#like she says its a fashion statement but shes also the only one that knows his blood color for the first bit hypothetically

[nuctua-larc]

the blueprint the goth lesbian i love her vibes she is exquisite

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

On David Tennant and Aging

So, I’ve seen a lot of posts in response to Tumblr users’ habit of affectionately calling their favorite middle aged dudes “old men”, David Tennant in particular, saying things like “clearly you’ve never met an actual old person”, “omg you talk about these guys like they’re 80”, “please be normal about people aging”, etc. And on one hand, all of these statements are objectively right and true! But as someone who’s always been really fascinated by and found a lot of beauty in getting older (which I’ve explored in some of my writing on A03 because nobody else is going to do it for me), I’d like to provide a bit more nuance on how I think this label applies to David in particular.

David, obviously, in literal terms, is not “old”, at least not to me- I don’t personally consider people old until they get past 60. 52 is middle aged, simple as that. And yet, when I see David stuck with the “old man” label, it still somehow feels weirdly right, for a number of reasons.

It annoys me so much when people say David “hasn’t aged a day since Doctor Who”, because, well…

He clearly has. A lot. He’s got forehead creases, deep crows’ feet and eyebags, and I think that post-Fourteen we’re gonna see him rocking the grey temples a LOT more. He also has the voice of an older man now, his upper range is still there but the default is much more deep and rich, with a gravelly, rumbling quality that just goes straight through you. I personally think Broadchurch was when David finally started to embrace looking his age- Alec Hardy just wouldn’t have been served by Ten’s fresh-faced boyishness.

Obviously, these are the kinds of changes you’d expect any 52-year-old man to have, but something about David just makes it all seem a bit more… intense? The expressiveness of his face combined with his almost gaunt frame makes his wrinkles very prominent, and when he works his voice to its emotional extremes, his lower register can sound positively ancient, to devastating effect.

David, I think, is someone with an old soul- I don’t think he could be as good as he is at playing ancient characters like Crowley and The Doctor if he weren��t. He has lived so many lives, given so much of himself to so many characters, often incredibly tragic ones, and I think it wears on him. David also has five kids. FIVE. Do you know how exhausting it is to be one of the hardest working actors alive and be a present, loving father to even ONE child? But David somehow does it anyway! Nowadays I see him and my heart breaks because he looks so tired, so weary and fragile. But he’s all the more beautiful for it to me because I know that that is because he is kind. He’s a deeply empathetic person who feels and lives to the absolute fullest, and that story is written so clearly on his face, along with every other story he has ever been a part of.

There’s other things about David that make the label endearingly fitting- his utter hopelessness when it comes to technology, for instance. And he’s just got that warm, wise, grandpa energy too sometimes- look at that above Fourteen picture and tell me I’m wrong!

I once showed my friend who’d only seen David in Doctor Who and Harry Potter a picture of David from Around The World in 80 Days. It was a particularly emotional scene, and his face had just the most beautiful expression of compassion and sadness, every wrinkle on full display. And she said, in a less than complimentary fashion, “he looks so old!” Which, of course, offended me quite a bit at first. But to me, referring to David as old almost feels like a badge of honor, something he’s earned by living fully and selflessly, working hard and being wise and compassionate beyond his years. I think David himself is secretly more than a little insecure about the fact that he’s getting older. There’s sadness behind every jovially self-depreciating remark he’s made about his age in the past year, particularly in comparing himself to Ncuti Gatwa. I know how much David struggles with his impostor syndrome and how people perceive him, and I can clearly see in his eyes the fear of being discarded, the anxiety he feels about if he’ll still be as loved as he was back in 2007 now that he’s closer in age to King Lear than he is to Romeo. So I hope David knows it’s a privilege to watch him grow older, to watch his soul and talents deepen with the crinkles around his eyes. If I, in my silly goofy tumblr girl-ness, call David Tennant an old man, it’s because it’s a label that suits him beautifully- even if it isn’t TECHNICALLY an accurate one yet.

[geeky-politics-46]

Party For Two

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky discuss what he wants to do for his birthday and what he wants as his present.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, light dirty talk, pet names, language, creampie, Bucky in his underwear needs a warning all its own

You could seriously just watch Bucky walk around in his underwear all day and be happy as a clam. You've told him before, and you'd tell him again. That he should just not wear clothes when you two were spending the day at home. 

It didn't matter if he threw on a shirt. Some days, having his arm and his scars completely visible bothered him. Sometimes he had phantom limb pain and needed the arm off completely, prefering to cover his scars as you tried to help with the residual nerve damage in his shoulder and back. 

Shuri did a lot, but she couldn't rewire the mess of his nervous system Hydra had left behind. Despite your assurance that you loved every inch of him, you would never push him to do something he didn't want to do. Some days were harder than others and you made sure he felt safe and loved even on his worst days. So your main rule was just no pants.

A man in his underwear should not turn you into this much of a hot horny mess, especially when you get to see him totally naked regularly. Although Bucky was an incredible specimen of a man.

Even now, you could see his lips moving, but your brain could not process the words he was saying. Not when those tight boxer briefs made his ass look like you could just bite into it. Not to mention how they perfectly cupped his bulge. The way you could just slightly see his cock and balls jiggle as he walked. It felt dirty but still kind of sweet. 

It made you just want to play with his cock. Not necessarily in a hand job sexual way, but just hold it and pet it. Tell him how pretty and perfect his cock was. Gently massage and rub his balls and kiss all over him. He did have the prettiest cock. 

You also loved how much he blushed whenever you told him how pretty his cock was. The old-fashioned boy from the 1940's was still taken aback by such words coming from your pretty little mouth. Even if it was a genuine compliment he still wasn't used to hearing a sweet pretty thing like you talk so openly about liking cock. Especially his. Especially when he wasn't already balls deep inside you.

Bucky agreed to the deal on the condition that you also wore no pants. You were allowed to throw on shorts or pj's on occasion, but only ones Bucky liked. Usually, you just went for an oversized shirt. 

Honestly, the two of you became quite the pair of hermits or homebodies. Your happy place was your apartment. Just the two of you, and Alpine, of course. You had all settled into your little domestic routine quite well. You couldn't help the little contented sigh that left your lips.

It was then that you realized Bucky had stopped talking and was staring back at you, trying not to laugh at your deer in headlights expression. You were caught red-handed, staring at him again. He couldn't be too mad about you not listening if you were gonna look so cute when busted.

"You know I think you have a bigger staring problem than I do, babydoll."

You could feel your cheeks blush as you both dissolved into little giggles. You knew he wasn't mad, but you still apologized anyway once you composed yourself. 

"I'm sorry, Buck. You are just too sexy sometimes for my brain to do anything but stare at you. I kinda like you, ya know." 

You gave him a teasing smirk punctuating your statement. Saying I love you was still new to the two of you, but Bucky would say it over and over the first few days. You couldn't help but tease him about it. All out of your own love for him though, and he knew it.

"Well, if you had been listening, you would know that Sam is inevitably going to try to throw me some sort of birthday party. He's been dropping hints for days, but if he asks please tell him we already have plans. I don't care what, but I really don't want a party." 

Of course, that's right. Sam had been after you about trying to do something for Bucky’s birthday. Sam wanted to go out and do something bigger. You knew all Bucky wanted to do for his birthday was be alone. It was hard for him think about all the birthdays, all the years, he had lost. He wanted to mark the day by enjoying the life he had waited so long for. 

He had waited so long to be at peace. Even though he still had missions to go on and work to do in the field, and in his own head, he felt a stability that he had always dreamed of. He had an apartment. Even if it wasn't the most put together. He had a pet. Alpine the fluffy white feline rescue who has helped him just as much as he helped her. 

Most importantly, he had you. He had an amazing girl that he wanted to settle down with. Create a home with. One day marry and have babies with. Assuming he could. He really didn't know if Hydra had done anything to affect his fertility. He didn't really want to know. For now, the 2 of you and Alpine was enough though.

That was what he wanted to celebrate, and he wanted to celebrate it by staying in with you. Just you, take out, tv or movies. Then, of course he planned to cash in his birthday points on dirty noise-complaint-getting loud sex. Some people may think it sounded boring, other than the sex part maybe, but that was exactly what he loved about it. 

You could see him planning out the evening he really wanted in his mind. He always joked about not wanting anyone else in his head, but he did love that you seemed to be able to read his mind. 

"What if I tell Sam that we are having a party and he just isn't invited? That it's a party just for two. Just you and me. I'll even let you pick dinner." 

He pretended to think about it as he walked over to the side of the couch you were on. Reaching across the arm of the sofa to help you up onto your knees so he could wrap his arms around your waist. Letting yourself slide up his muscular chest and link behind his neck. A mischievous smile curled up on his lips.

"I like the sound of that. I do still want cake though. Are you planning any party games?" 

You nodded at his request. Oh you were planning on cake, ice cream, whipped cream, chocolate syrup. Basically, any sort of dessert that could be enjoyed in both appropriate and inappropriate ways. 

"Well cake is a given of course. I'm sure we can find all sorts of creative ways to enjoy it too. As far as games, I do have a couple things in mind. Tell me how do you feel about naked Twister?"

He grabbed your waist a little tighter and growled a little at the idea of the two of you bent into all sorts of compromising positions. His blood starting to rush to his groin as you toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

"You know, I may need a little practice. Why don't we have a little practice party right now? Just so I know what to expect on my birthday." 

You smiled and shook your head at him, he knew you were a sucker for that look he got when he was feeling frisky. The crooked little grin, the way he would bite his lip, and the way his pretty blue eyes would sparkle. It was like your lips were pulled to his by a magnet. Moving closer on their own volition. 

Not that you mind of course. Your thoughts had already been in the gutter from watching Bucky strut around the house in those tight boxer briefs. Now you knew his was there too. The feeling of his bulge hardening against you, confirming that and making you wiggle your hips in anticipation.

He pulled back so his lips were barely touching yours, eliciting a needy little whine from you. You wanted more of him. You always wanted more of him. His hands started to slide down your low back to cup your ass cheeks, bending his knees a little so he could get a firm hold on you. 

"Mmm, can smell you, babydoll. You smell so good. Know you taste even better though. Taste even sweeter than that birthday cake will. I want a taste, baby girl."

He almost effortlessly scooped you up off the couch, your legs quickly swinging to wrap around his waist. Alpine had abandoned the couch to go hide under the table the minute you two started getting lovey. So without fear of stepping on her tail he practically sprinted to your shared bedroom, plopping you down unceremoniously onto the bed before lunging so he was on top of you. 

His lips hurried back to connect with yours in a frenzy of playful, passion filled kisses. Letting your hands wander up and down each others bodies, rubbing and touching any bit you could grab. Slowly working to get your hand down to rub over his cock. Straining against the soft fabric of his underwear. Still getting harder as you massaged him. 

You pulled your lips away from his so you could admire his cock in your hand. Even though it was still hidden behind the dark fabric, you couldn't help the way you licked your lips and moaned at the sight. He was just so perfect and thick. You knew the serum hadn't changed his height and size near as dramatically as Steve, but it did effect his muscle mass. You had a little bit of a hope that it had made his cock this thick. Otherwise those girls in the 40's wouldn't have survived.

"Starting to think you might be a little obsessed with my cock, babydoll." 

He teased you as he started kissing and sucking at your neck. Letting you enjoy your view as he let his hips occasionally roll and rut into your hand. You hummed in agreement as he began teasing his vibranium hand up and under your shirt. 

"Can't help it, baby. It's just so fucking perfect and big. Fills me up so good. So much better than any of my toys. Plus I kinda love the man it's attached to." 

He nuzzled his face into your neck before you felt him grin against your skin. He whispered an "I love you too baby…". Suddenly moving quickly and knocking your balance out from you as he in one smooth move threw off the shirt you were wearing and rushing to get your panties off just as fast. Leaving you suddenly naked underneath him. 

"... I'm also kind of obsessed with this pretty pussy. So I guess we're even." 

His body dropping to the bed and your legs thrown over his shoulders as he descended on you. Wet kisses along the crease of your inner thigh, just shy of where you desperately wanted his lips. Jumping to the other side and letting his warm breath dance across your dripping sex.

You could feel his bright blue eyes on you as he placed his first long lick up your slit. Making sure to cover every inch from your tight light hole up to your clit. Stopping to place several small kisses and kitten licks on the bundle of nerves. Hearing your breath already starting to falter.

Bucky loved eating you out. It wasn't something he remembered doing more than maybe once or twice before you, and he can't remember enjoying it nearly as much back then as he did now. Maybe he was more selfish back then. Maybe those women had just been less secure and open about what felt good. Women being so vocal about enjoying sex was pretty taboo in his day, but the way you reacted to his mouth on you made him obsessed. 

Each time you moaned as swirled his tongue around your clit. Each time you would grind against his face as he thrust his tongue inside you. Each time you would pull his hair as rubbed his whole face farther into your wet cunt. It all made him want to spend the rest of his life wirh his head between your thighs. Not even caring that he usually ended up so worked up he would start humping the mattress underneath him in an unconscious effort by his cock to get some sort of attention. 

He didn't even want to stop after he heard you whine and moan his name when you came. Why would he stop when he had the opportunity to lick up even more of your sweet nectar from your orgasm? No, he only stopped when he had his fill of  feasting on your cunt and your cum. Leaving you teetering on the edge of overstimulation. 

"Definitely my favorite treat. Hell fuck the cake, I just want your pussy as my birthday treat. What you think, doll? Can I have your pretty slutty little cunt as my birthday present? Can I eat it and play with it and fuck it whenever and however I want?" 

By now he started working his way back up your body as you clung to sheets arching into his mouth as he moved. Pressing your breasts against his face as he reached your chest. Greedily encouraging him to take one of your nipples into his mouth as his metal fingers pinched at the other. The contrast of his warm mouth and the cool vibranium making your skin prickle into goosebumps. 

After switching sides, making sure to give both perky pebbled nipples the attention they deserved, he made it back up to your lips. Kissing you once before nipping at your lower lip playfully. 

You had already wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to pull his pelvis to yours. Your fingers now tangled and tugging at the fabric of his boxer briefs trying to get them down. Desperately trying to get his cock free so you could feel him against your still soaked and needy cunt. 

"I'm waiting for an answer baby, tell me and then I'll take these off. Fuck you nice and hard. Can I have your perfect tight little hole as my birthday present? I want to spend my party making you scream and cum all over my cock." 

The sound of his filthy birthday wish pulled a deep groan from your chest. You wanted to spend his party doing that too, and what the birthday boy wants the birthday boy gets. You let your body go lax so he would be able to easily position you however he wanted you as you answered. 

"Yes, Bucky, holy fuck yes! My pussy is all yours, birthday boy. Use it however you want, James. All for you." 

"That's my good girl." 

He got back up on his knees and shimmied his underwear down and kicking them off. You eyes glued to his cock before it even sprung free from the fabric. A whimper falling from your mouth when a dribble of pre-cum dripped from his swollen flushed cockhead onto your low belly. A string of fluid running from his cock and starting to make a mess on you. He knew by the look in your eyes that he had you in the palm of his hand. So you promptly obliged when he told you what he wanted next. 

"Spread your legs farther, babydoll. Pull them back and hold onto your ankles for me. I want to see every little bit of my present." 

Quickly you worked to fold yourself in half as best as you could. Opening you up even more to Bucky’s gaze. His eyes raking over your body as be stroked his length a few times. Stopping only when you started to wiggle your hips, trying to urge him to touch you.

"Impatient, aren't you baby?" 

His tongue darting out to lick his lips, still swollen for having his face buried in your pussy, before a faux pout crossed his face. Cooing lightly at you as he started slapping his cock on your sensitive cunt. 

"God you look so fucking good when you get all needy for my cock baby. Saw you get that look in your eyes earlier. Knew that smart little brain had stopped thinking of everything but my cock. It's all yours baby." 

He placed his tip at your entrance and slowly started to push his hips forward. Sliding himself into you one inch at a time. Letting you feel every little bit of stretch he gave you. The feeling making you both moan in pleasure. Stilling in place once he had bottomed out inside you. 

"Fuck darlin', that's the prettiest thing I've ever seen. Look so beautiful getting fucked with my bare cock baby."

You gave him a seductive look and bit your lip. 

"Happy early birthday baby." 

With that, he gingerly drug his hands from the backs of your heels all the way down to the backs of your thighs. Gripping onto the flesh there and bracing you for his next move. Bucky slowly started to pull his hips back and started building speed with his first thrust back in. 

A feral look in his eyes as he watched where his cock was impaling you. Hypnotized by the sight. The image of your pussy stretched tight around his cock. The way his cock shined, wet with your arousal. It tipped him over the edge when he started hearing the wet squelch of your pussy as he thrust into you spurring him on to fuck you harder. 

The headboard starting to thump against the wall under the force of Bucky’s thrusts. A litany of swears falling from both of you. Your moans and squeaks as he pounded you accented by the sound of his full balls slapping against your ass. Each of you getting closer to climax with each sound the other made.

When he could feel his balls starting to tighten and he knew he was close to blowing, he let his flesh hand dip to rub at your clit. Smearing your wetness around to make his action smoother.  

After a moment of him touching your clit he found the perfect speed and spot. Feeling the fire start burning in your belly you let your eyes roll back in your head. 

"Oh fuck Bucky, right there! Don't stop, baby please don't stop!" 

His hips only sped up even more at your reaction. 

"Oh don't worry, dollface. I'm not stopping until I make a mess in my birthday present. You want that babydoll? You want to cum in you pretty girl? Let me hear it baby." 

Few things could throw you over the edge quite like Bucky when he talked dirty. It fueled that fire in your belly and sent it boiling over. As you came undone on his cock you practically cried for him to cum inside you. Your pussy squeezing and fluttering around his cock, practically milking him.

"James!!! Cum in me please, fuck I'm cumming for you baby. God you make me cum so good. It's your pussy daddy. Fuck it and fill it please, please!" 

By the time you had finished cumming, you felt his cock start to throb as he climaxed. Your body still jerking from your own orgasm with each stream of cum you felt him shoot into you until you were nearly overflowing. 

After a few minutes of basking in each other's afterglow, Bucky eventually pulled out of you with a groan and rolled over. Promptly grabbing you up in his arms again and pulling you over to cuddle. Pressing kisses into your hair as you drew little patterns on his chest. 

"If this is what I can expect for my birthday party, then happy birthday to me indeed." 

You gave him a wicked grin as you looked up at him. 

"Oh no, Buck, this was just practice. Remember? Your actual birthday party is going to be even more fun."

--------------------------------

Back to main masterlist

[krispycreamcake]

Diabolik lovers x reader (various)

Guys don't bully me this is my first post istg i'll bomb your family

A symphony of explosions ruptured through the sky as the angels above blew their mighty vessels of war. Forks of lightning licked through the heavens, warning those near and far of the impending eruption soon to blast their ear drums. The cascading shower hydrated the manor's old stone walls, grasping at whatever cracks they could get into, only to slip away from the house's embrace at the last second. The moon nor its many luminous companions could be seen as their everlasting beauty was hidden behind storm clouds. A whirlwind soon picked up, shaking the trees like a damned mad woman, soon to be lobotomized. Amidst all this eternal chaos however, was a girl simply trying to survive. She was just dropped off at a glorious mansion that ironically, seemed to hold a sort of deathly allure to it, despite it being right out of a romance novel. She was currently sitting on a royal blue sofa of the finest quality, a strange and perplexed looking man with spectacles adorned the couch opposite her. He had raven black and white ombre hair. Regardless of their contrasting colours, it seemed to take well on him. He gave off a sophisticated but yet also suffocating aura that seemed to envelop the entire room. He looked at you in a bit of a shock after hearing your story, no matter how hard he tried to remain stoic, the words you spoke completely baffled him.

"Would you please further elaborate on what you mean by 'caretaker'?" The man asked, the words barely leaving his tongue.

"Well uhm, like I said, I'll be staying here until an heir to the Sakamaki name is made and then I'll be their caretaker. Mr. Karlheinz specified that he'd prefer I raise the child because well.... He didn't technically state WHY I'm supposed to basically mother your child, besides I-I mean you seem perfectly capable! It's just that, well that's what I was sent here to do". You said, trying to explain your task as quickly as possible. You couldn't pinpoint why, but an urge to leave planted itself in your gut and you felt the need to end this interaction as soon as possible.

The man stayed silent for a second before humming out an acknowledgement to your statement. The air was tense as he stood up and spoke.

"Well then, I'm not sure why we weren't aware of something like this, however, let me be the first to greet you to the Sakamaki manor y/n." Just as he said that, a young man with a head of scorching flames entered. His appearance was tattered and unruly. A pant leg was up, while the other remained down, his shirt wasn't fully buttoned and his tie was worn tied around his neck like some sort of odd fashion statement. As soon as his emerald eyes locked onto yours, a smirk creeped its way onto his face.

"Oi Reiji, you didn't say nothin about us having a guest over." The boy spoke, his voice gnarled and sharp.

"I was unaware of her arrival, that man apparently sent us a.....babysitter." Reiji sighed at the end, his imminent frustration growing.

"Uh no no- it's not like that! I'm just here to take care of your child..well future child. I didn't know you had a brother though, Reiji.." You piped in, your brows knitting in a slight confusion as you weren't informed of Karl having more than one son. You originally thought that his son and daughter-in-law were too busy to take care of a child, so that's why you agreed to this whole thing. But now that you were thinking about it, where exactly was the girl? Your thoughts were interrupted as the ruby haired boy let out a mocking snort.

"You mean to tell me that the old man didn't mention there being six of us? pfft- hah!" The boy spoke. Your heart almost plummeted into your ass as your mind slowly processed his words. Six??? There were six of them?

"Yes I'll have to agree with Ayato. It's odd that man didn't mention there's six of us." Reiji said as he fixed his glasses. "Well in that case, it seems an introduction should be made as soon as possible." As he finished speaking, a slight gush of wind hit you from all different angles. Suddenly four more men appeared out of what seemed to be thin air. They watched you coldly despite them all seeming to have different personalities. Silently judging you...no- not judging, but instead sizing you up. You've been in this situation enough times to know what men's stares mean, and these men wanted nothing good. The boy with purple hair spoke first.

"Teddy- what do you think of our new plaything? Doesn't she look lovely? I wonder what she tastes like, certainly not as good as Yui, but I'd still like to try." For the third time tonight you felt like you could scream. He wasn't being serious was he? This has to be some sort of persona, why would he even say that?? You inched behind Reiji, hoping the man could provide some form of shelter.

"Tsk. Go on and introduce yourself, or do I need to do that for you as well? Hiding behind me like a coward, slinking away the minute things seem to get too troublesome for you....honestly I have no idea why you were selected to come here in the first place. What does that man even see in you?" Reiji said with a scoff, his cold words leaving a shiver down your spine and a dent in your self esteem. You felt embarrassed as you sheepishly crawled away from Reiji to introduce yourself.

Once formalities were finally over with a few weird remark here and there, you were shown to your room. It was quite large, but you expected nothing less after seeing the size of the mansion. Truthfully, you were hoping to have a nice room this entire time. A dome glass ceiling sat right in the middle of the room, illuminating it with a blueish hue. The positioning of the bed was a bit odd, yet it captivated those who were to occupy in the residence. It was a circular bed that was laid with golden satin sheets and a marble platform which held up the delicate mattress. It stood right under the dome which would serve for lovely stargazing. There were many fine intricacies and details done to the bed's platform which made it seem much more compelling than a regular bed. The room was oddly laden with bookshelves and hanging plants. This seemed to soften up the room's regality and tone it down for someone of a more modern time. But you admitted that you wouldn't of mind sleeping in a princess like bedroom. Once you were done unpacking, you made your way downstairs since no one would be up at this hour. Instead, you were met with all brothers and a young blonde. She was delicately beautiful like a rose garden after a storm. You could feel her personality seep through from her meek behaviour. You did wonder though, who'd be the father if there were six of them? But before you could ponder the situation anymore, you noticed they were all in uniform despite it being night. You do recall that Karl mentioned they kept a bit of a peculiar schedule, but even so, is this really what he meant? School at night? You supposed it wasn't too weird for people of such high status to be so busy during the day that they'd have to go to school at night. But even so, how could a human possibly function like this? They'd all be braindead zombies by now, strange was definitely one of the many words to describe this lot.

"As we were late to know of your arrival, we hadn't planned for you to be joining us. Since you lack proper attire, you'll be staying back tonight." Reiji spoke almost exasperatedly. You almost felt a bit scared to stay in such an usual place by yourself. Reiji caught the look on your face and clicked his tongue.

"You truly think we'd let you stay here by yourself? One of us is going to remain here with you until the others are back." Reiji said bluntly. Who was it that was going to babysit you while they were away? Maybe this was your chance to learn more about your new housemates. Your eyes scanned the room, looking for your possible sitter. Then, in an instant you both made eye contact. Both orbs absorbed in each other as the others in the room seemed to be nothing more than an afterthought.

Ok so this is just part one of the series I'm planning. I'll let you guys vote on who it was that caught the reader's attention. TY for reading this btw :( I've been obsessed with this franchise since I was 11 so I'm insane currently.

[iznsfw]

The Devil's Telephone

IVE's An Yujin x Male Reader Smut

6969 words

Categories | model!Yujin x photojournalist!you, rough sex

Barely edited. Who cares, I did great.

"Is it true? What they say about you?" 

You're nervous, fidgeting  in the king-sized bed with your arm leaning against the mattress. It feels odd to be in a rich and attractive girl's place without being naked. Not that it's something you've experienced before anyway, but it's like breaking an unspoken law everyone but you was oriented to. But you have your manners, and so does she. Supposedly.

She's still beside you, her expensive clothes hiding not her shapely form. And to think it looks beautiful without the need for oil painting all around it or nakedness. That pretty smile, that also intimidates you a little, is the cherry on top of the cake that is An Yujin.

Speaking of, there's one right now between her lips. She's toying with its strand of a twig, tracing the cherry she got from the bowl beside her bed along the pink hills of her luscious mouth.

"After everything I did," Yujin says, "what do you think?" 

"I don't really…" Struggle to find your words. "I, I don't really dwell on—"

"If I'm a slut or not?" Yujin finishes for you, smiling teasingly. 

This conversation's a mistake, now that she's using words about a subject you tried to tread on lightly. "Look, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, I'm sorry."

"No offense taken. I get it."

Yujin lifts herself off her comfortable lounge position on her bed and instead sits on the backsides of her legs. Her hands are on your lap rather than her own. Should've been a sign for you that this is going nowhere but in a downward spiral. 

"You want to know if the rumors are true? If nepo model An Yujin's really a slut, like they all say?"

"Uh… sure?" 

Yujin gestures her chin to your crotch. "Whip out your dick. Then you'll see."

-

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"I'm not," says Gaeul. "Say that one more time and your career's over. No going back."

The small smile that's an everyday accessory to her features is gone. That tells you that what she says is what there is to her statement. What you hear is what you get. There's no underlying tone to it; she's completely serious, and besides, when has Gaeul ever lied?

Wring the looped lace of your camera over your head and place it and the device that can make or break your career on her desk. "Nope," you say. "I'm not doing it."

"You will," Gaeul says. "Nobody else will do it."

"Can't you get Jiwon to show up there?" It's worth a try, right?

"Like I said, no chance. Rei's with her on vacation. And Yunjin is out of the question."

"God fucking dammit." 

Looks like this day can actually get worse. First, you miss the taxi going to the studio, ending up being about an hour late to your meeting. And then the nervous intern almost spilled coffee all over your camera. Luckily, the scalding liquid only ended up mostly on your pressed shirt. It's like the day is toying with your feelings, trying to see how far you can get without breaking down.

Your eye twitches. The day might see your breaking point after all. 

"Gaeul," you say, "I'm a photojournalist, not a fucking Seattle professional."

"And so are a quarter of the people who go to the fashion week," she counters. Gaeul exhales through her nostrils, then leans forward on her desk, hands folded. "All you have to do is stand in for Chaewon and take the photos for each model. Don't worry about the caption."

"How'll I know what they're wearing?" 

"I can do that for you. I'm quite the fashion enthusiast, if I do say so myself."

You don't see the sense in it, like, at all. "Then why don't you go take the photos?"

"Because I don't want to, newbie," replies Gaeul simply. She swings her legs over the table and places her palms behind her neck. "You can sit here all day whining about I'm-a-photojourn-this and I-can't-do-it-that, but you're still going to go through." 

Gaeul's a rather straightforward girl, yet she can still make her blunt words sound frightening. You have to show that you can hold your own, too, and that you're not going to back up. Ever.

"And why do you think I'll give in so easily?" you challenge. 

She smiles. "Because An Yujin's going to be there, and unless you live under a fucking rock, you'd know she's the main attraction."

-

You aren't dumb. Of course you know her. It’s impossible not to know of her when the magazines all scream her name and the camera flashes crave her presence. It’s hard to navigate life without at least seeing a Yujin standee for one of the brands she sponsors or her face on soju labels. She’s become a household name that, even if you somehow wished it to be the other way, she's become an inescapable force in every Korean’s life. That’s just how it works. It’s been like that for as long as you remember.

She rose up in the industry at a young age. Being her age, you can remember the buzz she creates among your classmates, from head-over-heels, hopeless romantic boys and adoring girls (and a few girls who'd die to be able to touch her, too.) She's on their phone wallpapers, in another cutesie pose, and on the photocards in the back of clear cases. She's here, she's there, she's everything everywhere. 

You're familiar with her, but nothing about her except the usual: she's a model, she's an idol, she's a—

Ah, how should it go?

The girl beside you at the event, who's rather tall and if circumstances were different should be on the runway herself, tells you it goes like this: "She's an international free-use backstabbing slut."

Well, you didn't expect Kazuha to say that so easily (she told you her name earlier just so you had something to call her during the mandatory small talk),  but you know what she's talking about. However, you have no right to say Yujin's a slut when you're dressed… well, dressed like this. Your whole outfit is an embarrassing array of rainbow colors. Even your tie's pulled into passiveness by the colorful dress code. If this is what those high fashion enthusiasts call "fashion," you're glad you're not a part of them. You'll be glad to keep shopping at your local thrift store. 

Hence, "I wouldn't put it that way," you say.

Kazuha smirks. "How would you say it?" she asks. 

Why is she so interested in what you think about her? You suspect Kazuha's one of those girls who's rather jealous of the stick-figure models strutting the runway but would deny it with all her soul. Maybe that's it. She's jealous that she sits there in the audience while perfection after perfection makes themselves known to the public. 

"She's…" You snap a pic of another eighty-pound model walking down the runway. "Uh, promiscuous. That's all."

Kazuha grins. She purses her lips and writes down on her notepad, probably intending to use your statement as a headline pun. "Maybe we should switch jobs," she says. "You can be the devil's advocate journalist, and I can be the white knight photographer." 

Exhale loudly. For fuck's sake, you want to tell her, I'm only here to do the job I didn't want in the first place. Why has she chosen you to play with to fulfill her boredom? Whatever game she's set, you're not joining. 

"Look, what is it about Yujin that you hate?" you ask. 

"She fucked Jang Wonyoung, those MCs she used to partner up with, that actress from the period drama who was on Produce, too… everybody."

"Okay." You look at her pointedly. "Source?" 

Kazuha gestures a rude index to the runway. "Look at her. Look at her and tell me she isn't a slut. I dare you."

You look up from the lens of your camera for once, and as much as you'd like to come to Yujin’s defense, seeing as there’s no evidence to all those allegations and being a public figure with all the criticism must be the deepest ring of hell, you see what Kazuha means. 

You hate to say it, and you’d love to pass no judgment, but the prodding journalist is right. Yujin isn't skin and bones like the other models, nor does she wear light makeup. However, her confident gaze that not once settles on the floor immediately makes you think, wow, now that is a model. She only looks forward, stepping onto the smooth floor in heels that make her much taller than she already is. Her eyes are lined with this sharp, blaring dark that makes her brown contacts stand out and makes her look like a black cat. So much for Jiwon’s nickname.

But that isn’t all. It’s far from done, because it’s not Yujin’s arrogant smile that drips of sultriness that confirms Kazuha's allegations for you, nor is it her makeup. It’s what she’s wearing. Her chest nearly spills out of the oddly-cut neckline of her blouse, and it’s see-through, meaning that even if her busty figure is in some way contained by the clothing, you can still see everything. For example, her tummy lined with her abs and a small tattoo (barely noticeable, but enough to cause a few tabloids to freak out); her wide hips, and of course; the bare flesh of her breasts. The fabric tape does nothing to hide them when her brown nipples beg to be seen through the fabric. Each bounce coerced by her confident strut is out there for all to see, and so are the jiggles of her full thighs. 

Which part of everything do you have to immortalize in a photograph? You don’t know. You just keep taking pictures. There’s plenty enough to create a video of her walk without actually having to record one. 

Seeing your dropped jaw, Kazuha grins satisfactorily. “Told you,” she says.

You aren’t done looking, though. As the press and audience scream her name, (they all know her name—she’s bagged so many brand deals, shot more than enough magazine covers, and performed songs you couldn’t count on two hands just so that any type of audience can recognize her), Yujin steps up to the end of the catwalk. She smiles at all the attention, setting a hand on her waist before blowing several kisses to the audience. 

And, of course, she finishes off her umpteenth walk with another scandal:

Shredding her blouse into pieces. Yujin rips it clean from the seams, letting the lost dangle of fabric finally reveal the whole of her chest. Her skimpy shorts are the only thing remaining complete on herself. 

The viewers gasp, and you do, too. But you're hypocrites, the lot of you, for you remain interested in scanning every bit of her enviable body. Secretly, you all know that some part of you were looking there even before her blouse ripped.

You haven’t seen a model do that before, but then again, she’s not just a model. She’s plenty of things: a singer, an idol, an ambassador—

A slut. A full-on, shameless, lives-up-to-her-name slut.

-

“So.”

“So,” you say, resentfully. Your camera’s in your bag, and Gaeul is on the phone with you. You’re proceeding out of the vicinity like everybody else. It's eight p.m.; someone’s bound to be hungry at this hour, and that someone is you.

You can hear the giggle in her voice as she asks you, “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” you say, flabbergasted. Zip up your satchel bag and walk through the rain. “Gaeul, the girl just ripped her shirt off in front of everyone! This isn’t what I signed up for!”

What should you get tonight? Minute Burger? Maybe McDonald’s or some sushi? You’d take anything—you’re pretty hungry after the long show. If this is how hunger hits after shows, you’re glad you don’t have to go through the whole fashion week. By Saturday, you’d be as dead as everyone was after the stunt Yujin pulled.

“I thought you knew about her, newbie,” replies Gaeul. She’s clearly poking fun at your reaction. What’s also clear is the obvious fact that she picked you out for this job just to see how you’d handle it. Would you go crazy? Treat Yujin as a Victorian man who’d just seen a lady’s ankles would? Oh, she’d love to find out.

“I didn’t know she was…"

"Yeah?"

"B-bold.”

“Oh, please be normal about it. You’re a photojournalist. You handled the dead guy who was stabbed alright, but a woman showing her tits is where you cross the line?”

“It’s not that,” you say tiredly. Your stomach is really growling now. “I guess… I think…”

"Hey."

Your phone drops to the wet cement road. Like a haunting phantom, Yujin appears out of nowhere. It's like she suddenly materialized from the fog of the storm.

You don't know where to look. Yujin's still dressed, (somewhat), in her ruined blouse. The thing is even more transparent as the rain beats down on it. Still, she looks perfect. She is perfect. You know that without having to be a fan of her. 

The light from a camera hidden in a beaten bush makes you flinch. If the crouched man in black taking photos of Yujin isn't there, you'd have accepted your fate to get struck by lightning. Yujin raises her eyebrows questioningly, and you're forced to compose yourself once more.

"Uh, hi," you stammer. Bend down to pick your sodden phone up. Darn it, it's dead. How will you contact Gaeul now?

"You're one of the photographers, right?" asks Yujin. Unlike you, she doesn't care that your phone has met its end, or mind that her boobs are out in the open. 

You mutter something of agreement, but you're still tinkering with your phone. The battery's probably broken, which's a pity when your late mother gifted it to you on the last birthday you had together.

"Damn, must be nice to snap photos of a half-naked chick, huh? You liked seeing me up there?" 

That makes you stop fiddling with your destroyed gadget. "I," you say, cornered into confession but still trying to gather a burst of energy to escape, "I'm not—"

"An Yujin," she says, as if the whole world doesn't scream her name. As if she were just another girl out there who's a little too friendly. She doesn't offer her hand; she grasps yours and shakes it firmly. 

You have no other choice but to be acquainted with her there and then. You tell her your name, albeit nervously, as you slip your phone into your pocket. What is she planning? Why is she out here with you? 

Yujin grins. "Nice to meet you. Want to come to a party at my house? Starts when we get there."

Now you understand what she's planning. What else would you expect from her?

First things first, though: where should you look? Her chest is a dangerous option. To look or not to look? That is the question—you choose the second option. Note the dim stars in the foggy sky. Look down at the road blotted with raindrops. Remark inwardly about the state of your shoes and how they're too expensive to be dragged through a weather like this.

Second, should you go? Gaeul would be looking for you. She'd want the pics immediately so she could put them in the magazine and on your company blog site. But you haven't had fun in years, and for a girl with the wealth and status of Yujin, it might be a new beginning.

Work, however, comes first.

"I'm sorry," you tell her. You really are. Yujin seems like a fun girl outside of her wildness. "I don't think I—"

"Great! Come on, I'll drive you!" 

That's how you end up in a limousine for the first time in your life and learn that An Yujin doesn't take no for an answer. 

The seats are dark and soft, and there's two long aisles of it for thirty pax max to occupy. However, despite the spaciousness, Yujin still chooses to sit snugly beside you. Should you feel flattered? Intimidated? You struggle to choose for this question.

You wonder where you're headed. The infamous Jang Hills where celebrities like singer Son Seungwan and model and humanitarian Jang Wonyoung, who owns the place, reside? The rain is too strong for you to be able to see where the vehicle's headed, but you suspect that's the destination. There's no other. 

"So," says Yujin. She's still sitting comfortably beside you. Her smile dimples her cheeks, and it just doesn't match the boldness of her ripped blouse. When she wears that smile, she looks like a girl who's too cheerful and innocent to be… the way she is. "Would I have to pay you to see my photos?"

"For god's sake, Miss An, put on some clothes before you scare the guy," chuckles the driver, shaking his head. He's a tall, dark man with the typical shades and a rosary on his rearview mirror. You wonder if he prays for Yujin sometimes. 

"But that's no fun," she says, the pout on her face growing wider when her driver tosses her a black fur coat (that still reminds you of her when you note how the chest part is gone) and sleeveless innerwear. Seems like he keeps clothes in his car for situations like these. "Clothes are so big and boring, you know. Totally outdated.

"Anyway, about the photos…?" 

"Oh, you don't have to pay," you tell her. But you know that money isn't a problem with Yujin—she can buy you and your whole life if she chose to. 

"Gimme then." She makes grabby hands, and your camera eventually ends up in them. Her eyes sparkle with narcissistic adoration. "Oh damn, I look hot. Delete this, though. Bad angle."

"I– okay." 

"My tits look amazing, don't you think? Come on, say my tits look fantastic."

"Ms. An," says the driver firmly, albeit his tone holds some of the amusement in it still. "Put on some clothes."

Yujin rolls her eyes, but she does. And you watch as she strips, painfully slow. She pulls the soaked blouse above her wet body, showing her bare, beautiful arms and pits. Even her soft midriff is perfect. And, try as you may (must),  you can't stop looking. Several snaps and pinches would be too weak to pull you back into reality, because there's the goddess that she is to look at. You figure out now why your former classmates were and still are obsessed with her. She may be a wild little thing, but she's got an amazing body, an amazing fashion sense. Everything about her, even her boldness, is enviable. Desirable. Unreachable.

The clothes mold to her beautiful shape. The damp, slightly messy hair only adds to her beauty. You can feel yourself getting warm. 

"We're here," says Yujin cheerfully, oblivious to the way your eyes are raking down her perfect body. "Here's your camera. Wouldn't want it to break like your phone. Pity."

Getting up to open the car door isn't part of a wealthy girl's everyday life. Yujin isn’t an exception—she has her driver to do that plus assist her out of the limo, and when he does, you're welcomed into a whole new world.

The rain has halted. Signs of its earlier presence, however, can be seen on the drops on the maze of bushes. There's statues of Eros, gray and mighty with his strong arms and arrows, perched on pedestals to the entrance of the mansion. Through the gate, you catch sight of a large pool, where heiresses and friends of Yujin laugh and swim. It's no land for lowlives. You are the exception, somehow. 

"This… this is your house?" 

"Yep!” She nods positively. “Daddy gave it to me after he died from a heart attack."

"My condolences," you say. As the guards open the gate to Yujin's mansion, you admire the place. It looks like a temple for cupids. Perhaps it’s Yujin they’re worshiping.  "Did he have heart conditions before that?"

"No." She shakes her head then waves happily to one of her friends at the pool. "He just saw me wearing a bra over my crop top, and he dropped dead."

You snort. Yujin looks at you weirdly. That's how you realize she isn't kidding. 

"You're serious?"

She opens her mouth to say something, but forgets it. It's a long story that doesn't need more sequels. 

-

Just the second drink of the night and you’ve met more celebrities than an average person would see personally in their whole life. As the dazzling disco ball shimmers rainbow colors all over the place, you catch sight of more than plenty of pretty and handsome faces. Over there is Jang Wonyoung, one of the models who walked earlier, and Miyawaki Sakura, a famous CEO of more beauty lines than you can count on ten fingers. Whether their beauties are handcrafted or God-given, they all have something in common: they’re all A-listers—they’re relevant, popular, used to this wild lifestyle. Camera flashes have trained them not to flinch at the gliding lights. This is an everyday routine in their book.

However, you’re used to being behind the camera, not in front of it. You’re overstimulated by the sea of laughing, moving bodies and the loud music. While Yujin happily screams and downs several shots, you stand idly beside her, dizzy and tired. 

“I don’t think I can handle more.”

“Past your bedtime?” asks Yujin, grinning. She waves at Wonyoung and points at you, mouthing something to her, to which the model winks in response. You wonder what kind of exchange the two models had that granted an unusually smug look on Wonyoung’s face. You’re certain it’s about you, but you don’t know what it’s about. You’re not even sure if you want to discover it.

“It’s not that,” you say embarrassedly. “I’m… I’m not a party person. I get lightheaded easily.”

“Wanna take a break? Go to my room?”

Now that’s a red flag. It doesn't even try to hide its true color; it waves proudly in front of you. You’re the bull who went straight for it. 

Yujin’s bedroom is the size of your living room, with a large bed to match. Curtained pillars stand on each end while posters hang off the walls. You suppose that the people on them are the ones Yujin looks up to: IU, known as Lee Jieun whenever she ventures out of singing and into acting; Marilyn Monroe (no explanation needed), and a few other nameless models and actresses. A lot are old posters of seventies’ pornographic films. Lights frame the mirror on the dresser table. 

“You’re a privileged girl, miss An,” you say. It’s the only way you can respectfully say that she’s kind of a spoiled brat. But maybe that’s your jealousy talking.

“I know, right?” replies Yujin, twirling around. “And please, call me Yujin. You can sit on the bed if you want to.”

Your mind toys with the idea of the posters on her wall debating if you’re the hundredth person to have come over or the thousandth. Nevertheless, you want to stay neutral; it’s none of your business anyway. So you take a seat on the edge of the softest mattress you’ve ever felt while Yujin does so, too. She kicks her boots off on the carpeted floor. 

“Hey,” says Yujin, “want to play a game before you doze off?”

Just how many red flags does this girl have? “Er, sure.” You shrug. Maybe it’s just a game, nothing more, like she said. 

“Since we barely know each other, let’s take turns asking each other questions. Dibs on the first question.

“I haven’t seen you in shows before. How did you end up there?”

A safe start. “One of my coworkers was sick,” you explain. “I had to fill in for her. My turn.”

“Hit me.”

“Did you take modeling classes?”

Yujin laughs as if it was the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “God, no,” she says. “Classes and workshops are scams. All I had to do was ask my daddy to ask for a spot for me.”

“Must be nice.”

“Right? Did you take classes for photography?”

“I took one of the scams, yeah,” you say, earning a giggle from Yujin. “I’m a journalist first. It’s all I know.”

Meaningful silence fills the air. You remain hooked on your sentence, realizing how true it is. Photojournalism is the only thing you’re good at. It’s sheltered you and brought you so many opportunities at the same time. You don’t know how to find other hobbies to make your forte when you’re stuck in its bubble, and its bubble only. Without your camera, you’re nothing. Without people like Yujin to take photos of, you’re nothing, too. 

You suppose you should break the heavy silence. But you’re unsure if your question should be asked; it might trigger a violent response from her, although she’s been nothing but laid-back with you. And you don’t particularly want a rich girl to ruin your career. You’ve gone so far that the only direction to look at is forward.

But you must learn to take risks.

"Is it true? What they say about you?" 

You're nervous, fidgeting  in the king-sized bed with your arm leaning against the mattress. It feels odd to be in a rich and attractive girl's place without being naked. Not that it's something you've experienced before anyway, but it's like breaking an unspoken law everyone but you was oriented to. But you have your manners, and so does she. Supposedly.

She's still beside you, her expensive clothes hiding not her shapely form. And to think it looks beautiful without the need for oil painting all around it or nakedness. That pretty smile, that also intimidates you a little, is the cherry on top of the cake that is An Yujin.

Speaking of, there's one right now between her lips. She's toying with its strand of a twig, tracing the cherry she got from the bowl beside her bed along the pink hills of her luscious mouth.

"After everything I did," Yujin says, "what do you think?" 

"I don't really…" Struggle to find your words. "I, I don't really dwell on—"

"If I'm a slut or not?" Yujin finishes for you, smiling teasingly. 

This conversation's a mistake, now that she's using words about a subject you tried to tread on lightly. "Look, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, I'm sorry."

"No offense taken. I get it."

Yujin lifts herself off her comfortable lounge position on her bed and instead sits on the backsides of her legs. Her hands are on your lap rather than her own. Should've been a sign for you that this is going nowhere but in a downward spiral. 

"You want to know if the rumors are true? If nepo model An Yujin's really a slut, like they all say?"

"Uh… sure?" 

Yujin gestures her chin to your crotch. "Whip out your dick. Then you'll see."

You’re flustered. Did Yujin—this tall, alluring model that’s got her whole life ahead of her yet nothing to lose, this irritatingly attractive Yujin—really say that to you? Or was it something lost in the swarms of shouts and music from outside of the room? Maybe you’ve misheard. Maybe you’ll keep playing safe tonight. 

But those are just mere maybes with no connection at all to what’s about to happen.

“Can’t do it yourself, pretty boy? Let me help you.”

Yujin lifts your satchel bag from your shoulders. You find yourself raising your arms to help her. It’s like the what and tension in the air have infected you and made you into this heated, lustful character far from the real you, because if this were truly your own self, you’d say you had a career. You’d say this shouldn’t be happening. You’d leave the room instead of helping her unbuckle your belt. You’d do anything but this.

Perhaps she’s changed you.

Yujin slips a tongue along the path of her luscious lips at the sight of your bare thighs and cock. “Our friend here,” she says, “needs a little help from me, no?”

“Yujin…” you moan, and it’s humiliating, especially when barely anything sexual has happened yet. At least, anything sexually physical. 

Luckily for you, she curls her fist around your dick and gives justification to your breathy sounds. Maybe the rumors about how she likes to get around are true; Yujin knows how to work her way with a cock. Her warm fingers jerk your flesh at just the right timing, letting the hardness build up before doing that too with the pace. She’s looking at you with this wild desire in her eyes that grows bigger when your erection does, too. Oh, and that smile—if looks could kill, An Yujin would already be arrested for your murder.

“Now that’s not so bad, is it?” she remarks. She spits on your cock. Her wet saliva coats your length with just enough to let her smooth palm slide along itself pleasurably. “You like this? Just wait until you feel my pussy. Or maybe my lips would do first? The higher ones, I mean.” 

Yujin’s lips descend onto your shaft, welcoming it into an impossibly soft and wet heaven. Yujin’s little tongue flicks at your base gently, even daring to lick at a little part of your balls before working their way up. It deliciously slides upwards at your veins.

“Fuck, Yujin. Your mouth—fuck, it feels so good.”

“Mmm.” Yujin engages in an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss with your tip. “I know. I’d fuck me, too, if I could, but I have you to do that.”

“Right,” you say breathily, because she is. If she’s sucking your cock this well and her cheek’s painfully stimulating as your cockhead brushes it, how much better would her pussy be? You’re definitely fucking her, even if your experience in this is zero. Yes, that’s also right: you’re a virgin. Zero experience, no bitches.

But, if it means anything, it’s the other way around. It’s Yujin making you her bitch. She may be serving you with the lips and kisses of a good girl, but her eyes tell you that there’s more to it than you think. You’re hers, see, for this night, and that’s all you ever will be. You’re no photojournalist anymore—you’re Yujin’s one night stand, and that’s the only achievement people will ever remember to your name.

“These’re so fucking full,” murmurs Yujin as she admires your heavy balls. Sucking on them lightly before smiling up at you, she adds, “Make sure to blow all of it in my face, ‘kay? Promise me.”

“Think you can handle it, Yujin?” you ask, and it’s another embarrassing moment you’ll relive forever, for your cockiness will never get on the level she has. Your voice shakes too hard and your cock drips too much—it’s clear who owns who at this point.

“I’m a big girl.” Unfazed, she smiles. “I can handle myself.”

“Y-you sure?”

“Oh, don’t play hard to get it, baby,” Yujin coos. She pleases you with one hand and glides her fingers on your thigh with the other. It’s deadly. She’s deadly. “Let your guard down. It’s just me.”

“And you’ve said that to how many people?” you shoot back.

“More than you’re worth,” she quips. She winks at you. “Now cum for me.”

Ouch, but it doesn’t matter when her lips provide a great suction to cool the burn. It’s making your cock feel the heat instead, forming the tightness in your stomach more. Her hands massaging your thighs causes your sensitivity to reach an all-time high. Yujin’s covered your shaft in such an amountful that just one lick sends your toes curling. She licks, she sucks, she laps at your weak spots and delights in the upward push of your hips, but her hands keep your legs down. Can’t have her meal escaping. She wants all of your cum, and when Yujin wants (no, needs) something, she gets it. It’s how she’s navigated life, having everything her heart could ever want brought to her by whim. But if she has to work for your cum, then so be it. Either-which-way, she’s not giving up until she gets it.

She kisses your cock deeply, almost making your lips jealous. She sucks on each sensitive side and your dripping tip. What takes the cake, though, is how she downs the whole thing so suddenly, slipping itself inside her tight throat and letting you fuck it. Gasps can’t be contained by your pursed lips, and their cycle of repetition continues because of her. Because of Yujin, Yujin and her stupidly desirable mouth.

“Fuck,” you whine. When she hears that, she pulls away. Like rain, drops of semen make slick landings on her face. You keep expelling several shots of the thing she so desperately wants, and you realize that, even with your own pleasure being fulfilled, you’re still serving Yujin. You’re still giving her what she wants: your cum on her face. The fact that she’s playing with you remains stoic.

“Ah, this is the best.” Yujin licks her cumstained lips. “I could have swallowed it all like I did with these cherries here, but I can’t let it spoil the main course.”

“W-which is?” you inquire, still panting. Can you handle more? 

You find out through Yujin taking off her black vest. Then, she slips out of her jean skirt. It hugs her lower figure so nicely that it nearly makes you mourn their departure, but you find a better thing to gawk at, and it’s Yujin’s ass and thighs. She may have dressed earlier, but the panties were off. She cares not for modesty, even outside of the modeling industry.  It’s just not who she is. 

For that, you’re glad. If Yujin were modest, you wouldn’t have had the chance to see her fat ass and shaven pussy up close. You wouldn’t get to see her sway her hips side to side, letting you see from behind how her ass ripples and bounces, or let you peer at her dripping thighs. 

"You're weaker than all the others," Yujin notes. "I like it."

Should you be offended? Probably, but you aren't, because there's her approval. There's her saying that she likes how easily you break. There's her on the bed with her pussy spread by her fingers, revealing her tiny hole and needy clit.

There's a lot to look at is what you're saying, and a lot to take in consideration. For example—

"Ohhhh, fuck," moans Yujin. She rubs her core and gets a feel of how wet she is. "I'm so wet, see? I'm so, fuck, wet from blowing you."

Yujin leans against one of the pillars of her bed. What makes the sight of her masturbating hotter is that she's still covered in the face with cum that soon drips down her neck and onto her collarbone. She looks like she's been used incessantly, to the point where no amount of cock or finger can help her reach a good enough high. Although you're still sensitive, you begin to jack yourself off to her.

"Shit. Ohhh." Her head tosses backwards and she shuts her eyes. "This feels so good. Make me feel even better. Use your mouth."

It's all about what she wants, but you find out that you also want to put your mouth on her. Stop jerking off to kneel on the floor and place your hands on her thick thighs. You have no idea how to do this except from porn, but she moans loudly when you flick your tongue upwards, so you must be doing well.

Yujin's so wet that she dribbles on her expensive sheets. The feminine scent of her drives you crazy. Due to that, you pick up the pace of eating Yujin out. She's delicious. Better than any expensive meal you got going out. 

"Oh, fuck," mewls Yujin. She grinds her clit down on the flat of your tongue. "That's it. Eat me out like that."

Next, guide your tongue to her slit, catching the juices she has. Push it inside, make her thighs suddenly clamp around your head. Painful, but worth it, because as useful as her makeshift earmuffs are, you can still make out her heavy moans.

“G-good, god, so good. Don’t you stop, don’t you fucking stop.” 

“I won’t.”

The force of your mouth holds nothing back as it holds Yujin’s nub captive. She pulses in your mouth, and you can sense that she’s close because she’s screaming. She's squirming, she's writhing, she's—

“Stop.”

“But I, I thought you said—” You were having such a good time, too. Why did she have to ruin it?

Yujin giggles. “I wanted to cum on your cock,” she confesses. Sweat rolls down the sides of her face. “Let me?”

She’s subtly assertive like that, asking you first before making you do it anyway. She’s so used to getting her way, so used to letting people bend reality into the form she wants. And you’re becoming one of those people, as you lie down on the bed and let her mount you. You don’t suppose anyone would refuse either—her splayed lips rubbing your tip seems like a good thing to have in exchange for being under her ownership.

“Fuck,” you curse. Maybe this is better, in hindsight. Her hole grasps for you, but she teases it by only letting her clit glide along your cock. “Miss An, ah, Yujin, you’re so—”

“Pretty? Successful? Tight?” She sinks down on your dick with a smirk that differs from your weakened look of bliss. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

They’re all perfect adjectives to describe her, but you weigh in the most on the last. Her soaked slit swallows you without time to properly take it in. She just keeps bouncing on you, a millisecond going unspared, as if she’d die if your cock weren’t ramming in her all times of the day. By her desperate moans, you think you’re right. They’re heavy, hanging onto your mind for too long that it just makes you throb harder inside. 

You reach up to grab her tits. The bra-like innerwear she dons blocks you from experiencing the whole of it, and Yujin takes that into consideration, through which she pulls it up her arms and off herself. Her bust now moves up and down freely, looped in your mind like a constant reminder of how lucky you are to have Yujin fuck you. She may get around a lot, but whoever she fucks is like her: a hell of a catch.

 You lift yourself up to suck on their brown nipples. She moans ferally. Her pushing your head deeper into her tits is how you realize you’ve wanted to do this, to suck and play and slap her chest, ever since you saw them be set free on the runway. It’s funny how two mounds of flesh can hypnotize you just like that. You’re trying to defeat the impulse actions they convince you to do, as if they were spiritual entities on your shoulder each to twist your decisions. But both are devils—even from their source, it’s clear that An Yujin is no angel.

“Yes, so good!” she screams. Her eyes are shut as she rides you with an impulse and speed that surely can’t be human. The pleasure she unleashes onto your cock as her pussy clings and gropes it must be the embodiment of the deadly sin of lust itself. It was written before in holy books, preached as a warning in churches. There’s no explanation for how angrily she impales herself with your cock. “Your cock’s too fucking big, I’m going to cum all over it!”

You spank her ass, and the plentiful skin wiggles right back into your hand. Seeing her face twist up into this pained yet blissful reaction inspires you to continue. That and your cock entering and exiting her hole, plus your kisses following the path of her neck makes Yujin go crazy. 

“Fuck me!” She’s fully unhinged when she cums. Her short yet sharp, alliterate downward thrusts of her core leaves red on your thighs. She’s kissing you with this hunger that’s been fulfilled, in a way, but with which comes gluttony. She can’t have enough. She can’t have enough of your dick. It starts to scare you how she’s like the girls your pastor warned you about in Sunday school—she’s a gluttonous nymphomaniac greedy for things that aren’t good for her. Aren’t good for you.

Having sex with An Yujin makes you debate if you should go back to your religious roots and pray again. You’ve heard about the devil hiding behind human faces, and she completely fits the criteria: charming, deceiving, gorgeous beyond human comprehension. However, her divine body also can be something holy. It’s something that’s more than worth worshiping.

Which is which: evil or good? Angel or demon? A goddess who descended to earth or something far, far more dangerous? 

Whichever, you just busted a load inside exactly that. 

-

“So.”

“Hm?”

“Come on, tell me,” you say. Yujin’s teasing banter piques your curiosity to higher levels. “Did you really fuck all those people, or is it just,” shrug, as if you couldn’t care less when you do, “you know, hearsay?”

Yujin strokes your chest thoughtfully. The aftermath of the rough sex has left her almost invalid, but after a shower, she’s good to go. You followed suit after.

“The devil’s telephone,” she whispers.

“Huh?”

“Here. You know where to call me.”

[whoistartaglia]

come one, come all

there’s a fabulous magic show in town hosted by the two most famous magicians in fontaine. you unknowingly meet one of them—lyney, a man with a smile full of secrets—in a quiet bar in monstadt.

lyney x reader (pre-release)

there’s a curious man sitting next to you at the bar.

the tavern you frequent is located in a small village at the edge of monstadt, known to host the occasional traveler and adventurer, but none as peculiar as him. his clothes are clean and fashionable, and there’s a look on his face like he knows more secrets than you, has more tricks up his sleeve. moreover, what’s stranger is that he ordered only one drink and has yet to touch it, only observing it, faintly reminding you of a moth studying a flame.

“is something wrong with it?” the man breaks out of his hypnosis at your teasing question, and looks up in suprise. you explain, “i know the bartender, and he’s really great. if something’s the matter with your drink i know he’ll replace it.”

“oh, no,” he says dismissively. “it’s nothing like that. i was just interested in it—we don’t have this brand of wine where i’m from.”

“and where’s that?”

“fontaine,” he replies simply, and yes, now that he says it, you can hear the distinct accent.

“why are you in monstadt?”

“for the same reason everyone else is, i imagine,” he replies, taking a ginger sip from the glass. “for the show.”

ah, yes, the show. a magic show, famous in fontaine and most of teyvat for its impressive tricks and wonderous miracles. you’ve been hearing of it since the twin magicians announced their arrival to monstadt to entertain and wow the masses.

that’s why there are more than an abundance of travelers, adventurers, foreigners, in monstadt. some of them have tickets; many don’t. they hope the magicians will take pity on them and spirit a ticket to them in the middle of the night. or maybe they intend to steal one from actual holders. perphaps a bit of both.

“are you also going?” he presses.

you purse your lips and look down. “no, i’m not.” the tickets were too expensive and too difficult to get your hands on.

“did you want to?”

“of course i did,” you respond, the words coming out more bitter than you intended. it’s the closest thing to magic the world has to offer. tricks to make you forget it’s only an act; displays to dazzle even the most prudent of disbelievers. card tricks, doves from hats, sawing a lady in half and convincing the audience she’s actually been split in two.

of course you want to go. anyone in teyvet would, especially you, who comes from a small town in monstadt, who may never see anything like it again.

“i see,” is all the man says.

there’s an uncomfortable silence you feel obligated to break, and you ask after a second, forcing the lingering bitterness out of your tone, “are you going to watch?”

“yes,” he says, hesitating. “i am…going.”

“do you have a good seat?”

he smiles faintly.

“the best in the house.”

“i’m glad.” you swallow and stand up, placing down enough coins for you and the stranger. he watches you with veiled interest, especially the way you straighten up and conceal the frown creeping on your face.

“i should go,” you tell him. “i’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

“yes, you do” he says faintly, agreeing with you. before you can opine on the strange statement, he smiles. “it was wonderful to meet you.”

you turn and leave, waving to the bartender wiping down the bar as you do. before you’re out the door, he calls, “i shall see you tomorrow!”

you pause and turn back around, intent on correcting the man, but he’s already gone—leaving nothing but a golden, shimmering ticket left in his wake.

•••

it’s a trick, a lie, a falsity. your subconscious screams at you that the piece of paper in your hand, that reads admit one in black inky letters, is a fake. it can’t be real—there’s no way.

yet you find yourself traveling to the shining capitol, with the ticket clutched in your hands. the wind begs to rip it away and the crowded streets tempts it to get lost and stolen, but you hold on tight, your grip only loosening when you hand it to the collectors at the front entrance.

they let you in without a second glance, and still in a state of disbelief, you find your seat, front row, center spot. best seat in the house. you look around for the man you saw last night but he is nowhere to be found, and a part of you wonders it he gave up your ticket for you. but that doesn’t make sense, you just met, it’s too peculiar, too much like a fairytale, a magic spell, come true.

your wandering thoughts are caged and tamed at the diming of the lights. you turn and face the center where a spotlight shines and a puff of smoke reveals two figures. the twin magicians. lyney and lynette.

the crowd errupts in applause, it’s the first trick of the evening, and you join in, until the smoke fades, and the magicians come into view. the sister with cat-like ears smiles adoringly at the crowd, and the brother does the same. but whereas lynette’s eyes are roaming, meeting as many fans as possible, lyney’s have yet to leave you.

at your shock and surprise, lyney dips his head slightly, and smiles, all too familiar from last night. turning back to the main crowd, he introduces himself and his sister, and announces to the crowd.

“come one, come all! we have a great show in store for you! magic will be casted, miracles with be had, and...” his eyes find yours again, and winking he continues, “hearts will be stolen, tonight.”

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

Hello, I hope you are well. If it’s no trouble I’d like to put in a request King Baldwin x reader where she’s a kind but spoiled princess and spends money on new clothes in the latest fashion from her country. Baldwin has been asked to talk to her about her spending habits but he sees how happy it makes her getting new clothes from her home country because she’s expressed how much she’s missed it and in a way helps with her being homesick. A bit inspired by the Marie Antoinette scene where she’s trying on different clothes while eating the most delicious of cakes. Thank you.

♡ For You, My Love - King Baldwin x Reader ♡

♡ Fluff ♡

A/N: Hello Anon! Thank you for the request, I like this idea a lot. I hope it's what you had in mind! (also I'm sorry its taken so long to get to this request 😭). As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy (barely mentioned in this one).

“Oh isn't it lovely Baldwin” y/n said happily, twirling around the room in her brand new gown. “Yes, it is beautiful my love” the king replied, looking up from his work to observe. He smiled as she admired herself in the mirror.

“It's the latest of its kind you know?” she said cheerfully. “It has only been available since last week! Isn't that amazing?!”.

Baldwin chuckled, “indeed, it is a gorgeous dress and you look impeccable in it”.

He loved seeing how happy receiving the latest fashion from her home country made his wife.

The queen had expressed to him one day that she missed her home and just wanted something to remind her of her family and their people.

She also missed the fashion. She loved the fashion of her home country. She even spent time designing dresses and other clothing in her free time.

The very same day, the young king sent a few servants to purchase some items of clothing from her home, for him to present to her as gifts in hope help her overcome the homesickness.

It worked like a charm.

That was many months ago now and since then her collection of the latest fashion had grown significantly.

She spent an awful lot of money on her collection and her spending habits had caught the attention of some royal officials who were more than displeased by the situation.

“My lord, you must speak with the queen about her spending” one had approached him to say. “She has spent far too much money on clothing in the last few weeks. It is inappropriate for a young woman to be so.. materialistic!”.

Baldwin had scowled at the man's statement.

“How dare you comment on my wifes modesty. She is your queen and you ought to show her respect” he pointed a gloved finger at the shorter man's chest. “She is more than permitted to spend as much as she likes on whatever she wants”.

The king had not mentioned anything of this interaction to y/n, simply allowing her to relish in new clothing each week.

He adored seeing her so happy. Watching her twirl around their shared chambers in new, brightly colored formal gowns with the biggest smile on her face was everything to him.

He would do anything to make her happy. Her smile was so beautiful.

However, there had been whispers around the castle about how she was “spoiled”. This angered the king immensely. She was the kindest soul he had ever met. She simply had a love for fashion. Was that such a crime?

Baldwin did everything in his power to shield his wife from the judging remarks of others, but occasionally, one or two split through the cracks.

More than once, he had discovered her crying in the royal chambers after somebody had insulted her about what she was wearing.

You see, the fashion of the queen's home country was far different to that of Jerusalem. It was far more extravagant and less “practical” as somebody had put it.

Still, she wore the dresses around the castle but would change into something better suited for a desert before going out . So she did not understand why people were so harsh.

“It's not like I'm wearing a ball gown while riding a horse? Why are they so rude?” y/n had told her husband through tears.

“They are just jealous, my love” Baldwin said.

“They are jealous that they themselves can not look as beautiful as you and afford the clothing that you can”.

He cupped her cheek in his hand, admiring her soft, perfect features. “You are so kind, my queen. You are the exact opposite of ‘spoiled’, you deserve the world and I will do anything to give it to you. Spending some money is the least I can do for you” he told her.

Y/n tried her best to ignore the words of others and remember her husband's words instead.

But still, the only place in the castle she was truly happy was in the royal chambers, trying on brand new gowns as Baldwin watched, complimenting her on each one.

That is where the queen was the happiest, and the king would continue to provide her that happiness, no matter what he was advised of doing.

[hobisstar]

What are you hiding from love?| Yandere!Jk x Reader V Last Part

Summary: Being in a relationship with Jungkook you’ve always noticed the signs, the red flags if you will. Being so in love with him you ignored them, until the people you loved dearly started disappearing one by one.

Warnings: Murder, Jungkook victim blaming ( like he will say i killed you because you are too stupid or whatever), Possessiveness, Mentions of Smut, Controlling, Locking up YN.

Taglist: vante 🫶🏾

A/N: This is made to be scary! That is all. I honestly dont like mixing smut with yandere because i read yandere fics to be spooked not horny lol. This has been absolutely fun to write for you guys! Im so happy how much love it had gotten over the past month since ive been writing it! I love you all so so much! Enjoy!

Its been about two years since Jungkook decided to let yn go on her own! So far, yn has become the owner of the coffee shop, has opened up plenty of them across Asia and plans to open some in The Untied States.

Life has been looking absolutely beautiful for yn! But heres the thing.

Bodies have been discovered. Fresh bodies. Of course going through what she went through with Jungkook, she feared that this was his doing. That the so called hobby has now reached the news channels. Though it says that the crimes has been in only England, it was still capability of it being Jungkook.

“Yn! Are you even listening? Im telling you Namjoon wants to take you on a date!” Joy, yns now close friend that she has gained from opening the coffee shops.

“Sorry, but i dont think im ready to date. The last guy was for 5 years and it didn’t turn out well in the end.” Yn mumbled looking over at the tv that was on the crime scene of the killings.

But what was showed, made yns blood run cold.

What was at the crime scene was dandelions.

The flowers that Jungkook always used to gift her on days he felt like we did something wrong. He would cut the steam off and just leave the flowers to never be able to grow again.

Was he…back?

It was closing time and of course yn being the owner, she decided that it was her duty to close every single night.

But tonight, she couldnt shake the feeling that she was being watched.

As everyone was leaving she saw a guy with a big hoodie on taking his time to clean up his mess on the table. Putting his crumbs inside a napkin then taking the napkin and closing it tightly then throwing it out.

yn watched from behind the counter taking containers from the counter and putting them on the shelf behind her.

This mysterious guy has been coming in everyday. Same time. She never serves him but she knows Joy does and she hates serving him. ‘His glare, it can kill.’ She would say when describing the eyes of this mysterious man.

While cleaning she saw the guy get up and come up to the counter.

Face mask on and glasses… sun glasses.

Its night time.

Maybe it was a fashion statement. Thats what yn left it as. “ Hi sorry we are about to close soon so im gonna have to ask you to leave..” is what she was aiming to say but once she turned around she saw he just left a napkin with hand writing on it.

She grabbed it and began to read it:

“Hi baby! Oh its been such a long time, oh how i miss you. Our child also misses you. 2 years right? That is let you go? Ah, I remember something. Today is our anniversary! Our now 7 year anniversary. Im picking you up at 11! Be ready!

JJK,”

Yn was at this point shaking. Fear took over her body but was trying to hide it. She wasnt doing such a good job at that. As much as she wanted to call the cops, get him arrested, she knew that those cops had no chance in trying to get Jungkook.

Hed kill them all in the blink of an if he even knew that they talked to yn.

When yn got home she didnt let the fact go that when she got there she obviously saw Jungkooks car right outside her town house.

Mind you this is the 5th time this year she has moved. None of the reasons dealing with Kook but they definitely where personal reasons.

She braced herself, once she goes inside her home, Jungkook will be inside.

She could call the cops and run away from home then go to Jins house.

Actually now that Yn thought about it, what if Jin had something to do with it? He was always to calm for her liking honestly. Why was he always just so calm with him? I mean he explained it yes, hes seen it for so many years but why didnt he at least call the cops? Then again was the cops really gonna help him?

Entering the home, it felt like deja vu. Coming home on anniversary and Jungkook was cooking their favorite shared dish.

Spaghetti! Yn liked it because it was delicious and Jungkook probably like it because it reminded him of blood.

“My love! You are right on time! The Spaghetti is hot and ready to be platted. Get comfortable and come eat”

He didn’t need to turn around for yn to know that it was actually him. He colored his tattoos, became more swoll and also cut his long hair.

Yn didnt change anything or didnt get comfortable since this was all just too much for her.

‘Keep calm and go with his plan, yn.’ Thats all she kept telling herself.

Though what was his plan? Drug her? Kill her?

Well, none of those. He wanted her back. If that meant living in this house with her, then so be it. Jin had Bam so, they’d have plenty of time together.

Finally he sat down with two plates of spaghetti and there he was in all his glory.

He had the cockiest smirk while toying with his now new lip ring before sitting down across from yn.

“ Fucking finally, i have you again.”

[bonzos-number-1-fan]

TMAGP 26 Thoughts: Sam is awkward. Celia is hot.

Yet another guest writer episodes and this time it's Muna Hussen. She' co-creator and producer on The Silt Verses, and produced and acted in I Am In Eskew. The Silt Verses is a show I can wholeheartedly suggest giving a listen. It's great in just about every way a thing can be. I might leave a pitch for it as an addendum. I Am In Eskew is in the forever pile of things I may one day get to. It's a really well written episode too, I liked this one a lot. It is, unfortunately, another pretty explicit one so I don't expect to have a load to say, but that's not the same as it being bad.

Spoilers for episode 26 below the cut.

Celia and Sam's conversation doesn't have a load of note in it. Yes, they're going to meet Helen but that's for later. The important detail here is how Celia categorises her incidents. Which she does with the least effort imaginable. She's not had any misfiles yet which tells me that either those no longer happen or you just need to get it in the right Section. But more importantly than that it's also a good look at just how little she cares about the job. We've all known she's had ulterior motives from her introduction but it's nice to see ways that is reflected.

Much like the last incident there isn't too too much to rip into for what I talk about. I'm not sure the themes of this one speak to any greater connection and the characters are all new as far as I know. Which only really leaves one detail to talk about. The Archivist or, rather, *an *Archivist as that's the more interesting detail. The Archivist here didn't really do much we've not seen before. The forced running isn't to dissimilar to the forced drowning and Jarrod did seem to be mumbling in classic fashion. No statement to be heard as such but that might just be because of the framing. However, unlike previous run ins with an Archivist they're very much aware that they're not the only one. Whether this leads to something more grand or not is hard to say but it's an interesting detail.

Alice is finally up to episode 11 with the plot. More seriously it's nice to see her piecing things together now. I do wonder if that was Chester's point or not. Gwen was a little weird in this interaction IMO. Alice and Gwen shared a fairly major revelation together, that this ties into, but she seems to have distanced herself a lot from that emotionally already. Which isn't out of character but does come a little fast.

Helen is *very *Helen here. I think of all the returning characters she might have changed the least. At least from where she started. It's lovely to see her back, although I do wonder if maybe they're leaning on these characters a little too much at this stage. It's hard to know if this is one-off fanservice or the way of things going forward. I hope it's the latter because the less of the old cast we get the more of the new cast we'll see. There isn't a huge amount to say here but its good to see them getting more information about the Institute. Also, unfortunately Helen is still a tory. Categorically disproving the "these characters are now living their best life" theory. It's all still hell. I'd also include the transcripts note for the laugh but that's a TMA spoiler and probably one person hasn't seen that show. Besides if you know, you know.

Sam and Celia finally fucked. Good for them. Well, bad for them if TMA is anything to go off for couples in this setting. But, y'know.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet and Terminology Sheet

DPHW Theory: 4463 is pretty normal for this, I think. No major surprises.

CAT# Theory: 1 is a 1. I'll maybe try to write an essay on this before the season ends. No prommies tho.

R# Theory: BC seems about right.

Header talk: Exhaustion (Athletic) -/- Compulsion (Tape). Also very very normal.

I guess I will write that addendum then.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Addendum: Go listen to The Silt Verses.

It's a horror audio drama that's more or less a world where the modern religious landscape is a polytheistic one, with fabricated corporate gods putting pressure on local ones, outlawed religions, and all sorts of fun stuff. But it's a world where religions, fabricated or otherwise, are also powerful and gods do exist and perform miracles. It follows two worshippers of the Trawler Man, and outlawed god, on their pilgrimage up its great black river. As you might expect things don't go smoothly and soon enough there's a man hunt, run ins with cults stranger than theirs, and all sorts of revelations.

The world building is a real high light too. It's just the right level of "this world is horrific yet treated as mundane". It's worth listening just to see how that's all built on.

I rate it a strong prisoners-buried-alive-in-the-foundations-of-new-construction-projects-to-bless-them/10.

[whateverurmomwants]

No cuz do you ever just realize how powerful lucy is?

She was able to conjure ALL of her celestial spirits, 3 or 4 of them being fricking ZODIACS, all at once and being powerful enough to be recognized by the celestial spirit king? And all in the first season? Where she hasn’t even had her star dresses and other abilities she has learned?

Not to mention this theory about her being a descendent of the goddess Anna, the best Celestial Spirit user.

And im rewatching it rn, and ive already encountered a moment where if she didnt interfere, natsu would have died. The arc with phantom lord where natsu is battling gajeel? Gajeel had eaten iron but there was no fire for natsu to eat, and so Lucy gave him that fire by using Sagittarius. Without that fire, natsu definitely wouldnt have finished that fight.

People are always saying ‘oh well that may be so, but if she hadn’t joined the guild-‘ Phantom lord would have most definitely attacked them for another reason. They wanted to remain the best guild in Fiore. Fairytail challenged that, so it was just a matter of time before they fought.

“Well, she always gets in their way-“ Yeah, considering the fact that she grew up in a household where her fathers only concern was the family line, she wouldn’t exactly have time to practice her magic. The only spirit she really had was Aquarius, and we can infer that she only brought her out on very few occasions. And she also wouldn’t have been able to build up any target practice or any muscle building, since Jude would say, in the stupid old fashioned way, ‘women don’t need muscles. All you need to do is make yourself look presentable to find a husband.’ He definitely wouldn’t have wanted her practicing her magic.

Meanwhile, all the others grew up in an environment where they could practice their magic freely with other wizards. They had teachers and activities that enhanced their magic and physical builds, she didn’t. So of course she wouldn’t be able to be on their level so soon.

Also, the amount of magic it takes to summon a silver spirit is a lot, but even MORE so for a Zodiac. Mashima explained that it pretty much is on a scale from 1-100. Plu being the easiest to summon at one, and her highest silver key being Lyra at 18. Her golden keys on the other hand, has Aquarius at 100 and the lowest being Cancer at 52. Others talk about the spirits only being able to use as much magical power as Lucy uses to summon them, but i doubt that theory/statement.

And its also amazing even then because she can keep those gates open for a tremendous amount of time, and multiple on some occasions. I don’t know if this part is true, but i believe that the mage has to have at-least some level of concentration on the gate for it to keep open, so if that’s correct, then it makes it even more astounding that she is able to focus on the bond at all times while fighting. And i only say this because her spirits go back to the spirit realm when she is knocked out.

Also during the E.N.D arc, (haven’t gotten there yet, seen bits and pieces) she literally REWRITES the E.N.D book that Zeref HIMSELF wrote. She literally rewrote his fate. And yes, i know that Gray was there to help her out, but at the same time, most people would have still not have been able to handle the mental and physical strain that causes.

And im just guessing on this part, but didnt she learn an entirely new part of her magic by someone in blue pegasus and learned how to preform the spell in like a week? Month? Some other very short time span?

Anyways i just love lucy and i would litterally rather show everyone my ao3 library before letting her get hurt/bashed. Lmao

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some replies! About a certain fox’s career and about bottoms potentially spoiling their tops…

Anonymous asked:

So I’ve seen around Leona x Idia and politely ask you for some (and please don’t make the wholesome) headcannons if your able to

Anon! Unfortunately, I’ll have to politely refuse because we don’t really ship Leona and Idia :(

Anonymous asked:

Honest John should make an Onlyfans. How do you think he would do with that?

Anon’s out there using his legal name 😭 Jk this one also isn’t his legal name…

I think he has a lot of potential! There would be a learning curve because he properly doesn’t know how to use technology super well, but he knows how porn and pinups work, so… Even though his taste is a bit old-fashioned… I think that would make him fit into a very specific niche 🤔

And if it works, that would make him euphoric – imagine earning money like that without really risking it?? People who have money to spend really are naïve saps! He would laugh at them as if he is not genuinely enjoying himself for the first time in forever lol

Realistically, his biggest issue is that he absolutely doesn’t have a credit card to receive payments, and he doesn’t have a proper ID, but with the right kinds of friends that’s probably easy to fix!

Anonymous asked:

bless you for the rookvil love the art its so wonderful!! <3 and the rookvil girlies on your priv X aaa <3333 Rook in lingerie is such a treat!! i remember you said she doesn't like to be touched and i was wondering if there's a specific reason you say why? is it just rook girlie or all the top girlies? omg do any of the bottoms return the pleasure for their tops or spoil them back? ok ill stop buT I DO LOVE THE ART MUAH love it. ty for the food! <3

Anonymous asked:

wait do the boys also spoil their tops... oKA y im done im donne lmao im sorry ! stay hydrated have a wonderful day/night

Thank you, Anon! <3 I’m happy you love them, both the ones we posted a couple of days ago and the girlies! Rook in lingerie is indeed a treat and a special rare occasion for Vil only…

As for Rook not liking to be touched, (ignoring my bias that I’m going to address in a minute) it’s more of a Rook thing: she prefers to do “the hunting” and pinning someone down completely is like her instinct. If asked though, she would just say that it would get her too aroused and her heart wouldn’t be able to handle it. Maybe there is some truth to that statement, but… Vil is absolutely allowed to touch her much more than anyone else would, and she mostly does it when she wants to see Rook worked up and agitated. Vil says that it’s like teasing a feral dog that likes the pets but also doesn’t.

As for the rest of the ladies, I kind of talked about this here in the last reply. We are biased towards bottom!girlies receiving all the attention, and this for sure affects how we see top!girlies’ preferences lol But I think not all of them are as much of touch-me-nots as Rook: Rook isn’t even the worst one out of them. Azul is one of the biggest ones; she hates being touched unless she is the one demanding that, and sometimes it gets ridiculous with her. But Ace, Jack or Kalim are not as bad, and Floyd flip-flops as usual. But none of them would let the bottom!girls take the lead completely.

So yeah, while technically all the bottom!girlies could still pleasure their tops, this just isn’t the dynamic we usually gravitate towards, like I explained in the linked post. It all depends on context, I guess. I think they would do a different kind of spoiling, like teasing, dressing up a certain way, allowing something that wasn’t previously allowed, all that stuff.

With the boys it’s easier though! I can see pretty much all of the bottoms being willing to give their tops a blowjob or a handjob depending on a situation, some are more willing than others though~

The ones that are the most likely to do it are Vil (big fan of rewarding with a bj), Silver (he is such a good boy), Epel (he is eager to please and to prove himself!!) and Deuce (he acts first and thinks after, and sometimes it puts him on his knees because he feels too much love towards his top and wants to express it).

[jewishbarbies]

Forgive me but I have so much I can say about this that it physically hurts that her fans believe this nonsense…

“she has always been on the frontlines of change in the industry and setting trends”

When?

“she literally changed the demographic of country music from just being for/about older women to teen girls”

There were female artists before that those “older women” listened to when they were teens. When Taylor’s fans are older women there will be a new singer that teens listen to. It’s how the music industry and freaking aging works. 

“she was one of the first people to really centralize social media in marketing”

She’s literally not. The singers that came up in the early 2000s are. They think 2006 is when the internet was being utilised for promoting singers because of Taylor. Google was invented in 1998. Social media & the internet was being used for almost a decade before. JLO is the reason google images was created for goodness sake.  

“she left RCA because she felt that even if they gave her a good deal they would diminish other writers on the label.”

Do they really think she’s the only so singer to leave or stand up to their label. Britney Spears stole her upcoming song from her label and released it to a radio station in 2004/05. 

“she unabashedly writes about her feelings as a young girl and a woman despite getting shit for it at every turn.”

Most female artists who came before her have struggled with this. Dolly Parton would win awards and get up on stage and not be allowed to speak because her MALE partner spoke for her. Even though Dolly was doing all the work. 

“she's one of the first artists to successfully transfer genres from country to pop.”

This is just false. It happens all the time. Not to mention it happens with different genres and artists all the time. 

“she stood up against streaming when literally no other artist did, got them to change some of their policies”

Because she’s the only one that is selfish enough to publicly pick a fight with someone and pretend it’s got nothing to do with her own bank account. Even when I was a fan of hers I knew she was doing it for herself. 

“yet now the exact thing she was worried about has happened.”

Because she was greedy and arrogant and didn’t buy the masters when they were offered to her because she thinks she better than everyone. 

“her move into pop music was completely different than the type of pop that was being made at the time and it influenced pop for years to come.”

Am I deaf? She stuck to the pop model created by those before her to make sure she was successful. Madonna, Janet Jackson, Britney Spears, Billie Eilish they all took risks with their music and careers to push the envelope and change the sound of pop. Not Taylor “stick to the formula” Swift. 

“all before the me too movement.”

The act TS did herself was admirable but this sentence. This belief that this Swiftie (and potentially other Swifties too) have is a slap in the face to what this movement initially represented and what it meant for women who had endured this. 

“her rerecording process is the first of its kind to be this successful and others are now following suit.”

Wtf does this sentence even mean. They don’t know sh*t about her recording process especially in comparison to other artist. Are they seriously so deluded to think no artist was successful before Taylor. How can they compare her to anyone if they believe this. This statement alone makes it sound like she is the reason music is successful. 

“the way she publicized her fight to own her masters”

Yes for public sympathy cause she’s a narcissist. 

“she also basically started the crop top set trend of the mid 2010s”

One quick google search and this is what I found. “Although the crop top first gained prominence in the fashion industry during the 1930s and 1940s - the latter in particular due to fabric rationing in World War II” I’m sure if I spent more time researching I could find more. But I also know it became very popular in the 1970s with men and carried in through to the 80s and 90s for men and women. Then the 2000s was when the trend reignited. 

“heavily influenced the twee fashion of early 2010s”

This is not the compliment they think it is. This fashion trend is layered with the issues. Her racist fans probably love it because it’s a style that is deemed acceptable by those Hampton holidaying rich white mothers and fathers that got sent to boarding school in England when they were young (I hope that analogy makes sense). It was also equated to thinness particularly at the time it was popularised. Not to mention you google Twee and the pictures you see are if Jess from New Girl, Blair Waldorf from Gossip Girl (a character from a 2000s show) and Alexa Chung. 

Also such a bizarre way to end their long winded rant. 

They are all so blatantly ignorant and stupid. I wasn’t going to say stupid but it really is all it is at this point. They are stuck in this cult they can’t even make reasonable arguments anymore. It’s exhausting constantly being bombarded with them all in every facet of life. I see so many videos of Swifties singing her music in public settings like that video of them on the plane, if I was on that plane I’d have jumped out of it, and it’s just infuriating the lack of respect they have for the rest of the world. Yet they expect everyone to respect and worship their cult leader. It’s disgusting and exhausting. 

Sorry this was so long. I don’t have many followers and I know you’re a safe space for people who don’t like her. And I feel like this is something others might agree with. 

[almostvermin]

the funniest thing ive ever thought up is the idea that octarians just. dont have biological sexes. like they reproduce with mitosis whats the point

"but flick!" you cry, "we have octarians with gender! what gives?" we know inklings consider human gender entirely a fashion statement, i.e. you look so boy today! very fresh. whos to say its not the same for octarians?

but no my thought was what if octarian gender depends on job.like, certain roles are male-alligened, ect. octavio gets to be a guy hes a dick-tator. duh. the military octarians we fight, plus canon!eight, ect, are girls. lower sentience octarians are referred to with it/its by craig, who from his homoerotic situationship, obviously knows octarian gender customs and is being respectful while forcing children to commit genocide. the one from gold bazookas is a trumpet player which is clearly a fem-alligned job, but the fact its brass means shes butch. hirooo plays anarchy for a living which is obviously masc. shiver and acht are criminals of course theyre nonbinary, but shiver also uses she/her on stage because being a fugitive of the state isnt integral to their music (which as aformentioned is a fem job) as criminality is to acht's, who only uses they/them. this also explains the fuck-up made by presumably a new fan who wasnt aware of achts links to the criminal world. marina is a warfare engineer turned fugitive turned dj, so she used she/her in all the time we knew her but was clearly non binary at some point in the middle

does this make sense

[eolewyn1010]

Downton Abbey Fashion 9 - garden fashions over the years

Let’s talk about something season-overlapping: The development of garden fashion. I don’t have a very solid reason for separating the from the usual outdoors fashion, except that there is a very distinct color scheme to it – there seems to be a tradition, even after fluffy, frothy lingerie dresses have gone out of fashion, to wear white and cream tones at occasions associated with nature, such as picnics, flower shows, and cricket tournaments.

So, let’s see how this looks like from seasons 1 to 3.

--------------

Starting with Violet – first picture is from the garden party at the season 1 finale, second from the season 3 cricket match. The obvious parallel: Violet wears a high-necked white blouse and over it a cream coat with wide lapels. Simple enough statement, but the pre-war outfit goes all in on the lace; the yoke of her blouse and the better part of the lapels is all Edwardian lace. Also note the hat with the wide brim. Come 1920, Violet keeps her general style, but this outfits looks a lot smoother, a lot less busy. The sleeves are less poofy, the chest is not so fluffed out, the lapel and cuff decoration is now nothing more than a simple black line and a little fringe. The hat she chooses this time is a much smaller affair, albeit no less decorated with the tulle drape and the lace ornament.

--------------

Isobel goes in walking suits, and the one from season 1 is exquisite. The slanting cut and the layered lapels and the button rows? This jacket is a thing of beauty. Late season 1 gives the impression that Isobel is starting to enjoy high fashion, and I can see why. Funnily, if you look closely, she seems to be wearing the exact same blouse with scalloped lace on top under both walking suits here, several years apart. I admit, I find the later suit a little unspectacular in comparison, but it looks quite nice with the straw hat and the little nacre brooch, and she wears it again in season 4, so she must like it.

--------------

Cora’s turn. She wears this darling cream coat with black soutache embroidery for the season 1 flower show, and the kind of hat that’s made me want to own an Edwardian hat. It’s huge and knows no stinginess with its decoration. The end of season 1 has her go with a little straw hat with a velvet ribbon instead, although they put some effort into pleating said ribbon. A cute dress with a lace collar to go with this; it looks a little more homely and cozy than the super chic coat. And then by season 3, her cricket day outfit is just… kind of boring. There’s no decoration to speak of on either the dress or the jacket. Pretty necklace, I guess? Why do you put only one flower on that hat when it has place for three to five?

--------------

Rosamund opts for a walking suit in season 1, and I gotta say, this one compels me, not because the suit itself has anything spectacular in its cut except maybe the pleating on the sides, but because the black contrast elements elevate this so much. And the hat. Oh my god, I have severe hat envy. This is gorgeous. Again, season 3 brings us a much smaller hat and, I have to say it, a much less interesting one. It’s fine, I guess; it just doesn’t make me yearn so. She wears a dress and jacket to it that are pretty shapeless; the 1920s care not about the human figure and how to accentuate it. But Rosamund also has a holdover element: The little white netting gloves.

--------------

Stripes on Michelle Dockery are the only reason why I am a little in love with Mary after all. Just a tiny bit, very shallowly so. She’s a goddess, especially in the first picture with that swoon-worthy hat with champagne satin flowers. The lace collar framing her shoulders doesn’t hurt, and neither does the necklace in the second picture (that she stole from her mother). In comparison, her first garden look in season 3 is kind of eh. Nice shiny material and the little shoulder detail is cute, but I happen to think that this shape of pseudo-bonnet hat is difficult to pull off. So let’s talk about her cricket dress instead! A drop-waist summer dress with short sleeves and a kind of winged lapel collar; this looks nice. Love the little button row down the side of the waist. And the hat is much better.

--------------

I keep remembering Lavinia as this slight, small thing, but her actress is only an inch or so shorter than Mary’s. I guess I can see why – they kept dressing her in very girly, youthful outfits. Not much to compare here style-wise as she’s only around in season 2, but these dresses are cute, cream silk satin and white lace. They still inherit a little more of the pre-war styles than others here, what with the waistbands and the rather voluminous, gathered skirt on the right one. And the lace yoke on the left one is adorable.

--------------

Different than Edith, who is not meant to look adorable in her season 1 dresses. Oof. They put her in these while Mary is running around looking like a goddess. I guess that’s the entire point, but I still resent it. She’s dressed like a little girl in a scene in which her romantic hopes are crushed, for heaven’s sake. Fuck that lace collar with a chainsaw. So, she is one of the people who gets a serious upgrade to season 3. I like this new summer dress; it looks so breezy and light. The embroidered yoke is beautiful, and so is the patterned hat ribbon.

--------------

And I’m taking in Sybil and Rose in one go because Sybil doesn’t live long enough for post-war garden fashions and Rose only has the post-war fashions because she’s quite a bit younger. Sybil has this cute flowered white dress with what looks to be a chiffon wrap overlay and a cute little belt with a golden clasp. Rose on the other hand wears something more similar to Edith’s new dress, a simple white summer dress with a chiffon overlay. Simple but lovely.

--------------

That's as much as I can fit into one go; if I find enough white or cream garden dresses in the later seasons, I will take this up with another post.

Why yes, we do have a reason to celebrate! We’re going to get married by the end of summer, all three of us! Class-breaking polycules for the win!

[caffeine-n-andreneline]

SnV Qin Shi Huang || Ying Zheng/Fem!Reader

Warnings: First fic lol, historical inaccuracies, typical cannon violence, a kid with trauma and a wannabe therapist, Soulmate AU, slowburn(?), Warring States period-ish, JJK cross over kinda-ish, baby qin needs a hug.

And thus this is how the diplomat's daughter finds herself alone, strolling the noble grounds of the Xianyang palace. Truly, without doubt it is dangerous for her, a child, to be alone with no assistance. Considering the frail diplomatic state and bloody history of the Qin and its neighboring state Zhao.

For all she knows, even she herself could be caught in an assassination of sorts. But she cannot stand idly by. Whilst his father is still in his meetings in regards to diplomatic matters with the king's chancellors and delegates alike, in which she is not well versed of the said field as of yet, as such–she used that opportunity to sneak around the palace and satiate her curiosity.

One particular thing that has been bothering her since they arrived in this place as envoys, is the stagnant dense air of cursed energy. Yes, the cursed energy that causes the phenomena of cursed beings to life–causing thousands of casualties in a year in which deaths remain unexplained to the normal eyes of society.

Whatever this curse was, certainly she had never seen a case like this before. A curse born from a type of hatred she has yet to know, accumulating in such a large scale that could make the jujutsu world tremble merely by its aura.

What was more strange, however, despite a curse–

it bears no intent to kill.

Because it was no cursed spirit,

But a human child unaware of the goliath cursed energy they possess.

And it surprises the girl that he'd not succumb to death–yet.

I feel a voice beside me ask. Wait–what was their question again? I turn my head to meet a girl wearing bandages around her head, covering her eyes. It's great to find someone sharing a similar fashion statement.

"I'm…sorry?" I ask a question of uncertainty to theirs.

"Oh–does it hurt…bad?"

I squint at her words. I'm still as confused as ever, maybe even more so than before. Then it dawned on me with her strange clothing.

She wore a dress with long and large sleeves, by her chest a big sort of ribbon tied around her waist. Her attire for sure I knew wasn't hanfu, so surely she must be a lost foreigner? That could also explain her butchered speaking.

Also, how did a girl like her sneak in anyway?

"For all I know, nothing hurts inside my body but–do I know you?"

She did not hesitate to introduce herself to me, belonging to the delegates from Yamato, the archipelago in the east. A diplomat's daughter who goes by the name Michizane, and happens to approach me because of the cursed energy she claims to be shrouding me.

Still, I'm only able to catch on and understand barely half of what she was saying.

"Ah! Then concept of Yin Yang, are you familiar?" I couldn't admit it verbally, but I did find her accent quite adorable.

"Yes, it is the concept that describes opposite but interconnected forces–oh." Well that makes sense.

Now I understand. What she was meant to say to me earlier is that she sees that I carry a higher dose of Yin within my body, or what she calls negative energy. I think I know where she's heading off from here.

"And this cursed energy you speak of, where does it come from and why does it accumulate within me?" I ask.

"...I don't know, but it comes from feelings of people. From around you."

"I see…" I put a curled ring finger under my chin, understanding where she was coming from, despite difficulty elaborating the subject.

What could she mean is that this energy belongs to the people who bear hatred, and it manifests in a way that it physically hurts me, that explains why she was asking if I was in pain earlier. Mirror Touch synthesia.

"If you want, I can help you remove the pain."

My eyes widened at this. There was a remedy for this? It wouldn't hurt to try, wouldn't it? But in all honesty, my body became accustomed to the pain and so numb that I expected it wouldn't make much of a difference.

The other rational half of my brain keeps telling me, What if this was an assassination attempt? To keep me distracted and then ambush me as I wore my guard down? Doesn't it sound strange that an already peculiar girl had infiltrated the palace and no one dares to bat an eye?

My mind in a dilemma, my own lips, however, decided to betray me.

"...Sure?"

I clasped a hand to my mouth. This isn't going to end well, is it?

The girl in front of me, despite half of her face I can't see–but the joy she radiates I could feel. For a second I thought I saw the side of her lips curl.

"I'll start."

Taking a step backward, I watched her with a silent gaze , reading and taking in her movements as she raised an index finger, inches away from her lips. I can hear her mumble something under her breath, and it was a word I am not familiar with–and it almost made me stance instinctively, readying to fight anyone who dares step out of the shadows.

"反転術式: 治る."

In a split second I feel strong air gush pass me, leaving me stunned. What was that?

I quickly snapped from my trance and shook my head. Now that she was done–I could tell my muscles felt less stiff, and the blistering and burns caused by Mirror touch synesthesia–I searched for the scorching uncomfortable pain in my abdomen, only to feel nothing.

I carelessly lift the top of my hanfu, still not believing what my sensations have signaled back to me. I need to see it–no. I must.

True to his touch, they were gone. He could confirm that the burn marks weren't as prominent after Chun Yan had given him the blind fold.

However this? His skin was unblemished, free from blisters. He was lost for words.

He heard someone cough. Oh, right.

He'd forgotten the girl who'd given him relief, catharsis.

"Ah–! I sincerely apologize! I didn't mean to…to look like–"

He bowed over and over as he dropped the hanfu down to be claimed by gravity and simultaneously stuttered his apologies. His ears, cheeks and nose dusted in red from embarrassment.

She laughs. Ying Zheng halted his apologies to raise his head and instantly see her laughing, covering her mouth as he noticed her back facing him.

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. If only he could get redder than that. Slowly, her laughter died down.

"No need for apology. May I know your name?"

This got the prince thinking, whether should he trust the girl with his name or not.

He chose the latter.

"My name is Chun Zheng, At your service, young lady." He says, offering the (H/c)-nette a curtsy.

"Likewise. I'm glad to meet you. Aren't you feeding too much? They could die." She bluntly added, pointing at the golden kois, and gave warning to "Chun Zheng". It wouldn't sound nice to see dead fish floating around and for him to have his pay cut.

"I hope I don't sound nosy, but how–how did you know I have this cursed energy?" He said, halting his chore to walk onto the next pond, urging the girl beside him to follow.

"I suppose I've got a keen eye."

Notes: so yeah kind of cringe dialogue, but this is how ppl say I sound like when I try to speak Spanish lol ;((. It's like my tertiary or fourth language and I think I do pretty decent when I atleast try to write it down, but then when I try to speak, everything just goes down the drain. Fun fact! If I'm going for a specific personality for the diplomat's daughter, I'd say she's stereotypically an ISxJ. What do you guys think Qin's mbti is? I'm most def sure he's ESTP but pdb says he's ENTJ lol. It makes sense and at the same time it doesn't. Pseudoscience things, I guess.

[chrisgates]

Have Yourself A Merry Little Krampus...

Timing: Just after Christmas Location: Unknown, Krampus' Cabin Parties: @chrisgates and @zofiawithaz Triggers: head trauma and drooling Summary: Zofia and Chris are abducted by Krampus because they've been 'naughty'. The pair manage to escape but not without a visit from the werewolf, a scuffle and some good ol' fashion cast iron wielding. Hopefully next year, they make it onto the 'nice' list.

There were a great many things Zofia didn’t like about the holiday season this year. 

All of the sweet Christmas love songs that were constantly playing on the radio made her want to reach through the airwaves and strangle the dj responsible. If she heard one more caroler singing at her to ‘have herself a merry little Christmas’ she was liable to give them a merry little bite to the neck. Add on top of those normal offenses, Wicked’s Rest came with its own special variety of holiday insanity. 

Teleporting reindeer and sentient snowmen were the least of her troubles. Especially now that she’d been chucked in a bag and was now…

Well she wasn’t sure where she was exactly. Only that there had been jingling bells in the background of her kidnapping. And there was someone else there.

“Psst-“ she hissed in a whisper, trying to get the strangers attention. “Hey you-“ she picked up a little pebble and chucked it on the ground next to him. “Do you know where we are?

The last thing that Chris remembered before the lights were knocked right out of him was his walk to the motel to get the rest of his stuff — he didn’t think he could stay there anymore, even if he didn’t exactly have anywhere solid to go to. He just needed out. But he couldn’t do that, not when he was waking up to the sound of someone’s voice and a small, yet sharp tack of a sound that hit the ground beside him.

Normally when he woke up somewhere strange and unusual, he was naked, covered in blood and alone. This time, there was someone else there. It took him a second to register that this was not his usual bender when he started awake, his heart thrumming and eyes wide — though his breath was quick, his body was tense.

“No…” he drew out with uncertainty and rubbed at his forehead with a groan. His head hurt. “What happened?”

Zofia let out a string of muttered Polish swears under her breath before sitting up to take in there surroundings, even as fear gripped at her chest. This entire situation was all too familiar. But it wasn’t the same as before. Before she’d been alone. Before there’s been water dripping on pipes, and footsteps in the hall. This place was different. 

It was dark and dank, yes, but embers smoldered in a large fireplace. The crackles of the dying logs and their hushed voices and ragged breathing were the only noises this… cabin?- offered. Cold winter wind howled outside, the chill seeping into the space despite the fading fire. 

“I don’t know. I was -“ Zofia stopped herself from finishing the statement. Her previous activities had included drinking from a very pretty but incredibly rude young woman she’d come across in the bathroom of the Masque. She was also incredibly foolish, as she didn’t seem to realize she was on the menu in a place like that.

 Makayla or whatever her name was, had the audacity and unmitigated gall to insult the vampires appearance, asking her ‘where she’d gotten that fugly old dress and if she liked looking like someone’s grandmother’, complain about everything in the club, and then tell the vampire that she’d wasted her time so Zofia should pay for her offenses with free drinks for the young blonde and her friends. 

Needless to say, Makayla had been incredibly woozy from blood loss when Zofia had left her to head home. She had made it about half a block when she heard jingling and then- she was here. “I don’t know what happened to you… I was snatched on the street. What do you remember?”

Between not knowing where he was and the loop wound tight around his ankle, Chris would have been in a worse state had it not been for his company who seemed to be in the same boat. That didn’t stop the panic that started in his chest, however, only staved it off. 

What was he doing? “I was… Heading to my room..” Did he get hit in the head? Is that why it was hurting so much? “At the motel,” he clarified as he took in the room around them. The sound of the wind outside was slightly comforting. “I was just walking - I… I didn’t even see anything. I just heard… Bells.” He also smelled a lot, too, but he wasn’t about to get into that. Not when the only thing on his mind was getting out.

Chris looked down at his bound ankle — it’s not the same thing, don’t worry, it never even happened anywa- “We need to get out of here,” he spoke in a hushed undertone, though there was a hint of urgency to his voice, a trembling that followed his fingers when he reached down to try to wiggle one or two beneath the thick rope that cut into his cold, wet skin.

Somewhere at the back of the cabin, one could assume, came a creak. It was probably just the snow.

Zofia went to stand up and heard the soft rattle of chain. She looked down to see a cuff linked round her ankle. The panic that had seized in her chest turned to fury. Not again. Absolutely not. Letting out a torrent of swears that would have made her mother turn over in her grave,  she fished a pin from her hair and set to work on the lock. 

“Did you get a lump of coal too?” She asked, swearing still under her breath as she missed the pin in the lock and started again. Red eyes were locked on the cuff, determined to get herself free. 

“Already working on it,” Zofia grumbled, twisting the pin inside the lock. It popped open, and she shook her leg free. The vampire looked back at the young man, still very much trapped. He looked like a scared puppy, the poor thing. She sighed. She couldn’t just leave him. “Kurwa piekło,” she muttered before scooting over to set to work on his bindings. 

Cold fingers began to try picking at the tight knot, when she heard a creak. The vampire froze, waiting to see if another sound followed. Silence. She set back to work. “What’s your name?” She asked. 

The last time Chris remembered waking up bound like that was years ago, before the Great Blip, as he affectionately liked to call it. He remembered the ropes, the dimly lit room and all the metal on the walls. He remembered the cage and its too small of a size. It was claustrophobic. This room was not like that. It was small, sure, but the fireplace and various Christmas decorations, as old and decrepit as they were, made this kidnapping feel weirdly homey. 

“Yeah..” he urged himself to say amidst his desperate attempts at removing the knot. He had almost forgotten about that stupid little piece of coal. “What, do you think it has something to do with this?” The panic was still in full effect, but it did make room for a bout of curiosity. Chris had assumed that he was just being blackmailed, that someone knew about the horrible shit he kept telling himself wasn’t actually happening, but if she got coal, too, then maybe it wasn’t as targeted as he thought.

He glanced over, catching as she worked to remove her own chain with what looked like a hairpin. Of course she could pick locks. She looked cool enough for that. Meanwhile, he still fumbled with the rope — like an idiot. Maybe whoever grabbed him knew he’d fail. He was half tempted to start gnawing at it when her hands flew in and started on the knot instead. The sound they had both heard seemed to settle down, giving them a false sense of time that they may or may not have. They weren’t dead, yet, which seemed to be a good thing. Confusing and worrying, though, as it painted that their abductor had plans for them other than an immediate death.

He tried to hold two sides of the knot to give her a little wiggle room. “It’s Chris… you?” There was another creak. Why did it sound like a footstep? Chris thought his heart was going to pop out of his chest. 

“I don’t know,” she said through gritted teeth as she glanced around the space. “But I wouldn’t call anything in this damned town a coincidence. Everything is suspect.” There were holiday decorations scattered about the place- garlands and wreaths- but they all seemed… off. As though the holiday cheer they should represent had been replaced with ill omens. 

“I’m Zofia,” she said quietly as she worked, not willing to raise her voice much above a whisper in case someone else was listening. “Are you any good in a fight, Chris?” It was worth the ask- she needed to know if she’d be pulling all the weight in their little escape attempt. “Don’t lie if you’re not. I don’t want to be down an extra pair of hands because you thought it would be cute to show off.” Humor would have colored her voice had she not been so focused on getting him free. 

The knot finally started to loosen, when another creak sounded from within the cabin, along with the sound of faint sleigh bells. She quietly muttered a curse and worked faster, finally tugging the rope free from his ankle. She swatted at him, and pointed at a shadow that was cast on the floor far on the other side of the room. “Fight or hide?” She mouthed, freezing in hopes that whatever it was that had dragged them there hadn’t noticed they were free of their bindings yet.

That didn’t exactly make Chris feel any better. There was a lot of weirdness in Wicked’s Rest, but most of it he could brush off. But if she was saying that everything was suspicious, that there weren’t really any true coincidences to be found - well, that tickled his paranoia in the worst way possible. Coupling that feeling with the unmistakable sounds of a heavy weight shifting against old wood, causing it to groan and bend beneath the massive footsteps, sent his anxiety through the roof. Her words helped to ground him, even if the softness in her tone only came from tension.

Her question gave him pause and only served to worry him more. “Uh, no? I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t… If I had to, I guess, sure?” But not out the gate; Chris wasn’t an inherently dangerous person. He didn’t go out looking for trouble or tried to pick fights. He didn’t even know how to fight, not unless it was adrenaline that guided his hand, but any altercation that had ever crossed his path seemed to end in the same way - with him unable to remember it completely and someone either pissed off at him or terrified of him.

He did his best to help Zofia get the rest of the thick rope from around his ankle with hurried and shaky hands; he took note of the hidden spot she pointed out. “Hide,” for sure, not unless he had no other option. Right now though, they didn’t even know who or what was on the other side of that door. It was best to assess the situation first.

With as quiet a scramble as he could muster, one that might even make a mouse feel envious, Chris did his best to make it to the spot Zofia chose for them. Unfortunately, he wasn’t as fast as she was and managed to press himself against the old, stained and musty armchair that thankfully hid him from whatever it was that just creaked open the door. His entire body went stiff, head and back pressed against the aging leather, his breath held to keep it from shaking. A warmth flooded him, that uneasy feeling that liked to creep in during difficult situations, situations that reminded him of things he didn’t want to be reminded of.

His eyes turned to where Zofia managed to hide, wondering if he could spot her face, her eyes, anything to get a gauge as to who was in the room with them.

The vampire barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Just her luck, to be fortunate enough to be trapped with someone, but unlucky enough for that person to be no use in a situation where they needed to fight. Not that she was much use in a fight, typically. But desperate times…

Zofia nodded. Hide it was. She quickly, quietly slipped into a shadow in the corner and sat unnaturally still, ready to spring into action if she needed to. Chris, however, hadn’t moved as quickly. He was hidden behind an old armchair when the door swung open. 

The vampire wasn’t sure what it was exactly. But it sure as hell wasn’t human. Her eyes widened as she watched the horned figure stoop down to clear the doorway, before standing upright. It loomed over the space, horns scraping lines the ceiling. Zofia swallowed. A human she could take in a fight. Whatever that was… probably not. And unfortunately, it was heading toward Chris’s hiding spot. 

She had no time to think. She snatched up a loose piece of kindling on the floor and chucked it across the room, causing it to clatter in the corner of the cabin opposite of where Chris was hiding. The beast’s head swung around, refocusing on the noise. Zofia stared at her fellow escape artist. Hurry! She mouthed, waving him on frantically.

Of course it was coming right for him — whatever it was. He didn’t see it when it came in, wouldn’t dare sneak a peek, but he could tell how large it was. Chris would have that kind of shit luck, though. It was sort of a constant in his life and he even tried to act like it wasn’t. He couldn’t act like it wasn’t now, not with some huge, monstrous creature searching for them. The snuffling and scraping sent chills down his spine. It was angry they were gone. He would have mentally kicked himself for not making it to Zofia’s hiding spot if he wasn’t so scared. 

His heart was about ready to burst through his throat — at least, that’s what it felt like. It pounded and beat frantically behind his ribcage, terror gripping it, and him, completely. There was only so much space behind the chair where he could hide himself before a foot or hand or even the top of his head was visible. If the scraping on the ceiling was any indication, he didn’t really have much time. He didn’t know if luck felt bad for him or not, but it was then that he saw a flurry of movement and a rather convincingly distracting sound, he thought maybe the tides were turning.

Zofia’s frantic urging helped to spurn a bullet of courage that shot him from his poor excuse of a hiding spot and towards the only door that led in or out. He had one hand out, as if to tell her to follow him in turn through the doorway while the creature was distracted. There was no way he was going to spend another second in that room, but he couldn’t leave her. He wouldn’t.

It seemed the young man had found his courage. Zofia watched as he made a frantic beeline toward the door, waving for her to follow. The vampire didn’t see many options. It was either scramble after Chris and risk death at the hands of whatever was in the cottage with them, or stay put and guarantee death for herself. 

Not liking the certainty of death that came with staying out, Zofia hurried along behind Chris. Keeping her footsteps quick and light, she risked a glance in the direction of it, trying to get a better look at it. It was some sort of beast with hooves and a long tail. A long tongue licked over its snout, as though it were trying to taste the air to find them. It had some sort of pouch slung over it’s back, and it’s eyes -a bright yellow- scanned the space for what had gone missing. 

It was objectively the ugliest thing Zofia had ever seen. Well, maybe the second, if she included the chimera. The vampire forced her legs to move faster. Then, one of the old floorboards betrayed both of the prisoners and let out a long, loud, creak. Those yellow eyes swiveled and locked on the pair. Shit. 

Chris knew better than to look back. He didn’t want to know what the thing looked like, not if it smelled the way it did or moved the way it did or made the sounds it did. It sounded like a nightmare, like if it found him, it could easily scoop him up in its clutches and bite into his body, breaking him completely. He didn’t want to be its meal, he wanted to get the hell out of there!

But Zofia needed to go first; even though he didn’t know her and she seemed capable of taking care of herself, he wouldn’t forgive himself if he let her get in harm’s way because of self-preservation. That wouldn’t be right. His sister taught him better than that. 

No good deed went unpunished, though. It was almost expected, like this whole situation was written to play out like a stereotypical horror movie — Chris could never get through any of them before he was left a shivering mess under a blanket or hiding in another room. This time, he didn’t get that reprieve. 

He made the mistake of looking at it when Zofia made it to the creaky hallway. The monster was too close even though it was on the other side of the living area. Its mass made its short walk even shorter and it dragged a long arm across the floor while the other reached out with intent. It smell only grew the closer it got. Chris’ eyes darted from the thing chasing them to the doorknob in front of him and, without a thought, reached out to grab it.

The wooden door was pulled back with his falling, fearful weight. He felt the floor of the hallway meet his back when he heard the telltale shut of his success. It wouldn’t hold, but he hoped it would give them at least a second to get some space between them, even just a breath’s worth. But the hallway wasn’t very long and that door wasn’t very strong. They made the few steps it took to get to the mouth of the even colder kitchen before the door gave way with a sickening snap of its wood boards and groans of its metal hinges.

The kitchen seemed bluer, cooler, and lonelier than the golden warmth from the livelier, if intimidating, living space — but it was their only way out.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Zofia darted through the door Chris held open for her. It may have been foolish of him to do the gentlemanly thing and let her go first, but at least chivalry wasn’t completely dead. Unlike what they would be, if the beast behind them got what it wanted. 

She heard the thud as her new friend hit the ground. She needed to think. Zofia doubted something of that size would feel much pain from her teeth, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to taste its blood anyway. She’d need a different weapon. Snatching Chris’s wrist, she towed him along behind her to- a kitchen. Well that was fortunate. 

She let go of the young man as she rifled through drawers and cabinets, looking for something, anything to carry as they made a run for it. There were surprisingly few knives. She didn’t want to think about how sharp that must have meant the monsters teeth were. She did, however, lay her eyes on a rusty old cast iron skillet. She snatched it up before turning back to Chris. “We need to go. Now.”

He was grateful for Zofia’s immediate hold on the situation—and his arm. Without it, Chris didn’t think his legs would work well enough to get him away from the danger fast enough. It was literally right behind them; his heart felt like it was in his throat just at the thought. If he was alone he probably wouldn’t have made it this far. He likely would still be tied up or cornered in the living room and made into a meal, for sure.

Speaking of meal, Zofia managed to find herself a decently weighted cast iron skillet. It would do some damage to any normal person, but to that thing? He hoped they didn’t have to find out. Still, he was happy to see something in their favor even if he wished it was a way out. He would have been happier if he didn’t feel a leg being pulled out from under him. The monster had him—it had him and it dragged him back towards the living area. 

Chris kicked and struggled against its grip, but he was dragged away from the kitchen and away from potential freedom. That thought set him off; it made the view of the fireplace and the smell of meat and musk fade into darkness, a familiar and, currently welcome, unconsciousness. The large, looming creature returned back through the now broken doorway to get to Zofia. But that was the last thing he heard before his body started to contort and break.

Just when Zofia thought she had everything under control, the demented holiday demon had closed its long clawed fingers around Chris’s ankle and yanked the young man back into the dim glow of the living room. “Sukinsynu, chyba sobie kurwa żartujesz!” She hissed. She couldn’t just leave him. Not when he’d been so nice as to hold the door for an old woman like her. 

The vampire moved quickly trying to keep pace with the beast and the terrified young man it had in its clutches. She’d just cleared the doorway when a loud snap sounded. She paused, frightened for a moment that she was to late, that she hadn’t been fast enough. Then it sounded again, and again, and she watched as the young man’s form struggled and twisted into something… lupine. 

Zofia could only hope he’d remember in this new form she was friend, not foe. Taking advantage of the distraction in the demons arms, she crept closer, twirling the pan in her fingers, prepared to strike. 

The horned monster didn’t get the chance to go after the vampire before she was already in the room to witness the changing. Perhaps it should have killed the wolf before it woke, but hindsight was, of course, 20/20.

Chris was glad it didn’t, but he didn’t like what ended up happening to him, either. Which one was worse? He’d end up thinking about it later. For now, he took a mental nosedive to make room for the wolf and its rage. With a wet snarl, it made a move for the cloaked demon, its teeth bare and clawed hands grasping. 

The hurried movement was enough to rock the monster off its hooved feet, but not enough to get it on the ground and in a more vulnerable position for biting. The beast pushed back, its strength surprising and teeth just as long. It seemed bigger somehow, but maybe that was the tall mane of hair or the spiraled horns that threatened to whack the wolf in the head. 

Its musk was overpowering; that was all the wolf could smell every time it snapped its teeth close to the wet, stringy, fur that covered its body. The wolf was not much better with its deformed hands and feet, but at least it had a cute nose. This thing just looked like a demented yeti. A demented yeti the wolf wanted nothing more than to rip the head off of.

It was like something out of an old movie, watching her young friend transform. He’d gone from fresh faced and terrified to bared fangs and snarling. Zofia swallowed. She wasn’t the only threatening thing in the room aside from the demon any longer. She gave a slow nod of understanding. 

It was terrifying the way they fought. Two forces of nature struggling against each other. She ought to have left. She ought to have taken advantage of the moment and ran far away as fast as she could. But this poor sweet man- wolf?- was fighting for his damned life. Zofia adjusted her grip on the pan. 

She waited until she saw an opening. The beast was swiping and snapping at her new friend, and its back was to her. Zofia’s eyes lit up. Winding up like a star player at the World Series, the vampire swung the cast iron pan like a baseball bat to the demon’s head, striking it like she’d hit a game winning home run. Good. The wolf could get away now. 

In truth, the wolf would have continued on until one of them was dead, but a good thunk to the head with a kitchen utensil caused its opponent to flee. It didn’t flee in the usual sense. The immense creature simply vanished with a disgruntled groan after it regained its composure from the whack. A sprinkling of snow was left in its place, but the creature had gone.

The wolf swiped at nothing but air, confused as to where the monster had just gone. It swung its massive head around the room and laid eyes on the vampire woman still in the room with them. No, she wasn’t the problem. The way she held the pan was questionable, but she was not the one who brought them there. 

It snarled at her, obviously frustrated with how that all turned out, but it was grateful nonetheless at getting to live another day. It then chose that unusually quiet moment to scrape and pull itself through a nearby window, its mass too large for the window frame; wood creaked and cracked and glass shattered and cut until the wolf was through, its nose keen to find the scent of the horned demon that abducted them.

Moments after the pan had found connection with the horned skull, it vanished into thin air. Zofia gaped, having been prepared to swing at it again. Instead, she was left locking eyes with the tawny werewolf that stood in the center of the room. 

The vampire stood unnaturally still. She prayed tow whatever forces might listen that he wouldn’t attack her. He’d been sweet- the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. After a long, tense moment, the wolf snarled before turning to pull himself out the window. 

Zofia blinked, watching as the wolf left the space in an almost cartoonish fashion. The wolf- Chris- disappeared into the night, leaving a vaguely wolf shaped hole where the window had been. The demon was gone, and the vampire had nothing else to do. Her hand still wrapped around the pan (just in case), she made her way out into the night. Next year she’d be sure to be kinder, or at least less murderous. Or more selective in those she chose to feed upon. She would not be receiving coal again, and she hoped the wolf wouldn’t either.