#mara don

[dast4rd]

do not separate them...

[chelshiart]

team derkholm!

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Mara Kay - The Burning Candle - Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co., Inc. - 1968 (jacket design by Don Bolognese)

[therealmrpositive]

Urban Legends: Bloody Mary (2005)

In today's review, I can find that repetition might be enough to reboot a dormant franchise. As I attempt a #positive review of the 2005 direct-to-DVD film, Urban Legends: Bloody Mary #KateMara #RobertVito #TinaLifford #CharleneBaptista #EdMarinaro

The thing about legends is that there is often some truth to their origins, maybe person X did exist a long time ago, but their notable deed Y may be just a corruption of the truth, further heightened by time. In 2005, half a decade later, a film explored one such dark tale, oft-reported around youthful slumber parties, and the repercussions if that legend became true in Urban Legends: Bloody…

[ufonaut]

Anne Mason slept, and a coldness like the coldness of death touched her.

The Dark Mansion of Forbidden Love (1971) #3

(Jack Oleck, Don Heck)

[maranull]

it should be sanitary to bite my figurines

[starlingsim]

let’s DANCE!!!

[mara-and-its-the-same]

*insert that snl skit where Marcello Hernandez is like “Where have you been”*

gorgeous work, i love it entirely, im scrounging the earth for some good tbitb *tib-ee-tib* as i like to call it, fanfic and FINALLY it has paid off 🙏🙏

you can stay with me | don hume x f!reader

summary: don let’s you stay in his room after the party!

word count: 1,141

warnings: none just fluff

Don Hume bows his head shyly to the applause of the crowd below him. It seems that everyone in the auditorium who hadn’t left with their respective sweethearts were joined in celebration of the young athlete.

He steps off the stage to join the group of men who have quickly become his closest friends as they all take turns shaking his shoulders and kissing his head in pride. Becoming flustered by all the attention, Don excuses himself to the bar, hoping another drink will settle his nerves.

Distracted by all the commotion, Don doesn’t notice the girl walking towards him until she crashes into his frame. The drink in her hand splatters the pair, soaking his white button-down and the front of her soft pink dress.

Any feelings or confidence Don had felt prior had been instantly replaced by embarrassment as he steadied the young girl with a hand on her waist.

“I’m so sorry! I’m the biggest clutz!” You exclaim whilst shaking your hands to remove any lingering drops of brown liquid.

Don takes this opportunity to take in the young woman who stood before him. A once pale pink dress perfectly hugs your frame, complimenting the soft curls in your hair and the scarlet tinge of your lips. As your face reddens with embarrassment, Don realises he had been staring in admiration whilst you continue to spew apologies.

“No, it’s okay. It’s my fault, I wasn’t looking.” He reassures, withdrawing his hand in the process.

“I’m sorry. I really should get going before I trip and accidentally kill someone!” You joke, but it fails to fool Don as he catches the tears brewing in your eyes.

“You were great!” You add before running towards the exit as the tears threaten to spill.

Don turns to check that any of his fellow teammates are not watching him, knowing it would be the main topic of conversation at training the next day if they saw him run after a girl.

Once satisfied they were all distracted, he took off in your direction.

Upon leaving the auditorium, the darkness made it difficult to see anything, let alone your slight stature, until he heard faint sobs around the corner of the building. Sure enough, the cries led him straight to you, your arms wrapped around your body that shakes with each sob.

Don raises a gentle hand to your shoulder, careful not to frighten you.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks softly.

“Oh yes, I’m fine. I was just worried about getting caught covered in booze when I returned to the dorms… I’m on a scholarship and need a clean slate to keep it.” You utter between sobs, and Don realises that you both may have more in common than he had once thought.

“I understand; I’m only here because of the team…I’m always worried I’m going to screw it all up.” He confesses, shoving his hands into his pockets nervously.

“Oh, come on, Hume, everyone knows you’re the best stroke Washington’s had in years!” You chuckle; your sweet smile doesn’t go unnoticed by Don.

“Hey, I have clean clothes back at my dorm. If you want to borrow a jacket, or something before you head home?” He doesn’t know why he suggested this, but he’ll do anything not to say goodbye just yet.

“Don’t you want to stay and celebrate?” You sniffle.

“I was about to leave anyways; I got to practice early tomorrow.” Don lies and, without hesitation takes the girl's hand in his as he guides her toward his dormitory.

Upon reaching the dorm, Dons realises his guest may not be impressed by his bare bedroom. However, when he unlocks the door, you enter without hesitation, making yourself comfortable on the edge of his twin bed, feet dangling below.

“So, do you like rowing?” You pipe up as he searches his cupboard for a coat with minimal holes, settling on a fleece bomber jacket.

“Well, I’m getting a job out of it and a room, so yeah.” He mutters, closing the cupboard door behind him.

“I think it’s more than that; I’ve seen how you row.” You tease, a sly smile playing on your lips.

“You’ve been watching me?” Don questions, struggling to believe a girl as beautiful as yourself would ever take notice of him.

“Hard not to.” You admit, smiling softly.

Don notices the goosebumps on your arms and places the jacket around your shoulders. With his tall stature the garment almost swallows you up, but you wrap yourself in it nonetheless.

“I suppose it should be getting home.” You announce after a minute of silence.

“I’ll walk you back.” Don insists, wanting to savour any time left with you.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t; if my hall director sees you walking me home this late, she’ll get the wrong idea.” The girl giggles as Dons face glows bright.

“You can’t walk back alone. It’s nearly midnight.” Don objects, taking your hand in his as if he was pleading. Although he had only known you briefly, the thought of anything bad happening to you made his stomach churn.

“You can stay with me-“ He adds before fully acknowledging the inappropriateness of his offer. To his surprise, your face doesn’t appear disgusted, and instead, you flash your sweet smile.

“What about your bunkmate?” You giggle.

“Oh… I have a feeling he’s not coming back tonight.” Don mutters, glancing over at Shorty’s empty cot.

“Well, if that’s what you want…” You trail off before Don interjects.

“It is,” He assures, Bobby’s encouragement from earlier replays in his head as he bows down to meet your gaze.

You can’t help but lift your hand to brush the loose strands of hair that frame his face back. Don takes this gesture as permission to kiss you.

You intertwine your bodies together as you lower yourselves onto the mattress. You’re unsure whether it’s the liquor or the feeling of Don's strong hands on your body that causes your head to spin as you hesitantly pull away.

“Are you okay?” Don asks, his brow furrowed in concern that he had done something wrong.

“Yeah, my head is sore, probably from all the drinking.” You reply, and he places a calloused hand on your forehead.

“Hmm, you should probably get some sleep,” Don murmurs as he rolls onto his back, allowing you to rest your head on his chest. You tuck your knees up, resting them against his side as he strokes your hair gently.

“Good night, Don…” You’re voice trails off as you fall asleep feeling the safest you’ve been since leaving your childhood home months ago.

Don, who had never been much of a talker, places a soft kiss on your forehead before dozing off himself.

[burnthatbridge]

8x03 coda

buck being melodramatic about gerrard 'taking him under his wing' also on ao3 if you prefer

Buck spends an age in the shower at the end of their shift. He’s sooty, yes, sweaty, definitely, but no worse than usual, a lot cleaner than he has been on certain occasions — like after trying to dig Eddie out of forty feet of mud, for example. But, even when the water has long run clear, he can’t shake the sensation of being covered with dirt. 

In fact, when he finally shuts off the water, wraps a towel about his hips, his skin scrubbed pink, he almost feels worse, dirtier than when he got in. The surface layer of grime gone, uncovering the muck at the core of him. 

The locker room is almost empty, A-shift long departed: Chim home to Jee and Mara, Maddie heading out for her own shift; Hen meeting Karen for dinner, Denny at a friend’s. And Buck’s been trying to wash himself clean for long enough that B-shift have passed through, all changed from their civvies to their uniforms and headed out into the station, some away on a call. 

The locker room is almost empty. It would be completely so if it weren’t for Eddie. He’s seated on the bench, fully dressed in his street clothes and shoes, hair almost completely dry from his own — significantly shorter — shower, scrolling through his phone. But he looks up as Buck shuffles into the room, eyes on him as Buck opens their locker, hefts out his bundle of clothes and dumps them on the bench, a couple of feet along from where Eddie is sitting. 

“You okay?” he asks, locking his phone, tucking it away in his pocket, entire focus shifted now that Buck’s there. 

Buck nods, reflexively. “’M fine,” he states, aiming to sound it. As he tugs on his boxers, he tries to change the subject, “Thought you’d be out of here by now.”

He and Eddie don’t have plans this evening, and Buck had mentioned at the start of their shift — back in the inverse of this moment, when he’d been sitting on the bench, ready, but chatting to Eddie while he got changed — that he was probably going to see Tommy tonight, so Eddie can’t be expecting them to make any impromptu ones. But there’s no denying that Eddie’s been waiting for him, all the way through his endless, hopeless shower. 

“Hmm,” Eddie hums, but doesn’t say anything further. 

Buck towels his hair furiously, then rubs his shoulders, his chest, his arms down, hard. He feels itchy, like there’s a film over his skin, a coating of filth. He tugs his t-shirt over his head, slides his sweatpants up his thighs. Collapses down on the bench and reaches for his socks, pulls on one, then the other. 

The clothes are clean: the tee, socks, and underwear fresh, and the sweats only donned for an hour that morning, for his trip to work. And yet, he still feels unclean, tainted. 

Buck looks over at Eddie, finds him slouched on the bench, arms braced behind himself, already looking back. 

Buck looks away. Plucks at the fabric of his pant leg, scuffs one socked foot against the other, shrugs his shoulders against the scratch of his shirt tag at the back of his neck. Sighs. Glances over at Eddie again. Finds warm brown eyes still watching him, waiting for him, soft and open. 

“I hate him,” Buck says, low, even though Gerrard has absolutely already left for the day, isn’t around to hear his words, and turns his eyes to the concrete of the floor. 

“I know you do.” Eddie’s voice is as gentle as his gaze. “You’re not alone in that.”

And that’s true, but it’s also not, because– Because Buck has been singled out. And he knows what that means. Has heard all the stories of Gerrard’s first reign of terror, from Hen, from Chim, from Tommy. Knows about the people Gerrard had it out for back then, and the people he had on his side. 

“No,” Buck says, hears how frustrated it comes out, but also how plaintive, “I really, really hate him.”

Eddie doesn’t reply, waits Buck out, while he tries to work the tangle of his thoughts into something resembling a coherent statement that he can say out loud. 

Because he does, he hates Gerrard, who has been so awful to them all, Buck included, but especially the people Buck loves most. Hates him for holding nothing but contempt for them being the thing Buck loves most about them: themselves. 

“He’s– he’s so fucking horrible to everyone.” Buck says, needlessly, because of course Eddie knows this, has been both the subject of Gerrard’s disdain and witness to him turning it on the rest of them. 

Only now, since Buck attempted to murder him and inadvertently ended up saving his life, Buck isn’t included with the rest of them, isn’t subject to Gerrard’s terrible treatment anymore. 

“But, now, he’s being nice to me. Taking me ‘under his wing’.” Just quoting Gerrard’s horrifying pronouncement from that morning makes Buck feel sick, nausea turning his stomach, climbing his throat. He can still feel the ghost touch of Gerrard’s arms around him, poison leaching into him at all the points Gerrard’s body touched his own. “It’s like he wants to mold me into someone just like him.”

Gerrard has seen something in him, recognized the same rot in Buck that resides in his own core. Like calling to like. 

“It’s like I already am.” Buck shivers, scrubbing his hands up and down his own arms, trying, fruitlessly to slough off this feeling, to shed his own skin. The first shower didn’t work, and he could hold out a futile hope that if he takes a second once he gets home it will finally work, but he fears no amount of water can wash him clean of this. The stain on him Gerrard has spotted and identified as kin permeated too deep, sunk too far, into his soul to ever be cleansed. 

“Hey.” Eddie grabs for one of his wrists, squeezes and pulls Buck’s arm down, holds on as he says, “You are nothing like him. And you never could be.”

“But,” Buck argues, clenching his free hand into a fist, taking the pain of his fingernails piercing his palm as penance, “If he wants to– to mentor me, he has to think he can turn me into the sort of man he is. He– he must think I’m like him.”

Eddie snatches Buck’s other wrist, puts pressure into his grip until Buck relaxes his fist, fingers no longer biting into his flesh. “Even if he thinks that, he’s wrong.” Eddie’s tone is vehement, but turns to a scoff as he goes on, “And if that’s his idea of mentorship, he’s as bad at it as he is at being captain. You’re not supposed to coach someone into a version of yourself, you’re supposed to help them become the best they can be.”

“He definitely wants to coach me in his evil ways.” Of that Buck is sure. And it feels like certain doom. 

But Eddie snorts, amused at Buck’s phrasing, not seeming to believe that Buck is standing on the edge, about to fall into an irredeemable version of himself. “I’m sure. But he’s not going to have any success in that, Buck.”

“He’s not?”

“Definitely not. Sure, he’s going to give you terrible advice and you might have to go play golf with him, and do whatever other horrific bonding activities he wants, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to turn you into him. That’s impossible.”

“Really?”

Eddie nods. “He’d have more luck getting Chimney to agree you should always be allowed the clipboard during stock checks, and we all know how likely that is to happen.”

“Chim would never,” Buck says because, really, Chim would never.

“Exactly.” Eddie releases Buck’s wrists, lifts one hand to grip his shoulder instead. “I know it sucks right now but we will be rid of him eventually. And we’ll get Bobby back, your real mentor.” Eddie smiles at Buck then, a tilted, lopsided curling of one half of his mouth. “Not that I think you need mentorship. You’re pretty excellent just the way you are.”

Buck nods, hoping so hard that eventually will come quickly, that they get Bobby back sooner rather than later, and trying to believe in himself. He kind of has to when Eddie believes in him, because he will always believe in Eddie, trust in what he says. But he still feels the cling of Gerrard to him. He scrubs at his bare arms once more. 

“You’re cold,” Eddie says, misinterpreting the motion, perhaps purposefully so. “Here.” He tugs the hoodie he’s wearing up and off, holds it out to Buck. “Take this, you’ll feel better.”

“You don’t need to give me that,” Buck protests.

“Well, I am,” Eddie says, shaking the garment slightly, coaxing Buck to take it. He grins. “Besides, it’s yours anyway.”

It is, Buck realizes as he lets Eddie hand it over, the fabric familiar to the touch, soft and comforting. 

Eddie stands from the bench, shoulders his bag, smiles at him. “Have a nice time tonight. Tell Tommy I said ‘hi’.”

Buck nods as Eddie crosses to the door and leaves, calling a see you tomorrow back over his shoulder. Buck watches his progress out of the station through the glass wall. 

Once Eddie passes out the bay doors, out of sight, Buck pulls the hoodie on. And in it, still warm from the heat of Eddie’s body and smelling like a mix of both of them and the laundry detergent they use at the Diaz house, he finally feels clean. 

[dast4rd]

can’t stand their asses

[mara-and-its-the-same]

ooohhh goodness what a sweet thing to read before going to bed. He is so precious, i need him forever, I love him so much, especially your characterization. It’s all so lovely, from the reader to the scenario and OOHHHH my god i cannot explain the extent to which i love him reading her annotations 💖💖💖💖💖 I adore this entirely too much and I’d be eternally grateful if you ever wrote for him again, and if not just to have read this once is a gift enough for me

in sickness & in health | Don Hume x f!reader

Summary- nursing Don back to health. Part 1?

Warnings- fluff, talk of being sick (fever, nausea, etc.)

Word count- 2.2k

Fiddling with the thermostat, silently begging it to go lower, you glanced over your shoulder. Don was laying in bed, his eyes closed and his breathing slow. The sweat on his forehead was visible, and you could see that his eyebrows were slightly furrowed in discomfort. Giving up on the temperature, you decided on another course of action. 

This was not a part of your plan for your trip to Germany. You had been ecstatic to receive an invite, of course you would be there as a nurse, but you didn’t think they would actually need you. Yet, here you are, desperately nursing the stroke of the team to health. Now, it felt like it would be your fault if he didn’t get better, it would be your fault if they lost. You were beginning to wish you never accepted this position. 

You should be in the audience of the olympic opening ceremony right now, where you had originally intended to be. Yet, here you were, digging through the bathroom to find a washcloth. 

“Here we go.” You spoke under your breath, pulling a washcloth out of a drawer. You wet it with cold water, praying that this method would lower his fever. 

Don stirred when you sat on the side of the bed. “Hey.” You whispered. He mumbled a response that you couldn’t make out. 

You set the wash cloth on his forehead, his eyes cracked open. “How are you feeling?” You asked softly, brushing his hair away from his forehead. 

“Mmm.” He hummed. “Not that good.” 

You nodded and subconsciously continued to stroke his hair. “You think the medicine from earlier helped at all?”

He shrugged lightly. “A little.” His voice was low and husky, his eyes half lidded.

“What else can I get you?” You noticed how warm his head was, wondering if his fever had gone down at all.

“Nothing.” He said, closing his eyes again. “I’m okay for now.”

“Nothing at all?” You asked. “I could get you something to eat. Anything in the world.”

He stirred. “I don’t think I can eat right now. But thank you.”

“Okay.” You agreed. “Let me know if you change your mind.” He nodded softly and even though the conversation was over, you stayed for a moment. Observing his face, he truly did not look good. Your heart sunk a little, you only have a day and a half to get him feeling better before the race.

Despite his protest, you still went and got him food, he hasn’t eaten all day. Some crackers and a little bit of juice won’t hurt him. He was awake when you got back, sitting up in bed, reading a book. “Hi.” You smiled.

He gave you a classic Don nod. No words, no smile, but you knew he was hard to crack. You didn’t know Don personally before all of this, but you’ve seen him around before. He’s shy, always trying to fade into the background, but that’s never how you saw him. He always stood out to you, his sweetness, his quiet charm, that was the Don you knew. So you didn’t take his quietness personally. 

“What are you reading?” You asked absentmindedly. 

“Oh… um…” He stuttered. The embarrassment drained whatever color the sickness had left his face. 

You looked at the book, and realized it was yours. “Oh, I don’t care.” You waved your hand. Although it is your copy of The Great Gatsby, annotated and all, he could read it. The sweet, lanky boy in the bed could have ripped it up and burned it and you would still tell him you didn’t care. 

“Sorry.” He closed the book and set it on the nightstand. “Just bored.” He croaked, scrambling for an excuse. 

“Don, you can read my book. It’s okay.” You smiled. He folded his hands and looked down at the bed. You had no idea why he was so flustered, but that wasn’t your main concern right now. “I brought you something to eat.” You extended the small plate of crackers to him. He stared at it, then at you. “Don, you need to eat.”

He took a breath in, then silently grabbed the plate. “Thanks.” He spoke quietly. 

You nodded, then sat on the end of the bed. Much to your delight, he slowly began to eat the crackers. It was silent while he did so, and it never crossed your mind that it might be weird to sit there and watch him eat, but you couldn’t help it. 

“I saw the boys in the lobby. Opening ceremony went well.” You spoke into the quiet room. 

He nodded. Once again, no words. 

“They were all asking about you. Wondering how you’re doing.” You smoothed out the quilt, accidentally running your hand over his leg as you did so.

“What’d you tell them?” He asked, seeming concerned. 

“I told them you’ll be okay.” You looked at your lap. That could most definitely be a lie. If he kept at the pace he was going now, there is no way he would feel better by the race.

“I will be.” He reassured you, almost sensing your hesitance. You nodded in response, and it was quiet again. “Thanks for helping me, by the way. Probably would’ve died by now without you.” He cracked a small smile.

That was the first time you had heard Don make a joke, let alone smile. “Of course, Don. That’s my job.” You smile at him, his deep brown eyes holding you in a trance. “I’m… more than happy to do it.”

“Happy?” He blinked. “I’m sure you don’t like doing this.”

“Do you know how many girls would kill to be in my position? Taking care of the stroke of the olympic team?” You giggled.

His brain scrambled for a response. “I… that’s just not true.” He shook his head out of insecurity. 

“No, Don, it is.” you spoke assertively. You weren’t lying. Don was a hot topic of conversation, right behind George Hunt, of course. “Girls love you.”

He couldn’t tell if he was lightheaded from his fever or the thought of you talking about him with your friends. “W-what?” He stuttered out.

“Yeah.” You confirmed. “You’re the sweetest guy on the team, everyone knows that. You should’ve heard everyone after you played the piano at the victory party. They love you, truly.”

He blinked a few times in disbelief. He must be having a fever dream. The doll who sat exactly 6 rows behind him in his biology lecture was sitting on his bed, her hand on his leg as she told him how many girls love him. He could hardly form words.

It made you giggle, his shyness. You could see the blush in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “All I’m saying is, I think I’m a pretty lucky girl.”

Words failed him, his brain failed him, all he could focus on was the way you squeezed his leg over the blanket as you talked. He hardly even heard you ask if he was finished eating. You took the plate from him and set it on the nightstand, exchanging it for your copy of The Great Gatsby. You held it out to him, his eyes meeting yours, hoping you didn’t see the slight shake of his hand as he grabbed it from you. 

“I’m gonna go shower, but I’ll be back. Do you need anything before I go?” You asked. 

He shook his head and looked down at the book in his lap. While you were gone, he was able to read a few chapters, but he found himself paying more attention to your annotations than he did the words of the actual book. He particularly liked the smiley faces you wrote next to the scenes you liked. He found himself rereading Gatsby and Daisy’s kiss scene that you had underlined in purple ink. It made him blush, thinking about you reading this part. He ran his fingers over the purple ink over and over again, thinking about your hands delicately underlining it. 

His eyes grew heavy as he read, and he eventually thought it would be a good idea to get some rest. He fell asleep thinking about the kiss scene, switching out the characters with himself and a certain nurse who happened to be taking care of him.

The lights were off when you returned, and you could hear his heavy breathing, indicating that he was asleep. Of course, you wanted to let him get his rest, but you needed to take his temperature one last time before you went to sleep. Trying to wake him up as gently as you could, you rubbed his back softly. That didn’t work, so you moved your hand up to run through his hair. His eyes cracked open at the feeling of your fingers twisting in his hair. 

“Hi.” You whispered, scratching his head lightly. “Can I take your temperature?”

He nodded and hummed a yes, and you brought the thermometer to his lips. You tisked your tongue when you saw that it read 101, it had only gone down one degree since this morning. “It’s still pretty high.” You whispered, not surprised by the lack of response from him. “I’m gonna stay here for a little longer, make sure you're okay.”

He sleepily nodded and closed his eyes again. You ran your fingernails softly up and down his back. The room was quiet, but you could hear some light chatter and music coming through the open window. By the way he was breathing, you could tell he was no longer sleeping, but you continued scratching up and down his bare back, hoping to bring him a little bit of comfort in his sick state.

There was no way Don could fall asleep, not with the weight of you sitting next to him, especially not with the feeling of your fingers on his back. Despite his fever, he swore he had goosebumps from the feeling. He would get this sick every day for the rest of his life if it meant he got to keep receiving this treatment from you. 

You have no idea how long you sat there scratching his back, occasionally making your way up to his hair to scratch his head. It went on for a while before Don spoke up begrudgingly, saying “You should get some sleep.”

A deep sigh left your mouth. Yes, you should sleep, but you felt a duty to watch over him. “I need to stay with you for a little longer.” You reassured in a whisper.

Maybe it was his fever messing with his head, maybe it was because he felt so bad that you had to stay up with him, but Don did something out of pure instinct, knowing that you needed to sleep. He lifted the blanket that was covering him and scooched over in the small bed, making room for you. He nodded as a gesture for you to lay down. “You should sleep.” He said softly.

Your heart swelled at the sight. With no protest, you slid right next to him under the covers. Don could hardly believe what he just did, but he couldn’t be happier that he did it. Neither of you were sure what to do, of course both of you wanted to wrap the other up in your arms, but neither of you did. Just laying there, next to each other, hearing the other breathing and feeling the heat radiating from the other's body was enough.

On something of a confidence streak, Don noted the absence of your hand on his back. “Can you keep scratching my back?” He said softly. 

Saying nothing, you smiled and ran your hand up his back. His reaction was noticeable, his whole body relaxed and his eyes fell shut. He unintentionally fell asleep almost immediately. The exhilaration of laying in the same bed as Don kept you awake, but you were more than happy to lay there rubbing his back until you fell asleep in the hazy hours of the early morning.

[chelshiart]

cleaned up the sketch, slapped some colors, and made it a party!

(also, thank you to everybody who have been enjoying and reblogging my obscure dwj book posts lately! It's always a treat to read your tags and comments and know that you're just as insane about her books as I am haha)

[justblades]

⌕ SUCK HIM DRY, 18+

⟢ CHARACTER : jing yuan x afab! reader WC : 1.7k

⟢ WARNINGS : EXPLICIT, MDNI. dubcon, succubus! reader, hypnosis

⟢ SUMMARY : a succubus preys on a luofu general — a battle of wits, who will outsmart the other given that both parties should not be underestimated? perhaps only time can answer.

the mara-struck, the ambrosial arbor— the legends drift to outsiders once they set foot on the xianzhou luofu. almost everything is possible in this setting, it was natural for devils who feed on sins to exist along with these species, and so you descend into the ship undercover, looking for a particular victim.

your interest was piqued by a distinct foxian lady whose ears are tall and in tan color, especially the notable, fluffy tail wagging just behind her. she has a little wooden table set in front of her and atop the birch surface are multiple pictures of a silver long haired male, smile as cunning yet blithe at the same time. the most notable feature however is the angel mark just below his left eye, followed by his long onyx lashes framing his aureate irises.

from the clothing he dons, it was clear-cut he's someone of a high ranking. you were not to be underestimated now that you're running low on your fill, so you opted for unconventional methods: by buying intel about the person and immediately found almost everything the luofu general does. a small price to pay for your deprivation.

apparently his name is jing yuan. it rolls off your long tongue smoothly. his charisma, his aura and his name: he's a perfect target. your adrenaline levels spike as you envision what you'll do to him once you lay your hands on the male, dozen scenarios flashing from one to another.

at present with a remarkable entrance, you finally emerge out from the shadows and make an appearance for your victim. although jing yuan's eyes are heavy lidded as he was a second apart from completely dozing off, he manages to brandish his weapon in an instant, hoisting it at your figure. the indolence he displayed from earlier immediately dissipates into thin air, his masculine voice cuts through the thick ice of tension lingering in the vicinity.

"you finally showed yourself. i've been waiting since earlier." it was just 10 words but he exceeds your expectations. never have your presence been sensed by anybody as that is one of your skills, to be able to conceal yourself and your true identity. jing yuan isn't to be taken too lightly, it appears. but no matter how he was able to anticipate your arrival, he still fell prey on your yearning hands.

he suddenly grunts in struggle as his limbs get pinned down on the sculpted, hazel chair before him. jing yuan loses control of his own body and you continue to stride towards him, a lecherous smile carved on your lips. "general jing yuan . . you're quite an attractive man." you whisper as you lean closer to his face, your hot breath ghosts a caress on the very shell of his ear.

the general was addled at first, trying his best to discern what kind of creature you really are. "you look confused, i'll grant you the privilege of knowing what i am." your words were honeyed as your eyes lock a wary gaze with his golden hues. "i'm just a demon who feeds on people . . the sin of lust particularly, and i'm here to claim your life once i successfully do so."

forcing a kiss on his sultry lips, your fingers grab a hold of his chin, making sure to deepen further your tongue in— making you feel more tantalized than before. jing yuan's brows furrow, continuing to struggle to break free from the curse you laid upon him. quickly breaking the seal of the kiss, you couldn't help but chuckle, "you taste so delicious general! i wonder if it's the same down here."

jing yuan glances at where your other clawed hand trails, his vision landing on his erection, all exposed from how you swiftly ripped his pants open. slowly gliding your digits against his prominent veins of a reddish tan mixed of violet shades, you merit yourself with the general's grunts of arousal as he closes his eyes shut.

he grinds his teeth, "i've heard of such creatures but i never would've imagined they were true." he struggles to speak eloquently like he always does now that he's under your teasing touch. suddenly, a warm feeling envelops his twitching length, only to realize you were sucking his girthy cock. "does it feel good, general?" you query, bobbing your head up and down while making a vacuum like suction as you suck all of him in, your tongue fiddling his dick's folds.

the silver haired throws his head back in defeat, unable to budge a movement as he was stuck in a sitting position. with a succubus pleasuring him, he couldn't deny it was a wonderful sensation. he eventually lets his guttural moans come undone and follow suit one after another, sounding into your ears like awards or prizes for doing your job well. amidst of this, he starts to think of a way to free himself from these invisible restraints but you heeded no mind and continue to indulge yourself in carnal desire.

however as you didn't underestimate jing yuan, the same could be said for you. after all, you meticulously planned to draw away everyone's attention in jing yuan's office just so you can prey on him. time flashes by rather quick and liquids of release sprawl into the hidden depths of your throat as you also toy with your sloppy cunt, growing eager to lap all of him even more.

"one out of three. once you cum thrice, it's a bye bye." the sentence cut off jing yuan's rowdy train of thoughts, but as he was powerless before such specie, you were able to insert his dick in, straddling his thigh, facing the male. he flinches as your tight walls coil around his shape, the head of his dick meeting with your cervix, " . . you're big!" you exclaim, your eyes widening into two full moons, shock coursing through your veins.

resting your hands on his broad shoulders, you begin to bounce on him, raising your ass and push your hips down on his thick, heating dick. your eyes never left jing yuan's, and you swear you could feel how much he's been thinking in spite of the low mewls he lets out— "yes, just keep looking at me like that!" taunting the general even more, his piercing, brazen stare sharpens, almost penetrating right through your soul.

"oh, general . ." you call out to him as you moan his name, "general jing yuan . . xianzhou luofu is such a pretty place!" naughty, squelching noises reverberate inside the vast space, accompanied by you and jing yuan's bit back moans of satisfaction. now locking your hands around his neck and fingers ruffling his long, luscious, ashy strands, you give him another open mouthed kiss, one that is much more gentler than the other, eyes closed to engage with the sensation.

noticing the littlest details of a person's body language, gifted to every succubus or incubus birthed into this universe, you could sense how his dick throbs, signaling for his release soon. the corners of your lips lift, displaying a smug smile once you pick up your speed and add more force on your movements, shaking your hips slowly to earn more sounds from the male's mouth.

"i— i'm—" jing yuan groans and the second round of his climax dawns, filling your velvet walls with his muddy white seed to the point that a good amount seeps into your womb. you feel your body lighten and improve in condition, "i wasn't wrong in choosing you at all. even your cum tastes refreshing— i can also make you do this."

the general's body moves by itself as he bends you over the table this time with one push, your face slapping against the varnished surface. his hand tightly clasped on your shoulder blades, you wiggle your pelvis so his head meets with your lips— and prods through your fluttering folds once more. he heaves deep breaths, more waves of pleasure crashing on him, even though it was against his will, he couldn't deny that he feels good from it.

your head spins as his thrusts were far more powerful than you expected. you didn't take into account how raw power works in these instances but it made the experience hundred times better— you were starting to lose your mind as he fills you with his cock, beads of his satisfaction trickling down past your thighs.

"what a naughty general!" you remark with absolute mockery, "is this what you fantasize about while you keep the luofu's peace, jing yuan?" snickering at the end of your sentence, you were surprised to hear him respond. "yes, and it seems like you're a perfect fit." you were taken aback by his reply.

he proceeds to flip your body around, carrying your figure with his mere two arms. he rises from his position and guides your legs to lock around his waist, his cock reaching deeper than before and rubbing on the other parts of your walls. "what— no! how could y—" jing yuan cuts off your protest with a passionate kiss, you could feel his lips tug into a smirk.

"where's your playful nature now?" jing yuan's words exude of irony and sarcasm: having enjoyment at how confusion washes over your facial features. "i'm not an ordinary being either - i'm afraid to say you only set yourself up for failure." the cocky aura from your stature ceases, jaw falling agape and your lustful eyes' gleam die down.

he speeds up his thrusts, intruding your tight cunt with an unrealistic speed. despite of worry gnawing at your perturbed mind, you couldn't stifle the mewls slipping from your lips. "it only took me . . a while to overcome your binds." the general clarifies and with one last stroke, more strings of milky like substance spring out from his cock, painting your walls white.

as soon as he fills you up, he lets go of your body, making a loud thud sound. you were left there unable to move, even more perplexed as to why. even though it didn't hurt you one bit, your mind was just occupied at just how powerful the general is. he exits your peripheral vision for a while, only to come back with new clothing donned as if the ones you ripped earlier weren't busted at all.

the seat of divine foresight's gates swing open, revealing numerous cloud knights in preparation for combat.

"be careful bringing her to the cell, this one's dangerous. i shall pay a visit later."

my masterlist !

[i-mmaginando]

Tesoro sono in ritardo...

Mara mi sta aggiustando l'abito, si era un po' rovinato durante la benedizione di don Gino

[source @luckycucky69 blog, thanks to @secret-place-inside-me for the idea]

[outrunningthedark]

I´m confused (and kinda bored now)- a lot of people already said it but I really don´t recognise anything Tim talked about in August in these episodes. I´m kind of shocked that Gerrard is already out of the picture? Bobby is back, Mara is back, there is no tension between Henren and Madney, Eddie is not out in the cold, the whole thing between Buck and Gerrard and Buck agonizing about his motives pointless. Tim is still teasing about that freaking mustache however. Do you think they just changed course last minute and cut a lot of stuff?

Thank you for this ask because I was gonna make a similar post after some contemplation and fell asleep (😄)

I don’t know about stuff getting cut because these same things were being echoed by the cast in September leading up to and at the start of s8.

BUT.

I do think there seems to have been some…exaggeration happening? Possibly because the cast and crew (aka Tim) obviously have to try and give answers that will keep fans intrigued?

Ryan and Aisha both had to address questions about how their characters handle Gerrard. They both insinuated that Hen and Eddie would only speak up if the reaction was justified. So ofc the expectation was for Gerrard to do something that shows his true colors once again.

Yeah. Didn’t happen. And Eddie in particular didn’t even have a Gerrard related moment in the dude’s final episode as captain of the 118.

The Madney and Henren conflict ended up being the “you lied about your personal connection and we want to take Mara away” angle, so Aisha didn’t lie, but was anyone anticipating that quick of a wrap up? No.

Eddie out in the cold is obviously going to happen in one of these next two episodes that are meant to be more for Buck, if it does. But I don’t think it’s gonna be as serious as the Buddies were hoping when it’ll clearly be a one-off that then leads into Eddie looking elsewhere for guidance (and eventually shaving that mustache, lol).

Ryan even oversold Buck “leaning on Eddie” when it came to Gerrard because yeah, Buck made some comments. But there was no heart-to-heart. And when Buck was struggling in the aftermath of Gerrard’s accident? Everybody danced.

If Tim and the actors had approached the early season promo like “No one actually has legit conflict with Gerrard and he ends up helping Henren for his own reasons and the Henren/Madney drama is one episode and Buddie don’t even have any personal scenes through the first four weeks”…

…that’s not gonna get people who look forward to those articles excited, is it?

Gotta know your audience.

[dynamite124]

Everyone else donning Amulets of Mara, meanwhile I've cracked the code to Tally's heart.

I love this update so much ❤️

That's one of my favorite new lines! And Pat nailed the execution in Tally's voice! 🥰