#the bricks aren't flimsy

[h0riz0nstuff]

I bought this MOC Scarab, bootleg lego (good quality tho, I'm impressed), and I assembled it today. Legs part completed !

Oh no ! It's trying to flee !!

Pfew. foiled by the edge of the bed and the total lack of spring in the legs xD FAS bots, man, what a bunch of assholes. Yes, yes, I'm assembling your head, just calm the flip down. there will always be time to go and destroy the earth later.

Done ! Climb on the box and preen, now. Yes, like that. Such a pretty killing machine *pets* …Ouch !

FAS robots, man, what a bunch of tiny assholes. *gets stung again* HEY

(This one was actually kinda cheap for the number of pieces. I got it on aliexpress for about 20€ shipping included. Just look for Horizon stuff, you'll find them.)

[existentialfailure]

You are You

Pairing: Touya / Reader

Length: Oneshot, 3124 words. 

Description: The rain used to be soothing. He seeks shelter from it now, there aren't many places to go when your home is the streets.

Warnings: Suggestive themes, explicitly language, Dabi being Dabi. Notes: Pre-LOV, Touya isn't savvy with this villain thing yet, pretty (strikingly) AU-ish.

When he was a boy, he loved the rain. The smell as it rolled in on the wind, the muted light it would cast over the courtyard. It was one of the few times he’d begrudgingly be okay with his father dismissing him from training. It still stung, still irritated him, but the rain soothed the hurt just like it soothed the sting of blisters on his chubby fingers and fat palms.

He’d slip outside while his mother was otherwise preoccupied. Kick off his shoes, peel his socks away and toss them where he wouldn’t recall where to find them. He’d spend as much time as he could abscond away in the furthest part of the yard, huddled behind the manicured azalea bushes that could be found there. Bare toes digging into the mud he had revealed from the grass he pulled up with his fingers, toenails blackening. He couldn’t recall the reason he did any of it, just that at the time he wanted to, and getting filthy felt taboo and a bit rebellious in the moment.

If he was lucky, he’d be able to stay out in the rain long enough to watch his fingertips prune, his teeth chatter- his quirk not quite honed as a child to keep him warm in a cold downpour. His clothes would be waterlogged and heavy, blazing red hair sticking to his forehead and tickling his ears in a way that made him scratch and giggle. Eventually his mother would catch on eventually to the fact that her home was a little too quiet, a bit too serene, and that only meant the oldest of her brood was missing. 

He’d be back inside after a few disgruntled shouts of his name, head bowed and dripping all over the polished wood floors. Muddy feet, filthy hands, ruddy face, and a shuddering frame looking sheepish and reproachful (but quietly unapologetic)  under his mother’s flimsy attempt at being stern.

‘Touya. Touya! Do you want to catch pneumonia? Touya? Touya, are you even listening?’

Now the impending threat of rain made his bones, what was even left that felt like his, ache. The stench of wetness made his nose burn, and the grafts that were pulled tight across his muscles would suddenly begin to itch and sting. He could feel the pulse of a headache start behind his eyes, an irritable ache that made his temper start to simmer to the surface. He didn’t like getting stuck in the rain. He had no way to dry his clothes, and he had just stolen these boots three weeks ago. He really wasn’t in the mood to have them start smelling like rot, and he was pretty sure they weren’t even real leather. To top it off, he had lost his last jacket in a fight, so he was stuck in a flimsy grey shirt that he was sure was days away from disintegrating into thin air. Touya smirked sardonically, if there was one thing he was spectacular at: it was royally fucking himself.

Pressing his fingers into his eyes, and letting out a groan, he pulled himself up off the alley floor and leaned his shoulder against the mismatched brick wall. Arms crossed, he let his eyes wander to the mouth of the alley, watching the occasional pedestrian stroll by either oblivious or pointedly ignoring the haggard looking homeless guy posted up in the alleyway. He learned the first couple years on the streets that occasionally someone would take pity on a wayward youth and pass him a bit of money for convenience store food or water. Yet the older he got, the larger he got, and the more his fire burned his skin necrotic and it fell away like rot off a bone- it was less likely anyone dared to look his way. Now, he learned just how quickly grandma can speed walk past a fuckin’ vagrant she thinks is gonna rob, kill, and eat her wrinkly fuckin’ face off.

Flexing his shoulders back to try and relieve the growing pressure of ache, he moves into the crowd on the sidewalk. He damn near belts out a howl at the way a girl that he assumes must be nearly his age contains a yelp in her mouth at his sudden appearance beside her. He gives her his own version of a salacious wink, snorting at the way she returns it with a grimace, clearly revolted. He doesn’t bother to try and parse through what part of him pulls the quick rejection: way too many flaws to count, and honestly he just isn’t in the mood to hurt his own fuckin’ feelings right now.

He breezes past most of everyone, and there aren’t too many out. As the world around him dims with the approach of a storm and impending dusk, the streets begin to clear as most take the opportunity to seek shelter before the rain. A few continue on like him, shaking out umbrellas, already pulling them over their heads, chattering away on phones or absorbed in their own thoughts and destinations. Tucking his chin into his chest, Touya marches on, hands fitted in his pockets and shoulders pulled tight to his ears.

He hustles to the familiar brick building on the far side of town, ducking under a makeshift awning built out of shitty black tarp and plywood. The operation is upstart, run by a couple of quirkless morons with big hearts, no brains, and a concerning bit of money. The rain had already started before he made it, and by the time he reaches the door, he feels like a drowned rat and probably looks like a dead one you’d find snout down in a puddle. He stands in front of the chipped paint brown door for a moment, eyes wandering over the front of the building as he shivers. The matching brown paint is still peeling, bits hanging on by a thread. The building had previously been a boarding house or something of the sort. He wasn’t sure, he was barely paying attention when the weird fucks were explaining it the first time he met them, huddled up in a scratchy blanket with his face beat the fuck in at 17 and no where else to go.

He was more concerned about his broken nose and missing tooth than their stupid storytime.

What he does remember is that it is one of the only shelters in the area, and it was easier to loiter in this place than it was to find an unoccupied building and smash in a window to find a room to sleep in. The only problem was getting into the damn place, because it was constantly full, and he was habitually late to snag a spot.

Well shit, how was that his fault? He couldn’t spend all day standing around out here for a bed when he had to be out there thieving all over the damn place so he could fucking eat. When it comes down to it, he is usually going to choose food. And this place doesn’t offer breakfast in bed. Occasionally first aid from student volunteer nurses- all quirkless, all fucking slow, but better than nothing. And sometimes a bed. If he could will it into existence.

With a body wracking shiver, he raps his knuckles against the door, ratting the handle for good measure (and to be obnoxious). If he was lucky, being that it was a weekday, a rotation of student volunteers from the local college would be here, which meant one very good thing that might fall into his favor. The chance that his favorite rotation of volunteers was in. And his chances of a successful night out of the rain, and into warmth that wasn’t just using his quirk 24hrs straight was in reach. The deadbolt clicked, the handle twisting a couple of times as the mechanism had a habit of sticking.

Touya snickered. It always amused him to think if some quirked asshole really wanted to, they could just knock the damn door down, deadbolt and all. Stupid ass good Samaritans. He’d pay to be there if it happened.

The door creaked open, and his face split into a devious smile. Jackpot. He was always able to sweet talk you into letting him in, even if there wasn’t a bed. Fuck, he’d curl up and sleep on the rug inside the janitor closet- which you let him do too many times to count before- just to get out of this fuckin weather and get dry. You narrowed your eyes, lips twisting.

“You know what I’m going to say,” You huffed with an eye roll.

“Yes. That there is absolutely a spot in Hotel Homeless with my name on it.” It was a smarmy response, but you know you like it. He knows you like it. He thinks.

“No. And stop calling it that. It’s called ‘Hope Manor’.” Was the deadpanned response he got in return. He frowned quickly, leaning in and curling his fingers around the door to keep you from closing it on him. You gave an experimental jerk at it, huffing when it didn’t budge. There wasn’t a bit of fear or intent on your face to deny him just yet, simply exasperation at having to deal with this late into the day. Your eyes flicked over him, noting he clearly spent the last several blocks walking uncovered in the rain. You did feel a little bad for him.

“That’s a stupid name, and you know it.” Touya snarked before whining your name boyishly and pouting playfully, “C’mon darlin’, you don’t want to leave me out here in the cold do ya’? What if I die of pneumonia? Ain’t that against your lil’ humanitarian thing you’re doing?”

You didn’t deign him with a response, cheeks puffing as you glared defiantly at him. You both stared each other down, him trying to look pitiful and you trying to hold your ground. You weren’t going to let him do this again! After all this time, enough is enough. Touya needs to learn he can’t just manhandle, and manipulate people into getting his way.

But he also looks pretty pathetic out there soaked to the bone.

And you would feel terrible if he got sick. And you always felt bad because you were both so close in age, and living such painfully different lives.

Damn it. You seriously need to grow a spine.

“You keep taking advantage…” You grumbled, being the first to break eye contact and inching the door open slightly towards him. Touya grinned toothily, slipping through the crack you gave him to fit through and pulling the door shut behind him as you released it. You continued to mumble behind him as you redid the locks, Touya happily ignoring your displeasure. “Keep your voice down. I was serious, Touya. There aren’t any beds left. You can’t just roll in here late and expect there to be room just for you because you demand it.”

You squeeze past him in the narrow entryway of the makeshift shelter, ignoring how Touya makes an obnoxious show of scrunching up his face at the prevailing odor of old wood and mildew. He always wants to get in so bad, you’d think he’d get over the stench. The place is old.

Touya follows closely after you like a well trained puppy, quiet and obedient as you lead him down a side hall. He was sure the carpet at his booted feet once upon a time was a vibrant red, royal even, but after years of neglect and abuse from thousands of feet, it looked more an ominous bloody black. The green paint was chipping off the walls at each side of it, and the ceiling was beyond yellow, now a deep dark tan stain from years of tobacco smoke. You stopped him abruptly, yanking him out of his thoughts at the end of the hall in front of a wooden door that looks like it took one too many beatings from the buildings past residents.

With a key off a lanyard on your hip, you unlocked it, pulling Touya into the stairway and behind you so you could relock the door.

“Down the steps.”

Touya huffed, now a bit confused.

“Well, this is new. Where’s my closet?” He held onto the railing as he traveled behind you, soothing the itch of the grafts on his wrists by dragging them along the roughened wood. You don’t say anything for a minute, face curtained by your hair as you descend the steps a little faster as if by sheer movement alone you could avoid answering his inquiry for the moment. By the time you make it to the bottom of the staircase, and to the final hall, you’re shushing him again with a finger to your lips. He opens his mouth threateningly, as if to make a loud objection just for the hell of it, but closes it with a clack of his teeth and a grin. You glare in response before turning away.

This hallway is just the same as the last; ugly blood carpet, peeling paint, and please-drink-more-water piss yellow ceiling. Touya is about to remark on it when you stop at the first door on the left, opening it with another key on your lanyard and yanking him into the room like you were about to get caught red handed. Stumbling from the sudden pull, Touya catches himself on a post of what he now sees is a bed tucked into the corner of the small room.

“Shit, the fuck was that?”

You whirl on him, red faced and a little jittery.

“This is one of the rooms they let the volunteer students sleep in when we help at the building overnight.” You gesture to the bed, and the small desk where your pricey laptop sits. He probably shouldn’t be thinking about its price. Don’t steal from people who can continue to help you down the line, moron.

Besides, he would probably feel bad stealing from you.

He blinks between you and the bed, then back at the desk and to you again.

“The fuck?” He looks again.

“T’fuck you shack me up with you for?” Now he isn’t so sure this shit was a good idea. Is he fucking sweating? No, that’s just the rain still dripping off his hair onto his neck. Holy fuck, he’s never been with a chick full on before. What the fuck. And shit, he is not going to own that shit up to you, he’d never hear the end of it. He’d have to pretend he was good at it, that he knew he was good at it.. Holy shit wait why is his mind even going there and going there with you in there with- fuck.

Now it was your turn to panic, hands coming up in front of you to wave wildly, face red.

“Don’t say it like that,” you hiss back at him, “and don’t raise your voice! Someone will hear you! I just didn’t have anywhere else to put you! The closet has a leak in the roof, I can’t stow you away in there until it's fixed. It’s literally a health hazard right now.”

Touya stares at you a moment, wild eyed as he considers what you said before rolling into his next panicked set of questions. “Couldn’t’ve said somethin’?”

“I didn’t have a chance! …And I was kind of embarrassed about it. Also you would’ve made me nervous by being weird about it!”

“No shit! Because you’re going t’be weird about it. You basically invited a dude to your room!”

You stared at him for a moment, incredulous. You straighten your spine, throwing your hands on your hips.

“Am not, and did not. In fact,” You huff, breezing around him with purposeful strides to the little nightstand behind him. He watches you with a slight frown, brows furrowed curiously. He tilts his head to peek around you as you lean over to pull open the drawer to reach in, pulling out a pair of grey sweatpants and what looks like a loose black top.

“Here. They give us generic spare lounge clothes in case we need something to change into,” You shove them unceremoniously into his chest, eyes wide and determined. Touya scrambles to grab them, holding them away from his body to avoid the fabric soaking up the rainwater and ruining the new set of dry clothes. With a satisfied nod, you twist around to the duffle bag he failed to notice beside the desk, picking it up and slinging it over your shoulder.

“I am going to step out so you can get changed,” You continued, taking a deep breath to steal your nerves. You weren’t going to be weird about this. Absolutely not. He was the weirdo. He always had been since you met him with his right eye swollen shut, blood all over his forehead and filthy shirt, and he had the audacity to call you dumb looking through a broken nose and proceed to rag on you at every opportunity throughout the day. It was a Halloween outfit.. The prick. You could’ve shook the hand of whoever broke his big stupid nose.

“You can get changed here. Put the wet clothes on the floor in the corner… I’ll take them to the communal dryer we have down here for staff. Also I didn’t invite a dude to my room. I invited you to.. to a sleepover! Which is completely different because... well... because you’re you.” With that, you turn on your heel and march out. Once the door is shut behind you, you deflate and power walk to the community bathroom, face ablaze and heart pounding furiously.

No good deed goes unpunished, you guess.

With that, Touya is left standing stupid in the center of your room, a bundle of grey clothes held out in front of him and the low rumble of thunder sounding distantly above him. He blinks, trying to digest the last bit of your rushed commentary at him, face screwed up thoughtfully. Because Touya is… Touya? The fuck does that mean? He doesn't even know who the fuck Touya is. Touya is whatever the wind sweeps up that day to make it to the next fuckin' day. He stews in his mind over it, occupying himself by beginning to strip and tossing his clothes and boots unceremoniously into a corner. Nude, he slides on the sweatpants, finally glaring up at the door after a moment of wrestling with the string at his waist.

Lowkey, he kind of hopes you like that Touya is Touya. Even if he doesn't know who Touya is.

[yuujispinkhair]

Under the Killing Moon

Pairing: Vampire!Yuuji x Vampire-Hunter!Reader (female) Genre: smut, horror, urban fantasy, Vampire AU Word Count: 5k Playlist: Vampire Warnings: 18+, dark themes, smut, blood, Yuuji bites reader's neck and breasts, general mention of death and killing as it is common in vampire stories, creampie, sex-magic kind of, Yuuji's spit and cum are an aphrodisiac, multiple orgasms, sex while flying. The story gets dark towards the end, kidnapping, yandere!Reader, dub-con. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

This is part of my Halloween Special

In starlit nights I saw you So cruelly you kissed me Your lips a magic world Your sky all hung with jewels

The Killing Moon by Echo & the Bunnymen You stumble out of the backdoor of the club and into the dimly lit back alley, swaying precariously on the high heels of your leather boots. You giggle as you put a hand against the brick wall to steady yourself.

Everyone who might see you will come to the same conclusion: You are a girl who had a few drinks too much. A slutty thing in a skimpy little outfit who went to this club to dance and drink and find a one-night stand.

But it's all just for show. You aren't really drunk. You aren't a girl who went to a club to have a fun night.

The truth is, you are working tonight, and all your senses are sharpened, ready for the kill. Because that's what you get paid for. Ridding the city of the bloodsucking abnormities that haunt its streets at night.

Tokyo Supernatural Crime Department – Grade 1 Vampire Hunter

That's what it says on your official badge.

Some colleagues are older than you or stronger but still stuck in grades 2 or 3. You know why. They aren't as passionate about this job as you are. They are too careful. Too scared to get close to those monsters.

But not you. You know how to find them in the moonlit parks, in the shiny clubs and bars, and in the dark back alleys. You aren't scared to get close to them. On the contrary. Because you have your special way of hunting them.

The huntress poses as the prey. That's what always works. And you know how to play the perfect victim.

It's the most delicious role reversal. You are pretty proud of the deception you created. Luring the creatures, who are supposed to be the biggest lure themselves, to you.

They get weak for you, driven by the desire for a young woman's blood. You are a bait so good it can't be ignored.

A helpless girl, all alone, tipsy, a bit naive, careless. Flimsy clothes, a short skirt, and fishnet tights, with a tiny corset top that exposes your neck and pushes your tits up so temptingly that they almost spill out of the slutty piece of clothing.

You are a walking temptation. The perfect trap. You just have to find the right spot. Tonight you are lucky on the first try.

Your mouth lifts in an excited smile when you hear the soft voice behind you.

"What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here, cutie."

A shiver runs down your spine. His voice sounds beautiful. Their voices always do. Velvety and warm like a lover's caress. Seductive without even trying.

He sounds strained, though. Like something is worrying him.

You turn around, putting on the best startled expression you can do. Wide innocent eyes, mouth opening in a gasp as you bring a shaking hand to your lips and the other to your chest, where your heart is beating wildly as the rush of the upcoming hunt washes over you.

Your gaze lands on a tall, muscular figure with pastel pink hair and a face so pretty it is to die for.

Yes, he is one of them. And what a lovely specimen he is!

Of course, they are all gorgeous. But he is of extraordinary beauty. Even if he tried, he could never pass as a human. He is too pretty, too perfect. Otherworldly.

His face is so beautiful that you want to weep. You can't tell how old he is, of course. He will forever look like a young man in his early twenties. But if he is one of the old ones of his species, you are sure the humans who lived a thousand years ago must have built ancient shrines for him where they worshipped his beauty and sacrificed people in his name.

High cheekbones, perfectly shaped nose, and full lips. You can see the tips of his fangs peeking out, glistening like pearls in the dimly lit back alley.

His flawless tan skin seems to glow as if illuminated by some light from the inside. His eyes are an unnatural shade of gold. Shining like a full moon hanging in the night sky above the city.

He is tall, and his body is adorned with gorgeous buff muscles. A body like a god. You can see that much even through the clothes he's wearing. All in black, tight jeans and a tight long-sleeve shirt. Strong and deadly. A body made for hunting, for killing, for preying on humans and drinking their blood.

Your heart is racing under your hand that's pressing against your breasts. You know he can hear it. Can hear the tempting thrum of your pulse. Can hear the rushing of your blood through your veins.

You blink at him as if confused, fluttering your eyelashes innocently. Just a dumb little girl. An easy prey.

"Ah! You scared me! Are you here to get a bit of fresh air too? It was too hot in the club. I danced too much, I think. And the drinks made me dizzy...hehe. I think I'm a bit tipsy."

You giggle and wipe your forehead, smiling at him and cocking your head, exposing more of your neck to him.

You can see his golden eyes dart to your pulse point. He licks his lips unconsciously, showing more of his fangs. They are long! He must have an enormous bite force.

The thought sends a spark of excitement through you. Adrenaline and arousal mixing in a delicious concoction.

His gaze meets yours. Wide-eyed and full of regret. You frown inwardly. What's wrong with that creature? Why isn't he happy to see such a perfect prey?

"Y... You shouldn't be here. No one should be here...I was just looking for rats. I don't want to do this!"

Oh. Now you understand. Your smile becomes bigger.

He's one of those vampires. How cute.

You have never met one before, but you heard tales about them. Vampires who don't want to feast on humans. Vampires who are at war with their natural instincts. They only hunt animals, feeding off them as if it could give them the same elation human blood does.

You know it's stupid. When it comes down to it, they can't suppress their hunger for human blood. They are made for this. It's their ultimate desire, their drug, their life elixir.

You take his words as a personal challenge.

Oh, sweet little vampire boy, you don't want to drink my blood? We will see about that.

And so you take a step towards him, swaying slightly, playing the drunk girl perfectly.

"Why shouldn't I be here? Is it a private area? Oops, I'm so stupid sometimes."

You giggle dumbly as you reach out to tap a playful finger against his broad chest, feeling the firm muscles through the thin black fabric of his shirt.

His eyes widen even more.

You smile sweetly at him before spinning around on one foot, letting your short skirt fly up to expose more of your thighs as if you're doing a little drunk dance, humming a song you heard in the club. One of those old gothic rock anthems.

You stop with your back to him, making it easier for the confused vampire. Maybe it will help him if he doesn't have to look into his victim's eyes. And then you sigh loudly and crane your neck, showing off all your exposed skin, bringing up a hand to fan yourself, letting the soft breeze carry your scent over to him. You always use a special homemade perfume on hunting nights. A mixture that includes a few drops of your blood.

You can hear his low growl. Can hear the moment his resolve breaks.

And you smirk to yourself, waiting for the moment he will attack. Your hand is already hovering over the hidden pocket in your corset where you keep the handkerchief drenched in holy water. Just in case he is too wild.

You hope this one will be fun, though. You don't like it when they are too vicious, and you have to kill them immediately before the fun even starts.

Because you aren't just here for the kill. If you are honest, you haven't been doing this job for the kill in months.

It was what made you initially sign up, sure. You wanted to drive a stake into those vile creatures' hearts and watch them crumble to ashes. You wanted to be a hero for humankind. Wanted to protect your species from its natural enemy.

But then, one night, one of them got too close to you and managed to sink his canines into your neck. You killed him but only after experiencing the most exquisite feeling of elation. Vampire saliva should be labeled a drug. You felt high in those seconds, body brimming with pleasure, closer to heaven than you ever thought possible.

After discovering this nice side effect of your job, you haven't been doing it for the kill anymore but for this special thrill. The most exquisite drug that exists in this world.

You draw in a sharp breath when you feel the vampire appear behind you. So fast as if he didn't even walk but instead manifested out of thin air.

His low, seductive voice sounds full of regret,

"It's because it's dangerous out here. I am dangerous."

You feel his breath on your neck. And before you can say anything, a strong hand clamps over your mouth and his voice is in your ear again, low and sweet and sad but also so horny for your blood.

"I am so sorry, sweetheart. I don't want this, but I'm so hungry. Please just let me take a little bite, ok? I promise I'll be careful and I will let you go afterwards. Please don't struggle. I don't want to hurt you, sweetie. Just let me get a little taste."

His firm body is pressing against your back, all solid muscles and supernatural strength. And horny desire. You can feel how hard he is. Just the thrum of your heartbeat and the smell of your skin and blood drives him crazy with lust.

You push your ass against his erection, feeling your eyes fall shut at the delicious friction. He is big. Big fangs and a big cock. So perfect for you.

And then his mouth opens against your neck. His sharp canines graze over your skin, making your body jerk with anticipation and arousal. You are so wet, pussy throbbing with excitement, creaming your panties at the prospect of getting bitten by that beautiful monster.

It's those short moments right before the bite that send the biggest thrill through you. This mix of fear and arousal. Waiting for that predatory creature to sink his teeth into you.

You lean against him, reaching behind you to let a hand run over his undercut and then tangle in his pretty pink hair. Your pulse is racing, making you feel lightheaded, and you moan softly,

"What is your name?"

"Yuuji..."

"Bite me, Yuuji. Drink from me. Tell me how sweet my blood tastes."

It's enough to make him lose his last bit of restraint. You hear his strangled moan, and then his long pointy fangs pierce through your skin, making you gasp loudly as a sharp pain explodes on your neck.

Your body jerks automatically as your survival instincts try to make you run. But Yuuji's arms are around you, holding you in place, restraining you effortlessly. 

And then his vampire spit is working its black magic. The initial pain of the bite disappears and gets replaced by pleasure, making you relax in his strong arms and lean against his tall body, offering yourself willingly to him.

It's evil. Nature's abomination. A creature that's so perfect for preying on humans. Everything about the vampire is attractive to humans. They are beautiful. They are sexy. They exist to lure a human in. And their bite makes you want to stay, makes you crave more, makes you want to get feasted on until the last drop.

The unholy essence in their saliva makes you forget that it's a bad thing that they are drinking your blood, makes you forget that they are slowly draining you of your life essence and bringing you closer to death with every sip. A deadly temptation, that's what they are.

You don't feel any pain now that Yuuji feasts on you. You feel euphoria.

This is what you came here for tonight. This exquisite pleasure on the brink of death.

You find yourself moaning, pressing against the vampire needily, craning your neck to give him better access, and rubbing your ass against his hard-on, spurring him on to do more, to take more, to give you more.

If anyone in your department ever finds out about your little vampire kink, you will get fired, and your vampire hunter license will be taken away from you.

But you just can't resist.

You think you have an addiction. Nothing beats that feeling of ecstasy that pulses through your veins when the vampire spit seeps into your wound and mingles with your blood.

Or no.

There is one thing that is even better: If they drink from you while using your body in other ways too. If you let them do what every vampire craves: Feast on your whole body. Bathing their mouths with your blood and coating their cocks with your pussy cream. They long for the pulsating feeling of a warm, slick cunt around their hard cocks.

They crave to feel the life that's pulsing through your body. After all, they are undead. Their hearts have no heartbeat. Their flesh is cold and only warms if they wrap themselves around a body that is still alive. They desire life and nothing screams life more than sex.

Sweet Yuuji is just the same. He can't escape his vampire instincts. His animal urges that tell him to eat and to mate.

A low wild growl is heard when you grind against his hard cock in maddeningly tight circles, massaging him with your ass, tempting him, making him crazy with lust and need.

You feel him suck more firmly on your neck, moaning against your skin as he hungrily drinks your blood while rutting his thick hard length against you.

You let your head fall onto his shoulder, moaning his name shakily. At the same time, your fingers loosen the lacing of your corset so it opens enough to let your tits spill out, sighing when the cold night hair brushes over your heated flesh, nipples hardening instantly.

And Yuuji groans loudly against your neck, his hands coming up instantly to cup your tits, massaging them with his strong fingers, squeezing them needily, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples.

You smile.

You have him. That was easy. So easy to seduce this cute little vampire.

He turns you around with a feral-sounding growl, slamming your back against the brick wall with so much force that it makes you gasp for air.

And then his hungry mouth is on your tits, wandering over your heaving breasts, sucking and licking at your skin before he sinks his fangs into your plump flesh.

You scream, but it's a scream of lust. Your fingers tangle in Yuuji's soft pink hair as a shudder of ecstasy washes over you and makes you push your tits eagerly against his mouth.

"Ah, Yuuji! More! Please, more!"

You aren't just acting anymore. At this point, you crave him. You are greedily chasing after this feeling of bliss only a vampire cock can give you. And you know that cute and sexy Yuuji will be a master at this.

If he refuses? Well, your wooden stake is hidden in your knee-high boot.

But you don't need it. Not yet.

Yuuji looks up at you with glowing eyes and tiny droplets of blood trickling down the corners of his lips. He is sucking on one of your nipples while his fangs are buried in your flesh, sending shock waves of pleasure through you, making your pussy throb with need, so wet that your panties are soaked.

Your gaze locks with his, looking at him with the same feverish desire that is burning in his glowing eyes.

"You don't have to hold back, sweet vampire. Just take me any way you want! Just fuck me, Yuuji!"

And then Yuuji moves. He is too fast for you to even see it. One moment he has his face buried between your tits, worshipping and feasting on them, and the next, he has you pushed up against the wall.

This is the part that always drives you crazy with lust. That show of vampire strength! When he yanks you around, lifts you in his arms, and slams you against the wall like a rag doll, holding you with only one arm as if you weigh nothing.

He has already opened his pants, pushing them down to free his enormous hard cock, and then his hand sneaks under your skirt, and his firm fingers leave goosebumps on your sensitive skin where they rub over your inner thighs and then reach the heat between your legs.

Your legs tighten around his hips when he tears a hole into your fishnets and the panties underneath, ripping them apart like the wild animal he is.

He has you on his cock a split second later, claiming you with all his vampire strength. Fucking into you with hard deep thrusts so powerful and strong that it feels like you will shatter.

Not human.

You moan loudly, pussy clenching around him needily.

Human men don't do it for you anymore, not after getting a taste of vampire sex magic.

Pleasure is coursing through your veins, pussy so wet and hot, horniness clouding your mind as you threaten to go into a frenzy.

It's always like this. Vampire dick is the best dick. Made to pleasure, made to drive a human out of their mind with lust. They are made to make you become high on them and get addicted to them.

Just one drop of Yuuji's pre-cum inside you makes your head spin. His seed is the most potent aphrodisiac. Unable to create new life, infertile, dead. But so powerful when it comes to blessing you with the most intense pleasure.

Your pussy feels so sensitive to every hard thrust. You can feel Yuuji's pre-cum coating your insides, filling you with that tingling sensual sensation that makes your pussy twitch needily around his gorgeous length. When Yuuji's fat cockhead massages your sweet spot, leaking more fat drops of pre, you see stars and gasp and scream as tears of bliss run down your cheeks.

Of course, you became addicted to this! This is sex beyond anything else. No mortal man could give you this.

"Ahh, you fuck me so good, Yuuji. Can you fuck me while flying too?"

He is a particularly strong one, just pushing himself off the ground, and then he's soaring up into the night sky with you. He doesn't pull out, keeping you on his cock the whole time, rolling his hips and fucking into your needy wet pussy while floating in the night sky over Tokyo's glittering neon lights.

You scream your ecstasy into the night as your pussy clenches wildly on Yuuji's blissful vampire cock. You are drunk on him, high from orgasmic bliss, crying and screaming and mewling as you gush over his gorgeous cock, making a sticky wet mess all over him.

But he holds you in place fucking you through it, fangs buried in your neck, and his girthy cock filling you with his gracious load of cum, making you whimper and moan. Your body is convulsing with the almost unbearable ecstasy of getting filled with his aphrodisiac vampire seed, prolonging your high.

And just when you think the pleasure will finally start to ebb, another orgasm gets forced out of you before you are even ready for it. Your used hole spasms around Yuuji's cock helplessly, a sharp lustful cry of his name filling the night sky as if you are howling at the full moon over your head.

You can't stop cumming. A third orgasm follows the second one immediately, making you scream and whimper, melting bonelessly against your vampire lover who keeps you on his cock and keeps snapping his hips, deep and fast, pumping your pussy full of his vampire seed. His strong arms and thick cock are the only things holding you up, keeping you from falling down onto the city's dark streets.

"Fuck! Cutie! You are so sweet!"

He groans against your neck before his canines sink into your flesh once again, and his soft lips suck hungrily on your skin.

His potent seed fills you to the brim until your twitching pussy is overflowing. Thick rivulets of cum ooze out of your used cunt and run down Yuuji's fat cock and balls. And down your legs, making you moan as you feel the silky sensation of his seed caressing your skin.

It feels like thousands of kisses trail down your inner thighs and legs.

A loud sob forces its way out of your mouth as the caress of Yuuji's vampire cum makes you lose yourself to pleasure once more. Your pussy shudders, creaming again on the fat vampire cock, as you can only mewl weakly and cry in delight.

You watch with heavy-lidded eyes as Yuuji's cum runs over your leather boots, collecting at the heel before it drips down onto the city below you.

Yuuji's still sucking on your neck, moaning softly as he drinks your sweet blood and lets his cock get milked by the pulsing walls of your wet pussy.

You know he has to stop feasting on you now, or you will get too weak. And so you grab a handful of his pretty pink hair and tug sharply on it to get his attention.

When he finally pulls away, you can see the lust-filled haze leave his golden eyes and get replaced by regret and guilt. So sweet. You almost laugh.

"I'm sorry."

Yuuji slowly floats down past the glittering windows of skyscrapers and the blinking neon lights of the club. And you capture his lips with yours, kissing him hungrily, moaning at the taste of your blood and his spit on his tongue.

He gasps in surprise, not understanding why you still want him after what he did to you. But then his lips start to move against yours, kissing you back, slow and sweet, letting you taste his vampire kiss, his silky tongue, and intoxicating spit. Such a sweet drug.

When you reach the ground, he sets you down carefully on the grey asphalt of the dingy back alley.

He smiles at you nervously, looking guilty, making your breath catch at how beautiful he is.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry for losing control, but you tasted so good. I'm not...I'm not used to human blood. I got overwhelmed by your taste."

He scratches his pink hair, looking like a lost little puppy. Funny how an apex predator like him can look so cute.

He adds in a soft voice,

"I hope I didn't take too much. Maybe you should stop at the hospital and ask for a blood transfusion? Let me heal you first, though."

He comes closer again, leaning down to lick over your neck where his fangs left the deepest wound. You moan as his saliva coats your skin and seeps into your wounded flesh, making it close miraculously.

You could get lost in this pleasure, give yourself over to it and press your tits in his face, so he heals his marks there too. It's tempting.

But you shake yourself out of it. Now is the crucial moment. You have to focus!

Yuuji is an easy target. Usually, you have to stake them right after they cum, or they will surely kill you. But he is different. You knew he would let you live.

And now the vampire boy is here, so close to you as he heals your wound, and you know you have to take your chance now or never.

Your fingertips graze over the handle of your wooden stake, where it's hidden in your leather boot.

But you hesitate.

Yuuji is so sweet. Not as feral as the other ones. Wouldn't it be a shame to kill him? To waste this perfect opportunity? Isn't he everything you ever wished for?

You smile as you push the stake back into your right boot, and instead, you fish something else out of your left boot.

It's so easy. Yuuji is too trusting, too sure that you are just a helpless girl who stumbled into him on accident.

He doesn't expect your move. Doesn't realize what you really are.

And then it's too late.

His surprised cry of pain makes you chuckle softly as you snap the silver handcuffs shut on his left wrist. He tries to yank his hand away, but he is already weakened by the silver. And before he can pull away, you already handcuff his other wrist, too, effectively trapping his hands behind his back.

It's always fascinating to see how weak those strong creatures become once pure silver touches them.

Yuuji's golden eyes are wide as he stares at you with a growing dread on his flawless face. Now he knows what you are. Something flickers over his beautiful face. Fear but also something else. Relief.

"Do it, please. It's ok. A monster like me shouldn't exist anyway. Please, I don't want to hurt more people."

You smile at him. Your voice is soothing, like talking to a scared animal.

"I know Yuuji. I know, sweetie. And that's why I'm not going to kill you."

He blinks at you, confused, not understanding what you mean. But you will tell him. You will explain it all to him.

You pull another item out of your boot. Your touch is gentle, almost loving when you put the silver collar on Yuuji's neck.

He hisses in pain as more silver touches his skin, burning it with its pureness. A single tear runs down his pretty face, and his lips tremble. He's so perfect. So beautiful. You are glad that you didn't kill him.

"Shhh, baby boy, it's ok. The pain will lessen once your skin gets used to it."

You coo at him, reaching out to pet his pretty pink hair soothingly and press your lips to his cheek, capturing the tear and letting it melt on your tongue, sighing at the euphoric taste.

"You are far too pretty and too cute to kill you. I'm gonna keep you."

And with that, you smile at him and fasten a leather leash on his collar.

Perfect!

The collar looks cute on Yuuji. As if it belongs there. Maybe you should get him a little silver name tag.

"Let's go, Yuuji. I'll show you your new home." 

You laugh softly as you wrap the leash around your wrist and give it a gentle tug to pull your new personal vampire after you.

You lift your head to gaze up at the full moon glowing brightly above the rooftops of Tokyo's skyscrapers. What a perfect night for hunting! It's a Killing Moon tonight. Legend says that it works as a lucky charm for you vampire hunters. And maybe there is truth to that old tale.

After all, you have waited months for an opportunity like this. To find the perfect vampire.

You are prepared. There is a cell in your basement. You furnished it with a luxurious big bed and soft pillows. You want your vampire to be comfortable, after all. And if he stays away from the silver bars, he won't get hurt. It's a lovely little room down there. Perfect for keeping a cute vampire pet.

The thing is, there is something you want even more than just getting bitten and fucked by those powerful creatures. They have something far more precious to give you.

Eternity.

It's the ultimate treason to mankind, but the huntress wants to become the thing she is supposed to kill.

The tricky thing is to find a vampire who will agree to turn you. He has to feed you his blood willingly, or it won't work. And you have to trust him not to kill you during the process.

But you think you have finally found the perfect specimen. You need one who hasn't lost his humanity and compassion. Sweet Yuuji is the perfect one for that. A vampire who doesn't want to kill.

A wide victorious smirk spreads over your face as you give the leash in your hand a firm tug and continue your way through the filthy, dimly lit back alleys of this forsaken city.

Three months later

"Hey, sweetie. How was my sweet boy's night?"

You smile at your vampire lover as you open the door to his cell. Your breath still catches in your throat anytime you come down here and see Yuuji. His beauty is astounding. Glowing like the moon in this dark basement, beautiful and strong.

And so hungry. Hungry for your blood and your pussy. And you are here to give him both.

He is your little secret, locked away from the rest of the world, only existing for your pleasure and the promise of eternal life.

One day. One day, sweet Yuuji will give you what you want the most.

Until then, you'll just come down here every night to love him, fuck him, offer him the sweet bliss of your blood and your hot wet cunt.

Sometimes he cries those beautiful tears that glitter like diamonds and asks you in that low velvety voice:

"Why are you doing this? Why don't you let me go?"

And anytime you pet his soft pink hair and snuggle against his strong body and tell him:

"Aww, but Yuuji, don't mix things up, my love. You were the one who attacked me. It's not fair to blame me. You know that, right? My pretty boy."

He gulps and nods and apologizes over and over again. It's so cute to watch. You always end up spoiling him too much on those nights, milking his gorgeous vampire cock and letting him feed on your neck until he is in such a fucked out, lust-filled haze that he doesn't even remember his name anymore.

And you always whisper to him afterwards how much you love him. How happy you are that he came into your life.

"What we have is special, Yuuji. Don't you see? I love you so much. That's why I want us to stay together for all times."

The people in your department wouldn't understand. They would say your lover is Death. But they are wrong. Yuuji is life. Eternal life. The greatest treasure humankind hunts for.

And you have that treasure in your basement, sitting prettily on his bed, looking at you with his big golden eyes, the cute collar around his neck sparkling enticingly. You got him a name tag. It's heart-shaped.

He really is your most precious possession.

The tragedy of being human is that death will inevitably come too soon. But a vampire can defeat death. A vampire can make you immortal.

Yuuji can make you immortal.

You visit him every night to ride him, screaming from lust when his fat cock pleasures you. You tease him, you edge him, you overstimulate him. Over and over again. Tugging on his leash and telling him to bite you and suck your blood. 

And every night, you ask him to give you his blood too, so you can be together for all eternity.

He resists anytime. But you won't stop until you get what you want. 

One day you will break your cute little vampire, and then you'll be his lover forever. 

It is meant to be. Fate made you step into this particular back alley on that particular night. And even though Yuuji wouldn't have come home with you willingly, you made sure to lead him to his fate with a silver collar and a leash. And one day, he will understand.

There is no running from his fate.

Under blue moon I saw you So soon you'll take me Up in your arms too late to beg you Or cancel it, though I know it must be The killing time Unwillingly mine

Fate Up against your will Through the thick and thin He will wait until You give yourself to him

The Killing Moon by Echo & the Bunnymen

Thank you so much for reading my 2022 Yuuji Halloween fic! I hope you enjoyed sexy vampire Yuuji and the little twist at the end :) Initially, this story was supposed to be about a regular girl stumbling out of the club and into Yuuji, who feeds off her because he is hungry. But then I suddenly caught myself writing reader as a vampire hunter, and I realized that this makes the story a lot more fun. The yandere part was born when The Killing Moon was playing in the background, and I listened to the lyrics, and suddenly I knew how to finish this story.

Halloween always brings out my dark side, lol. It was so much fun to write an evil reader :)

I hope you enjoyed the story! Please let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs make me happy!

[thelampisaflashlight]

To Bea Okay Pt. 1: The First of a Thousand Steps Forward

[A desperate young woman with nothing to lose accepts a job offer that's a little too good to be true. Or, how Bea came to work for the ministry.] Below the cut.

From the moment she's approached on the street, Bea thinks to herself that this has to be some kind of elaborate scheme; That the flyer she is holding in her hands is a one way ticket to losing her kidneys to some back alley surgeon, and that she should do herself a favor and throw it away.

But, looking up from the embossed print at the odd nun who had handed it to her, she just gives a noncommittal shrug and tucks it away inside of her tote bag along with all the other random bullshit she's been handed already.

Despite putting on her bravest, bitchiest face when approached by people trying to give her stuff like this, Bea's never been good at turning people down when they aren't put off by her obvious annoyance and discomfort, because, quite frankly, saying "No" has always been a difficult thing for her to do.

Now, standing by a dumpster, Bea reaps what she's sown and turns her tote bag upside-down, letting its contents filter out into the trash.

Not like she has anything important in there anyway.

Everything slips away just fine, except for that stupid fancy flyer the nun gave her -the cardstock much more rigid than the flimsy printer paper she's usually handed- which gets caught up in the handles of her bag, and when shaking it doesn't loosen it even an inch, Bea gives an irritated grunt and rips it from there herself.

Looking at the paper once more, Bea leans herself against the bricks behind her and takes a moment to actually read what it says again;

"Now Hiring: Year Round Groundskeeper, Inquiries Please Visit Our Community Outreach Post At The Nunnery On Maple View."

Huh.

Bea squints at the page searching for any fine print or any obvious red flags, going so far as to hold the flyer up to the sparse sunlight peaking through the clouds overhead, searching for... something.

And that's when she sees it, the faintest hint of a odd sigil that appears like a phantom as the light shines through the dense paper;

It looks like an inverted cross with a circle set around the bottom.

"That's..."

Lowering the flyer, Bea tilts her head back against the wall, thinking.

On one hand, this is obviously sketchy as hell, but on the other hand, perhaps not the organ snatching kind of sketchy she thought it was.

Or maybe it's just a very fancy organ snatching thing.

She pushes away from the wall and shakes her head.

Honestly, if this is some kind of cult thing, she should hand this in to the authorities, but Bea's never gotten along with cops, and even if she hasn't done anything illegal in... about a year or so?

Yeah, she's not risking getting stuck in jail overnight.

But checking out a possible cult in the city using a groundskeeping job as a scam to draw in someone desperate enough to go for it?

Color Bea impressed.

And fucking desperate as shit.

If the offer turns out to be legitimate, cult or no cult, Bea's been looking for an opportunity like this.

Finally, a fucking chance of not sleeping in her car!

Erm... maybe.

Looking at herself in the window of an empty store front, Bea's not exactly the kind of person you'd want to hire on the spot; She's not big or tall, she's sturdy, compactly built, but entirely unassuming dressed as she is now.

It doesn't help that her hair hasn't been washed in days, or that she hasn't been able to keep up with basic hygiene like brushing her teeth, but-

...She needs this.

She needs to get out of this hole she's dug for herself.

Pinching her eyes shut, Bea takes a deep breath, rolls her shoulders, and stands up straight.

Fuck it.

Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it... she's going to do it.

She's gonna do it.

She's going to go in and ask about the job.

.

.

.

Bea's not sure exactly what a nunnery is or what purpose it serves -beyond being a place where nuns live- but sitting in the hallway waiting to be interviewed, she can at least admire the nice architecture.

It's strange though.

The lack of crosses on the walls.

In fact, there's not a lot of religious iconography anywhere in this front room, not that she minds really.

Bea's never been exceedingly religious; She wasn't brought up going to church, even if her mother had been raised Catholic, she, too, seemed disinterested in continuing on with her faith.

Not that she could really blame her.

Life had not been kind to her mother, and as a result Bea's hadn't turned out much better, but a small part of her has always held onto the hope that things could get better... even if things had really gone south for her over the last couple of years.

Lifting her head from her lap, Bea surveys the others waiting in the hall, folding back into herself just a little when she realizes she's the only woman here.

This sort of thing doesn't exactly surprise her all told, but it does make her a bit less confident that she'll even be considered for the job.

By and large people hiring for landscaping work or other jobs requiring physical labor prefer to hire men, even if Bea has the experience and know how, some folks are just set on the idea that someone like her can't -or even shouldn't- be working in this field.

She'd gotten enough "well meaning" lectures from older men about how she wasn't built for this kind of work, that she should stop cutting her hair, that she should smile more, and-

"Beatrix Milne?" A gentle voice calls, drawing her from her internal ramblings.

She stands and is greeted by a sweet looking, elderly nun, who gestures smoothly for her to approach and enter the room to her right.

Inside the room, sits an older woman dressed in mostly black with a brown shawl draped over her shoulders, grey and blond hair tied back in a tight bun that makes Bea's own head ache from the tension present there.

"Have a seat." the woman smiles, and Bea does what she's told, moving her tote bag into her lap so it doesn't catch on the arm of the chair, "I have to say, this is a refreshing sight, I've seen thirty men so far... It's nice to see a young woman like yourself applying for a position like this."

"I... Mn." Bea bites her tongue, unsure of how to feel about that statement, opting to simply nod instead, "I've worked similar jobs in the past, so I thought I would apply."

"Experience is a desired trait." the woman chuckles, tenting her fingers on the desk, "Introductions first; I am Sister Imperator, I am, as my title might suggest, the mother superior of this particular nunnery, though perhaps not for much longer..."

She gives a somber smile.

"And you are?"

"Beatrix Milne, or just Bea..." she says, "When you say that..."

"My health is in decline." Sister Imperator supplies, answering Bea's unfinished question, not seeming in the least bit offended by it either, "I intend to retire soon, and return home to the countryside, which is why I am hoping to hire a new groundskeeper; The property maintained by my family is quite large and difficult for someone such as myself to tend to, even with the help of the other residents of the property, only a handful of them are skilled in art of horticulture and understand the balance between beauty and the thoughtful maintenance required to care for the surrounding green spaces..."

"Additionally, there are tasks that need to be done that require the knowledge of how to use highly specific tools and machinery that I would not risk allowing an inexperienced individual using for fear of damaging it or themselves." she explains, "I also do not enjoy pulling them from their studies to work outside..."

"Studies?"

"Part of the property houses a school of sorts, a small one, but a school nonetheless, where individuals come to study specialized fields of science, literature, etcetera... I often rely on volunteers among these students to help maintain the property alongside our current gardener." she says, leaning back in her chair, "Our gardener is a diligent, hardworking fellow, but he oftentimes bites off more than he can chew, and he bears other responsibilities that take him away from the property for long periods of time, which makes it difficult to maintain things properly."

"...So you'd be hiring me to pick up his slack?" Bea questions, and Sister Imperator gives a little laugh and shakes her head.

"In a way, yes, but I really much prefer having someone else who's capable around when he is not, or perhaps when more than one set of hands would come in useful." she replies, "Making one person work to maintain nearly fifty acres of land would be cruel, even if a little over half of it is woodland."

"Fifty acres..." Bea tries to imagine it, but the sheer size is difficult to comprehend based on a number alone, so she tries to visualize it using a similarly large unit to help; Football fields.

As Bea sits doing the mental math of football fields to a single acre, Sister Imperator continues on explaining the details of the job.

"-Of course, I understand if you would be worried about leaving behind friends and family here in the states."

"Oh, uh..." Bea blinks back to the present at about sixteen football fields, "...No, not really."

"Oh?"

"I'm not in contact with my family, and I'm new to the area, so I don't really know anyone here." she admits easily, "I can pick up and go pretty much anywhere."

And that...

That really makes the older lady grin.

"Really... Well, I have to admit that that puts you ahead of some of the other candidates." she shuffles some papers in front of her, "...If I were to offer you the position now, how soon would you like to start?"

Bea stares.

"...As soon as possible... if p-possible?" she gives a nervous laugh.

Sister Imperator stands and rounds the table in a singular, swift motion, hand grazing the table top as she heads for the door.

Bea gives a nervous squeak when she opens it to step outside, but then the woman opens her mouth and-

"I've decided on a candidate, thank you all for your time, you are free to leave now."

The door closes again.

"Now then..." she says, gliding back around the desk and taking a seat once more.

"Let's discuss the finer details of your new job."

What.

"...What?"

Anyone with an ounce of common sense would have left that interview thinking it was shady as hell, but Bea?

Bea leaves the nunnery not thinking about much at all.

Actually, as she drifts through the door, the first thing that filters through her mind is how hungry she is.

There had been little candies on the desk during the interview, and she'd eaten one or two while waiting for Sister Imperator to come back with the necessary paperwork, and when she got caught popping a third in her mouth, the older woman had slid the bowl a little closer in a subtle, encouraging gesture.

Bea twirls one of the wrappers between her fingers.

"Maybe it's actually poison." a small part of her brain frets, but Bea just hums, thinking about what she can afford to eat that will actually be even remotely filling, "...It's sweet though."

.

.

.

Bea's never been on a plane before, and after being on one for nearly eight hours, she's come to the conclusion that she's never getting on another one ever again.

What little pride and dignity she might have had prior to boarding that wretched contraption is flung out the window as soon as she's firmly on the ground, curling into a tight ball.

If it weren't for the modicum of shame she feels -combined with a touch of nausea- she would have stayed there.

It sucks that for some things you have to experience it first to know how much it'll mess with your stomach, but, hey, now she knows.

Scrambling back to her feet, Bea parks her carryon beside herself and tugs on the coat she'd bought in anticipation of this trip; It may be decently warm inside the airport, but she can see the snow coming down outside, and she'd rather not freeze while waiting for her ride to arrive.

The ministry -the organization Sister Imperator works for...? Runs...?- had arranged to send a car to pick her up at the airport, which had been nice of them, especially seeing as Bea wouldn't know how to ask for one, let alone give the driver proper directions, because she doesn't exactly speak Swedish.

Yeah, somehow an old lady she's never met before, who possibly runs a cult, convinced Bea to travel to Sweden of all places on a whim.

Despite the obvious red flags, the prospect of being in a foreign country where she doesn't speak the language, and the voice of reason screaming at her NOT to do it; Bea did it.

She's always been this way truth be told, ever since she was a little kid, she knows she shouldn't but she does it anyway, because marching into Hell feels different than stumbling into it, even if she could have taken any other option.

At the end of the day, Bea supposes, she just wants to see what will happen.

She's the type of person who doesn't want to get involved with gossip, and yet needs to know all the details, and sometimes that requires her to get involved to some extent...

Although in this case, knowing that this could all be some ploy to drag her into something shady and illegal, the thought that echoes most prominently in her mind is...

"The worst they can do is kill me."

And in some strange way she finds comfort in that.

That, ultimately, coming here, she's accepting that as a possible outcome... and she's okay with it.

She's okay with the idea of dying.

Perhaps that's something she should be worried about.

But for now?

For now she waits for the car to take her somewhere far, far away...

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

on my hands and knees begging for more gentle giant jason

"Where's Jason?" Bruce asked, looking around at the kids drying off and trying to get warm again in front of the fire.

"Making sure Y/N makes it home in one piece," Steph said, looking pleased with herself.

"Stephanie-"

"Wait," Dick intervened, "Before you go all broody and 'he's not ready' or whatever, just look." He pulled out his phone. CCTV footage of Barbara had sent him of the moment you'd been startled- it was just clear enough that they could see you vibrate for a moment and they could read your lips as you smacked Jason on the arm.

And Bruce smiled, just a little when Jason laughed, "And when they find out you forced them together?" he asked.

"I didn't," Stephanie said primly, "I just put them in each other's way and they happened to suit."

"Have you been reading Todd's Austen collection again?" Damian sniffed.

_____________

"This is my building," you say, stopping in front of a brick edifice and starting to unzip his jacket.

"Keep it," he said blushing a little, "You left yours in Steph's car earlier."

"But I-"

"It's going to be cold in the morning," he said reasonably. "Can't have you getting sick, Stephanie would never forgive me- I'll uh- I'll meet you and Steph tomorrow for lunch. You can give it back then?"

It was a flimsy excuse but, when you give him a shy smile his heart flutters. "Thank you, Jason I- haunted houses aren't really my thing."

"I kinda figured," he said, trying not to glance at the lip you were worrying in your teeth. "It's fine- I uh- it was fun, sitting in the Pavillion with you. Never had pumpkin beer before- and I guess. Yeah um-" The alcohol he'd had was warm in his stomach and he was having some trouble- he wanted to kiss you. He wanted to feel you pressed against his chest- but. This wasn't a date. You were Steph's best friend- there had to be a rule about this right?

"My knight in leather armor," you tease, crinkling your nose.

"At your service," he said, taking your hand to kiss it, giving his best imitation of a courtly vow. "If by my life or my death I can protect you I shall."

When you giggle, both nervous and thrilled, feeling light-headed and awkward- too aware that you're not really the kind of girl this thing happens for, Jason kisses your hand again and meets your eyes before letting go. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"We usually have lunch in the Atrium around 1," you tell him, nodding.

"I'll be there," he said, "Gotta get my armor back." But truthfully? He liked you wearing his jacket. He liked knowing you were warm and had something of his. Stopping, waiting to make sure that you made it INTO the building before finding his own way home.

[fioreofthemarch]

Finding Her - Chapter Photos

Finding Her has a header photo for each chapter, taken using the in-game camera. These photos were inspired by the chapter contents or recreating one that Link takes in that chapter (if I could manage it!). Here they all are in one place!

Chapter 1

Log is accompanied by a picture of a Zonai Steward Construct. Its large, see-saw head is angled slightly to the side, as if perplexed.

Chapter 2

A photograph of a soft brown mare, saddled and ready for travel. Link is sitting in the saddle, smiling at the camera. The immediate next photo is a self-portrait taken by a Hylian Guard, Scorpis, the camera too-close to his face as he tries to snap a picture of himself and Link, who is waving to the camera from his horse.

Chapter 3

A photograph taken from Impa’s hot air balloon of the geoglyph of Hyrule Ridge, depicting a large figure with long ears and an outstretched hand. 

Chapter 4

A photograph of the huge dark cloud that stretches high into the atmosphere. It is encircled by two dozen or so floating wooden structures.

Chapter 5

A photograph taken from the underside of a Lightroot, its sturdy vines wrapping around the central orange tuba and rising up towards the surface above.  

Chapter 6

A photo of the Gorondia, the Fire Temple, emerging from the Depths. It is flanked by lava falls and seems carved from the bedrock itself. Unseen to the photographer is a small, ghostly figure of a young woman, with blonde hair and green eyes, standing on an upper level of the enormous structure. She looks at the camera with a blank expression. 

Chapter 7

[Kakariko Village - this photograph is not depicted in the chapter]

Chapter 8

A photograph of a lone house in Hateno, in the old pre-Calamity style. It has a single chimney and a rendered brick exterior. Beside the house is a small garden with a large oak tree and a pond that glints in the moonlight. There are frogs in the water, strategically located beneath a concert of fireflies that have gathered at the pond.  

Chapter 9

[Penn at Wetlands Stables - this photograph is not depicted in the chapter]

Chapter 10

[Mipha's Court - this photograph is not depicted in the chapter]

Chapter 11

A photograph of a Zonai contraption: a cart with a steering stick and two small wheels attached. There is a Zonai rocket attached to each wheel. The vehicle looks as fast as it is flimsy. 

Chapter 12

A photograph of the Great Plateau with its evergreen trees and rolling landscape. The Temple of Time is in the foreground, ahead of a gentle hill that rises towards the overlook leading into the Shrine of Resurrection. A campfire is burning, just off the pathway up the hill. 

Chapter 13

A photograph of the painted mural in the Gerudo underground shelter, a determined Riju standing before it. She is deep in thought, a hand to her chin. There is no hint of fatigue on her features. 

Chapter 14

[Purah at Lookout Landing - this photograph is not depicted in the chapter]

Chapter 15

A photograph of Lurelin Village and the Pirate Ship on its shores. The huge, horned skull on the bow leers with blank menace. On the ship, a group of bokoblins and their boss bokoblin dance and jeer. 

Chapter 16

A photograph taken from the Thunderhead Isles of the Popla Foothills to the north. The Light Dragon is seen flying just below the clouds. There's a sense that, no matter where someone is in the world, the dragon’s light would shine upon them. It's a familiar feeling, like the light that shone from Hyrule Castle when its Princess called out to— wait. No, stop that. That’s— what are you talking about? The feelings aren't familiar at all. It’s just a dragon. Nothing more. This isn't even a good photo. It’s blurry, and dark, and should just be deleted. 

Chapter 17

A photograph of a ring of Silent Princesses. They grow tall, strong and radiant, and are clustered around a small shallow in the ground. At the centre, a dragon tear awaits. 

Chapter 18

[Josha at her research station - this photograph is not depicted in the chapter]

Chapter 19

[Penn at Washa's Bluff with the Light Dragon overhead - this photograph is not depicted in the chapter]

Chapter 20

[Rist Peninsula as the sun rises - this photograph is not depicted in the chapter]

[justplainwhump]

Spotted

Co-written with @hackles-up. Part of the Ridley-Dies-Arc, can be read on it's own. B and Tom (aka second bad guy) are her characters.

Dany and B's escape takes a bad turn.

[Masterlist]

Content / Warnings: BBU elements, recapture, feverish whumpee, restraints, multiple whumpees, multiple whumpers, abduction, threats of noncon.

Being the daughter of a man like my father, I've been taught quite a lot about being on the run, even though I've rarely been myself. The importance of high quality fake papers, for example, and how much further you can get if you just behave like a rich person; how with the right tip a concierge at the Ritz will surely keep you out of the books, while a dingy motel owner might sell you out for the price of a Big Mac.

It's ironic, that we have both of that - good documents and good money -, and still need to rely on the very dingy sort of accommodations. Because all I learned didn't take into account being the subjects of a nationwide manhunt for the murder of a mafia-affiliated just-not-billionaire. Or hiding a huge, broad-shouldered traumatized man with sharp titanium teeth who refuses to take off his collar.

We've slept in the car, twice, but B's fever had only become worse, and none of us had been able to close an eye.

We're at a rest stop on a highway, a small shady restaurant with a bunch of guest rooms above it. A significant share of these is most likely occupied by the prostitutes sitting at the bar right now, slightly bored because it's not yet their time of the night. It makes me feel better, in a way. Means the police aren't quite welcome here. That can only be good for us.

B has stepped away for the washroom, and I'm just studying the road map once more, when a thin man in a leather jacket slips into my booth and sits down in B's spot.

Under the table, my hand wraps around my gun. I can help myself, but it would create attention, and attention is the very last thing we need.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says, while he looks me down. Black jeans, oversized black Tee, short gloves, dark baseball cap over a short bob. I look nothing like the pictures from the wanted posters. I also look nothing like a sweetheart.

"Fuck off," I tell him. "That seat is taken."

He chuckles. "You don't even want to hear my offer?"

"Pretty sure I do not, no."

"I can get you out." He gestures roughly towards the border. "Out of the country. Friend's got an airplane, used to... unregistered cargo."

"What makes you think I want to leave?"

He laughs, points at my cap, my baggy clothes, the duffle bag between my feet. "I know the looks of people like you. And I know this place isn't exactly a spa retreat. People come here for reasons."

"Oh yeah?" With the hand above the table, I take a sip of my coke. "And say I were interested. How much would that flight be?"

The stranger tilts his head towards the restrooms. "Your... buddy back there. Built like a brick, isn't he? Seems like he can handle himself quite well."

I lift my chin in alarm, while he just leans in conspiratorially, and asks, "WRU material?"

I clench my jaw and shake my head.

"If he came back, and I said the magic word, what would he do, huh, princess?"

I can't help but tense at the pet name. At the implication.

"What would you do, huh?" He gives me a slow smile. "Wanna give it a try? Respect!"

"Fuck off." I slam my gun onto the table, trained at him, keeping my voice low. "I'm not a runaway pet, nor is my friend. I've just had some trouble with some assholes, and it didn't end well for them. If you don't want to test your luck, I think you should just walk away and forget we've ever met."

He stares at the gun and lifts his hand in a mock gesture of defeat. "Gosh, you're a flimsy one, aren't you? Alright, I'm leavin', I'm leavin'."

My heart is racing, as I watch him retreat through the front doors, looking back to me with a final mock salute.

It still does, when B returns to the table. He still looks exhausted, his eyes dull, with deep rings underneath, feverish sweat glinting on his forehead. 'Seems like he can handle himself well', the man has said. Fucking ironic, a threat within a threat.

B needs a break. And I’m not giving him one. I toss two bills onto the counter and grab the uneaten burger from the plate, before I nod at him. "We gotta go."

“Trouble?” He asks, moving in step with me as I move. All professional, all alert Guard Dog. Both of us know how much it costs him to keep it up.

"Yeah." I cast a glance around. Nobody seems to spare us any attention, but I've been fooled before. I hadn't seen the guy coming. And he must've been watching us for a while. Fuck. I'm pretty sure that I haven't convinced him. Just need to hope that he'll find easier prey. Or that we'll be gone before he returns. "Some gangster spotted us. Can't tell you what he wants exactly, he doesn't know about the bounty, but way too interested in you to be safe."

I lift the heavy bag and throw it over my shoulder. It's better if I carry it than him. He's sick; and he needs his hands free. "He left through the front door. Don't think we've seen the last of him though." I bite my lip. "Any other way out?"

B nods, indicating to his right hand side. "This way."

He makes steady determined steps past the bathrooms and towards the back entrance, almost betraying the exhaustion he must be feeling. Just as I try to let myself be fooled, too, though, he wavers for a moment, stumbling and reaching to hold himself on the wall.

I'm by his side right away, holding out my arm to steady him from the other side. He's burning, even through his clothes. His fever has become worse. A plane ride would've been just what we needed. Fucking asshole.

I rest a hand on B's hot cheek. "It's not far," I promise. "Two more days, and we can find Frankie's friends, and rest there."

I had thought about just leaving our car behind, making a run through the fields behind the rest stop, and just find someone who sells us their car for enough cash.

But B isn't even well enough to make it to the parking lot in one run. I grimace, making sure the gun is where I can reach it. I can't use any police attention. But if that's the price to pay to get B out of here safely, so be it.

Whatever that guy is up to, he's bad news; he's a threat, and he won't be any more with a bullet in his chest. I wonder for a second, if Dad would like that reasoning. He never wanted me to think that way. But there's many things about my life that he's never wanted.

"Come on, Ben," I say quietly. "We need to keep moving. You can hold on to me, alright? You can sleep in the car."

B bunches his hand into a fist against the wall, exhaling with a groan.

"Nh... No... 'M fine, Dany... I can do this." He mutters, and pushes himself off of the wall and stumbles forward, shrugging off my hand. "We can't stay here."

He pushes himself against the back door, holding it open with his body so I may slip out.

Something moves behind me. There’s a hand on my side, and cold metal pressed to the back of my head. They came from behind. Of course they did. Fuck. Fuck.

"Stay nice and still, pretty thing." someone murmurs.

I will not.

"B!" I shout, when I feel the barrel shift as he reaches around me, fumbling for my gun. I spin the other way, let the heavy duffel bag slam into his side and shoulder, while I grab my gun myself. The attacker stumbles, but catches himself too quickly, his gun in front of my face just as I bring my own up.

Fury is burning in his eyes. "You fucking... Don't fucking move or I'll put one in your knee. Sluts don't need to walk."

In front of us, B lets out a low growl. He bares his titanium teeth, taking a shaky step forward. The backdoor is still open, the night air wafting in.

"Oh no you don’t," the stranger hisses, pulling back the safety on his gun and pointing it at my leg. "I saw his collar. Tell your pet to back down or I'll shoot."

My mind is racing.

My gun is still in my hands, half way up. I could get a bullet in his chest, but he'll be faster, shooting my leg. I could kill him, but we'd never get away.

They want us alive. They want us alive, and they don't know who we are, so chances are they want us alive and not torture us to death.

Sickening as it is to admit, we'll stand better chances later. It feels like a betrayal, when I say, "Stand down, B."

B’s glare stays on the man, burning and deadly. He dropped his defensive stance immediately, though.

I don't lower my own gun.

"What do you want?"

He doesn’t reply, keeps his own gun level, while he remarks, “Impressive. It’s very responsive to you. How did you get your hands on a Guard Dog, huh? Must’ve cost a fortune. Daddy bought him for you?” He sneers.

Daddy. My hand trembles and I need my other hand to steady it and the gun. "Daddy is not in the picture any longer. And he answers to me," I reply. "What do you want? There isn't a lot to get out of us. The Guard Dog is old and sick, he isn't worth much any longer, but we can talk money." Ridley's words taste sour in my mouth. I hope B gets why I have to talk like this. They need to let us go.

The man just laughs. “Oh I wouldn’t discount you two so quickly.” He takes a step forward. “Now I need you to lower that gun and come with me. I’ll tell you all you wanna know then.”

“Don’t move…” B grits out. “We won’t go… anywhere with you.”

“Oh it talks too. Clever doggy.”

"Don't come closer," I hiss. "And don't talk to him like that. Or I'll shoot, and I won't bother aiming for the leg."

When I notice the shadowy movements behind B, it's too late. Something lowers around his neck and yanks him back.

I lose all control.

"No," I yell and stumble over towards him. "No! B!"

He’s falling, catching himself just before he hits the ground and lunges with teeth bared at his assailants, fighting the noose around his throat.

“Oh no you fucking don’t.” The man behind me is on me, grabs me in a vicious choke hold, arm pressing into my throat and kicking my legs out from underneath me to send me crashing to the ground. The gun falls from my hand, clattering across the floor behind me.

I have eyes only for the scene in front of me, the long catch pole, the noose lanyard choking B’s neck, his desperate, feverish thrashes. He’s panting for breath already.

"Stop," I shout, half sobbing. "B. Don't. Don't."

At the sound of my voice, B freezes in place.

It’s enough. The men yank back on the pole, sending him crashing into the ground.

The man behind me presses me down, pinned under his weight.

“Shhh, there’s a good girl", the stranger breathes in my ear, wrenching my arms back and fixating them with zip ties, while hissing obscenities into my hair.

Good girl.

I have betrayed B. I have betrayed myself, giving up this fight.

The man's hands are wandering over my ass. I don't care. All I care about is the man folded over on the other side of the back door, the man whom I promised to get him to safety.

My eyes are burning with tears.

I swallow back a sob.

"Don't hurt him," I whisper. "Please. Fuck me however you want to, I'll let you, but please, don't hurt him."

“Oh I think we’ll do whatever we please, sweetheart.” He murmurs, hand still firm on my ass. “We’ll take good care of your dog. Better than you have. Get it back on its feet and it’s gonna earn us a fortune in the dog fights.”

Better than you have. I can't breathe. He's right. I've almost let him die of this fever, keeping him on the run, always on his ties, never allowing us to rest.

The man who’s sat in the booth with me has stepped in outside, kneeling on B’s back.

I watch with tears in my eyes, as he pulls out a collar.

I didn't have a choice, I tell myself. I had to.

I’ve failed him, nonetheless.

I’ve failed us both.

---------

-

Tag list (this is a very old one; lmk if you want to be added or removed!): @distinctlywhumpthing @whumping-on-the-ridge @queenofthenoobs @ocean-blue-whump

[pb-dot]

hey! this is chance & here’s the prompt for week 6. what are your oc's bedrooms like? messy? neat? carefully designed? or a collection of their favorite things? you can verbally describe or use photos, whatever you think is best.

Thanks for the ask chance! Jake and 13 both change lodgings early on in The Clockwork Boy, but I'll describe the ones they lived in pre- call to adventure shenanigans since there's more personality in those.

Jake's bedroom is the entirety of his apartment, which isn't saying much considering the place is cramped to hell. Jake keeps his floor and built-in cupboard reasonably clean and neat, but he almost never gets around to cleaning under the standard-sized bed that's a little too small for him, or the threadbare couch that he never uses. There's a window in the flimsy wood walls, but it reveals only the vista of the neighboring building's red brick wall.

13's bedroom is a bit more cozy in comparison, although it would be a gross overstatement to call it clean, tidy, or even entirely navigable. Put plainly, there are reading materials everywhere. There aren't all that many books, periodicals, and sundry other, but Jake has a talent for leaving them all over the place, slung casually, thoughtlessly put down, or thrown away with what would be great force for a normal person. Around his four-post bed made out of dark wood, there's a particularly high stack of books, a perilous tower of trashy fiction. One area in the furthest part from the door is, however, cleared enough to see the brick floors, the only occupant of this area is an iron-reinforced sparring dummy which 13 uses to train on.

One's bedroom has a bed. She uses it some nights.

Tag List

@ettawritesnstudies @mrbexwrites @teacupsandstarlight @anonymousfoz @wrenofthewords @sm-writes-chaos @dyrewrites @owlsandwich @olive-riggzey

If you want to be put on the Tag List for this project, please interact with my Tag List Post

[roydeezed]

Some Thoughts about - Poker Face

So like I know I'm late to the party but hot damn! is this show so much of what I love.

First of all I need to gush over Natasha Lyonne. Not only does she play Charlie as a snoopy little gremlin incredibly well, but when she's not snooping, her everywoman acting is so sincere and heartfelt. And beyond her acting, her directing in episode 8, The Orpheus Syndrome is jaw-dropping. It's a surrealist thriller masterpiece along the lines of fucking Suspiria and Vertigo. Throughout the whole episode I was captivated and entranced and it wasn't until I checked the credits that I realised why it was so impactful. I haven't watched much of her directorial efforts outside episode 8 of Russian Doll, but it seems like her style has always been surrealist. I gotta check it out.

And speaking of Vertigo and Hitchcock, I think after the longest time, we finally have a director that rivals his sensibilities in Rian Johnson. Hitchcock was a piece of shit but it's undeniable that his thrillers were tense masterpieces. If you don't believe me, check out my personal favourite in Rear Window. But not only does Rian Johnson remind me of Hitchcock at his best, with mysteries such as Brick and the Glass Onion movies and now Poker Face, his penchant for creating affable Detectives with kind hearts reminds me of Agatha Christie's characters in Miss Marple and Poirot.

But that's all surface level talk so below the cut I'm gonna get into some deeper thoughts and what I think the overarching themes are. Heavy spoilers below!

And speaking of themes, I wanna go over what they are, and how Episode 7, 8, and 9 helped me figure it out. At least one of the central ones. And that being Guilt.

After praising it so much, I do think I need to offer up some criticism, as I do have some. While a lot of comparisons have been made to Columbo, I think one of the key differences is that the culprits aren't always from high society, to the shows detriment. And as Charlie isn't a cop and instead fleeing across the country, it makes sense and leaves room for interesting stories. But every once in a while, like Episode 7, The Future of the Sport, starring Charles Melton and Tim Blake Nelson, both of whom I adore, you get a emotionally and socially dissonant story. As somehow the blue collar worker who's fighting against nepotism in an industry still has to be the bad guy. While it supported the themes, it still left a bad taste.

Now, you might be saying, it's a show about murders, of course it's about guilt. But it's not in the way you're thinking. Unless you are, in which case, welcome to smart people town. Population you, cause outside of this I'm still pretty much a dumbass.

Moving on, let's go over it. Poker Face talks of an unwarranted guilt. I'm sure Rian Johnson and co had a pithier phrase to represent it but what it means is that it represents a kind of survivors guilt. In Charlie's conversation with David Castaneda's character Jimmy in where she admits how much Natalie's death has weighed on her. And with the reveal that he wasn't directly responsible for her death through selling her bad coke, and the previous episodes where Tim Blake Nelson's and Nick Nolte's character's both realise they weren't the culprits, it shines a light on the constant theme of wholly unwarranted guilt.

And across the rest of the episodes, barring episode 2 for a reason I can't yet figure out, it deals with Charlie thinking she either led them to their death's, having something to do with the deaths even for the smallest moments, or helping someone that thinks they're guilty such as the stage manager in Episode 6, Exit Stage Death.

But unwarranted guilt alone provides for a pretty flimsy theme if left alone. So how's it expanded upon? The last episode makes it clear through dialogue, revelations into Charlie's past and actions themselves that this unwarranted guilt breaks you down in such a specific way. In the last episode we get what seems to be a pointless return to Charlie's past. But learning about how she moves through life, another unwarranted piece of guilt and this metaphor of swimming, brought up again at the boat, we see how the guilt puts you in a situation where either you drown from it or you swim. And the direction you swim in, the way you move through life, is inherently affected by the guilt that's drowning you, and ultimately can lead you to make bad decisions, as the first thing that comes along that can stop you from drowning, be it a boat, a life preserver, or as Cliff mentions multiple times throughout the show, The Hook. The Hook is a distraction, something deadlier than the sea that you're drowning in, and fortunately for a detective show, and unfortunately for her, Charlie's hook is trouble.

[allegra-writes]

“Small talk”

Peter Parker x Vigilante!Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut

"Like wolves, we've run wild, let passion get too much, let ourselves get burned by the fire"

Small Talk - Niall Horan

Peter knows it's a bad idea, you are nothing but trouble. But just because he has spidey sense, doesn't mean he has common sense... 🔥

MY MASTERLIST

"Bad idea kid" Tony's voice reached his ears from somewhere at his left, but not even then did he broke eye contact with you. He couldn't. He was paralized, mesmerized, drawn like a moth to a flame. You had been looking at him across the ballroom all night, a vision in your little white number, like an angel with lightning in her eyes… He wanted you, the realization hitting him like a brick.

A hand was waved in front of his face,

"Peter, are you even listening to me?"

He made a non committal hum.

Tony sighed, 

"Look, I know you've been through a lot lately. I mean, Michelle practically left you on the altar-"

"Do not" He finally turned to his mentor, tone as cold as his gaze, "say her name. Ever." 

"Ok, kid, I won't" Tony raised his hands in surrender, "All I'm saying is, I know everything sucks right now, and you might be feeling a little... reckless and self destructive. And normally I would say go for it, a little rebound sex never killed anyone but in that case" he motioned in your direction with his head, "in that case it just might" 

"What do you mean?" You were dancing now, and Tony was loosing Peter's attention fast,

"They call her Cut-Throat" he said, straight to the point, "and she's with those wackjobs from Hell's Kitchen. EDITH identified her right away. Trust me on this one, kid. She's got the wrong kind of crazy" 

Yes, Peter could feel that, his spidey sense had been going haywire all night. But he liked it. He liked the dress you were wearing, and he liked the way you talked, and he liked the way you were dancing. He liked you, and he hadn't felt that way about anyone in a while.

He hadn't felt that way about anything actually, ever since MJ… 

But now? Now he wanted to run wild, wanted to misbehave at least once in his responsibility filled existence. He wanted to know what it was like to let the passion get the best of him. 

He wanted to play with fire, and get burned. 

"I'm not a kid anymore, Tony" He cut his mentor off, a little harshly "I have a PhD, I think I'm old enough to know what I'm doing" 

"One would think so, and yet…" Tony muttered, grumpily, watching his protegee disappear in the ocean of people on the dance floor. 

Peter, on the other hand, was trying not to freak out. Despite his big talk, he was half expecting Tony to follow him, to stop him, but it was too late now: You had seen him making his way to you and now you were walking to him, still staring at him like he was something to eat. And he couldn't run, couldn't hide, not when he wanted so badly to be devoured. Looking at your wolfish smile, he couldn't help but wonder if that's what rabbits felt, right before being gobbled up.

"Hello"

"Hi"

"Want to get out of here?"

Just like that, no small talk. Before he even knew it, the elevator doors were closing behind him and you were on him, smashing your lips against his, pushing him back against the wall, setting his skin on fire everywhere it met yours. And god help him, but the burn was better, so much better than the raw, biting cold he had felt ever since MJ had left him on his knees in the dark. Helpless, with nothing but that unforgiving, bone freezing emptiness.

He fisted his hands on the silk of your dress, bringing you closer, impossibly closer, holding onto your heat as his mouth left yours to suck a bruise on your neck. The helpless little noise that left your throat made his head swim, lips traveling south in their quest to coax more of those pretty noises out of you. 

"Fuck!" You cursed as his mouth closed around your nipple over the flimsy fabric. 

Peter smiled. He had been wanting to do that all night, his super sight letting him see everything through the sheer fabric of your dress when the light hitted you just right. Your fingers tangled in his soft curls, trying to keep his head where you wanted it, but he was strong, almost unnaturally so. In an instant you were the one against the steel wall, caged between it and his hard body. 

One hand at the back of your knee, and soon he was lifting your leg, wrapping it around his hips, opening you up to him, as he grinded his pelvis against yours, making you moan, the sound resonating in the tiny elevator.

"Bet I can make you come just like this" He breathed out, hot against your ear, "rubbing my cock against your pussy through our clothes"

"Fuck yes!" 

"You want that, don't you angel?" Peter bit back a moan of his own, still rolling his hips, "Want to be a good girl and come for me…"

"Not really a good girl" 

You pushed back against the wall, angling your hips, rocking them faster, chasing your peak. Peter's eyes rolled back inside his head, hands flying to your hip bones, helping you move. 

"But you're still gonna come for me, aren't you?"

There it was again, the sharp smile, all teeth and danger,

"Make me"

He attacked your lips again, tongue slipping inside your mouth as his hand slipped underneath your skirt. He found his goal, fingers teasing you over your panties,

"So wet for me already, angel?" He marveled, and you gulped for air. God, he knew how to kiss. You couldn't wait to see what else that talented tongue of his could do. 

"You made me wait too long…" You pouted, watching in satisfaction as his eyes zeroed on your lips and his eyes turned even darker. He retaliated by tugging your thong to the side, sliding two fingers inside your wet, velvety heat. Your pretty lips opened in a perfect little O, and he had the dirtiest of visions, of you on your knees, taking his length into that gorgeous, delicious mouth of yours. He licked into your open mouth, filthily. 

"It's ok, angel, I got you now" 

He could feel it coming, you muscles tensing, your fingers digging into his shoulders, wetness bathing his hand… 

But the elevator came to a halt, and a ding announced you had arrived to your floor. He took his fingers out of you, licking them clean one by one, chuckling when you cried out your frustration. 

"Shut up" You snickered, grabbing him by his tie, dragging him like a puppy on a leash all the way to your room.

Peter plastered himself to your back as soon as you both reached your door, making the task of unlocking it rather difficult, with him nibbling on the back of your neck, the curve of your shoulders, lowering the straps of your dress… 

You felt his impressive hardness against your lower back, and you couldn't hold back the wanton whimper that left your lips. 

"Hurry up, angel, or I'm taking you right here against this door" You believed him, what with his hands slowly bunching your skirt up. 

The door opened abruptly, making you practically fall into the room, but with quick reflexes, he caught you in his arms. 

"I told you I got you, angel" 

You scoffed, deciding to make use of your full strength, surprising him by turning the both of you around and pushing him, so he fell flat on his back on the bed.

His eyes widened in surprise.

"I'm no angel, baby boy"

Peter wholeheartedly disagreed. He didn't think he had ever seen something more beautiful than you right then, eyes on fire as you let your dress fall, mischievous smirk promising a world of trouble. 

You straddled his waist, helping him get rid of his suit coat and his shirt, stopping short at the wide shoulders and defined chest you found underneath. It was his turn to smirk, as he snaked his big, big arms around your waist and twirled you on the bed, so you were the one trapped between the mattress and his powerful body.

"And I am no boy"

His mouth found yours again, Irresistible and addictive, something long forgotten inside him reawakening with every drag of your soft lips against his, every taste of your tongue on his. Your hands grabbed onto his biceps as he went for your neck again, making sure of sucking hard enough to break blood vessels under your skin and leave behind a dark, deep mark that would not fade quickly. He continued his way south, until he reached the top of your breast. He admired the softness and the color of your skin there, a perfect blank canvass. He bit down, with bruising force. 

Peter didn't know why he was being so rough with you, he had always been so careful, so tender with MJ. Always letting her take the lead, so aware of her fragility compared to him, always afraid of hurting her if he let himself get too carried away. He shook himself, he had already spent too many nights, to many hours, too many thoughts on her. He didn't want to waste another, not with your exquisite body under his, so pliant and willing. So eager to take all he was capable of giving you. 

Your hands had gone to his head again as soon as he had dug his teeth in, not pushing him away but pulling him closer. Yeah, you could definitely take it. 

You were a sobbing, squirming mess, as he trailed kisses and bites down your body, 

"Stay still for me, angel" he quipped, annoyed at having to pause on his way to his ultimate goal, "or I'll have to tie you to the bed"

You chuckled,

"Kiny. But sadly I don't have any ropes…"

A whooshing sound was the only warning you had before you found your right hand stuck to the headboard with what looked suspiciously like a spider web. You turned your wide eyes on him.

"Spider-man?" You gasped, astonished. He offered you his wrist, and you took it with your free hand, turning it this way and the other, examining the sophisticated device you had first mistaken for a bracelet. 

"Peter"

"What?" Your gaze returned to his handsome face in the dark.

"My name is Peter" He smiled, and you could swear the room lit up.

"Y/n" You confessed, giving him your real name instead of the false identity you had used to enter the party. 

"Y/n" He repeated, trying it out "Much prettier than Cut-throat" 

He knew who you were. Of course. But you knew who he was too, so maybe it wasn't so bad. He could have kept silent, kept the advantage, but instead he had evened the field. You were equals now, in every way. But more than that, something inside you told you you could trust him. A gut feeling, like those Matt kept talking about. 

He was one of the good guys after all.

You offered him your free hand, and if his smile had been bright before, now it was blinding. He kissed your open palm reverently, before sticking it to the headboard next to the other one. 

Peter kneeled on the bed, between your open legs, admiring you.

"Have you got any idea" he whispered, fingertips tracing your body, "how beautiful you look like this, all tied up and naked, just for me?" 

His hands cupped your breasts, thumbs playing with your nipples with just the right pressure to send shivers up and down your body.

"I wanted to play with you, to tease you, make you beg for it" like a spider playing with the helpless fly trapped in its web, "but I don't think I can wait any longer. I want you so bad…"

"But I am begging," You breathed out, arching your back, pushing yourself into his hands, "please, Peter. Please just fuck me" 

He hooked his fingers on the waistband of your ruined underwear.

"Say it again baby"

"Fuck me, Peter, please" 

He dragged your panties down your legs, helping you untangle them when they got stuck on your hills. He truly had never seen something so sexy, so sinful. And neither had you, once he had made quick work of his pants and underwear, wrapping his own hand around his impressive member, pumping once, twice, three times when he noticed your unwavering, unabashed stare. 

"Now you're just showing off…"

Peter laughed,

"Maybe. Like what you see?"

Your eyes traveled to the sharp, popping veins of his hands, perfectly matching the ones on his angry red length. 

"Yeah" You admitted, "yeah, I do"

His boyish grin had no place in a situation like this, but somehow it fitted better than any lecherous look could.

"I changed my mind" he declared, pushing your legs open, "maybe just a taste"

"What? Peter no" you whined, petulant, "I want to feel you! Now!"

"I don't think you understand, baby:" his hot breath fanned over your center, "You're mine tonight. Completely at my mercy…" 

He flattened his tongue, licking a long strip over your slit before closing his lips around your pearl and sucking softly, tearing a surprised cry out of you. He was every bit as good as you thought he would be, but you had something else in mind.

"Please, please Peter… I want-" You were panting as he kept on devouring you, the movements of the mattress near your feet making it quite obvious he was touching himself as he ate you, "I want your cock… I want to… I want to come around your cock" 

He mumbled something unintelligible, burying his face deeper, sucking harder. You felt his strong, thick tongue make its way inside you, eagerly lapping at your overly sweet juices. It was too much, and you tried to close your legs, to make him stop, but only succeeded in bringing him closer, deeper. You couldn't handle it, the way he was playing your body like a well loved instrument, coaxing the pleasure out of you too fast. And he didn't even need to stop for air. You tried to hold back your orgasm, tried to control it but it was in vain, soon it was crashing over you like a wave, a tsunami, leaving you exhausted, muscles aching by the sudden onslaught of inhuman bliss thrusted upon them. 

You were still riding high on your crest when Peter crawled his way up your body, burying himself inside you in one thrust, hissing at the way your walls squeezed him almost too tight. He only gave the both of you a couple of seconds to get used to it before starting to move. Like in the elevator, you tilted your hips to him, offering yourself up, giving him more access. It was the sweetest torture, feeling him so big, so deep, every thrust electrifying your body, making it come alight again, for him. 

And he, he couldn't get enough, couldn't control himself, not when you felt so heavenly. He wanted, no, he needed, to give it to you. Every last, shattered piece of what was left of him. Until it was all gone. Until he couldn't remember his name, couldn't remember her name. Until all that was left was you, and the way you felt around his cock, the way your body fitted in his hands, the way your screamed his name into the night, over and over and over again. Cause it sounded different from your lips, sounded brand new, sounded… pure. 

There, covered in sweat, grunting obscenely, debasing both you and himself in the dirtiest, most animalistic fucking, he felt alive like he hadn't in years. Maybe ever.

Peter's gaze fixed on you again, tugging at your restraints, hair a halo around your head, cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen. Breathing hard. The loveliest thing he had ever caught in his web. Your sobs and moans inter mingling with his own, were the most pornographic thing he had heard in his life, your hips moving to meet his, wet sounds of skin slapping skin filling the room… and you still looked like an angel. 

"Peter…" You cried out. He was so deep you could feel him in every cell of your body, his cock touching places you didn't even knew you had, stretching you almost painfully but not quite, just enough to make you question your sanity, to drive you wild, to keep you begging for more even if you couldn't really take it. 

"You feel so good angel" he was talking in your ear, hips never stopping, cock pounding into you without mercy, "gonna come for me again? Gonna let me feel it?..." 

You wanted to shake your head, to say no, you weren't that kind of woman, the kind that could come more than once, but you wanted so badly to be good for him. For once in your life, you wanted to be good.

"Ugh… come on, give it to me baby girl… fuck you feel so good… like heaven on my cock" 

"Peter!"

His thumb found your clit, rubbing messily, with no rhythm or finesse. No, he was too close for that, but he wanted you to come with him, needed the both of you to fall together. 

"You still have one more to give, don't you angel? You said it… said you wanted to come on my cock…"

You sobbed, weakly. You could feel all the muscles in your body lock again, the coil inside you tightening. You were at his mercy, just like he had said, there was nothing you could do to resist it, and you knew, you just knew that by the time this orgasm hitted you, there were gonna be tears in your eyes, for the sheer intensity, the-

"Yeah, like that… just like that… I can feel it… come for me angel, now!"

As on command, you felt your muscles contract and relax, every single one of your nerve endings exploding with bone shattering force. One last thrust and grunt above you, and Peter went lax, falling bonelessly next to you.

"Oh… oh, god!.. That was…"

You gigled, breathlessly,

"Yeah… I know…" 

"How… how do you feel? Are you ok? How are your arms?"

"Peter, stop freaking out, I'm ok, I promise" You tried to reach for his face but your hands were still tied to the headboard.

"You sure?" 

You stretched on the bed, arching your back like a cat and Peter couldn't help the way his eyes wandered to your breasts.

"I'm better than ever" 

He got up anyway, fetching a wet towel to clean you up and a bottle of orange juice from the minibar that he helped you drink. He then threw the cover over both your bodies, cuddling with you.

"So" you started, trying to get a look up at your still bound hands, "how long does this thing usually lasts"

Peter flinched,

"About three hours…"

"THREE HOURS??"

He drowned your indignant cry with a kiss, not stopping until he felt you relax under his body again.

"I'm sure I can find ways to keep you entertained until then…"

You captured his bottom lip, nibbling softly before releasing him,

"And I was thinking, you don't have to leave after. I mean, it's gonna be way too late for you to go, this city is kinda dangerous at night…" 

Peter smirked,

"I know… lot of baddies out there at night…"

"And weirdos in costume…" He swallowed the rest of your sentence, coaxing your mouth open with his gifted tongue, deepening the kiss. And you knew.

He was going to stay forever.

The end.

[lostinthewiind]

Brave Heart: Chapter Eight

Attack on Titan

Rating: Mature

Warnings: sexual themes, death, gore, mature themes, extreme violence, body horror, blood, weapons, major character death, age-gap relationship

"I want all you cadets on standby! Look sharp!"

Finally able to get off of her aching feet for a while, Vera sat, her back against a brick wall, under the shade of a flimsy awning. She gulped down as much water as humanly possible upon returning and ever since then had been resting, unsure of how soon the next order to move out would eventually come.

"If we hadn't found the gas, we'd have never gotten out of Trost." Vera overheard Connie explaining to Ymir and Krista, who hadn't been a part of the HQ mission. "Basically, we got lucky. That's it."

"That sounds terrible," Krista said, her soft voice and gentle demeanour enough to make anyone feel better. "I'm so sorry. We volunteered to run supplies out to everyone, but the situation was so bad."

Ymir nodded. "We'd even found some gas we were going to dole out to you guys but then everything went to hell."

There was a moment of silence before Krista asked the question that had clearly been on her mind ever since Vera and the others had made it back over the wall. "So, you're saying everyone who isn't here now didn't . . . you know."

"Yeah." Connie's face fell.

"Wait, what about Mikasa?" Ymir questioned.

Connie realized his mistake and shook his head. "No, no she's good. She made it in after us with the group Jean led."

"Hey, Jean, where in the world is Mikasa?" Ymir turned to him for answers. "She get hurt or what?"

Jean, who was sitting at a picnic table beside Vera with Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie, remained quiet.

"Hey, talk to us." Connie pried.

Ignoring the others, Jean took a long drink of water. After what they had all witnessed, what with Eren emerging from a Titan and all, followed by him, Mikasa, and Armin being detained by the Military Police, it was no surprise he wasn't exactly up for chit-chat. Not that any one of them could talk about what had happened even if they wanted to.

"I'd tell you if I could," Jean lied, using the excuse to supply himself with protection against any and all badgering questions. "They slapped us with a gag order."

"Whoa, you're joking, right?" Connie asked.

Ymir sighed. "That's nuts."

"They're nuts if they think people aren't going to talk," Jean scoffed. "Word will get out, and when it does . . . well, that is, if we survive."

Vera thought back to when she and the others had emerged in the lift with Eren, only to be met with blades, canons, guns, and every weapon under the sun pointed at them. After being forced to sign gag orders, everyone was dismissed excluding Eren, Mikasa, and Armin—the ladder two due to the fact they refused to leave Eren's side.

"You look absolutely dreadful." Bertholdt slid out of his seat at the table and sat down on the ground next to Vera. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you look like you've just fought for your life."

Vera cracked the faintest hint of a smile, but the sugar-coated concern in his tone struck a nerve inside her. "God, not you, too," she huffed as she folded her arms over her knees and rested her head on top.

Bertholdt cocked a brow quizically. "Not me too? Care to elaborate?"

Too exhausted to continue beating around the bush, Vera decided to just be upfront about what she had noticed. "Be honest with me, Bertholdt, do I seem like a weakling?" she asked as she glanced up to make sure Reiner wasn't listening in on their conversation. "Do I strike you as someone who needs to be coddled or something?"

Bertholdt shook his head in response. "No, of course not. Why?"

Vera contemplated leaving her concerns there for the time being, but the intrigued look on Bertholdt's face told her that he wasn't going to let her drop the subject so easily. "It's just . . . lately, everyone has been checking in on me constantly. Asking me if I'm okay, stepping in to protect me."

Bertholdt snickered. "I've seen you fight. You don't need protecting," he said. "So who is this 'everyone' you're referring to? Because as far as I know, people regard you among the likes of Mikasa and Annie when it comes to strength."

"Well, you did just now, for starters . . . and Reiner," Vera answered, suddenly feeling very childish now that the words were leaving her mouth. "Mostly Reiner."

Bertholdt grinned as he tilted his head back against the wall. "Oh, I see. Well, in that case, you have nothing to worry about."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Reiner doesn't perceive you as anything even close to weak," Bertholdt elaborated. "And he doesn't worry about you because he thinks you need protecting."

Vera opened her mouth to try and shake some more information out of Bertholdt, but before a single word could escape, a huge explosion sounded in the distance and steam and smoke began to gather into the air in thick, dark clouds.

All conversations stopped in their tracks as everyone looked toward the sudden and startling interruption.

"Canon fire?" Reiner's head snapped in the direction of the smoke.

"But why just one shot?" Jean questioned.

"That came from where Eren, Mikasa, and Armin are." Vera recognized the location of the explosion, or whatever it was that had made such a loud sound.

Suddenly, someone let out a scream. "Look, smoke!" They pointed to the telltale sign of a Titan, which was the smoky steam that radiated off of their bodies. "It's inside the wall!"

"Not now." Jean gawked. "Is that Titan steam?"

One moment, everyone was standing around, observing the rising smoke, and the next, Reiner, Annie, and Bertholdt were propelling themselves onto the rooftops with their ODM gear and making a break for it toward the concerning eruption.

Jean was quick to follow their lead, and, not wanting to be left behind, Vera forced herself to push through her exhaustion just a little longer and took to the rooves as well. If something bad had happened to Eren, Mikasa, or Armin, she didn't want to be the only one sitting around just because her muscles felt like they were on fire.

Finally coming to a stop above the same large courtyard where they had all come face to face with a slew of weapons ready to end their very existences, Vera and the others watched in horror as those very same soldiers once again had their weapons drawn, but this time they weren't aiming at a group of cadets. This time, they were aiming at a half-formed Titan that Vera could only assume was Eren.

Made of muscle and pure bone and composed of nothing more than a head, neck, ribcage, and single arm, the Titan was fused with the cement, its only purpose to seemingly shield Mikasa and Armin, who were cowering inside the ribcage.

"Holy shit . . ." Vera whispered as the Titan carcass began to creak and move, thoroughly scaring the shit out of the soldiers and Captain Kitz Woermann himself.

"Maintain your distance!" Kitz ordered his soldiers. "All squads remain alert! It could strike at any time! Artillery crew, get that canon reloaded!"

With a sudden jolt, the muscles on the back of the Titan's neck burst open, letting out a rush of steam before Eren emerged just like he had before. As soon as he was free from the vessel he had created in order to protect his friends, Eren climbed down from the massive skeleton to make sure Mikasa and Armin were okay.

As the smoke began to clear, what little there was of the Titan's body began to disintegrate before everyone's very eyes. The skull broke off of the neck and, with a loud crash, shattered into pieces upon impact with the ground.

Visibility still hindered, Vera could hear Eren talking somewhere within the thick plumes of smoke, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. The only thing she could tell, based purely on the tone of his voice, was that he was angry and under a great deal of stress, which was completely understandable considering the circumstances.

As the soldiers reloaded the canons and aimed them toward the spot where Eren, Mikasa, and Armin were presumed to be standing, the Titan behind them continued to crumble apart, creating new bursts of dust and debris that added to their coverage and bought them a little more time.

Then, suddenly, a metallic clang echoed through the courtyard and Armin emerged from the smoke, his ODM gear discarded on the ground and a look of determination plastered on his face as he marched into view.

"Halt!" Kitz shouted as the soldiers around him readied their weapons.

Skidding to a stop, Armin held his hands above his head in surrender.

"Is this supposed to be your true form, monster?" Kitz demanded. "I don't buy it! I'll give the signal to fire, I mean it!"

"Eren is not a foe of humanity!" Armin spoke loud and clear, and if he was nervous, it wasn't detectable in his voice. "We're willing to cooperate with military command and share everything we've learned about his powers!"

"Your pleas fall on deaf ears!" Kitz countered. "He revealed his true form, and because of that threat, he cannot leave here alive! If you insist he's not an enemy of ours, show me proof! Otherwise, we'll blast him back to whatever nightmare he crawled out of!"

Lowering his arms, Armin grimaced. "You don't need any proof! The fact of the matter is, it doesn't matter what we perceive him to be!"

"What?"

"The reports say hundreds of soldiers saw him. And those who were there say they saw him fighting other Titans! And that means they saw him get swarmed by the Titans as well. To put it plainly, the Titans recognized him the same way they see each and every human being, as their prey! And it doesn't matter how else you may look at it! That is an irrefutable fact!"

Hushed whispers travelled through the ranks of soldiers, and although it was unsure just what stance they were taking, the fact that they hadn't fired yet and that some of them were lowering their weapons just a little could have only been a good sign.

"Prepare to attack!" Kitz screamed at the top of his lungs, clearly displeased that his soldiers were being convinced by Armin's words. "Don't let yourselves be swayed by his cunning lies! The Titans' behaviour has always been beyond our comprehension. I wouldn't put it past them to assume human form. He's speaking our language in an attempt to deceive us! I refuse to let them continue this behaviour unchecked!"

In the blink of an eye, all blades were at the ready and all gun barrels were pointed at Armin. Armin, however, was unwilling to give up just yet.

"I am a soldier!" Armin asserted as he saluted. "And I have dedicated my heart to the restoration of humanity, Sir! Nothing could make me prouder than dying for such a noble cause! If we were to use his Titan ability and combine it with the manpower we have left, I believe we can do it! We can retake this city! For humanity's glory, in what little time I have left to live, I will advocate his strategic value!"

Vera hung on to Armin's every word, waiting with bated breath to see if he had finally managed to make his case or if she was about to watch her fellow cadet die for what he believed in.

"Quiet!" Kitz snapped at the soldier next to him, who had been, presumably, saying something. Then, without another word, he began to raise his hand, ready to give the signal to fire.

Vera felt every single muscle in her body clench. Eyes glued to Armin, she waited for the moment she would be forced to watch him draw his last breath. That, however, never happened. Gaze shifting back over to Kitz, Vera was pleasantly surprised to see that Commander Dot Pyxis of the Garrison Regiment had arrived just in time to grab Kitz's arm before he could give the signal to attack, effectively saving Armin's life in the process.

"That's enough!" Pyxis scolded. "You should really do something about your nervous disposition, Captain Woermann."

Turning to look at the bald, older man, Kitz's eyes grew as wide as dinner plates. "C-Commander Pyxis?"

"Can you not see this soldier's heartfelt salute?" Pyxis strode forward, arms calmly folded behind his back. "I've only just arrived, but I'm quite aware of our situation. Gather our reinforcements. I think we could at least do these young soldiers the favour of hearing them out."

After realizing that he wasn't about to be blown to bits, Armin dropped to his knees, relief flooding his face as his chest heaved. If his reaction to surviving was any indication, it was clear Armin had truly been prepared to die right then.

Once again, members of the 104th Cadet Corps had managed to skirt death, even if just barely. Hopefully, this luck would continue to follow those that remained into the continued battle to come.

[girlonfilmmovies]

Welcome to Friend Island: "Love Island US Season 3" and the Gaping Sores of America

So I foolishly thought that in the new year of 2021, the world would be in a better place than it was the previous year. After all, we were coming out of the "worst" of the most horrifying pandemic of the past century, a middling presidency that at that point served only a wealth of TV soundbites and less actual damage to the political system, and we were looking forward to a brighter future and a return to what some hoped would be "normal". The past was the past, and this was going to be a new moment.

Oh how naïve we all were.

As of this writing Covid-19 cases are hitting staggering new highs in the southern US, with Florida (of course) somehow hitting a record amount despite vaccines being easily available in the country for months. The death rates are at almost the same as last year. The middling disaster of the 45th president had one more trick up its sleeve, a firebomb brewing for dozens of years that went off in one of the most embarrassing fiascos of American political history. Misinformation has already implanted itself so thoroughly among half the country that people would rather die than admit they were wrong; the spread of such chaos being happily spat out through the algorithms of corporations only intent on raking in dollar signs. All the potential benefits that could have come from this once-in-a-lifetime moment are being briskly swept away: offices demanding their employees come back, no respect given to science and healthcare workers, the country's clearly weak infrastructure forced right back into action as if we didn't just see its gaping holes. The earth is dying and the people who actually have the resources do something about it instead have kickstarted a capitalist space race.

2021 has gone to show that old, toxic habits die hard.

Sigh.

Yeah, I watched Love Island again.

Despite my... let's say mixed feelings regarding last year's shitshow, I couldn't help but admit that it was the closest thing that I've had to appointment viewing TV that I've had in a long time. In an era of streaming and DVR boxes, it's a bit of an actual feat to get someone who works a fulltime job (especially one with erratic scheduling) to go out of their way to watch something the second it premieres. Love Island brings the family together, so they can engage in our favorite pastime: pointing and laughing at young, dumb, fame hungry cis-hets.

Plus, the second season had offered a fascinating glance at how to contend with a pandemic while also trying to stage a typical dumb reality show. The tropical island villa was swapped for a luxurious hotel rooftop in Las Vegas -- a literal ivory tower of ignorant hedonism looking down upon a plagued nation. You could feel the sexual tension of the hot, hyper-sexual adults forced without physical contact for months finally allowed to relieve themselves the only way they know how: toxic relationships. It was trying so hard to be an oasis in a desert yearning for frivolous content, but the façade was clearly visible to the point of satire. It was a wonderful thing to experience firsthand as what I originally thought as merely me dipping my toes into the genre.

Season 2 was the show that we deserved at the time, a funhouse mirror reflecting all the callous stupidity that had led us to this moment in world history. It attempted to offer a happy ending, a look towards the future: a black couple finally winning a reality show, a first for such a mainstream program (both of them actually kind of turned out to suck, but shhhh...).

It also allowed America to completely break the hearts of people while watching them fall apart live on TV. It was cruel, it was stupid, but most of all, it was fun as hell.

Season 3 is not about torturing the competitors. It's about torturing us.

In all fairness, there were a couple of lovely positive developments for the series this season. While still struggling with racial diversity a little bit, as evidenced by them casting only one very specific kind of black man like five times, strides are being taken elsewhere in the lane of body diversity. Alana makes her debut as literally the first woman on this show who isn't a size 0-2, looking absolutely gorgeous in every single shot.

The almost aggressively heteronormative nature of the show is slowly being shaken by a more openly queer cast than previously expected -- multiple bisexual/pansexual contestants participated, even though there wasn't any overtly queer romance shown (also almost all of them were women, with them describing their sexualities being confined to streaming exclusive episodes, which isn't... great). It's certainly a step in the right direction for a show that unceremoniously shuffled off the only queer member of the Season 2 cast overnight once the internet found his gay porn shoot. Ironically, they also ended up booting off the most openly queer member of this cast too, the purple haired proudly pansexual TikTok-er Leslie, but for the more legal reason of smuggling weed into the villa.

It's not terribly surprising that both Alana and Leslie garnered a lot of positive attention both inside and outside of the villa -- they stand out so much against the otherwise predictable casting that we've come to expect from this show and white American media in general. Alana is a woman with actual curves who looks stunningly gorgeous in comparison to the monotonous supermodel figures of everyone else. Leslie almost falls into a stereotype from the way she appears: dyed purple hair, tattooed all over, obviously queer, vaping weed constantly, exuding the kind of chaotic yet weirdly fun energy that only a former stripper can. Yet she obviously grabbed the attention of the contestants because while people like her abound in real life, in the fantasy land of reality TV she's an absolute rarity, a far cry from the sanitized beauty pageant-esque standards that they seem to pluck girls from. The men are still dumb, bland, boneheaded idiots in this show, but by offering some actual variety, they get to actually pursue people they aren't "traditionally" supposed to, while an outsider audience member like me gets to see women like herself be offered up for titillation in the same way "conventionally attractive" women are.

It's kind of cool, even if it is just playing into the icky sexualization of everyone, but hey...progress?

In an odd "two steps forward, one step back" kind of situation, the show has somewhat dialed down the outrageously toxic relationships of last year into a more relatively subdued level of toxicity. Gaslighting/cheating is at least kept to a relative low in this season compared to the nightmare that was last year, although this year's ratio depends on how much of that corresponds with sexy Columbian boy Will's obviously flimsy grasp of the intricacies of the English language. He continued to be plagued by the cliquey-ness of the cast until the very end but his genuinely sweet couple with Kyra still did enough to sneak into the final two.

The actual main problem this year was an almost unbearably long love triangle between Cash, Trina, and Cinco that refused to solve itself for nearly a month. Cash and Cinco perennially kept flip-flopping in their feelings for each other, bouncing between failed partnerships despite so obviously being into each other. Trina ended up roped in as Cinco's partner for a while, a constant victim of his own lack of courage to make up his damn mind. Cash, freshly single and in horny jail (aka Casa Amor), coupled up with the handsome and mysterious Charlie.

Now we need to discuss how bizarre Charlie as a cast member. Not only is he the only member who is, looks, and acts like an actual adult, but he also seems to show no adherence to the rules of reality TV: he's very relaxed and unassuming, seems genuinely uninterested in the "game" aspects of the show, and only perks up during rare moments of actual romantic potential. He's a fascinating spanner to throw into the machine of Love Island, and once Cinco was eliminated in the competition, Charlie had to sit there while Cash only continued to openly and aggressively pine for a man who isn't even her current partner. Proving once again to be an anomaly in the cast, he actually decided to do something about this: he unceremoniously dumped fan favorite Cash like a sack of bricks, sending her home while hooking up with the previously mentioned Alana. This smart decision was met derisively by viewers, despite him being the only person there who actually acted like a fucking adult for once. Ironically, this got him and Alana into the finals, where they finished in last place with the same trademark lack of enthusiasm that we've come to expect from him.

I suppose now we need to uncork the problem of the season and by extension the franchise as a whole. You might have read that previous situation and thought, "gee, a fan favorite got tossed aside while a guy that everyone hated ended up making it into the final four? That seems weird."

But by that point it really wasn't at all.

See, the problem with the voting is that you don't usually get to pick who goes; the audience only gets to pick who to prevent getting kicked. At that point, the audience control is out of our hands and now into the contestants', and if there's one thing we all learned in high school it's that cliques are very much a thing. The contestants seemed dead set on booting anybody who was new the second they had the chance, so many potentially exciting people were so quickly thrown out. Instead of the exciting potential we could have seen, we got a love triangle sucking anyone nearby into doom, with everyone else being a relatively stable couple or part of the Jeremy/Korey wishy-washy railway. Casa Amor was an absolute bust, with people making half-assed couplings despite still being in love with somebody else (it speaks a lot to the weakness of the Casa Amor men that Olivia literally preferred to come back single than with any of those planks of wood).

Part of the problem did rely on factors that nobody could control at all though. "Romance novel come to life" Slade seemed like a threat with his rugged handsomeness, twangy accent, and classic southern charm, but had to quickly leave due to ambiguous family troubles. Similarly, the nearly perfect Josh and Shannon, who seemed like an obvious shoo-in winner by virtue of being probably the only actual relationship on the show, had to depart in the middle of the night due to the tragic death of Josh's sister. Aforementioned chaotic pansexual Leslie was unceremoniously removed in the middle of the night once they had realized that her classic vape pen was actually full of weed, an especially tragic circumstance considering she basically had Cinco wrapped around her finger and was about to bring that love triangle crashing down (also tragic because she has gone on record saying that she was fully crushing on Genny while they were both in there, robbing us of any potential of a queer couple).

But part of the pain as always has to do with how the producers control everything no matter what: what we see, what we hear, who gets the villain edit and who gets the hero edit. It's why they seem to play Jeremy as dumb hot surfer bro instead of the actual funny and charming guy he is. It's why Trina was treated as a bitch and Cash as a woeful victim despite the roles more often than not lining up the other way around. And most embarrassingly, it's how the biggest joke couple of the show ended up winning it all.

Now, look at this picture right here: the poses, the awkward hand holding, the very strange smiles between those two. No, this is not a picture of two teenagers going to prom together who just met only five minutes ago and are taking pictures on their parents' front lawn; these two are the winners of season 3, the supposedly "strongest" couple on the show. This is Olivia and Korey.

Korey is a charming boyish sweetheart by way of an absolute fucking dumbass. He's sort of like last year's beloved and wonderfully stupid Carrington: a very sweet and nice teenager who seems to have "13 Going on 30"-ed his way into an adult body. He's childish in a way that's very cute and friendly but also woefully unattractive to anyone who's an adult. Just like Carrington, he notched up a staggering amount of dates with pretty much every single beautiful woman that came into the villa, all seemingly very interested in him. Carrington, for as dumb and childish as he is, could bag anyone because he was outrageously confident too. Korey on the other hand seems incapable of making any decision, following any girl who pays him the time of day like a little puppy, constantly looking up to her with his big puppy dog eyes. It's very telling that for all the dates he had, almost none of them actually went anywhere because it's just not that appealing to anyone. If you're looking to win, he's not someone who can scheme and play the game. If you're looking for love, he's not going to cut it because he can't seem to even understand the concept of romance. If you're looking for a friend, he's probably the best damn one you'll get in that villa -- but as constantly established by everyone, this show isn't called Friend Island.

Olivia is a bit of a thornier subject. She habitually couples up with people that you can kind of tell she's not at all into. She started the first half relatively unassuming and not particularly interested in the men that she was supposedly attracted to. But you could basically see her panties drop when Slade walked in, ready for him to pull her up into the saddle and ride away into the sunset. But his sudden departure only left her more empty, desperately grasping onto whatever random attraction she could. She went off to Casa Amor single and had the gall to come back without coupling up with any of them (although once again, they really dropped the ball with the men compared to the stunning Casa Amor women). And somehow in the midst of all this wishy washy mess, she finally settled on the one single man who she hadn't coupled up with and supposedly suddenly had feelings for: lonely, little Korey.

As a watcher of two seasons of this shit, I've seen a lot of fake relationships, but this one is just ridiculous. The chemistry is really nonexistent; she seems more annoyed or at best partially amused whenever he tries to say anything genuinely sweet to her. She reacts like how you would when a little kid tries to tell you they have a crush on you, an adult: you just kind of go, "aw, cute, thank you!" and walk away chuckling. It's genuinely comedic in how tragic it is, a boy who thinks he's finally found someone when all she's found is a trip to the bank.

And what did the editors do? They tried their very best to sell this as genuine, as actual romance. We know what romance is -- we basically saw it with Shannon and Josh, and to a lesser extent Will and Kyra. And yet they whipped out that expert level edit to say, "wow, look at these two lovebirds, huh?" It's ridiculous, especially since only in the final episode did they suddenly remember that Jeremy and the stunning Bailey (aka the combination of Gal Godot and Ashley Judd circa-2001) were an actual couple and even they looked more real than the winning couple.

Love Island is, if nothing else, a reflection of America.

It's an outdated tradition desperately grasping to what's left of the typical western idea of romance. No matter how many beauty pageant contestants they pick, men like women who aren't size 2s, or with natural hair/skin, or with family-friendly occupations. Women are probably tired of the big muscle bound hunks they usually put on here, the nearly identical men that they seem to cast every single season who have all the looks but zero of the confidence or personality.

It's an example of how our choices are an illusion, how our influence can be easily overwritten by those in charge. Votes that don't matter when they change the rules on the fly, ripping out the actual choice of the people in favor of letting them decide what stays and what goes.

It's a testament that even in the face of a viral pandemic that's quickly turning into part two, as the lives of millions are being further destroyed across the world, there will always be some asshole who has more than you and looks better than you, vacationing on a tropical island stolen from its people, ignorant of everything else that's happening around them.

Love Island hates everyone. It hates it's contestants. It hates the viewers. It hates change. It hates me.

But I do still kind of love it.