#maybe that thing were their body is completely metal but their face is that latex/rubber (??) texture of the robots we’ve had irl

[humsbugs]

there’s just something really funny about me wanting to draw EU naked because there’s absolutely nothing there to see. except maybe if you get excited about the prospect of doing maintenance on them or you like the way metal looks. but seriously it’s just like smooth there’s nothingggg

[virgo-mark]

Forbidden Fruit | Mark Tuan Smut

Requested: no | Word Count: 1.3k | Warnings: if you are highly sensitive to smuts that involve some religion, you probably might not want to read this | Genre: smut

Author’s Note: I haven’t been updating or writing for this blog in a while and I think I might make some changes to get me back into the groove of writing again. This was also supposed to be posted yesterday, but my bf tricked me into watching “Spiderman: Into the Spider-verse” lol

Summary: Mark Tuan, the youth pastor for the children of your local church, ensures you have some fun in his office.

Hooking up with Mark was risky. Not that he was dangerous, but he is a youth pastor for the local church in your area. You had seen him around and talked to him a few times, but you would have never thought you would be bent over his desk with your mini skirt hiked up to his liking, 30 minutes before he needed to collect the young kids after the sermon.

When he invited you to listen to one of his orations, you swore his intense stare carved a target onto your back because soon enough, you were his. It started off with a simple graze of the arm, then escalated to casual lap sitting, and eventually, the shy and chaste pecks on the cheek turned into full-blown make-out sessions. He was usually calm and collected, but this time, he gave in to the temptation.

“Should we be doing this?” You wondered as his lips were glued to yours. With his fingers tangled into your hair, Mark attempts to pull you in closer to him than you already are.

“No,” he lets out. “But I can’t help it.”

A smile creeps onto your face, disrupting your kiss. One hand glued to your waist while the other swipes the pile of papers and stationary off his desk and onto the floor. Pressing your back against the edge of the desk, the cold metal along with the air conditioning vent sends chills down your spine. You wanted this. You wanted him. And you got it.

Mark helps you onto the table top, before roughly ripping your button-up blouse and exposing your white undergarment under the fabric. The sound of buttons falling onto the tiled floor causes you to gasp, only to be shocked once more when you feel his plumped lips attack your neck, causing your whole body to shudder in response. Mark’s hand spreads your thighs open, cupping your sex in his palm. The thin fabric is the only thing separating you from feeling his slightly calloused palm on your soaking core. A moan escapes your lips and you feel Mark smirk against the crook of your neck.

In one swift move, Mark pushes your skirt up against your thighs and pulls the back of your knees, giving him more access to push your underwear aside to expose your recently groomed core. Without hesitation, his tongue lightly grazes your slit and he positions your legs over his shoulders, burying his face between your thighs.

“M-Mark!” You stutter, pushing his head back only to have him pin your hands against your abdomen. His tongue flattens against your clit, giving you long strokes before harshly flicking the tip of his tongue, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Pulling him up to your lips, you find yourself grinding against his hardening bulge through his black slacks.

“You’re very needy.” His voice drops an octave and the roughness in his statement causes you to gulp loudly as you mentally prepare for what’s in store for you. His hand snakes up to the sides of your neck and he commands you to pull his cock out from his pants. You do as he says, patiently waiting for his orders. Your eyes glued to his every move and you watch him pull his desk drawer open to pull out a condom.

“You keep condoms in your desk?” Cocking your head slightly to the left, you innocently look up at him while gently tugging on your bottom lip.

Mark playfully chuckles as he opens the foil wrapper and slides the rubber onto his erect cock. “Sometimes it’s better to be prepared than to be completely fucked.” His eyes quickly scan yours before placing a delicate kiss on your lips. “Excuse my language,” he smiles, causing you to do the same. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Taking a hold of his cock, you align it with your entrance and inserting just the tip. Gripping onto Mark’s wrist as his hands rest on each side of your neck, you bite back your moan as he slowly stretches your walls. Pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, you let out a whimper when you feel his throbbing cock penetrate deeply into you, each time harsher and rougher than the last.

“Look at how wet you are for me, princess. You’re so wet, my cock just slides right in.” Mark purrs, his hands pulling you as close to him as possible. Lewd noises fill the room every time he moves his hips into you, your juices glistening around the condom he has on. So caught up in the trance Mark has you in, you were sure the sound of skin clapping against each other could be heard down the hall. “Do you think you can take me from behind?” Mark’s voice matched his sinful thoughts that ran through his mind. Pushing your hair behind your ear, he takes in the fucked-out look you have plastered across your face: your hair is a mess, your cheeks flushed from the heat, and your mouth gaping open from the pleasure he’s giving you. You couldn’t even form a sentence to answer his question, so you simply nod.

Roughly placing you in his favorite position, your breasts press against the top of his desk while you feel his hands push your skirt higher than it already is. Without any warning, he slides his shaft into you, hitting a spot he couldn’t reach before. Finding anything to grip, you settle for the edges of the table. His hips moved with a hint of urgency, causing the table to make a squeaky sound while it gently hits itself against the wall. A hazy feeling overcomes you right before you feel a tightening in the pit of your stomach, then shockwaves that cause your toes to curl and your thighs to tremble. You weren’t even able to let out a warning before you release all over Mark. Your whole body weakens and you allowed Mark to use you in any way he pleased to get himself off. It wasn’t long until his hips falter and you were certain the pads of his fingers that dug into your waist would leave marks that would be prominent the next day. A deep and throaty groan leave Mark’s lips and his body weight shifts onto you while his thick cum gushes to the tip of the condom.

You feel Mark’s soft lips press against your exposed shoulder before slowly pulling himself off you. Disposing of the latex, you adjust your clothing until you realize you weren’t able to leave his office with the state your blouse is in.

“Um, Mark?” You turn to him to find him adjusting his black dress pants. “My top is sort of ruined.”

“Oh, shit. Um, I’m sorry about that.” Mark looks around, trying to find something to help you. When he does, he helps you strip from your ripped long sleeved blouse and into one of the oversized sweatshirts he kept as a backup.

“Christ is always watching?” You reiterate, looking down at the sweater you have on with red letter written across your chest. “Are you serious?”

“It was for a fundraiser,” Mark giggles as he makes an attempt to adjust your hair to your liking. “It’s the only thing I have. I’ll be careful next time, I promise.”

“Next time?” Arching a brow while holding back a smile, you gaze up at Mark.

“Mm, just maybe not here.” Mark cups your cheeks to give you a gentle kiss, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Hey Mark, are you okay?” An unfamiliar voice calls out. “The sermon is almost over.”

“I’ll be right out!” Mark replies before turning his attention back to you. “I usually take a girl out to dinner before doing this kind of stuff. So, I just thought that I could make you something tonight.”

You smile up at Mark and give him a small peck on the tip of his nose. “That sounds perfect.”

[hauntedbunkbeds]

Day 4: St. Agatha Island

Day 4, Secret Agent Thriller: Do you hear the James Bond theme? Try to block it out and do your OWN thing!

* The following is an excerpt from my unfinished short story, St. Agatha Island. I look forward to finishing this story when this month of prompts ends.*

St. Agatha Island

There was a foot on the beach. I thought it was a coincidence. After all, who sees a disembodied foot on a beach and thinks, “This is meant for me?” I did the normal thing and called the police.

“This is more common than you’d think,” an officer said to me as a woman in blue latex gloves collected the foot into a red and white Igloo-brand cooler.

“Feet are usually the first thing to disarticulate from the body in water, so we’ll often find the foot of a drowned person well before the torso, head, what have you. Helps if they were wearing shoes, what with the buoyancy of the rubber.”

I nodded and lit a cigarette, a habit I meant to break for forty years until one morning I woke up and realized I could do whatever the fuck I wanted and I would still die sooner rather than later. So, I would take a walk down the beach every morning and smoke a cigarette or two. Sometimes, the discovery of a disembodied foot called for one extra.

“Should I be worried?” I asked the officer.

He shook his head.

“Oh, no,” he said, “This is not the work of some sadistic killer. Or I should say, it most likely isn’t. We’re probably looking at an accidental drowning or a suicide.”

He fished a card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to me.

“Officer Dave Bailey,” he said, holding out his hand. I shook it.

“Call me Augie,” I said.

“If you do see anything else, feet or otherwise, feel free to give me a call.”

I thanked him and continued my walk home, following the thick tracks his beach cruiser left in the sand.

My home was a weathered little beach house with a long, rickety dock leading out to the water. An old speed boat bobbed in the current at the end of the dock, “Valencia” painted in white cursive on the side. I named the boat Valencia after a woman who thought I was dead, who I still loved.

This was not the retirement I had envisioned for myself, but circumstances change, and we learn to adapt. Life on St. Agatha Island was pleasant enough. It was quiet, and I had always enjoyed being alone. In the mornings I would take my walks, smoking a cigarette, enjoying the elegant kamikaze diving routine of seabirds hunting for breakfast. I spent my long afternoons reading old spy novels, and trying my hand at writing my own. It wasn’t any good, but I enjoyed the process of filling up old yellow legal pads with my chicken scratch handwriting. At night I would pour whiskey into an old coffee mug and take it down to the end of the dock with an old AM/FM radio. At least, the outside resembled an AM/FM radio. The guts were bit of my own concoction. I turned the dial until static gave way to the sound of a man’s voice, pathetically pleading.

Please, can anyone hear me? If anyone can hear me, please send help! Please, is anyone out there? I’m at--

There was the sound of clanging metal, and voices yelling, distant, indistinct.

I took a sip of my whiskey and sighed contentedly, staring out into the gorgeous ocean sunset.

A week had passed when I saw Officer Dave Bailey again. He was standing in line at the overpriced coffee shop I would sometimes sit at when I needed to use the internet. He noticed me sitting at a corner table with my dented silver laptop and raised his eyebrows at me conspiratorially. I gave him a polite wave in return. He got his coffee and made his way over to my table, still with that look on his face, like a child with a secret.

“We ID'd your friend,” he said to me, in lieu of a hello.  

“My friend?” I asked.

“The foot,” he whispered. He gestured to the empty chair across from me and I nodded that he could sit.

“That’s good news,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee and closing my laptop.

 “It is,” he agreed. “Turns out, the guy was reported missing over a year ago.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“But wasn’t it, um,” I struggled with what might be kosher. “It showed no signs of...”

“Exactly!” Officer Bailey exclaimed, agreeing to my incomplete thought. “There was no sign of decay at all. So my thinking is that maybe this guy buys a boat and decides to go off the grid, then a year later, has an accident and drowns.”

Officer Dave Bailey was probably in his mid-forties. He had the tan, weathered skin of someone who had grown up on the beach. You could always pick them out. They looked simultaneously far younger and much older than their age. I could tell he had been on the force for a while. His enthusiasm wasn’t that of a rookie, but of a man who has been bored for a very long time and finally got something to play with. His knowledge about the disarticulation of human feet wasn’t a product of finding his fair share of human feet, as I had originally thought, but of years of downtime spent reading true crime with his feet up on his desk. He reminded me of myself, decades before, and I liked him.

“This will be a huge relief to his family,” I said. “Closure will be valuable as they mourn.”

Officer Bailey nodded.

“In some form or other,” he said, “Robert J. Gould will finally come home.”

I nearly spit my coffee out. I must have looked wild-eyed because Officer Bailey looked taken aback.

“Augie, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“I...I’m sorry,” I said. I held my hands under the table so he wouldn’t see how they were shaking. “I knew a man by that name. It must just be pure coincidence. The man I knew is already buried in the ground.”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” he said. He leaned forward as if he might offer me his hand to hold, but then looked away and took an uncomfortable sip of his coffee.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” I said. “How were you able to identify the body?”

Officer Bailey perked right back up.

“I completely forgot to mention!” he said. “We found a hand on the other end of the beach not long after your foot. Hands disarticulate just as easily as feet, only they don’t beach as often, so we really got lucky. By another turn of luck, the hand even had a wedding ring on, engraved with two sets of initials and a wedding date. From that we were able to get a match from our Missing Persons database, and better yet, we ran the DNA against the foot, and it was a match!”

“That’s incredible,” I said, trying to muster up some enthusiasm.

“The saddest thing about it, though,” Bailey kept going. “Is the date on the wedding band. It’s only a couple weeks before he disappeared.”

I shook my head. I already knew the date. I would never forget that date.

“His wife must be devastated,” I muttered.

Bailey nodded.

“We hope to get in touch with her soon,” he said.

I could have saved him a lot of trouble, told him they’d never reach her, but I said nothing.

“Well I gotta get moving,” Bailey said. “But I thought you’d like the news. Feels like the Hardy Boys, doesn’t it? Solving mysteries and all that.”

At that I managed a genuine smile.

“I always loved those old books.”

“You have a good day, Augie,” he said, and with a little wave I was alone again.

When I opened my laptop again, I noticed I had a new email. I wasn’t surprised. I knew who it was from before I read the name.

I clicked opened the email, and one sentence taunted me from the screen. One sentence was enough for me to know that my peaceful days on St. Agatha Island were over.

Did you like my little gifts, Robert?

[TO BE CONTINUED]

[unholyhelbiglinked]

Dimensions | Chapter Five

His hands were rough against my skin, touch chilled and nails digging roughly into my arm. It stung, not like the shots that I had gotten in middle school, or right before I went to college. This wasn’t a simple test to see if I qualified for birth control or even giving blood.

This was them testing me to see exactly what I was. Exactly what I had told them millions of times over the countless hours being grilled through a cell wall. Kara was nowhere to be found, neither was her sister- or the two goons that had brought me roughly to wherever this was.

Judging by the walls, it was underground. Underground and completely unreachable.

“I’m claustrophobic.” I mumbled, my eyes staring up at the ceiling. The chilled embrace of handcuffs kept me oh so skillfully to the hospital examination table I had been set on. It reminded me of the pediatrician I used to go to- from the gross alcohol smell all the way down to the parchment paper crinkling under me.  

“That is my problem how exactly?” The guy rubbing cold liquid against the crease of my elbow. My fingers were growing numb, head resting against the edge of my arm as I tugged lightly on the cuffs once more.

“Just thought I would make conversation,” I grumbled, drawing in a breath as I felt a needle dig deep into my vein. The doctor apologized in a mumble, my jaw clenched as the pinch of a rubber band tied around my upper arm distracted me a bit.

“I’m not authorized to make conversation.”

“I didn’t know you had to be authorized.” I countered, lifted my chin slightly, finally glancing over at him. His deep green eyes were hard and unforgiving. He had done this hundreds of times to god knows what. He held the edge of a syringe wrapper in his mouth, his gloved hands pulling back on the rubber stopper as thick crimson pooled in the glass container.

“You have to authorized for everything down here.” Alex’s voice was colder than the man with the needle, my gaze moving to hers as the man quickly looked down, pulling away from me as he finished drawing blood. “Agent, Jackson would you give us a moment? I can finish up here.”

The sound of metal chair legs against a linoleum floor filled the room, my eyebrows raising slightly as the man left- taking his overwhelming scent of off brand cologne with him. I gazed at Kara’s older sister, the two of them taking the same power stance as they walked.

“Everything about you has come back completely normal.” Alex said, sitting down in the same creaky stool as she pulled gloves onto her hands. They were pale, the bright blue of the latex pressing against her ivory color. “The blood tests, the psych evaluation, shit; even your birth records are real.”

I nodded, cringing away from the slight pain that moved through me as Alex wiped more alcohol against the already sore spot. She placed a bit of cotton over the spot, a bruise already moving against my skin as she secured it with tape. She worked quickly and gently.

“Your adoption records even more so.” She mumbled, voice hushed “Does Kara know?”

“No,” I said quietly, shifting slightly as Alex leaned back, allowing me to sit up completely and face her now. She was chewing her bottom lip, eyebrows knit together as I kept quiet for a few minutes. “It shouldn’t be too hard to keep that quiet considering I don’t have much contact with the outside world at the moment.”

Alex’s breath was hot against my collarbone as she let out a long sigh. She smelled strongly of mint, the scent burning my throat. “Grace, we can’t figure out where you’re from. What you are.”

My gaze moved down to my feet. I hadn’t spoken of anything like this- told to keep quiet. To keep everything a secret to fit in with the large powerhouse of a family I was given here. The not draw attention to myself. This agency, whatever it was, wanted to coax me into submission. I needed to get home. Wanted to get home.

I scratched lightly at the tape that Alex had just pressed againt my arm, the adhesive already wearing off at the edges. She was a lot lighter with her approach than before. Something that concerned me for a number of reasons.

Kara must have spoken to her.

She was a protective sister, both of them knowing that family was everything in a city like this. It made my heart ache just thinking about getting off on the wrong foot with both Danvers sisters. Kara and I would walk to work everyday together, ocassionally getting drinks after our shifts had ended; but the first night we ever really talked was the night I was locked up in this place. It had been almost a week a this point.

“I’m not from another planet.” I sounded out, the words foreign to my ears. “I was born here, on earth. Just not… this version of earth.”

Alex had her arms crossed over her black shirted chest, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “So what? Like another line of reality? One that give you whatever the hell I saw in my sisters apartment?”

“Sort of,” I grumbled, a bit exasperated. “They’re different dimensions really.”

“Dimensions?” Alex scoffed, “Miss Helbig, you expect me to believe that you come from a different dimension that turns you into a human nightlight?”

I shook my head, trying to think of a way to explain myself completely. People here had chalked up little differences in books and movies to a shift in time- not a shift in world. A changed title could be from a different place entirely. I never expected anyone to listen long enough to believe me, or even ask.

“Your sister grabbed a plane out of the sky and landed it safely in National Cities largest river and you don’t think alternate dimensions exist?”

“No I-“Alex stood quickly beginning to pace back and forth. I watched her curiously for a few seconds, still messing with the bandage I sported. “I deal with enough bullshit in my world. I don’t want to believe there are other versions of me out there.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” I said innocently “These places exist on separate plains, they don’t mirror them in anyway.”

“Right,” Alex scoffed “that was foolish of me to think.”

I laughed softly, biting the edge of my lip. “Agent Danvers this is the third dimension. The one that you exist in. Mine is the fifth. More advanced. More in tune with the powers that we possess.”

“Which is what, exactly?” She stopped pacing, staring me down harder than she had the whole entire conversation. “What exactly can you pull off, Grace?”

I could hear the buzz from the agents that walked back and forth, doing their day jobs like normal. This was normal to them. The danger in their profession something that they had adapted to; whether it be of their choice or not.

They were a nice distraction for a few seconds, a few long seconds where Alex Danvers, the sister of the one and only Supergirl scrutinized me. Judged me behind that filmy grey gaze. “Anything.”

“Anything?” She scoffed, her passive aggressive nature from before shining through. Part of me wondered if she was more livid about my secrets, or the ones I was hiding directly from her sister.

“Pretty much,” I ran a hand through my hair. “I just kind of have to think it, will it in a way. It… it plays off of distractions, and ties well to my emotions.”

“I don’t understand.” Alex defended once more.

I bit my lip for a second. The other night was the first time in a very long time that I had even come close to using my powers. It was something that was difficult to explain. “Okay, uh. Well, when that thing came for Kara the other day, I was angry.”

Alex sat back down slowly in the chair, her stare never leaving mine.

“That anger, coupled with my desire to want to help made me stronger.” I added, lifting my eyebrows “Inhumanly strong. That feeling of being helpless and seeing her hurt like that… It made me wish to be able to help. Want with everything in my being to save her. To help her.”

“So you’re telling me that you’re a ticking time bomb of power based on how you feel?” Alex asked, pressing the pads of her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “Grace, that’s not good.”

I let out a small grumble, running a hand through my hair once more. It felt greasy, my whole body coated in dirt considering I had been trapped in a cell for god knows how long. “No, I mean. I wanted that strength then. So I got it. It’s not always like that.”

“Then what is it like, huh?”

“Magic without spells?” I sounded it out, my tone getting higher as I went. I had never explained this before. My foster family had known about all of this from the start- Cat making sure I would keep my powers dormant for as long as I can remember. “I can conjure anything and everything.”

Alex let out a shaky sigh “This is a little too R.L Stine for me.”

“You don’t say,” I mumbled, pressing my fingers gightly against the edge of my hairline. Another nervous habit. Another thing that I needed to stop doing. Like biting my nails and sweeping crumbs into a small pile on the kitchen counter; it drove Mamrie nuts. “I… Alex there is only one of me here. That I know of.”

“So Cat?”

“Doesn’t take chances when it comes to what I can do.” My voice was strained. “I haven’t used my powers in years. Forever really. I knew I had them as a kid. Doing trivial things like conjuring up a toy that I wanted. Or maybe even some ice cream but, aside from the whole lactose issue I have now, I was taught to work for what I have.”

“So no one knows?”

“Only my foster parents and you.” I lifted my chin.

Alex was silent again, something I was used to at this point. She was thinking, her mind racing as she kept the pads of her fingers pressed firmly to her lips. “You can go home.” She spoke softly at first. “But not alone.”