, after all.” Hoseok is direct when he speaks, never faltering and not a stutter in sight.

A predator indeed.

“Y-Yes.” you nod your head. “I’m aware, but-”

“Money is no issue.” Hoseok speaks. He was pleading, his eyes staring right into your own. He swallows. “I…I prefer not to have predator Shifters for my heats.”

You didn’t realize your hands were gripping his paper work in your hand until it began to crinkle beneath your fingers.

“As you know we do not ask our customers certain questions due to confidentiality. However, you being a Predator Shifter, I must.”

Hoseok nods. “You’re asking what Shifter I am?”

You nod hesitantly. “I’m a deer.” you tell him, watching and waiting for his reaction.

Hoseok nods. “I can smell you.” he murmurs, voice low that it causes goosebumps to litter your skin - thank god you wore a long-sleeve shirt. Your head was ringing with alarm bells to get as far away from this man as possible.

“I-I can't smell you.” you try to smile but it appears more as a grimace. “If I may ask…”

Hoseok is hesitant, but he answers nonetheless. “A wolf.”

Hoseok can hear your heart increase by the second, pounding so loudly out your chest that he has to suppress a growl - something he does on instant rather than anything personal.

“You’re frightened.”

Terrified. “N-No-” he stuttered, shaking your head. You were lying to comfort him, but your sudden demeanor change told him everything he needed to know.

“Please.” Hoseok sighs out, utterly desperate. “I cannot handle other wolves or predators. They’re…” his nose curls. “...too dominant for me. They fight me.” he speaks, tone low. “You Prey are soft and sweet. Submissive.”

Now he looks like a creep, Hoseok thinks. Your eyes are wide and you want to run as far away as you can, but you’re a deer caught in headlights - literally.

“I-I-” you’re unsure what to tell Hoseok. You’re frightened, yes, but overall, you wanted to help him. He had come to you specifically - the reason you’re unsure - but he wanted help. It’s an unusual request. Not very many Predators come here and pay for Prey, but it isn’t uncommon for them to hookup outside of their heat cycles.

“I have a set price an hour…”

Hoseok licks his lips with anticipation. “Yes.” he nods hastily. “I would like to pay you more if you’d like.”

“That won’t be-”

“I want you to stay with me the entire week.”

Hoseok hears it again, your heartbeat racing.

“I’m not going to eat you, Y.N.” Hoseok says, his eyes flickering with something different, however. “It’s just…I…I need you there with me all the time.” he doesn’t elaborate further and you’re far too afraid that if he does, you’ll back out of the deal.

“I’ll need to see the place before your heat starts.” you slowly nod your head, placing his paperwork down. “Does tomorrow work for you? It’s for my safety.”

“Of course!” Hoseok nods. “Anything you need.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Well, for now we can sign paperwork.” you open a draw to your desk and grasp a black pen to sign your name on said documents. “If you’d like to take it home with you and read through it, you can.”

Hoseok nods his head and takes the documents in his hands. “Thank you.” he grins your way. “I’ll have them signed tomorrow.” he begins to stand, as do you. “Thank you for your time, Y/L-ssi.” he gives you his hand once more and you return the smile shyly.

“Y/N is fine, Hoseok.” you tell him, grabbing his hand to shake once more. You yelp when Hoseok lifts your hand to his lips and kisses it. His lips are soft, his dark eyes flickering up to look at you.

The drive to Hoseok home was a long one - understandably. He, after all, was a wolf shifter and like yourself, preferred to reside in a forestry area. The trees are high into the sky and the scent is natural. The area is quiet as you park your car, eyes roaming the large cabin in front of you. It’s at least four stories built with the finest wood with high ceilings windows. There’s multiple lights shining onto the porch that wraps around the entire cabin.

You can smell them - not Hoseok, but more wolves. The smell is intoxicating, filling your senses and having you stiff in your spot. You swallow, your deer screaming to run away - far, far away from here.

Your eyes widen when the door of the cabin opens suddenly and behind it is a tall man. His eyes are on you in an instant and you’re unable to move or look away.

“You must be…Y/N?” the man says, strolling towards you. His footsteps creek above the wooden stairs as he makes his way towards you. “You’re a doe…” the man sniffs the air, an obvious attempt to smell you.

“You're scaring her.”

Oh no.

Another wolf emerges from behind the door. He’s a little shorter and behind him, yet another one, as tall as the first one. They all surround you, tall and dominant.

“Your heart's beating so fast, little doe. We’re not going to eat you.” the second one laughs heartily. “My name is Jimin. Hobi told us a Prey was coming.”

“I’m Jungkook.” the third one says, circling around you for a better view. “You’re very brave. We don’t get a lot of doe’s around here.”

There’s a growl that has you cowering - as do the other three wolves. You’re now visibly trembling, arms wrapped around you. You knew that the three meant no harm - they appeared younger than you and overall playful. As a deer shifter, you were just naturally terrified of any predator and being on their territory didn’t make it easier for you.

“Go somewhere else.”

That was Hoseok’s voice speaking now and your eyes glance upwards from the ground to see him towering behind the three wolves.

“I am so sorry.” Hoseok’s voice lowers when the three men scurry off, both apologizing and snickering. “They mean no harm. They’re just…playful.” he sighs. If you turned him down now he wouldn’t be upset with you.

“I-It’s okay.” you curse at the stutter in your voice. “D-Do they live here?”

“Somewhat.” Hoseok nods. “This,” he mentions to the large cabin behind him. “is my home. They come and go. They have their own homes on the land we’re on now.”

Hoseok picks up on your unease - it was natural. You were in a wolf's den surrounded by them. As a prey, you were like a shiny new toy to them.

“Please come in.” Hoseok offers you his hand to take. “It’s completely safe. They would not be here when I’m in heat.”

You allow Hoseok to show you inside the large cabin. The scent is heavy of wolves and it causes you to stick besides Hoseok as he was the only familiar person you knew.

“I want to show you something.” Hoseok squeezes your hand encouragingly. “It’s where we’d be staying next week.”

You nod your head.

Hoseok ventures deeper into the cabin. It’s warm and would be inviting if you weren’t a Prey.

“I’ve been using suppressants to mask my scent but here,” Hoseok stops before a wooden door. “is where I can be myself. The scent will be…powerful.”

Powerful indeed. Upon opening the door, you’re hit with a scent so prudent. You’re stunned for a second, eyes widening.

“That’s…your scent?” you whisper out.

Hoseok lightly tugs you inside the room. It’s large and appears to be like a bedroom, a large bed in the middle of the room. Behind it, a large ceiling window showcasing beautiful scenery outside. To the right is a door slightly cracked, you assumed a bathroom. On the far left is a bookcase with a desk.

“This is my den.” Hoseok speaks, releasing your hand but remaining close. “Similar to a nest.”

Hoseok watches the way your eyes scan the room. He senses that his scent is overbearing to you, dominant. For the last few weeks he’s been scenting it to assure that it smelt like him; that he’d be comfortable in the room for his rut.

“I hope it isn’t too much.” Hoseok speaks after five minutes of you calming yourself down.

“No!” you shake your head, turning to him. “I know nesting is important to those in heat or ruts.” you tell him truthfully, having done so yourself.

Hoseok grins at your statement. “Yes.” he nods. “I was wondering…if I could have something of yours. To remain here.” he swallows, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

You lick your lips as your body heats.

“If it’s too much-”

“No!” you interrupt. “I-I don’t mind.” you assure. You were here to help Hoseok soon and if this is what he wanted, then so be it. After all, he was a client paying top dollar for your services. “Is my jacket alright?”

Hoseok nods his head with a shrug. “Y-yeah.” his cheeks reddened.

You remove your jacket and hand it to Hoseok, body heated.

“I…” you lick your lips. “...can scent some more things in here. If it would make it better?”

Hoseok’s eyes widen a bit but he nods hastily. “Y-Yeah! You can.” he responds all too quickly. “Would you like something of mine? So you can become accustomed to it?” he offers.

You nod your head as well, encouraging grin on your lips. “Yes, that’ll be nice.”

For the last week you made sure to leave Hoseok’s scent on yours - and it caused stress amongst the other Prey’s at the office. Your assistant was the first to cower, not walking into your office due to fear - she was a rabbit shifter - and instead, called you from her own office opposite of yours. “The scent is that powerful? You recall asking her, surprised. “It’s only his shirt…”

Your own scent was covered in Hoseok’s and by the time it was for you to go to his home - coincidentally starting on Valentine’s Day - your scent was the acute one. However, it calmed you, as crazy as it sounded, because now you were accustomed to Hoseok’s scent. You’re thankful that you were able to ease your way into it instead of being overwhelmed like you were the week prior.

Like promised, you sensed no other wolves shifter in the area and you were thankful for that. Being around Hoseok was enough for you - you’re not sure if you could handle a whole pack of wolves sniffing around you.

Hoseok had sent you a message a few hours earlier telling you that the door was unlocked when you arrived, along with more messages. You’re appreciative that he offered to supply your food, stating that he has already filled his home with various fruits and vegetables to satiate your diet.

You clench your bag in your hand as you enter Hoseok’s home. It’s eerily silent and you wonder just what the man was doing. You don’t dwell, however, and instead make your way down the long, wooden hall to where his den was at.

You open the door to the den and find Hoseok inside. He’s asleep, sweat lining his forehead and he’s shirtless, the comforter only covering the bottom half of his body. You close the door behind you and exhale, placing your bag on the ground and making your way towards Hoseok.

You tilt your head to the side and snort. “You are kinda cute.” you murmur, placing a hand onto his forehead to wipe the sweat away.

It was the early stages of Hoseok’s head and he was only experiencing light chills and normal arousal - as the days led up, he would be utterly needy.

You dip down into the bed beside Hoseok, slowly to not wake him. You lay on your side and close your eyes. You’ll be here when Hoseok wakes up.

You’re unsure when you fell asleep and for how long, but the large window that once shined with natural light now only displays a full moon.

You moan sleepily when the sensation runs through you. Your hips are being gripped, sharp fingernails digging into your skin.

“You smell so good, little doe.”

Goosebumps gather onto your skin at the voice - deep, raspy and full of needy lust. Hoseok was awake, grinding into you from behind. His lips are pressing wet kisses to the skin behind your ear, a low growl mewling from his lips.

“Y-You’re awake.”

“I smelled you from my sleep.” Hoseok’s lips are now on your neck, inhaling your scent. His mouth is salivating. “‘wanna taste you, little doe. You’d let me, right?”

“Yes.” you nod weakly, whimpering.

“So good, little doe. So submissive like how I’d known you’d be.” Hoseok flips you onto your back and cages you beneath him. Your eyes meet the obvious bulge in his shorts. His hands tug at your clothing harshly, tearing the fabric apart without a care in the world.

You don’t respond, only gasp at the action - and it drives Hoseok’s wolf crazy. This is what he needed during a time like this; someone who wasn’t going to put up a fight against him. Someone who was going to submit to him like his wolf wanted; someone like you.

“Such soft, pretty skin.” Hoseok mewls, his tongue poking out and dragging along your bare skin. His tongue is so warm and slimy, but you’re overly aroused. “Scent so amazing and tempting, little doe.”

A strangled moan releases from your lips when Hoseok’s tongue dips down between your breast and slides past your stomach. He pries your legs open and growls, eyes completely dark with lust. He inhales your arousal and doesn’t hesitate to dive right in. His tongue laps between your folds hungrily, nails digging into your soft thighs.

Your back arches, legs widening. This was your first time with a Predator, with someone so dominant. Prey’s weren’t quite vanilla as one thought, sure, but a wolf was different.

“H-Hoseok, please.” your hand tugs at his hair, unable to take anymore pleasure. Your eyes flutter open to look between your legs - a mistake. Hoseok was already looking at you, dark eyes zoning into your own. It causes you to freeze, unable to look away from him. Your arousal leaks over his tongue and his lips and like a man starved, he licks it all up.

“Little doe,” Hoseok growls, a trail of saliva dropping right onto your clit. “so sweet and all for me.”

You don’t get to talk, Hoseok is faster than you. Two, long fingers enter you swiftly - deeply. He pumps with vigor, determined to coat himself completely in your sweet arousal. Your pussy is tight around his fingers, squeezing and squelching for more.

“Does it feel good, little doe?” Hoseok questions rhetorically. You’re a moaning mess who’s coating his fingers with sweet honey, of course it felt good.

But, Hoseok was a wolf. He was dominant and confident - he wanted to hear you say it.

“Y-Ye-”

Hoseom bites your inner thigh, teeth sinking into your skin.

“Y-Yes!” you screech, jerking. Your hands find your naked breast, eyes continuing to flutter with pure pleasure.

Hoseok’s fingers were scraping against your walls, hitting your sweet spot with each pump. His teeth grazes past your skin, lips pressing a firm kiss to your clit. His stamina is immaculate but what did you truly expect from a wolf?

Hoseok likes to watch your face as he pleasures you - his tongue flickering against the swollen bud as his fingers ram so deep inside of you that you’re screeching out in ecstasy. He loves to watch the way your eyebrows would scrunch together and the way you would gasp so loudly. His lips and chin are coated in your essence but he does nothing but savor the sweet, submissive taste that he has desperately longed for all week.

Hoseok’s calloused hand slams against your thigh harshly just as he feels it begin to close in on him. His eyes are furious at the audacity that you’d attempt to stop him from devouring you. He forces you against his tongue, two fingers never ceasing their movement. The noises he made we just as lewd as yours; slurping as if it’s a five course meal; and to him, it is.

“So ready to be full of me.” Hoseok groans against your clit, his eyes zoning in on the way your pussy squeezes his fingers, juices sliding down the palms of his hand and hitting his wrist. “Need to prep you first, little doe, before I take what’s mine.”

You weren’t sure you could handle Hoseok fucking you - you were overstimulated now. Tears brim your eyes with the amount of pleasure, and now with the way he spoke to you with such a sultry voice - you weren’t going to leave here alone, surely.

Talking was a bit difficult, but it was evident Hoseok wanted you to speak to him - to show him just how submissive you were. You nod your head and murmur a soft “please” and it’s all Hoseok needs to truly make you cum. Your thighs shake in his grasp and your moans grow higher and higher. They bounce off of the walls of his den and your body begins to shake rapidly beneath him.

Hoseok encourages you to grind against his tongue, to take him just as much as he was taking you, but as of right now you couldn’t - and that was alright with him. You were going through your own high, your senses clouded in Hoseok; his scent looming over you dominantly and all you could do was lay against the soft bed as you cum the hardest you’ve ever had.

Hoseok wish he could have a picture of you like this - maybe even a painting in his den. Just for his eyes only to witness the beauty that was you, naked and covered in your own arousal and sweat and fully submitted to him. It’s a sight he would forever keep in his thoughts.

You’re panting, slightly trembling with overstimulation.

You bring out something in Hoseok - similar to a hunger that could never be satiated. If he could have you on his tongue for hours, he would. The bulge in his underwear is tight and screaming at him to let it be free.

“Little doe,” you hear Hoseok call you, calloused fingers grasping your jaw to look at him. “even as you lay here trembling, your pussy longs to be filled, doesn’t it? I see you clenching around nothing, wishing it was me.”

You moan faintly, nodding your head. Even if you came as hard as you did, you in fact did want Hoseok to fuck you. The idea frightened your deer - you never had wolf and you’re sure he’s never had deer either. But the thought excites you just as you know it excites him.

You, weakly, sit up, eyes blinking innocently at Hoseok. He watches you, unmoving, as your hands settle at his own hips. “Wanna taste you now.” you murmur at him, lashes blinking upwards at him.

Hoseok growls, a deep rumble coming from his chest that startles you. You watch him with wide eyes and wait for him to speak.

“I want to see your sweet lips around me, little doe.” Hoseok allows your hands to dip beneath his shorts. For a moment you’re stuck when you in fact tough his clothed cock. It twitches when it comes in contact with you, an obvious need to be touched.

You gulp when you actually do see it in front of you. It’s large and veiny, the tip leaking with pre-cum and even if it does appear threatening at it’s large size (larger due to the rut and the need to breed), you’re mouth salivates to suck it.

Hoseok stiffens with your tongue licks up his slit, coating your warm tongue with the precum. Your hand wraps around the base and you waste no time in circling your tongue around the tip.

Such warmth and pleasure drives Hoseok crazy and he doesn’t hide his moans or grunts. He’s unmoving, unblinking as he watches you take him into your mouth, deeper and deeper.

You’re positive that you’d come to regret doing this - but you were full of arousal and lust for the man and needed everything he had to offer. You begin to suck onto his cock as if your life depended on it. The tip hits the back of your throat and your eyes water, but it would be a lie to say that you weren’t aroused.

“Such a slutty doe you are.” Hoseok hisses, the filthy sight of you makes him want more. “So frightened by me but still want to be stuff full.”

Hoseok yanks your hair roughly and instantly, you submit - just how he wanted. He begins to thrust inside of you, taking your mouth as his own. He hits the back of your throat with each thrust, a strangle moan meeting him when he gets there. Your thighs clenched together for friction and your pussy does the same, wishing it was this very cock ramming inside of you.

Hoseok's throat growls once more - so beautiful, he thinks. Tears streaming down your eyes and coating your puffy cheeks as he buries his cock deep in your throat. “When I look at you, I can see a sweet little doe in those eyes…” Hoseok was going to cum, never truly meaning to last long. But during his rut, he could cum so many times and still be hard within seconds, so did it truly matter? “...but then I look deeper into these eyes, and I see that devilious side to you.”

You moan, vibrating against his shaft. Hoseok thrusts deeper and deeper until you feel the salty substance reach your tongue. It’s warm and overpowering, but you’re forced to take it all - and never once do you complain or protest.

Hoseok yanks you off of his cock with a pop, saliva and cum dripping down the sides of your lips. Hoseok forces his own lips - so soft, you think - against yours in a needy, dominant kiss.

“Your pussy is calling for me, little doe. Begging to be stuffed with my knot.”

“P-Please…” you murmur weakly, full of need.

Hoseok snarls and within seconds, he flips you onto your front. He forces your legs apart and once more, snarls at just the visual in front of him; a wolf’s dream.

You yelp when you feel a harsh slap onto your ass, stinging. One hand slams against your back to remain firmly against the bed while the other digs its nails onto your waist.

“Gonna fuck you full of my pups, little doe. Breed you just nice.” Hoseok grumbles, speaking more to himself, but you hear every word and damn did it sound nice.

Hoseok centers himself at your entrance, a grunt releasing from his throat. He rubs the tip between your sweet folds and then sighs shakily at how heavenly you feel.

“My sweet little doe…such a slutty body you have.” Hoseok begins to enter you, your walls completely heavenly; so tight, wet and serene.

Hoseok gasps fully when he’s inside of you completely. You do the same, a small sense of discomfort at the size of Hoseok, but you felt amazingly stuff as you had been wanting to.

Hoseok isn’t able to control himself and you’re glad that you prepared for such. He begins to pound into you with such need; deep and fast. His abdomen slams against your ass as he tries to go deeper with each thrust.

You cry out in pleasure and discomfort - it was going to take getting used to getting fucked by someone as dominant as him. But even your moans were that of pure desire, legs widening a bit more just to have in you deeper.

Your pussy is pulsating, Hoseok notes, and it drips all over his bed. He doesn’t stop his assault, unable to. Your moans give him the fuel to continue on, such sweet and submissive moans and wolf needs to hear when claiming what was theirs.

By the time Hoseok was done with you, you were going to be bruised with finger and hand marks. Hoseok grips onto your skin so tightly, but there’s no complaints your way. “Such a sweet pussy taking a wolf so well. A prey could never satisfy you like this, little doe.”

Hoseok wants to hear you say it. A hand claws at your throat and he pushes you back against his bare chest. Your breast bounces in the rhythm of his powerful thrusts. “Say it, little doe. After I’m done here with you, your pussy would only ever want a predator.”

Your hands find his thigh, muscle flexing when you do. It’s a small sign of resistance and that’s something Hoseok didn’t like.

“Stop trying to run, doe. I already got my hands on you, you aren’t going anywhere.”

You came at the words, so hard that you began to shake. Your arousal leaks down your thighs, but Hoseok was nowhere near done with you. He now has the desire to see your face as he fucks you and turns you around fully before him like a ragdoll. Both hands snake beneath your thighs as he enters you, thrusting just as powerful as before.

Your face contorts with pleasure, eyes widening just to snap shut and moans pooling out your sweet lips.

“Pretty little thing,” Hoseok presses open mouth kisses against your face. His bed rocks and shakes vigorously, hitting against the tall window. “all mine to breed. You’d want that, wouldn’t you? To be bred by a wolf.” Hoseok spits, teeth clasping down at delicate skin.

“Y-Yes!” you cry, arms wrapping around his shoulders to bring him close. Your lips find his, both tongues devouring the other. You’ve dealt with many ruts and heats, but this one was far more intimate. Hoseok was a talkative person and it was difficult to not submit to the man.

Hoseok snarls. “Gonna give you all my pups, little doe. Get you nice and round just for me and me only.”

There was something about being predators and their need to breed that now has you wishing he’d do just that. It was the sex speaking to you - and his rut speaking to him - but all you could think about was being so full of his cum that breeding a few of his pups didn’t scare you.

Jung Hoseok was a dangerous man.

“Want your knot.” you screech, your fingernails clawing at his back for him to give you what you wanted. “Want your pups.”

Hoseok was going crazy - his wolf was screaming at him to take you fully, bite that spot on your neck and take you as his; then you’d truly would be having his pups like your fucked out self wanted. But his sane part manages to hold himself back from his wolf claiming you.

“Gonna cum in you.” Hoseok grumbles, pushing you back against the bed and fucking right into you. His cock is so enlarged due to his rut and the knot in his system. A small bulge is seen in your stomach with each thrust and Hoseok had one goal in mind.

You’re unable to speak as Hoseok presses your knees to your shoulders and pounds sloppily in you. His eyes are watching you, unmoving and not blinking. There’s a growl that reaches your ears when Hoseok comes closer. He’s dangerously close to your neck, teeth blaring. Your heart skips a beat, frightened with the sounds his wolf is making and your deer wants to run for its life from the predator.

“Gonna make you mine, little doe.” Hoseok’s voice is deeper than before, his breath tickling your skin. “Only mine to fuck pups into.”

You’re far too consumed in cumming for a third time that you don’t notice the meaning of his words until his teeth are biting the soft, delicate skin of your neck. You scream out in pain, pussy clenching around his cock just as he’s cumming. His cock swells inside of you, his knot pooling deep inside to do what it’s intending on doing.

You remain completely still and silent, your high and submissive nature not allowing you to protest, even if the pressure was becoming unbearable. Hoseok holds you close, his throat growling lowly, tongue twirling on the mark he has left freshly on your skin. When his high dies down, he’s positive he’s going to be in a world of trouble for marking you as his own - and the pain his wolf is going to feel if you reject him.

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inkskinned · 11 months

Text

for the longest time my family used to host one of the biggest haunted houses on my block: elaborate, themed amateur haunts that pearled out along our lawn for one-night-only. spinning circus wheel-of-terrors and walkthrough alien crash-landings and spiders that arched over our driveway, leaking venom onto your feet.

we didn't have a lot of money; and honestly i don't know how we afforded what we did have. there were not going to be pneumatics or projectors or any supply over 20 dollars - and even 20 was a stretch. we were lucky, and we lived in a town that had a "swap shed", where people would drop off any banged-up-but-usable items that they wanted to get rid of. the whole year, my family would pick over someone else's discarded fans and lights and weird decorations, asking each other - what do you think? for halloween?

we would strip the motors out of rusted fans and spraypaint vases and saw broom handles in half and apply a very thick coat of cardboard and duct tape to everything. for our pirate year, i made the mistake of individually drawing woodgrain onto each strip of cardboard that made up the ship. i then gently painted and distressed the "boards" so they'd each have lichen and cracks and unusual patterns. i hid eyes in the knots and shaped skulls. you couldn't see any of it in the dark, even under our "spotlight" (someone's target-branded workshop flashlight).

i have a lot of very strange skills as a result. i know how to make a flying ghost appear both physically and in the mirror. i know how to make a witch's brew that stirs itself. i know how to burn and cut and paint until there is an iron throne you can sit on, or an alien brushing your ankles, or a hearse trundling along. i can't say we ever made it beyond our local newspapers, but we tried so hard that the town would regularly shut down our street.

i can't put any of these skills on a resume, and i haven't been able to put them to use for a while. i live in an apartment, there's no lawn for me to decorate. for years i've wanted to do an alice in wonderland theme, and have been collecting ideas like coins in a fountain. at other houses, i am transfixed by 12 foot skeletons and paper mache spooky lanterns; easily wooed by the knowledge of how much time people put in.

someone asked me once - so what was the point? and why didn't you guys charge anything to show up?

in truth, we probably needed the money. for years there, we were a 1-meal-a-day kind of a family. i was being polite earlier up in this essay: we furnished both our house and our halloweens using things left a recycling center. we live in new england and still didn't turn on the heat until the end of november, no matter how low the temperature.

every year we would collect donations for unicef and other charities. on an average year, we would collect enough to pay for our food for weeks. every year, without fail: we donated every penny.

this endeavor took months to plan and design and execute. we had to organize any volunteers and check safety and hope-for-the-best. it took at least 24 hours to set up, a week to take down. the motors and fans and lights all had to be packed tight. the cardboard would scatter, pangea in the rain and sleet. i remember picking up a plank from that pirate ship, the paint blown clear off, all my hard work completely erased. a new kind of driftwood.

if this was a poem, and not a memory, i could wrap this up prettily. i could say that these skills landed me a cool job in the haunting industry or that it taught me the value of friendship and responsibility. but i actually think it's something better, something very pretty: there wasn't ever a moral to it.

the night was a long one. yes, there were assholes, people who broke stuff. but mostly it was just kids like us in cardboard costumes, dressed as an incredibly niche kind of truck. good parents who were friendly and laughing. teenagers who slunk in at late hours, wide-eyed and secretly delighted; who asked us can i help next year? like, do y'all take volunteers, or whatever? every year more people came, and told their friends, and offered to pay. and every year we said maybe next year and meant absolutely never.

we did it because it was enough to love something, and to make that love visible. we did it because there is very rarely an excuse to have fun. i think maybe especially, for me - we did it because every year, there was one first "customer" somewhere around 3-4PM, while we were still putting on the final touches. the sun would still be up, and we were frazzled and always-running-late, and these kids saw our vision unfinished in the bright light of day.

something about their parents murmuring say thank you and telling my mom this setup is so sweet while this little kid would grin up at us, dazzled by our artistic mediocrity. the fall air and the chill and their coat-over-a-panda-princess-costume. that first phrase of the night awkwardly managed over a pair of overly-large vampire teeth: a beautiful and excited trick or treat!

#wholesome #happy halloween #writeblr #just something to maybe warm ur heart in these times #my parents also usually let me take nov 1st off #this is the first year in like 20 years im not taking it off bc it became like a family holiday #i regret not taking it off but alas. capitalism.

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doumadono · 4 months

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𝓢𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓢𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂

villain!Bakugo with f!reader. I'll leave the plot up to you (I'm confident you'll come up with something nice.) All I'm asking for is our boy being a bad guy, having his verrry rough ways with the reader (including spanking!)

Warnings: smut with plot, rough smut, pussy fingering, spanking, doggy style & missionary, creampie, fem!reader, villain!Bakugo, mentions of fwb

A/N: this request got the second highest number of votes during the first Sinful Sunday poll I held over a week ago. Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY MY HERO ACADEMIA

As the convoy rattled along the desolate highway, Bakugo sat shackled in the back of the armored vehicle, his crimson eyes narrowed in frustration. He had been captured, subdued by the heroes, and now they were escorting him to a maximum-security prison. Trapped within the confines of the van, his hands bound by quirk-restraining handcuffs, he seethed with impatience. But Bakugo Katsuki, the menacing Dynamight, was not one to be contained so easily.

There was a minor flaw in handcuffs design that he quickly noticed and exploited to free himself - it was a pair of older handcuffs, made of a weaker metal alloy. It meant they were susceptible to melting under intense heat.

With his explosive quirk, Bakugo swiftly devised a plan to apply enough heat to his hands and the cuffs to weaken them, allowing him to break free.

Some time later, Bakugo's quirk erupted in a fiery blaze, tearing through the vehicle's structure like paper. Amidst the chaos, Bakugo seized the moment.

Using the intense heat of his explosion, Bakugo focused his quirk on the weak metal of the handcuffs. With a sizzle and a crackle, the metal began to melt under the intense heat, giving way to his freedom. With a triumphant roar, Bakugo tore his hands free from the now-molten restraints.

As he burst out of the van, a surge of fury coursing through his veins, he was met with a grim sight. The guards who had been stationed on the back of the vehicle, caught in the blast of his explosion, lay motionless on the ground, their bodies heavily burnt. The intense heat and force of the blast had been too much for them to withstand.

The blonde haired man chuckled darkly, basking in the sight. He didn't know why, but they reminded him of beef being roasted on a grill.

The night air was cool against his skin as he sprinted through the darkness, the sounds of pursuit echoing behind him. Of course they wouldn't stop looking for him! He was too dangerous, too unpredictable. He was a threat to society.

Bakugo was quick and cunning, slipping through the shadows like a wraith. He knew he had to find shelter, to lay low until the heat died down. He darted through the forest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he sought refuge from his pursuers. With each passing moment, the distance between them grew, but Bakugo knew he couldn't afford to let his guard down.

After a while, he noticed he was familiar with his surroundings – he recognized a mountain on the horizon. He used to climb it countless times in the past with his girl friend, back when things were good.

Hours later, weary yet exhilarated from his escape, Bakugo stumbled upon a secluded cabin nestled at the base of the mountain. It was the perfect hiding place, a sanctuary from the prying eyes of the heroes and law enforcement. With a smirk, Bakugo darted towards the cabin, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Bakugo wasted no time in approaching, his senses on high alert as he surveyed the area for any sign of danger. But as he reached the door, he realized that the door was closed - a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things.

With a grunt of frustration, Bakugo raised his leg and delivered a powerful kick to the door, the sound of splintering wood echoing through the night. He stepped over the threshold, his keen, crimson eyes scanning the ground floor for any sign of life.

The cabin was eerily silent, the only sound the faint rustle of leaves outside. Bakugo moved cautiously, his heavy footsteps echoing in the empty space as he searched for a place to hide. And then he saw it - a staircase leading up to the upper floor.

Deciding to explore further, Bakugo made his way up the creaking staircase to the upper floor. The air was heavy with the scent of pine and lavender, the faint flicker of candlelight guiding his way.

Bakugo walked quietly through the narrow corridor leading to the room at its end. The flickering candlelight spilled from under the door, casting a dim glow along the walls of the corridor. As he reached the wooden door, he slid it aside.

Inside, he saw you sleeping peacefully in your bed, oblivious to the chaos unfolding around you.

For a moment, Bakugo's heart skipped a beat as he took in your familiar form. It had been years since he had last seen you, but he would never forget your face. Memories of days gone by flooded his mind - the laughter, the late nights, the stolen moments of passion. You were his old friend, his confidante, his partner in crime.

It couldn't be a coincidence that he found himself in your cabin. You, the woman who had always helped him, even when he turned to a life of crime.

But as he stood there, watching you sleep, Bakugo knew that things had changed. He was no longer the same person he once was, and neither were you.

You stirred awake, your eyes fluttering open as you sensed a presence in the room. Fear flashed in your eyes as you took in the sight of a tall man standing in the door leading to your bedroom, his expression unreadable in the dim light cast by a candle.

“Who are you?!” you whispered, noticing how dry your throat had become.

“Y/N,” he uttered your name as if it was the most sacred word in the entire world.

"Bakugo?" you whispered, your voice trembling with disbelief.

He nodded, a mixture of emotions swirling within him as he stepped into the room. "Yeah, it's me," he replied gruffly, his voice rough with emotion. "I didn't mean to intrude, I was just -" He felt foolish, like a complete idiot. He should have left right away, for both your sake and his own, but something in the look on your face stopped him. The fear was replaced by genuine happiness – you were genuinely happy to see him.

"Running from the heroes," you finished the sentence for him, your voice soft but tinged with sadness. "I heard about what happened in the convoy, all of the TV stations had it in their breaking news. Are you okay?"

Bakugo hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before meeting yours once more. Not only were you happy to see him, but you were also concerned about his well-being. You were one of a kind. "I'm fine," he said brusquely, his words laced with a hint of bitterness.

You nodded, understanding in your eyes as you reached out a hand towards him. "You can stay here," you offered quietly. "As long as you need to. I bought this hut some time ago. I was ready to leave town, but too many memories held me back.”

Bakugo's expression softened at your words, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I appreciate it." He cleared his throat awkwardly, adding, “I’m glad you stayed.”

After being awakened, you guided him downstairs. You prepared a meal for him, making sure to add all of the spicy spices you had. After the meal, you offered him a fresh towel and allowed him to take a shower. Thankfully, you had some male clothes on hand. They belonged to him in the past, left by your place just in case, and you never felt ready to part with them. It seemed that fate had its own plans for the two of you all those years ago.

As you scrubbed the dishes, the warm water running over your hands, your mind wandered to him yet again. It had been so long since you last saw him, yet the moment he was near, your heart fluttered like it used to, and your thoughts raced uncontrollably.

Butterflies danced in your stomach as you cursed yourself for feeling this way. You shouldn't be drawn to him, not after everything. Sure, you had once helped him when he was already a villain, but now... Now he was something else entirely.

A convicted murderer. A dangerous, notorious villain.

You shook your head, trying to push away the memories of your time together. You had to focus on the task at hand, on the present, not dwell on the past! But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake the feeling of longing that lingered in your heart, reminding you of the connection you once shared.

Despite never officially being his girlfriend, despite the numerous times he hurt you, shattering your heart into pieces, pushing you away only to come back begging for help when his other relationships fell apart one by one, you still found yourself longing for him. You were always his second choice. Even when he was fucking you, whispering sweet nothings that you knew deep down were only meant to manipulate you, and despite your rational mind warning you, you couldn't help but cling to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he meant it. Eventually, you resigned yourself to the fact that you were nothing more than a side option in his life. And you grew used to things being that way.

Bakugo returned to you wearing only sweatpants. He was shirtless, with his wet bangs adorning his forehead; his toned physique drew your admiring gaze. It was evident he had stayed in great shape over the years.

He noticed your gaze and flashed you a cocky grin. "Enjoying the view, huh?"

You felt a flush creeping up your cheeks as you struggled to look away. "You... look pretty damn good," you confessed, feeling a surge of excitement at the sight of him. “Even after all these years…”

Bakugo closed the distance between you, his presence practically crackling with electricity. "Why don't you come over here and find out just how good I can be?" he nearly purred, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

Heart pounding, you closed the distance between you, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you any longer. You slowly ran your hands up and down his abs, looking up into his fiery eyes. You had always been drawn to him, despite his rough exterior and abrasive personality. Bakugo was the villain of your story, but you couldn't help but be drawn to his raw power and intense energy.

Katsuki sneered at you, his eyes blazing with anger and desire. He grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you closer towards him. With his other hand, he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him as he leaned in for a rough, possessive kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, exploring every inch with a fierce intensity that left you breathless.

You gasped in surprise, but you couldn't deny the spark of desire that ignited within you.

Bakugo's hands began to roam your body, roughly squeezing your breasts and ass, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It had been a long while since he had a woman in his arms, and he craved the feeling of a female touch more than ever before.

He couldn't resist the urge as his hands harshly squeezed your breasts through the material of the oversized shirt you wore to sleep. Thankfully, you didn’t wear pants but panties, granting him the access he craved so badly.

He pulled your shirt over your head, exposing your nipples to the cool air of the night. He latched onto your nipple with his mouth, sucking and biting until you were writhing beneath him.

Your hands gripped his ash-blonde hair, pulling him closer as you moaned his name. You moaned in pleasure all the time, your body responding to his touch like it used to do before.

He pulled away suddenly, leaving you panting and desperate for more. Bakugo's hands moved down to your panties, roughly pulling them off and exposing your pretty pussy. He grinned at you, his eyes dark with lust. "You're wet for me, aren't you?" he growled. His fingers then traveled down to your pussy, teasing your clit.

You blushed, unable to deny it.

Katsuki chuckled, his fingers sliding over your clit and making you gasp in pleasure. After slipping his calloused middle finger into you, a wide grin spread across his lips. "Oh, fuck. Of course you are, doll," he murmured, licking a stripe up your neck with the tip of his tongue.

All you could do was to throw your head back, moaning like a whore.

He grabbed your chin and kissed you roughly while fingering your pussy roughly, and squeezing the meat of your ass with his other hand.

After the kiss, he nudged your hip, but you already knew what to do. With a swift motion, you jumped up, and you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

He effortlessly held you in the air with just one arm slipped under your butt to secure you as he made out with you, carrying you to the couch by the window in your small living room.

You could easily feel his cock getting hard in his pants, straining the material and pressing against your bare crotch as you still had your legs wrapped around him.

Bakugo tossed you onto the couch like you were a rag doll, paying no mind to the whimper that escaped you. "On your fucking hands and knees," he commanded, his tone filled with pure lust. “Show me that pretty cunt.”

As a good girl you were, you took the position, lowering yourself as much as you could on your hands, sticking your ass out, presenting yourself to him. Was it wrong? Perhaps. Was it exactly what you wanted? Absolutely.

He admired your figure for a moment before delivering a sharp smack to your ass, leaving a red mark in the shape of his palm.

You let out a yelp of surprise, followed by a moan as the sting turned into a pleasurable warmth.

Bakugo chuckled darkly before spanking you again, harder this time. He continued to alternate between rough caresses and painful smacks, driving you wild with desire. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, smacking you again.

You moaned in response, your body writhing with pleasure.

Bakugo chuckled again, smacking you again and again until your ass was red and throbbing. He enjoyed seeing the influence his actions had on you - your juices slowly spilling out of your pussy, coating your sweet folds in the essence he craved so much.

Your sweet arousal scent filled his nostrils, making his cock twitch in his pants, already leaking precum and staining the material. All he could do was growl at the sensation and the tight knot building within his abdomen.

Finally, he gave in. Katsuki pulled his sweatpants down enough to free his rock-hard cock. He lined himself up with your entrance before thrusting into you with one swift motion. “Fuuuuuck!” he howled, spanking your ass again. “You feel so fucking good, just like I remembered, doll.”

You cried out in pleasure, your pussy stretching painfully to accommodate his monstrous girth.

He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you towards him, his cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy with ease.

Bakugo began to thrust into you, rough and hard.

You could feel every inch of him, filling you up and hitting all the right spots. His name was falling out of your lips like a prayer.

He grunted and groaned above you, his hands gripping either your hips or the meat of your ass tightly, squeezing it to the point he would leave bruises in his wake.

Suddenly, he pulled out, only to scoop some of your juices on his fingers and bring it to his mouth. After tasting your essence, he groaned. “Fuck, you’re gonna be a death of me, doll. You taste so divine.” He slid his cock back into your pussy, his thrusts even rougher than before. Of course he didn’t stop himself from delivering hard spanks to your ass. “Say you missed me. Say it!” he growled.

“Yes, Katsuki, I missed you!” you whined, tears welling up in your eyes.

“That’s it. That’s my bitch,” he praised, spanking your ass again, earning himself a yelp from you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your moans and Bakugo's grunts of pleasure.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your orgasm building with each powerful thrust of his.

Just as you were about to reach your peak, Bakugo pulled out suddenly. He flipped you over onto your back before positioning himself between your legs. He entered you once again, this time with a slow and deliberate pace.

The truth was he wanted to see your face. He wanted to witness the pure bliss written on your features, accentuated by your watery eyes that used to roll back in the cutest way possible when he used to fuck you all those years ago. He longed to be as close to you as possible. All he wanted and craved was you.

His eyes locked onto yours as he moved inside you, his expression intense and focused.

You could see the burning desire in his gaze, and it only served to heighten your own pleasure. “Katsuki…”

"Come for me," Bakugo growled, his right hand gripping your waist tightly as his other hand moved up to squeeze your breasts.

He increased his pace, his balls slapping against your ass as he thrust into you, growling like an animal.

You wrapped your arms around his waist and raked your nails down his back, feeling the tip of his cock continuously hitting the sweetest spot deep inside of you.

As you climaxed, your body shuddered, and Bakugo let out a roar of satisfaction, feeling your velvety walls spasming around his dick. He continued to fuck you, drawing out your orgasm until you were spent, gasping for air like a fish pulled out of water.

He came shortly after you, spilling his warm, thick seed inside your abused pussy. He threw his head back, grunting gutturally as he reached his peak. He was a little frustrated that he didn't manage to come at the same time as you did.

When it was over, Bakugo collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy. Soon, he pulled out slowly, hissing when a cold air enveloped his slick cock, covered in your mixed releases.

You giggled quietly, rolling in the ball so he could fit behind you on the couch, blushing hardly as you felt how soaked you were thanks to his cum, which slowly flowed out of your pussy, staining your inner thighs.

He wrapped his arm around your waist from behind, holding you close as you both reveled in the afterglow of your passionate encounter. His rough fingertips ran up and down the curve of your waist. "You're mine now," he growled, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of bitterness as his words echoed in your mind. "You're mine now." He had said it countless times before, but you knew deep down that he never truly meant it. It was just another empty promise, meant to keep you tethered to him. "You don't have to pretend with me. You can lie to your other girls, but not to me. We both know I'm just a friend with benefits to you, Katsuki."

Suddenly, Bakugo's grip on you tightened, his temper flaring instantly at your comment. "What the hell did you just say?!" he snapped, his voice becoming sharp and accusing. "You think I don't mean it, huh? You think I'm just messing around?"

You flinched at the sudden intensity in his tone, but you refused to back down. "I'm just saying what's true," you replied, feeling how his grip on your waist tightened. "You never wanted to be with me. You just used me when it suited you."

Bakugo's expression darkened, his jaw clenched in anger. "That's not true," he growled, his grip on you almost painful now. "I wanted you, damn it. I still do. But it was better that way.”

You rolled to your other side to face him, tears welling in your eyes as you poured out your feelings. "I've always loved you, Katsuki," you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion. "No matter what you did or who you are, I've always loved you, and I still do."

His anger faltered as he listened to your words, his expression softening slightly. "I pushed you away to protect you," he admitted, his voice filled with a modicum of remorse. "From my deeds, from myself. I've never been a good man, and I didn't want you to get caught up in that fucking shit, Y/N.”

But you shook your head, reaching out to gently touch his stubbly cheek. "I don't care about any of that," you insisted in a whisper, your love for him shining through despite the pain in your heart. "I love you, Katsuki. I always did, and I always will, no matter what."

For a moment, there was silence between you, the weight of your emotions hanging heavy in the air.

And then, without a word, he pulled you closer, holding you tightly against his sweaty chest as if he never wanted to let you go. Bakugo's expression was grave as he pulled you close, his voice low and urgent. "There's a manhunt for me, as you know,” he reminded, his words tinged with a mix of sadness and anger. "It's too dangerous for you to be associated with me."

You nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation, but determination burned in your eyes. "We'll find a way to navigate it," you assured him, refusing to let fear consume you. “Together, Katsuki.”

There was a long silence between the two of you.

He kissed your nose tenderly, his touch gentle against your naked skin as he caressed your body. "I've always dreamt of something true, something pure," he admitted, his voice tinged with longing. He stared into your eyes with his intense crimson gaze, as if trying to peer into your very soul. "But I was too blind to notice it was always right in front of me.”

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sarawayne0510 · 17 days

Text

Girl Dinner

pairing: George russell x kpop idol! reader

summary: In the fast-paced world of Formula 1, George Russell finds an unexpected escape in Y/N, a Le Sserafim member known for her captivating food vlogs

word count: idk

Genre: SMAU/Fluff

Inspired by my fav youtuber doobydobap <3

George sighed as he sank into the soft cushions of his living room couch, finally able to relax after a long day at the track. His phone buzzed in his hand—another meme from Lando, something about who’s the better driver this week. George rolled his eyes and swiped it away. He was tired of the constant comparisons, the endless questions. Every interview felt like another round of “Who’s better at this or that?” Sometimes, he just needed a break from it all.

He opened YouTube, aimlessly scrolling for something different. His eyes landed on a video thumbnail of a table filled with delicious-looking food, and a girl grinning beside it. The title caught his attention: My Guide to the BEST Street Food in Seoul.

“Why not,” George muttered to himself, tapping on the video.

The screen came to life with vibrant shots of Seoul’s bustling street food scene. Y/N was walking through the streets, introducing various foods with a bright, excited energy. George was immediately hooked. There was something about the way she talked—effortless, funny, and completely herself.

She picked up a small snack, inspecting it before taking a bite. "They’re much smaller than the big ones that are filled with roe," she said, holding up the dish with a mischievous smile, "but just because it's small doesn’t mean it ain’t tasty—and that applies to many things." She winked at the camera, making George choke on his water mid-sip.

He sat up straighter, a grin forming on his face. “What did I just stumble into?”

The video continued with her taking massive bites, describing each dish with vivid details that somehow made George’s mouth water, even though he wasn’t usually into food videos. But it wasn’t just the food—it was her personality. She had this way of making everything seem light and fun, as if the whole world was just a giant playground of flavors.

George leaned back, a smile tugging at his lips. For the first time in a while, he wasn’t thinking about racing or interviews. Just food... and her.

Y/N’s POV

The cameras were rolling, capturing every moment as Y/N and Yunjin stood in front of a colorful street food stall. Today’s challenge for Le Sserafim’s YouTube channel was a mix of dares and foodie adventures, and Yunjin was ready to dive in.

“Welcome back, everyone!” Y/N cheered into the camera. “Today, Yunjin and I are taking on the ultimate street food dare. We’ve got some spicy dishes and a few random dares to complete. Ready, Yunjin?”

Yunjin grinned, nervously holding a skewer of spicy tteokbokki. “Ready as I’ll ever be!”

The first dare popped up on Y/N’s phone: Talk about something you’re passionate about while eating something spicy.

Y/N took a large bite of the tteokbokki, her eyes widening at the heat. “Alright, here we go. So, I’ve got this major passion for cars. I’m fascinated by everything from the sleek designs to the roar of the engines. If I weren’t doing food vlogs and idol stuff, I’d probably be somewhere working with cars. I love the speed, the engineering—just the whole vibe of it.”

Yunjin laughed, struggling to keep her composure as the spice hit her. “You and your cars! I’ve seen you talk about them all the time. And speaking of busy, we’ve got a lot to do before our next tour. Packing, rehearsals... it’s going to be a whirlwind.”

Y/N nodded, wiping her forehead. “Yeah, it’s going to be hectic, but it’s worth it. And who knows, maybe I’ll get a chance to drive something amazing before we head out.”

The challenge continued with both of them trying various spicy dishes and completing their dares, their laughter and camaraderie shining through. The video wrapped up with Y/N and Yunjin excitedly discussing their upcoming tour and the busy schedule ahead.

George’s POV

George was sprawled on the couch in his hotel room, catching a break after the Suzuka GP. His phone buzzed with new content, and he opened one of Y/N’s food vlogs out of curiosity. He was halfway through when Yuki Tsunoda burst into the room with a couple of drinks and a big grin.

“Hey, George!” Yuki exclaimed. “Mind if I join you for a bit?”

“Of course not,” George replied, gesturing to the couch. “I was just watching this food vlogger. She’s really something.”

Yuki flopped down next to him and glanced at the screen. His eyes widened as he recognized Y/N. “Wait, is that Y/N? The food vlogger?”

George nodded, still engrossed in the video. “Yeah, she’s got this great style. I didn’t expect her to be so... engaging.”

Yuki’s expression shifted to one of excitement. “You know, I’ve got to tell you something. You might find this interesting.”

George looked up, curious. “Oh? What’s up?”

Yuki leaned in, a mischievous smile on his face. “So, Y/N... she’s actually a member of a famous K-pop group.”

George blinked in surprise. “What? Are you serious?”

Yuki nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, she’s in Le Sserafim. I didn’t realize you didn’t know. She’s huge worldwide”

George’s eyes widened. “No way. I had no idea. She’s just been this really cool food vlogger to me.”

Yuki chuckled. “Yeah, she’s got this whole other side to her. You should see their music videos. They’re amazing.”

George was intrigued. “You know what, let’s watch some of their stuff.”

Yuki grinned and pulled out his laptop, navigating to Le Sserafim’s music videos. They started with a recent MV, and as the vibrant visuals and catchy beats filled the room, George found himself captivated. Y/N’s stage presence was magnetic, and he was surprised by how much he enjoyed it.

As they moved through the videos, George’s initial surprise turned into admiration. “Wow, I had no idea she was such a star. She’s incredible.”

Yuki nodded. “Yeah, she really is. And she’s so down-to-earth. I think you might be more into her now, huh?”

George laughed, a little embarrassed. “You could say that. She’s definitely caught my attention in a whole new way.”

They spent the next hour watching various clips, George becoming more engrossed in Y/N’s multifaceted talent. By the end of their impromptu viewing session, he was thoroughly impressed and even more intrigued by her.

When the viewing session ended, George picked up his phone and hesitated for a moment before searching for Y/N’s Instagram account. With a smile, he hit the follow button, feeling a newfound connection to the talented and intriguing woman behind the food vlogs.

@georgerussell63

Liked by yukitsunoda0511,alex_albon,pierregassly and others

@georgerussell63 I'm mess in distress but still the best dressed

Thank u @yukitsunoda0511 for the pics🐥

Comments

@alex_albon you went to THE le sserafim consert without me!? Here I thought we were friends

@yukitsunoda0511 😼

@user119 george in his oppa era?🧐

@pierregasly ofc yuki took the pictures u could never take aesthetic picture like that

@user143 wait george be looking extra scrumdelicious lately

@user66 why know one told me george listens to le sserafim 🫢 because that's my mother in 2nd slide

@(your_username)

Liked by @georgerussell63,Calvinklein,jenaissante,le_sserafim and others

@(your_username) Feeling incredibly grateful for the opportunity to work with @CalvinKlein. Thank you for letting me be a part of your incredible collection

George POV

George was in the paddock, taking a moment to relax and scroll through Instagram on his phone. The usual buzz of activity surrounded him as teams prepared for the next race, but George was lost in his own world, scrolling through his feed.

He stumbled across a post from Calvin Klein featuring Y/N in their latest campaign. The photos were stunning—Y/N looked absolutely breathtaking , modern outfits. George’s eyes widened in awe as he saw the images of her effortlessly posing and exuding confidence.

Unable to contain his excitement, George let out an involuntary shout. “Oh my—”

A few of the other drivers, including Yuki, glanced over at him, intrigued by his reaction. Yuki’s lips curled into a knowing smile as he watched George’s enthusiastic response. He had seen George’s interest in Y/N grow over time and found the situation amusing.

Yuki chuckled softly, catching George’s eye. “Looks like someone’s having a fanboy moment,” he teased, fully aware of the reason behind George’s excitement.

George barely registered Yuki’s comment. His mind was racing, and Without a moment's hesitation, His excitement grew as he remembered that Calvin Klein had invited him to their upcoming party. This was the perfect opportunity to get involved, especially with the new collection making waves.

He couldn’t wait any longer. George bolted to his manager’s office, bursting through the door with so much energy that his manager nearly jumped out of his chair.

“H-Hey, George!” his manager stammered, wide-eyed, visibly startled by the sudden entrance. “What’s—what’s happening?”

“I just saw the Calvin Klein collection!” George blurted out, barely able to contain himself. “And we need to say yes to that party invite. Now!”

His manager, still trying to gather himself, blinked rapidly, stumbling over his words. “O-O-Okay! Y-Yes, right away! I’ll...I’ll handle it, no problem.”

George’s enthusiasm didn’t waver as he grinned. “Good! Make it happen!”

The Calvin Klein party was buzzing with energy, fashion icons and celebrities filling the room. George, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness, casually sipped his drink as he scanned the room. But then, he saw her—Y/N, effortlessly stunning, standing near a group of people, laughing and engaging in conversation.

It felt as though time had slowed down. The music faded into the background, the buzz of the party muffled, as his gaze locked onto her. Something about the way she carried herself, the confidence and grace, left him frozen in place. His heart pounded in his chest, and he knew he had to talk to her. Gathering every ounce of courage, he walked over.

“Hi,” George said, voice surprisingly steady despite the excitement coursing through him.

Y/N turned, her eyes meeting his, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The intensity of their connection hit both of them like a tidal wave. She smiled warmly, and it was as if the world shrunk down to just the two of them.

“Hey, George Russell, right?” Y/N asked, her tone light but with a sparkle of recognition in her eyes.

He grinned, nodding. “Yeah, that’s me. I... uh... saw your Calvin Klein shoot. You absolutely killed it.”

“Thank you!” she laughed softly, clearly flattered. “I’ve actually been getting into Formula 1 recently, so it’s crazy to meet you here.”

His heart skipped a beat. “No way, really? You’ve been watching the races?”

“Yeah,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “It’s fascinating—especially seeing how everything works behind the scenes. The adrenaline, the speed, it’s so intense.”

George felt the connection deepening. They fell into easy conversation, bouncing between their mutual love for fashion, traveling, and fast cars. Every word she spoke made George feel as if he had known her forever. They shared so many of the same interests, and the more they talked, the more captivated he became. Time flew by without them even noticing.

As the party began to wind down, George hesitated for a brief moment but decided to go for it. “I’ve really enjoyed talking with you tonight. Would you—uh, if you’re free, want to come to the Austrian Grand Prix? I think you’d really love it. Maybe I could show you around the paddock?”

Y/N’s eyes lit up, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I’d love that.”

@(your_username) Posted a story!

"What a wonderful night @georgerussell63"

After the Calvin Klein party, George and Y/N stayed in touch almost every day. At first, it was casual—sharing memes, discussing travel plans, and talking about their busy schedules.

George and Y/N always seemed to do a quick call between meetings, or FaceTime sessions whenever they could. Most often, Y/N would call him while she was cooking, her love for food shining through in every dish she made.

“Guess what I’m making tonight,” Y/N teased one evening, the sound of pots and pans clinking in the background as her camera showed her busy kitchen.

George leaned back in his chair, a smile tugging at his lips. “Let me guess…something delicious?”

Y/N laughed, giving the camera a little wink. “You know it. But you’ll have to wait and see. Maybe I’ll send you a plate.”

He couldn’t help but admire how much passion she had for cooking. He’d watch as she diced vegetables or stirred sauces, completely in her element. The sight of her in the kitchen, focused and happy, made his heart swell.

Sometimes, he’d even join her. They’d both be in their own kitchens, cooking the same meal during their FaceTime calls. George wasn’t the best cook, but with her guidance, he managed to whip up a few decent dishes.

“You’re doing great,” Y/N would encourage, laughing as he fumbled with a pan. “Maybe next time, you’ll cook for me in person.”

“That’s a deal,” George replied with a grin, his eyes never leaving hers on the screen.

Somewhere along the way, admiration had quietly morphed into something deeper. Something that felt a lot like love.

George’s POV

The Austrian GP was finally here, and George couldn’t shake the nervous excitement he felt knowing Y/N would be watching him live from the paddock. He had invited her to the race weeks ago, and now it was happening. After arriving at the circuit, George quickly texted her:

George: Hey! You here? I’ll come get you.

A few moments later, he spotted her in the paddock, looking effortlessly chic in her Mercedes team pass, smiling when she saw him. He guided her through the chaos of the paddock and into the serene comfort of the Mercedes hospitality suite.

“Welcome to my world,” George said with a grin.

Y/N beamed back. “This is insane! Everything looks so different in person.”

They spent the pre-race together, George showing her around, explaining the details of what went on behind the scenes, and making sure she was comfortable.

“Good luck out there,” Y/N whispered, as he headed to his car. She didn’t realize how much she truly cared for him until she saw the determination in his eyes. The feelings that had slowly bloomed over the weeks felt undeniably real now.

The lights went out, and the Austrian GP was underway. George drove like a man possessed—each lap faster, smoother, more precise. Y/N watched from the Mercedes suite, her heart pounding with every corner he took. It was a fierce race, with George battling for the top spot. And then, in a thrilling final lap, he overtook his rival, crossing the finish line first.

Cheers erupted around the track, but George’s eyes immediately searched for her. As the podium celebrations began, champagne spraying everywhere, he stood at the top, a wide grin on his face. His gaze never left Y/N. In that moment, he wasn’t just celebrating the win—he was sharing it with her.

The celebration was in full swing. Music pulsed through the club, and George couldn’t keep his eyes off her—not that he even tried. They had been glued to each other since the moment they stepped inside. With every beat of the music, every sway of her body next to his, George felt the tension between them build.

Y/N was radiant, her energy infectious as they danced together, their movements synced as if they had done this a hundred times before. There were other people around them, fellow drivers, friends, and fans, but to George, the room had blurred into a haze. It was just them. Every laugh, every smile, every brush of her skin against his sent a jolt through him.

At one point, she leaned into his ear to say something, her breath warm against his skin. He couldn’t even remember what she said, just the way her voice made his heart race. They moved together on the dance floor, effortlessly, like they had done this all their lives.

As the night wore on, neither could bear to leave the other’s side. They were locked in this invisible pull, their bodies close, their hands occasionally brushing. It felt like the world outside didn’t exist—just the two of them, wrapped up in the magic of the night.

On their way back to George’s condo, the car ride was quiet, but the air between them buzzed with unspoken words. Y/N glanced at him every now and then, a soft smile playing on her lips, and George couldn’t help but grin back.

As the car pulled up to his place and Y/N reached for the door handle, George, feeling the weight of the moment, decided to take a leap. He cleared his throat and with a small, mischievous grin, said, “Ramyeon meokgo gallae?” in his best, slightly awkward, British-accented Korean.

Y/N froze for a second, her hand pausing on the door, before she burst into laughter. “Did you just…?”

He chuckled, his face warm. “Yeah, I thought I’d give it a try.”

She shook her head, still laughing softly. “You’re adorable.”

The tension that had been building all night finally cracked, and as Y/N smiled at him, George knew that whatever happened next would change everything. She stepped back inside the car, shutting the door behind her, and leaned closer to him, her eyes sparkling.

And from there, the rest was history.

@(your_username)

Liked by yukitsunoda0511, alex_albon, georgerussell63, @jenaissante

@(your_username) girl dinner ✨️

Comments has been limited

@alex_albon really the person who burned the water

@jenaissante this girl is down bad

@lilymhe u are coming to williams garage next time and that's final

THANK YOU FOR READING <3

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fungal-rot · 5 months

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Pure Instinct - Surrender

okay so i've been seeing those tiktok ads about that Pure-Instinct perfume and I had A Thot- it was originally supposed to go a different route, but i kinda went everywhere with this LOL.

summary: no outbreak; you bought a new perfume, one that's supposed to entice the opposite sex. but just how well does it actually work?

warnings: MDNI- smut (unprotected p-in-v), joel being a bit of a horndog, semi-desperate sex, oral (f receiving), use of 'good girl' and pet names (darlin', baby, pretty girl, honey), a bit of bulge riding, slight dom!joel, established relationship, no age specification for reader- lemme know if i forgot anything! - also please note i’m getting back into writing. i’m a lil rusty and still getting back into the flow of things; apologies for any mistakes.

w.c.: 2.7k

⁺˚°｡⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆｡°˚⁺

All over the internet you've come across different videos advertising some 'pheromone perfume-' a blend of essential oils that are meant to work with your own natural scent, enhancing your body's pheromones- or something of the sort. Seeing the men become infatuated with their girlfriends and wives, clinging to them with lust-blown pupils certainly had your interest piqued.

After an- albeit, quick- internal debate with yourself, you bit the bullet and looked up the seller's site, coming across different smells like 'Crave,' 'Lucky,' 'Fallen-'

And 'Surrender.'

Sounds sexy. With a smirk you click on it, reading the description,

'Surrender has a sophisticated and mature scent which designed for the woman who wants to feel confident, beautiful, and sensual. Own any room you enter in. You won't just be noticed — you'll make heads turn. Sexy, but not vulgar.'

Sounds dominant.

There were different layers of notes, like magnolia, mandarin, vanilla, sandalwood; the list went on. Seemed like a good choice. You were about to add it to your cart, finger hovering over the button, but then you hesitated. Did you really need this? Was it that important to find out if it was worth the hype? To see if Joel would be unable to tear himself away from you, kissing you hungrily while ripping your clothes off an-

Added to your cart!

It was for science.

You even opted to pay extra for express shipping, heart racing with a giddy bite of your lip.

The day it arrived, you were practically bouncing on your feet with glee. Joel was at work, wouldn't be home for another hour or so. That meant you had plenty of time to get things together and play around with it.

Taking a quick shower then pulling a low cut shirt over your head and shimmying a pair of leggings on, you grabbed your little container of liquid-luck, rolling it over your heat points; a little between your breasts, behind your ears, along the crook of your neck, wrists, and fold of your arms. It definitely smelled alluring upon first apply. Now to let it dry and wait.

Keys jingled outside the door, the knob twisting a few times before the entrance swung open followed by a rather exhausted looking Joel Miller who stumbled through. The man heaved a heavy sigh as he tossed his keys into the dish and toed of his shoes before padding to the couch where you sat, pushing your cuticles back as you watched a rerun of Buffy: the Vampire Slayer.

"Hi, sugar," you greet, flicking your eyes to him as he flopped down, making you bounce softly. His hair was damp with sweat from being out in the hot Texas sun all day, thick veins protruding from his work-callused hands, trailing up his arm.

"Hm," he grunted in reply and placed his palms over his eyes as he leaned against the back of the couch, chest expanding with a deep breath only to falter for a split second. Joel took in another breath, this one loud and deliberate. With hands lowering from his face, he turned his head to you, slowly, with knit brows.

"D'ya smell that?" He asked, sniffing again with a curious glance of the room.

Now, you had to play this right. You couldn't just outright tell him you bought perfume that would have him slobbering all over you, no. That would defeat the purpose of your little experiment.

So instead you played coy and sniffed at the air just as he did, nose turning up with a gentle shake of your head and small bob of your shoulders.

"I don't smell anything."

He nods slowly, eyes narrowing with a slight slack of his jaw, tongue poking through the side of his teeth while he studied you.

"You don't smell that?" Joel pressed further, almost exasperatedly.

"Smell what, Joel?" A quiet titter sounded with your words, brows arching as an amused grin toyed at your lips.

"Jus'..." Joel trailed off, wetting his lip with a quick swipe of his tongue. The scent wasn't too overbearing. It was sweet, musky, and a hint of something so conversant. Something that always managed to get him hot under the collar. A heat that not even the dry summers he endured on a frequent basis could compare to.

That's when you leaned over him- totally not at all planned- reaching an arm past to grab one of the magazines on the end table. Joel drew another quick breath and it hit him. Before you could retreat he snatched your wrist with a tight grip, pupils dilated widely with parted lips. " 'S' you..." He murmured, attention solely on you and you alone.

The corner of your mouth twitched up into a smug smirk, "Is it?" You hushed back, feeling goosebumps erupt across your skin as he pressed a kiss to your inner wrist, slowly trailing up your arm and to your shoulder. A curt chuckle sounded from his chest as his own lips turned up. "Mm, I think so, baby," Now his lips danced on the crook of your neck, taking another whiff.

'Oh, fuck, that's good.' He thought, emitting a low growl.

"Yeah..." He purred, teeth grazing over your pulse point and eliciting a quiet moan from you, "that's alllll you, darlin'."

Hell, if Joel was tired before, he was certainly up now- in more ways than one.

"C'mere, pretty girl," He muttered and sat back, legs spread as he motioned two fingers in your direction. He watched with hungry intent as you crawled into his lap, thighs straddling his. Joel pawed at your hips, rolling them forward against the bulge straining in the confinements of his jeans with a grunt.

"Got me so damn hard an' ya haven't even done anything," With another forced roll, he throws his head back with a sigh. "Ride." He ordered with a strained voice, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. You didn't move just yet, however, and took in the sight of him; eyes shut and brows knitted softly, plush lips parted.

"Ride," Joel repeated with a firm smack to the meat of your ass, making you yelp and rut against him once more. You could feel the warm thickness of his cramped length through the thin cloth of your leggings, each continuous grind against your clit made you writhe in pleasure.

Good god, you were doing a number on him. He bucked his hips up in time with yours, panting faintly before sitting up and wrapping his thick, strong arms around your body.

Joel buried his nose into your neck again, allowing your enticing scent to flood his mind. His stomach tightened, and he had to pull you off his lap before he came in his underwear like a damn teen. You whine at the loss of friction, expression forming a soft pout as he laid you down, head against the armrest.

"I know, baby, I know," Joel cooed and tenderly cupped your jaw, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip, " 'M gonna take care'a ya." He leaned down and planted a quick peck to the side of your nose.

"Always do, don't I?"

The man lowered himself down your body, hands stopping to caress and grab every now and then before slipping his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, swiftly tugging them down and watched as a string of arousal pulled, connecting the fabric to your lips. He smirked, relishing the fact you were just as turned on as he was, but what really caught his attention was-

"No panties?" He quirked a brow, a shit-eating grin apparent on his face as he continued shimmying you out of your pants. "Y'had this planned, didn't ya?"

You chuckled, biting your lip meekly and avert your gaze. Whoops! Caught.

"So, what is it?" He asked, curling a leg into the couch as the other planted on the floor, his head dipping to your center and placed an open-mouthed kiss to the inner crease of your hip.

"Surrender," You answered breathily, peering down at him as continued lavishing you with loving smooches and pecks, his wiry facial hair scratching at your body that only fanned the flames in your tummy.

His brows drew together with a vague frown as he lifted his head, "Whaddya think I'm tryin' ta do right now?"

Even though his words made you clench around nothing, you still couldn't help but laugh and bring a hand to your mouth to stop yourself. With a shake of your head you say, "No, dummy. I mean, that's the name of the perfume I bought."

Joel tilted his head back in a slight nod, uttering a soft 'Ohhh.'

"I dunno how I was s'posed ta know that," his head lowered once more, breath fanning over your wet heat and flicked his eyes to meet yours, "but it's fitting."

He didn't even give you a chance to process what he said before diving straight into your folds, tongue lapping over every crevice and drinking you down.

"O-oh, fu-fuck!" You breathed out, thighs instinctively closing around his head as your hand grasped at his sweat-matted brown hair.

He growled into your cunt, bracing his hands on either side of the soft, pillowy flesh of your legs and forcing you open again. Normally, Joel loved using them as his own personal pair of earmuffs, but now? He wanted you spread for him, needed it actually. He'd drown in you if he could, and by god he'd willingly die trying.

His mouth detached for a moment, just long enough for him to stick out his tongue and let a string of drool fall over your labia, watching with a satisfied smirk as it slid down to your entrance. Snaking a hand from under your thigh, he brought two fingers to your clit, brushing the pads of them over it with teasing glides. Your hips twitched and bucked with a soft mewl leaving your throat.

Joel dragged his bottom lip between his teeth before lowering his fingers. Down, down, then circling at your hole and slowly pushing in. A sharp gasp ripped from your chest, back arching as you finally got that stretch; so achingly sweet.

His cock twitched at the sound, begging to be let free and seek shelter deep inside your pussy. He had enough restraint (for now) to get you off first.

And they say chivalry is dead...

He latched his mouth back onto you, slurping obscenely as he licked his way up, fingers curling into the spongy spot of your canal.

"Jo- oh- el!" You cried his name brokenly, hand closing a tight fist into his hair with a tug. You could feel the fucker- no pun intended- smirk against you as he pumped his fingers in and out, picking up the pace as he suckled on the sensitive button. Your whines grew more relentless, hips rolling against the flat of his tongue and holding his head in place as the coil in your stomach began to tighten.

Joel felt you clench around his fingers and took that, along with the way you fervently bumped against the bridge of his nose, as a sign you were close. With a wince he reached his free hand to his jeans, fumbling with the button before sliding the fly down, reaching in and finally pulling out his hard cock.

Said hand went back to its rightful place against your thigh while he rutted against the cushions, pre-cum making a mess into the leather.

"C'mon, darlin'," He murmured, taking a quick glance at you and reveled in the sight of your flushed cheeks, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back against the arm rest. "Give it t'me, cum around my fingers." You didn't need to be told twice. In an instant, that coil snapped. Your legs trembled and shook as your climax ripped through your body, eyes snapping open and mouth agape, but no sound came out other than a few breathy whimpers.

"Good girl," Joel praised, still subtly grinding against the couch, desperate for his own release. "Good fuckin' girl." You had made a complete mess of his hand, your spend dripping down his fingers, into his palm and down his wrist, dribbling onto the sofa.

After your body relaxed, hand releasing the harsh grip from his hair, Joel pulled his fingers from you, making a shudder run up your spine. He sat back on his haunches, pushing his hand to your mouth and said, "Open."

Complying happily in your blissed-out state, your jaw slacked, allowing him to slide his soaked fingers into you warm mouth, palming himself with his other hand while he watched your lips close around the digits, feeling your tongue lick and clean your slick off them.

With a satisfied hum, he removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, greedily shoving his way past your teeth and licking the roof of your mouth.

Joel backed away, staring deep into your eyes. He huffed, pulling his pants down further, stepping out of one leg. He was so fucking horny and desperate right now he wasn't going to bother with the other one. This would do just fine.

"Need t'fuck you, baby," He spoke in a hushed tone, and without further warning he grabbed your leg and hooked it around his waist just before sliding right in with ease.

The two of you moan in unison. Either he was fucking huge- spoiler, he was- or you were really fucking tight.

Joel collapsed, a hand splayed next to your head to catch himself so he wouldn't fall directly on top of you as he bared his teeth with a hiss.

"Chris' onna damn bike," He slurred, gently lowering himself further and snaking an arm under you as he lazily thrusted into you.

He glanced down to where you two met, watching as he delved in further, "She's jus' swallowin' me in."

An aquiline nose sought out your neck, the sound of Joel consuming your scent filled your ears once more. He simply couldn't get enough. Hips snapped against yours incessantly, skin against skin bouncing off the walls and drowning out the sound of the tv in the background.

The man above reached a hand under your shirt, groping and squeezing your tit as he lowered his forehead to yours, half-lidded eyes boring into yours intently.

"Fuck," He muttered, eyes widening, hips stuttering, "Fuck, 'm close." Joel was a little ashamed of himself. He couldn't remember the last time he made it to the finish line so quickly.

He was quick to remove his hand from under your shirt, finger dipping to the spot where his cock pumped in and out, collecting your slick before sliding it up to your puffy clit yet again.

"Y'think you can gimme another'n, honey?"

"Y-yeah," You nod, feeling that familiar flame lick up your spine. "Wanna cum on your cock."

Joel's lip curled into a snarl at your admission, eyes rolling back before fluttering shut. His movements blundered, then he pulled out, leaving just the tip slotted in your entrance.

"Please," he whined. Whined.

That fucking did it. Your body tightened for the second time this evening, eager to let go and milk Joel of every last drop he had to offer.

"I'm c-" He interjected with a slam of his hips, making you see stars as he fucked you through your orgasm, the head of his dick tapping your cervix as he pushed himself as deep as he could, jerking into you almost feverishly. Your name fell off his tongue like a mantra while he held you flush against him, your back peeling off the leather with arms wrapped around his back as you nestled your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the musky, sweaty scent of him- your personal favorite brand of 'pheromone perfume' he wears.

After his body lightened, he turned his head and placed a listless, yet tender kiss to your temple. You made a move to crawl away, but that made his grip on you tighten.

"Not yet," he spoke lowly and leaned back, pulling you with him. "Wanna stay like this. Jus' for a minute."

His hand smoothed back your hair, the two of you laid there in silence to catch your breath. After a good ten minutes or so, you lift your head to peek at him, "So, I take it you liked the perfume?"

Joel offered a lopsided smile, rolling his head to the side with a swallow, "Loved it, darlin'."

You'd have to remember to buy more in the future.

⁺˚°｡⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆｡°˚⁺

hi, hello, thank you for reading. as stated above, i’m still basically re-learning to write. i’m trying to get in the hang of properly pacing out the story, not too rushed but not too wordy either. feedback is appreciated! pls feel free to interact with a reblog or comment <3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #joel miller x you #tlou #the last of us #joel miller one shot #joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #pure instinct

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hayatheauthor · 1 month

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Assassination Methods Through the Decades: A Writer’s Handbook

When it comes to writing about assassination, historical accuracy and understanding the evolution of methods can significantly enhance the authenticity and impact of your narrative. This guide is designed to help writers explore the diverse and often brutal methods of assassination that have been used throughout the centuries. From the poisonings of ancient times to the covert killings of medieval assassins, here’s a comprehensive guide bound to give you the perfect inspiration for your assassination scenes.

Ancient and Medieval Assassination Methods

Poisoning

Poisoning is one of the oldest methods of assassination, dating back to ancient civilizations such as Greece, Rome, and Egypt. The allure of poison lies in its ability to kill without physical confrontation, often leaving little trace of the perpetrator.

Common Poisons:

Hemlock: Famously used in the execution of Socrates, hemlock was a slow-acting poison that caused paralysis, leading to death by respiratory failure.

Arsenic: Known as the "inheritance powder," arsenic was a favorite among those seeking to kill discreetly. Its symptoms could be mistaken for natural illness, making it a popular choice in political and familial power struggles.

Belladonna: Also known as deadly nightshade, belladonna was used in both small and large doses to incapacitate or kill. The poison caused hallucinations, dilated pupils, and eventually death.

Historical Examples:

Socrates (399 BC): The Greek philosopher was sentenced to death by drinking a concoction containing hemlock, a method chosen for its relative humanity compared to other executions.

Emperor Claudius (54 AD): It is widely believed that the Roman Emperor Claudius was poisoned by his wife, Agrippina, using a dish of poisoned mushrooms to secure her son Nero's place on the throne.

Administration Methods:

Poisons were often mixed into food or drink, applied to the skin via ointments, or even introduced into the body through small, concealed needles. Assassins needed to be knowledgeable in the art of dosage to ensure a successful kill without immediate detection.

Symptoms:

Victims of poisoning would often suffer a range of symptoms depending on the poison used. These could include severe abdominal pain, vomiting, diarrhea, convulsions, and eventually, death. The slow progression of symptoms allowed the assassin time to escape, and in many cases, the cause of death was not immediately apparent, lending an air of mystery to the assassination.

Bladed Weapons

Before the advent of firearms, blades were the primary tools of assassins. Daggers, swords, and other sharp instruments were favored for their portability and effectiveness in close combat situations.

Types of Blades:

Daggers: Small, easily concealed, and lethal at close range, daggers were the weapon of choice for many assassins. The Roman pugio and the medieval stiletto were particularly popular.

Swords: Larger and more visible, swords were often used in assassinations where the element of surprise was not necessary, such as in the heat of battle or a public execution.

Kris: A wavy-edged dagger used in Southeast Asia, the kris was known for its spiritual significance as well as its lethality.

Famous Assassinations:

Julius Caesar (44 BC): Perhaps the most famous assassination in history, Caesar was stabbed 23 times by a group of Roman senators led by Brutus and Cassius. The attack was swift and brutal, demonstrating the effectiveness of a well-coordinated knife attack.

King Duncan (11th century): The assassination of King Duncan by Macbeth (as famously dramatized by Shakespeare) is an example of a stealthy, intimate kill using a blade, where the act was both personal and symbolic.

Techniques:

Assassins using bladed weapons often relied on stealth, speed, and precision. A well-placed stab to the heart, throat, or kidneys could kill instantly or within moments, leaving the assassin time to escape. In some cultures, assassins were trained in martial arts that emphasized quick, lethal strikes.

Weapon Concealment:

Blades were often concealed in clothing, boots, or even within the folds of long hair or turbans. The art of hiding a weapon until the crucial moment was key to the success of many assassinations.

Strangulation and Garroting

Strangulation was another favored method of assassination in ancient and medieval times, especially for those who sought to avoid bloodshed or noise. The garrote, a weapon used to strangle a victim, was particularly effective in this regard.

Tools Used:

Garrote: A length of wire, cord, or fabric used to strangle a victim from behind. The garrote was silent, deadly, and could be easily concealed, making it a popular choice for assassins throughout history.

Hands: In cases where no weapon was available, assassins might rely on their own hands to strangle a victim. This method required physical strength and proximity but could be effective in the right circumstances.

Historical Examples:

Sicarii (1st century AD): A group of Jewish zealots who used short daggers to stab Roman collaborators in crowded places. The Sicarii were also known for strangling their enemies with garrotes.

Medieval Europe: Strangulation was sometimes used as a method of execution for nobles, where a public beheading or hanging might be considered dishonorable.

Execution:

The assassin would typically approach the victim from behind, loop the garrote around their neck, and tighten it quickly and forcefully, cutting off the victim's air supply. Death would occur within minutes due to asphyxiation or a broken neck.

Advantages and Risks:

The main advantage of strangulation was its silence. Unlike a stabbing or poisoning, strangulation could be done without alerting others nearby. However, it required physical strength and a certain level of risk, as the victim might struggle or fight back.

Renaissance and Early Modern Era

Firearms

The Renaissance and early modern era marked a significant turning point in the history of assassination methods with the introduction of firearms. Gunpowder, first developed in China, made its way to Europe and fundamentally changed the dynamics of warfare and personal combat, including assassination.

Introduction of Gunpowder and Early Firearms in Assassinations:

The development of gunpowder-based weapons provided assassins with a new tool that could kill from a distance, reducing the risk of capture. Early firearms such as matchlock and flintlock pistols were bulky and required significant skill to use effectively, but their lethality made them a preferred choice for assassins by the 16th century.

Firearms allowed for quick, deadly strikes that were difficult to defend against, making them ideal for assassinations where the element of surprise was crucial. The loud noise and smoke, however, meant that escape required careful planning.

How Accuracy and Concealability Impacted Methods:

Early firearms were not known for their accuracy, which necessitated close-range attacks. Assassins often had to be within a few feet of their target to ensure a successful hit. As a result, these weapons were usually concealed under cloaks or in specially designed holsters that allowed for a quick draw.

Over time, improvements in gun design, such as rifling and better gunpowder, increased accuracy and allowed for slightly longer-range assassinations. Despite these advancements, concealability remained a critical factor, as firearms were often large and unwieldy compared to daggers or poison.

Key Assassinations Involving Firearms:

Assassination of King Henry IV of France (1610): King Henry IV was assassinated by François Ravaillac, a Catholic fanatic who stabbed the king while his carriage was stopped in traffic. While this was a stabbing, the period saw a rise in the use of firearms for such purposes. Henry IV's era was marked by religious turmoil, where firearms began to play a role in political assassinations.

Assassination of William the Silent (1584): William I of Orange, also known as William the Silent, was assassinated by Balthasar Gérard using a handgun. This marked one of the first successful assassinations of a prominent figure using a firearm, demonstrating the growing popularity of this method during the Renaissance.

Poison Rings and Needles

The Renaissance period also saw the refinement of more discreet methods of assassination, particularly the use of poison rings and needles. These tools allowed for covert poisoning, often in social settings where other weapons might not be feasible.

Discreet Poisoning Techniques:

Poison Rings: These rings contained a small hidden compartment that could hold a lethal dose of poison. The wearer could discreetly slip poison into a drink or onto food with a simple flick of the ring’s lid. Poison rings were popular among nobility and were often used in court intrigues where open violence would have been impossible.

Poison Needles: These were small, sharp needles often coated with a fast-acting poison. They could be hidden in clothing or other objects and used to deliver a quick, often unnoticed prick that would introduce the poison into the victim’s bloodstream. Needles were ideal for use in crowded settings, such as royal courts or banquets, where the assassin could blend into the crowd after delivering the fatal dose.

Notable Instances of Usage:

Lucrezia Borgia (1480-1519): While the extent of her involvement in poisoning is debated, Lucrezia Borgia, a member of the infamous Borgia family, is often associated with the use of poison rings to eliminate her political enemies. The Borgia family’s reputation for cunning and ruthlessness made poison one of their favored tools for securing power.

Catherine de' Medici (1519-1589): The French queen consort and mother to several kings of France, Catherine de' Medici, was rumored to have employed poison rings and needles to remove rivals and control court politics during the Wars of Religion in France.

Explosives

The early use of explosives in assassination attempts represented a shift towards more destructive and indiscriminate methods of killing, often targeting not just the primary victim but also anyone nearby. Explosives became a favored tool in situations where a dramatic statement was intended, or where traditional methods of assassination were not feasible.

The Early Use of Explosives in Assassination Attempts:

Explosives were first used in assassination attempts during the Renaissance and early modern periods, although their use was limited by the difficulty of creating and handling reliable explosive devices. Gunpowder was the primary explosive material, and it required careful handling to avoid premature detonation.

The use of explosives was often tied to larger political or religious motivations, as the collateral damage caused by an explosion could have a significant psychological impact on the population or ruling class.

The Effectiveness and Risks Involved:

Explosives were highly effective in causing mass casualties and instilling fear, but they also carried significant risks for the assassin. Improper handling could result in accidental detonation, and the use of explosives often made it difficult for the assassin to escape unnoticed.

The unpredictability of early explosives also meant that they could fail to detonate or cause less damage than intended, leaving the assassin vulnerable to capture and execution.

Historical Example:

The Gunpowder Plot (1605): One of the most famous early uses of explosives in an assassination attempt was the Gunpowder Plot, in which a group of Catholic conspirators, including Guy Fawkes, attempted to blow up the House of Lords during the State Opening of Parliament, with the aim of killing King James I and much of the Protestant aristocracy. The plot was foiled, but it demonstrated the potential of explosives as a tool for political assassination.

The Industrial Revolution and Early 20th Century

Sniper Rifles

The Industrial Revolution brought about significant advancements in weaponry, including the development of sniper rifles. These long-range firearms allowed assassins to strike from a distance, often without being seen or heard.

The Rise of Long-Range Assassinations:

Sniper rifles were designed for accuracy over long distances, enabling assassins to kill targets from hundreds of meters away. This development allowed for greater safety and discretion, as the assassin could remain hidden while observing the target through a scope.

The advent of rifling, which gave bullets a stable, spinning motion, greatly improved accuracy and range. Coupled with telescopic sights, these rifles became the preferred tool for military and political assassinations during the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

Famous Cases:

Assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand (1914): Although Archduke Franz Ferdinand was ultimately killed by a handgun, the era in which he was assassinated saw the rise of snipers as a significant threat. The tensions and technologies of the time set the stage for future political assassinations using sniper rifles.

Assassination of President John F. Kennedy (1963): Although beyond the early 20th century, the assassination of JFK by a sniper is a prominent example of how sniper rifles became synonymous with political killings. This event marked a turning point in the history of assassination, highlighting the lethal effectiveness of long-range firearms.

Car Bombs

The introduction and evolution of vehicular explosives, particularly car bombs, added a new dimension to assassination tactics in the 20th century. Car bombs became a favored method due to their potential for mass destruction and the ability to target individuals in transit.

Introduction and Evolution of Vehicular Explosives:

The use of car bombs began in earnest during the early 20th century, particularly in conflicts where traditional methods of assassination were either too risky or ineffective. These bombs could be planted in vehicles and detonated remotely, offering a high degree of control over the timing and impact of the explosion.

Over time, car bombs became more sophisticated, with the addition of remote triggers, time delays, and increased explosive power. They were used not only in targeted assassinations but also in acts of terrorism aimed at destabilizing governments or instilling fear in the populace.

Techniques for Planting and Detonating:

Planting a car bomb required detailed planning, as the vehicle needed to be accessed and rigged with explosives without arousing suspicion. Detonation methods varied from simple timed fuses to complex remote-controlled devices, allowing the assassin to maintain distance from the blast.

The challenge for assassins was ensuring the target was inside or near the vehicle at the moment of detonation. This often involved careful observation of the target’s routines and the use of decoys or distractions to ensure the bomb’s effectiveness.

Chemical and Biological Agents

The 20th century saw the development and use of more advanced chemical and biological agents in assassinations. These methods, often invisible and insidious, allowed for killings that were difficult to trace and could be disguised as natural causes.

Use of More Advanced Poisons and Toxins:

With advancements in chemistry and biology, assassins gained access to a range of deadly substances that could kill quickly or slowly, depending on the agent used. Toxins like ricin, cyanide, and various nerve agents became tools of state-sponsored assassinations, particularly during the Cold War.

Chemical agents could be introduced through food, drink, or even via contact with the skin or inhalation, making them versatile and deadly. Biological agents, on the other hand, could cause diseases that mimicked natural illnesses, allowing assassins to kill without immediate suspicion.

Historical Examples:

Ricin: Ricin, a highly potent toxin derived from castor beans, was famously used in the assassination of Bulgarian dissident Georgi Markov in 1978. Markov was attacked with a modified umbrella that injected a tiny pellet containing ricin into his leg, leading to his death a few days later.

Cyanide: Cyanide has been used in various assassinations due to its rapid action and high lethality. One of the most notorious uses of cyanide was in the mass suicide-murder in Jonestown in 1978, where members of the Peoples Temple ingested cyanide-laced punch, although this was not an assassination in the traditional sense, it demonstrated the deadly effectiveness of the poison.

These innovations in assassination methods during the Industrial Revolution and early 20th century reflected the growing complexity of warfare and espionage, as well as the increasing role of technology in shaping the tactics of assassins.

Modern and Contemporary Assassination Methods

Silenced Firearms

In the modern era, the evolution of silenced firearms, or firearms equipped with suppressors, has played a significant role in covert assassinations. The suppressor, commonly known as a silencer, reduces the noise and muzzle flash of a firearm, allowing assassins to operate with a higher degree of stealth.

The Evolution of Suppressors and Their Use in Covert Assassinations:

Suppressors were first developed in the early 20th century and have since become a staple in the arsenal of assassins. Initially, suppressors were bulky and limited to specific firearms, but advancements in technology have made them more compact, effective, and adaptable to a wide range of weapons.

Silenced firearms are ideal for close-quarters assassinations where discretion is paramount. The reduced noise levels prevent immediate detection, giving the assassin time to escape or even carry out multiple hits without alerting nearby individuals.

High-Profile Cases:

Cold War Assassinations: During the Cold War, silenced firearms were frequently used by intelligence agencies on both sides of the Iron Curtain. The KGB, CIA, and MI6, among others, employed suppressors in various covert operations to eliminate targets without drawing attention.

Georgi Markov (1978): Although Markov’s assassination in London involved a poison-tipped umbrella, the use of suppressors was prevalent in the same period for similar covert operations. This era exemplified the silent, precise methods preferred by state-sponsored assassins.

Remote-Controlled Devices

The rise of remote-controlled devices, including drones and other modern technologies, has introduced a new dimension to assassination methods. These devices allow assassins to strike from a distance, often from thousands of miles away, with precision and minimal risk.

Drones and Other Modern Technologies in Assassination:

Drones, equipped with cameras and weapons, have revolutionized modern warfare and assassination. These unmanned aerial vehicles can be operated remotely, providing real-time surveillance and the ability to deliver lethal force with pinpoint accuracy. Drones are particularly effective in targeting individuals in difficult-to-reach or heavily guarded locations.

Other remote-controlled devices, such as bombs or cars rigged to detonate via remote, offer similar advantages. These methods allow the assassin to maintain a safe distance from the target, reducing the likelihood of capture or identification.

Notable Instances in Recent History:

Qasem Soleimani (2020): One of the most high-profile drone assassinations in recent history was the killing of Iranian General Qasem Soleimani by a U.S. drone strike in Baghdad. This event highlighted the capabilities of drone technology in executing precise, targeted killings with global political implications.

The Killing of Anwar al-Awlaki (2011): The American-born cleric and al-Qaeda leader was targeted and killed by a drone strike in Yemen, marking a significant moment in the use of remote-controlled devices in the War on Terror.

Cyber-Assassination

As technology continues to advance, the concept of cyber-assassination has emerged as a new frontier in covert operations. This method involves using cyber means to assassinate individuals, such as hacking into medical devices or other critical systems.

The Concept of Assassination Through Cyber Means:

Cyber-assassination leverages the vulnerabilities in modern technology, particularly medical devices like pacemakers or insulin pumps, which can be hacked to deliver a fatal outcome. This method represents a shift from physical to digital assassination, where the target can be killed without the assassin ever being in the same country, let alone the same room.

Cyber-attacks can also target critical infrastructure, leading to deaths through indirect means such as causing traffic accidents by hacking self-driving cars or disrupting life support systems in hospitals.

Ethical and Legal Implications:

The rise of cyber-assassination raises significant ethical and legal questions. Unlike traditional assassination methods, which can be physically traced, cyber-attacks are often difficult to attribute, making accountability a major issue. This anonymity can lead to increased use of such methods by state and non-state actors alike.

Legal frameworks have yet to fully catch up with the technological realities of cyber-assassination. As a result, there is a grey area regarding the legality of such actions, particularly in the context of international law and the rules of engagement in warfare.

Assassination Methods by Region

Europe

Throughout history, Europe has seen a variety of assassination methods, each influenced by the region’s diverse cultures, political climates, and technological advancements.

Specific Methods Popular in Different European Countries Across Various Eras:

In medieval Europe, poison was a favored method, particularly among the Italian nobility. The use of poisoned food, drink, and even clothing was common in the courts of Italy, where political intrigue and betrayal were rife.

During the French Revolution, the guillotine became the symbol of state-sanctioned assassination, used to eliminate political enemies swiftly and publicly. The Reign of Terror saw the use of this method to instill fear and maintain control.

In more recent history, Eastern Europe, under Soviet influence, saw the use of more covert methods, such as radioactive poisoning, exemplified by the assassination of Alexander Litvinenko in 2006 in London.

Asia

Asia's vast and diverse history has given rise to a wide range of assassination techniques, each influenced by the unique cultural, political, and historical contexts of its various regions.

South Asia (India, Pakistan, and Surrounding Areas):

In ancient and medieval India, assassination was often a tool used in dynastic struggles. One notable method was the use of Vishkanya—young women supposedly trained from childhood to tolerate and deliver poison. These women were allegedly used to assassinate powerful enemies by poisoning them through intimate contact.

During the Mughal Empire, political intrigue often involved the use of poisoning and covert killings to eliminate rivals. The struggle for succession in royal courts frequently led to the use of assassination as a means to secure power.

East Asia (China, Korea, Japan):

Ninja Tactics (Japan): In feudal Japan, ninjas were often employed as assassins due to their skills in stealth, espionage, and the use of a variety of weapons. Techniques such as silent killing with swords, blow darts, and the use of shuriken (throwing stars) were common. Ninjas were masters of disguise and could infiltrate enemy strongholds to eliminate targets without detection.

While ninja tactics are widely known, East Asia’s history of assassination is much broader. In ancient China, assassins were sometimes employed by rival states or within the imperial court to eliminate threats. Famous historical accounts like the attempted assassination of Qin Shi Huang, the first Emperor of China, highlight the role of assassins in shaping the region’s history.

Korea’s history also includes instances of political assassinations, particularly during the Joseon Dynasty, where court intrigue and power struggles often resulted in the discreet elimination of rivals.

East Asia (China, Korea, Japan):

Poison Darts: In regions like Borneo and the Philippines, blowguns with poison-tipped darts were used by indigenous tribes to silently kill enemies. These weapons were effective for their stealth and the ability to deliver deadly toxins without the need for close combat.

Central Asia:

In Central Asia, particularly during the time of the Silk Road, assassins were sometimes employed by powerful khans and warlords to secure trade routes and eliminate threats. Assassination was a strategic tool in maintaining control over vast and often unruly territories.

Middle East

The Middle East has a rich and complex history where assassination has played a role in political and dynastic power struggles, often tied to the region’s diverse empires and cultural traditions.

Historical Assassinations Involving Political Power Struggles:

The Middle East, home to some of the world’s oldest civilizations, has seen assassinations employed as a tool of political maneuvering for millennia. In ancient Mesopotamia, assassinations were sometimes used to secure thrones and eliminate rivals within royal families.

During the time of the Ottoman Empire, the practice of fratricide—where newly crowned sultans would eliminate their brothers to prevent future challenges to their rule—was a brutal form of state-sanctioned assassination.

The Byzantine Empire, centered in what is now modern-day Turkey, also witnessed political assassinations as a common method for securing power, with emperors and high-ranking officials often falling victim to their rivals.

The Americas

The Americas, particularly the United States and Latin America, have experienced a range of political assassinations, often with far-reaching consequences.

Political Assassinations in the U.S. and Latin America:

In the United States, the assassinations of presidents like Abraham Lincoln, John F. Kennedy, and civil rights leaders such as Martin Luther King Jr. have left indelible marks on the nation’s history. These high-profile killings were often carried out by lone gunmen or small conspiracies and had profound impacts on the country’s political landscape.

Latin America has seen numerous political assassinations, often linked to dictatorial regimes, revolutionary movements, and drug cartels. Figures like Che Guevara and Salvador Allende were assassinated or killed under controversial circumstances, reflecting the volatile political environments in many Latin American countries during the 20th century.

This overview of assassination methods by region highlights the diverse and evolving tactics used across different parts of the world, shaped by the cultural, political, and technological contexts of each region.

Common Misconceptions About Assassination

The Myth of the Clean Kill

In fiction, assassinations are often depicted as clean and precise, with the target silently slumping over after a single blow or shot. However, in reality, even well-planned assassinations can go awry. Bodies don’t always react predictably to trauma, and factors like adrenaline, the environment, and unexpected movements can complicate even the most meticulously planned kill. A supposedly lethal blow may not immediately incapacitate the target, leading to prolonged struggles, noise, and potential witnesses.

Silencers and Stealth

In movies and TV shows, silencers (or suppressors) are often shown completely muffling the sound of a gunshot, reducing it to a mere whisper. In reality, while suppressors do reduce the noise, they don’t make it silent. The sound of a suppressed gunshot can still be quite loud, akin to a clap or the popping of a balloon, and depending on the environment, it may still attract attention. Additionally, the sound of the bullet impact and mechanical noise from the firearm are not silenced, further dispelling the myth of a completely stealthy kill.

Poison Timing

Popular media often portrays poisons as acting instantaneously, with victims collapsing mere seconds after ingestion or injection. In truth, the effects of poisons vary widely depending on the substance, dose, and the victim’s physiology. Some poisons, like cyanide, can act within minutes, but others might take hours or even days to fully incapacitate or kill. Symptoms might develop gradually, and in some cases, the victim might not even realize they’ve been poisoned until it’s too late. This misconception can lead to unrealistic portrayals of poisoning in fiction.

Resources

Books

Recommended Reading for Research on Assassination Techniques:

"Assassination Generation" by Lt. Col. Dave Grossman – This book explores the psychology of killing and its portrayal in the media, providing insight into both real-life and fictional assassinations.

"Hitmen: The True Stories of Assassins, Contract Killers, and Political Hired Guns" by Nigel Cawthorne – A collection of real-life accounts detailing the methods and motives of professional assassins throughout history.

"The Art of Political Murder: Who Killed the Bishop?" by Francisco Goldman – A detailed investigation into the assassination of Bishop Juan Gerardi in Guatemala, offering a deep dive into the intersection of politics and murder.

Documentaries

Visual Resources That Depict Historical Assassinations:

"Killing Oswald" – A documentary that explores the conspiracy theories surrounding the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, delving into the methods and motives behind one of the most famous assassinations in history.

"The Men Who Killed Kennedy" – A controversial documentary series that investigates various theories about the assassination of JFK, offering insights into different assassination methods and their implications.

"Assassins: The Story of Medieval Hitmen" – This documentary provides an in-depth look at the history of assassins in the medieval period, focusing on their training, methods, and the political impact of their actions.

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bruciemilf · 6 months

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Yk what I need??? NEED the batKids to just admire Bruce’s beauty ( USHSJSNSNS ur last post about Jason calling Bruce pretty just added fuel to the fire )

Love ur blog :)!!!

Thank you! And that’s so adorable! I just adore the image of Bruce, wide awake at 3 in the morning, applying concealer all over the swollen bruises acquired tonight.

The brush is thick and fluffy, designed to spread a generous amount while maintaining a smooth application, its bristles silver and pale. Dick thinks it belonged to Bruce’s mom, because he looks terribly sad using it.

“You should be asleep, “ Bruce sighs, not entirely delighted his ward is losing precious resting time. He’s read, clearly, that children need a minimal 8 hours of sleep.

“So should you! What are you doing up?”

“Getting ready for a meeting at 7.”

“You’re like, really pretty.”

Bruce pauses, skin blossoming with sudden, flustered heat, “Oh, thank you, Dickie, that’s very kind—“

Dick’s smile beams like moonlight, “So you agree. You think you’re really pretty.”

“…I haven’t watched a single movie in 12 years, so, I think that joke is wasted.”

“Dammit. Thanks a lot, trauma.”

Oh, but Jason? The tiny boy could watch Bruce for hours. His face is so interesting. B’s eyelashes are so long, and his eyes are such a pretty hazel, just like Catherine’s, and his smile is awesome.

He feels really special, because Bruce smiles for no camera, but when Jason asks him to take his picture, he does it without complaint.

“B, boys can be pretty too, right?”

Bruce pauses a bit, not entirely confident. Should he treat this as something casual? Should he break out the educational, but welcoming dialogue? Is it something else? Why aren’t there parenting classes?

“Hn. Yeah.”

“I think you’re the prettiest man in Gotham!”

“I’m afraid that’s not true, Jason.”

“What?! How come?!”

“Because the prettiest boy in Gotham is standing right in front of me.”

Tiny Jason squeaking and squealing joyfully while Bruce takes him in his arms, peppering his soft cheeks with kisses, while a teenage Dick rolls his eyes in the background, trying not to smile.

#sorry I wanted to add more but this was getting long lol #tim admires the way Bruce can stealth and act. he’s like a social chameleon. (it’s the autism)#damian strongly believes Bruce is the most beautiful person in the world. after his mom. and he has NO problem fighting Jon abt it bc NO #your mom is pretty but not his baba pretty #as he grows up jason still likes watching Bruce get ready. but Bruce’s prettiness is more of an inconvenience #‘ugh pretty privilege am I right’ ‘dude yea. your dad is smoking ‘ ‘TF did u just agree’#bruce wayne #dc comics #dc #battinson #dick grasyon #batman #bruce wayne is a good dad #batdad #asks

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moonxknightx · 10 days

Text

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : MAKE UP ARTIST : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None just pure cuteness :))

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: As Hugh Jackman's personal makeup artist and costume designer, you're used to working closely with him on set. But when you're tasked with applying makeup to his shirtless chest for a scene, the professional barrier between you starts to blur. With each brushstroke, the tension builds, and what begins as a routine makeup session turns into something far more intimate—culminating in a sweet, unexpected kiss that changes everything.

Based on this request.

YOU SHUFFLED THROUGH THE PILE OF BRUSHES, prosthetics, and small jars of pigment spread across your workstation. Today’s shoot was going to be an intense one. Hugh, the leading man, was going through another round of makeup tests for the action scenes, and your job was to apply the simulated cuts and bruises on his torso. Normally, this would be a typical day in your career as a makeup artist and costume designer—nothing you hadn’t handled before. But Hugh Jackman? Shirtless? That was a whole different level of focus required.

You rolled your shoulders, forcing yourself to breathe evenly. Hugh was charming, down-to-earth, and professional—completely unaware of the effect he had on people, including you. It didn’t help that the studio had turned the AC down a notch, and you could already feel your palms sweating.

“Hey, sweetheart, you all set?” Hugh’s voice called from behind the changing screen. You glanced up just as he stepped into view, dressed—or rather, undressed —for the scene. His sculpted chest was on full display, the smooth lines of his muscles catching the soft light filtering through the studio windows. His hair was still damp from the shower, and you caught a faint whiff of fresh soap as he moved closer to your station.

You swallowed, clutching your makeup brush a little tighter. “Y-yeah, all set,” you stammered, cursing yourself internally for sounding so flustered. Professional. Stay professional.

Hugh shot you a friendly grin, running a hand through his damp hair as he sat down in the makeup chair. “Ready for you to work your magic,” he said, leaning back casually.

You took a deep breath and moved closer. The first task was to apply some subtle bruising along his collarbone and ribs, where his character had taken a nasty hit. “Okay, just relax for me,” you murmured, dipping your brush into the blue-purple palette that would create the illusion of injury.

As you started applying the makeup, you couldn’t help but notice how perfect his skin was. Despite all the intense action sequences, stunts, and training he had done over the years, his skin was smooth and warm under your touch. You tried to focus, but the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed was distracting—very distracting.

“Is this okay?” you asked softly, dabbing the first bit of color near his collarbone. Your fingers brushed his skin as you worked, and you swore you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Yeah, feels great,” Hugh said, his voice warm and relaxed. He tilted his head slightly, giving you more access to the area you were working on. “You always do an amazing job, by the way. The makeup and costumes—everything just comes together because of you.”

You froze for a second, your brush hovering mid-air. Did he really just say that? A warm blush crept up your neck, and you quickly looked away, focusing on blending the makeup to hide your sudden embarrassment.

“T-thanks,” you managed, keeping your voice steady. “I’m just doing my job.”

Hugh chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “Don’t sell yourself short. Everyone on set talks about how talented you are.”

Your heart did a little flip at his words, but you refused to let it show. You focused on your work, brushing over his ribs and trailing down toward his abdomen, where you needed to add more detail. The proximity of your hand to his toned abs was making your mind wander, and you could feel your pulse quickening.

“Hold still for a sec,” you murmured, trying to mask your nerves with professionalism. You stepped in even closer, concentrating on the bruising near his ribs. Your breath caught as your fingertips brushed his skin again, and for a brief moment, you swore you felt his muscles tense slightly under your touch.

Hugh shifted, tilting his head to look at you, his eyes filled with curiosity. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You blinked, startled by the sudden gentleness in his tone. “Yeah, just making sure everything looks right,” you said quickly, focusing on the bruise you were blending on his chest. But when you glanced up, you found him watching you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

His gaze lingered for a moment before he smiled, a slow, easy grin that sent warmth flooding through you. “You know,” he said, his tone playful but somehow... thoughtful, “you always seem so focused when you’re working. I admire that.”

Your cheeks burned, and you could only nod in response, not trusting yourself to speak. His compliment felt personal, like it wasn’t just about your job anymore. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your hands steady as you worked your way up to his collarbone again, adding the finishing touches to the makeup.

“You’re all done,” you said, stepping back and forcing yourself to take a deep breath. “What do you think?”

Hugh glanced down at his chest, examining the realistic bruises and scrapes you’d applied. “Wow, that looks incredible,” he said, his admiration clear in his voice. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”

You smiled, relief washing over you that he was happy with the result. “Glad you like it.”

He stood up, stretching slightly, and you tried not to stare as his muscles shifted under the lighting. “You’re seriously talented, sweetheart,” he said, his eyes meeting yours again. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a makeup artist as good as you.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, the sincerity in his voice leaving you speechless for a moment. “Thank you,” you said, your voice soft. “That means a lot.”

Hugh’s gaze lingered on you, something unspoken passing between you in the quiet of the studio. Then, with that same charming smile, he added, “I mean it. You make coming to set the best part of the day.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile back. Maybe working with a shirtless Hugh Jackman wasn’t as nerve-wracking as you thought—maybe, just maybe, it was something more.

Before you could respond, you noticed Hugh stepping closer, his warm gaze locked on yours. There was a moment of hesitation—just the smallest flicker of uncertainty—but then he leaned in, his hand gently brushing your cheek. His touch sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” Hugh whispered, his breath ghosting over your lips.

And before you could think, before you could even comprehend what was happening, his lips were on yours—soft, warm, and so, so tender. The world seemed to stop for a second as you kissed him back, your hands instinctively finding their way to his chest.

The kiss was sweet, slow, and utterly perfect. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless and smiling like a pair of fools.

“You’re full of surprises,” you whispered, still in awe of what had just happened.

Hugh chuckled softly, his hand caressing your cheek. “Maybe. But I had to take my chance.”

And in that moment, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

🏷️: @oatmilkriver @khxna @kellyxo1 @corvusmorte @haytchee @shybluebirdninja @evasmlp @veru-boom @lex-the-flex

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