#I’d rather be mistaken for a man than a woman

[eddiemunsonw]

None of your business | PART 2

PART 1 - PART 2

Gator Tillman x fem!reader

Summary: It's one week later and Gator returns for more

CW/Disclaimer: Smut, handjob, oral (f and m)

Author's note: A few people wanted to see a part 2, so here it is! I have something sitting in my askbox still that I'll try to write for next, so don't expect a part 3 anytime soon (or ever really, if I'm being honest)

Words: 3694

Next Saturday came around and you found yourself paying more attention to the door than you usually would. Despite being the one doing the favor, you had enjoyed your little late night escapades with Gator more than you’d like to admit. In fact, it had given you your own release thinking back on it every night since. The thought of rocking his world to the point that he was more focused on wanting to kiss you rather than getting his own jizz out of his face was also hard to forget.

However, there was no Gator. You wondered if maybe he was too busy, duty calls and such, whatever that meant as Roy Tillman’s son. Maybe he had found the confidence to ask someone else now that he had a sliver of experience. You didn’t know why that annoyed you so much. Brutal Bob was the last to stick around that night. Normally he would have gone by now. He hadn’t asked for a refill in a bit and if he wasn’t still obviously breathing and looking alright you would have taken his temperature just to make sure. There was an amused expression on his face, which widened when you met him with a confused glance of your own.

“What are you so smiley about Mr Bob?” you asked with a chuckle. “I keep seeing that sneaky smirk of yours!”

Brutal Bob laughed, which sounded more like a cough and something gurgling in his throat.

“What’s it with you and Tillman’s boy, sweetie?”

“Tillman’s boy? What do you mean?” 

You were genuinely curious, considering nothing had really been going on when Brutal Bob had been around.

“He’s been “sneakily” looking through the windows every ten minutes or so. You got a date or summit?”

Immediately, your head turned to the nearest window where sure enough, you could see just about the edge of a cap peaking from below. Did he just hide himself from you?

“Oh, I don’t know Bob, I think the likes of them fancy a proper girl. They’re not gonna find that one with me,” you said with a shrug. Brutal Bob shook his head with a smile and you got the feeling that he was smarter than he let on.

“Alright dearie, I will call it a night so you can go to bed as well. If it’s your bed you’re sleepin’ in t’night.”

“Bob! Stop it,” you chuckled as he threw you the fattest, most exaggerated wink as he got up from the barstool. “Mind your business old man.”

“Alright alright. Just nee responsible like I am!”

With one of his bouldering laughs (and coughs) he left the bar. If you weren’t mistaken, he announced his departure loudly once he was outside. It took about another five minutes for Gator to come in. With… flowers? Which he had clearly plucked out of someone’s garden. Interesting.

“I thought he’d never—” Gator coughed, “I mean, the lights were still on when I happened to drive by so I thought I’d come in and say hi.”

“A very spontaneous decision I’m sure,” you said with an amused smile and a pointed glance to the flowers in his hand. He followed your gaze and tightened his grip around the makeshift bouquet of daffodils.

“Just thought this dim bar could use some color,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“You think they’ll survive in this dim bar?” you asked curiously, wanting to see his response to your teasing.

“Just take the damn flowers, woman,” he grumbled, holding them out for you to take. “I need to take a piss.”

“Thank you for the flowers, man,” you called after him as he disappeared towards the bathroom as soon as you accepted the flowers. With a chuckle, you grabbed a vase to put some water in, giving them the spot on the bar that would get the most daylight. Daffodils usually didn’t last that long. When he came back, he glanced over at the vase and then his eyes flicked over to you to watch you warily.

“So?”

“They’re lovely, thank you. Who knew you could be cute when you wanted to,” you said with a subtle smile teasing your lips. Gator groaned. He wasn’t mad, just “annoyed”. Quotation marks were in order.

“Shut up, remember who you’re talking to. I’m not cute.”

“I think giving a woman flowers after getting a surprise first timer handjob is pretty cute.”

“Isn’t it like, the bare minimum for first date shit? What’s cute about the bare minimum?”

It sounded like he genuinely wanted to know. You decided not to tell him that the fact he had been waiting outside for the perfect moment to step in was cute too.

“Sometimes I think things people do are cute when you don’t expect it from that particular person. I expected you to… I don’t know. I actually expected you to not come in at all, at some point,” you told him honestly. Gator frowned and stepped behind the bar, finding his comfort in your close proximity again.

“Why didn’t you?” he asked, again, genuinely confused. You took a step towards him as well, waiting for him to back away except, he didn’t.

“Well… thought you’d find it elsewhere than the last resort now that the awkwardness of the first time has passed.”

You had no idea why you were being this honest with him. Maybe it was because he was looking at you with an openness you hadn’t seen before. He was still frowning, but it was easy to see through the tough exterior.

“I don’t see why I’d search for someone else when I already got myself a woman right here,” Gator mumbled. “Besides, I don’t know everything yet. You said I wouldn’t be able to get you off so why would I bother with someone else? I want you to tell me what to do. So I can…”

Find someone more suitable and prettier for my needs, you finished off in your head. When he seemed to hesitate, you promoted him to answer. You just wanted him to confirm it for your own sake.

“So you can…?”

 A blush spread on his cheeks but his eyes flared with annoyance. One step closer and he towered over you. It shouldn’t make your heart beat this fast to see his gaze drop to your lips.

“Just— shut up! Shut up and let me… do the… do it back.”

“Do what back?”

“Finger you.”

He gave you a challenging look as if to say, yeah I’m using big boy words and so what? You couldn’t help but laugh and felt a little guilty when the confidence drained from his face.

“What?!”

“Nothing.”

“Spit it out, woman.”

“Ah, if only it was said with a little less disdain, I might have considered complying...”

“Do you want me to finger you or not?” he asked impatiently. From the way he was fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket, you figured he was the one really wanting to do the deed. Return the favor, if you will.

“Well jeez I’m gushing down there from this sensual foreplay, oh my,” you mumbled sarcastically. “You’re not gonna get me wet with just your fingers, you gotta put some work into it, get me in the mood.”

“Females are such a handful…”

“Women just require a more complicated manual. Men are embarrassingly easy honestly.”

“Men are not embarrassing!” Gator protested.

“Right, tell that to the string of jizz nearly hitting your eye out of eagerness last week, hm?”

Gator grabbed you roughly by the shoulders and pushed you against the wall right next to all the expensive liquor. The bottles rattled faintly as you gasped in a breath.

“I’m fucking done. Never mind this- this bullshit—”

You grabbed his hands from your shoulders and put them on your waist instead. Confusion mixed with anger, though it was more so exasperation, etched into his face. You felt his fingers flex just lightly under yours.

“Come on. Touch. Show that you care about her. Show her that it matters to you how she feels too.”

It kind of sucked, removing yourself from the narrative despite being the most prominent factor there alongside him. However, since he clearly had plans to learn and move on, you didn’t want to let your mind linger too much on what could have been. After a moment, you let go of his hands when you felt he wanted to let them wander on his own. Whichever words he had left for you died on his tongue when you let go of a soft, content sigh. His hands were big and frankly it had been a while since someone touched you with such tenderness. Gator watched your face like a hawk, focused on every reaction his wandering hands caused. As his thumbs brushed the underside of your boobs, his lips parted to run his tongue along them. Your eyes shifted towards his and you were surprised to meet his gaze, a softer one this time.

“Can I touch your tits?”

There was nothing that had prepared you for Gator Tillman asking for permission rather than just taking it. You wondered why that was. As far as you knew, the Tillmans never asked for anything. They took. Normally you probably would have giggled at the way the words left his mouth, but right now you only found yourself nodding. Gator’s hands didn’t waste a second to cup them fully, squeezing them over and over as if they were the first pair of boobs he ever laid his hands on. It probably was. Soft curse words rolled over his lips in quick succession, his eyes full of lust as they trained themselves on the view his hands created. He seemed to drown in the feeling, the freedom to give into his urges. You gently cleared your throat and his eyes immediately flicked up.

“Bad?”

“No, it’s- it’s alright.” It was better than alright. “Was just wondering if you were still with us,” you finished with a soft smile. Gator rolled his eyes and moved his hands back down to your waist, pulling it against his own.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he mumbled and with the pressure you felt straining in his pants you wondered if he made a subtle innuendo there. You nodded and he moved away until your hands grabbed his waist to keep him there.

“This part can be good too,” you told him gently, emphasizing what you meant by a roll of your hips. His breath stuttered and he bucked his hips against you, forehead coming down to rest against your own.

“T-That’s uh— But, for you too?” He struggled to make coherent sentences. You looked down at your skirt, considering. While you weren’t much of a skirt wearer, you had to admit that you had pulled on this stretchy short pencil skirt with Gator in mind. It would just be easier to move things out of the way, wouldn’t it?

“Less clothes in the way helps,” you mused softly, as you hitched up your pencil skirt until it rested on your waist, black tights and matching black panties on display in the dim light of the bar. Gator’s hands immediately came down to grasp the curve of your hips, his fingers digging deeply into the soft skin.

“Fuck… you’re…”

For some reason, he stopped himself and instead fumbled with his own pants until he could push them down to his knees. You didn’t have to tell him to slot his leg between your thighs as his natural instinct took over. His forehead came to rest against yours again as he rolled his hips deliciously against yours. An easy moan left him as soon as he found a rhythm, his hands holding your hips hard enough to bruise. You flung your arms around his neck and glanced over his shoulder towards one of the windows, realizing you never shut the blinds.

“You know… any passerby could see us right now,” you whispered into his ear. His breath was picking up as he rolled his hips quicker and a shaky moan left him at your words.

“Fuck, you can’t just say that shit!” You could tell he tried to sound annoyed rather than horny, though he failed miserably at it. Your smile rested against his cheek.

“Oh, you like that, hm?”

He mumbled something incoherent.

“Shut up.”

Oh. Hm.

“Make me.”

For a moment, Gator stopped moving, as if his brain couldn’t keep up with both your conversation and the actions of his hips. Then, his gaze snapped up, his face already so close to yours.

“Say that again,” he ordered, even though his expression was more hopeful than demanding. You nodded, a smile teasing your lips.

“Make. Me.”

Gator crashed his lips against yours and moved them eagerly yet so clueless, while his hips failed to maintain their rhythm now that he was occupied with kissing you. It was a little sloppy, but he happened to use just the right amount of tongue and for some reason it was working for you. You needed to gasp for breath and right in that moment, you felt his grip on your right hip loosen as his hand wandered down and slipped below your tights. Normally, you’d tell him that a little teasing above the fabric could be very enticing as well, but right now you honestly really just wanted to feel his calloused fingers against your skin. He clumsily found his way down and immediately started rubbing you way off your clit which you couldn’t really fault him for. Some men still couldn’t find the clit after several encounters.

His impatient kisses faltered a little when you wrapped your hand around his own, probably fearing he’d done something wrong. To assure him he had nothing to worry about, you kissed him again and adjusted his fingers to where you needed them. Hesitantly he continued to move them once your hand slipped out again and when it was rewarded with a soft moan against his lips, he rubbed your clit a little faster.

“Good?” he sighed against your lips, not giving you the time to answer with words as he stuck his tongue inside your mouth again. You hummed in approval and moved your legs apart a bit more to give him better access. Apparently he noticed, because his free hand wandered down your hip to hoist it up, his hand easily holding it there.

“Oh, Gator—”

“Yeah?” You felt him smile against your lips and his next words sounded a little cocky. “You like that, huh? Like it when I play with you baby?”

Very cocky, actually, all things considered. But god it was working for you. He teased your entrance with newfound confidence and after feeling around your wetness he was quick to add a second before he actually started thrusting his fingers into your cunt in quick succession. His palm happened to make just the right contact with your clit, which you considered beginner’s luck on his end. On your end, it was pure bliss. Your hips bucked into his hand and a low chuckle left his lips.

“Not so talkative now, eh? Jesus you’re wet down there. It’s like— you’re just so wet for me. Because of me.”

His stupid words and his quick finger work were what pushed you over the edge not much later. It wasn’t the best orgasm you ever had, but you certainly weren’t complaining either. A little out of breath, Gator reached for your face after gently letting your leg back down.

“I think I’m a natural, huh?” he mumbled with a cocky grin, “can fucking smell you.”

And just like that, he brought his fingers to his nose and inhaled. Without removing his gaze from you he experimentally gave his finger a lick, followed by a groan.

“Fuck…”

One moment he was in front of you and the next he was down on his knees, pulling your tights and panties down and pushing your legs apart before hoisting one over his shoulder. His nose tickled you as he accidentally leaned in too close, though he made quick work of letting his lips follow the same trail, and then his tongue.

Eagerly, he started to lap up your juices in eager licks from your dripping cunt all the way up to your clit. You had never been eaten out this hungrily, noisily. His spit mixed with your juices was running down your thighs as he grunted into you, licking and sucking everywhere until it was all cleaned up. You were almost on your way to your second orgasm when he suddenly stopped and you realized you had been moaning and grabbing onto his hair desperately. You wanted to wipe the smug expression off his face but instead all that came out was: 

“Please.”

His chuckle vibrated against your clit right before he took it between his lips and sucked. His fingers found your cunt again and it was easy to forget that this man was a virgin a week ago. His fingers could use some work but holy shit his mouth was heaven sent. He moaned with you when you grabbed onto his hair tighter and rode yourself to your orgasm on his tongue. When you glanced down at a particular desperate moan from his lips, you noticed he was jerking himself off.

“Don’t come,” you warned, trying to sound stern purely because you wanted to listen to his protests. When his hand didn’t slow down, you nudged his balls with the toe of your shoe.

“Don’t.”

Sure enough, his hand slowed and his mouth worked faster. You were certain you nearly pulled out his hair with the force you held it with but he didn’t seem to mind. Once again you couldn’t help but look down and to your surprise he was watching you as your hips moved over his tongue. That intense gaze was all you needed to get there a second time.

Gator immediately went for cleaning you up with his tongue again but you pulled him back by his hair this time and made him get up so you could drop to your knees instead.

“Oh…” 

He watched your hand as you wrapped it around his base and bit his lip hard enough to bleed when you rested your tongue under the head of his throbbing cock. His hair was a mess thanks to you and together with the rosy cheeks, he had never looked cuter (and hornier). He frowned a little when you grabbed his hand and guided it to the back of your head where you helped him grab onto the makeshift ponytail. Quickly catching on after that, you watched as his pupils blew wide into lust and his hand tightened around your hair as he started to move his hips. Slowly at first, and you assumed he did that so he wouldn’t blow his load in two seconds, then faster, and faster, and sure enough in under a minute, he was done. His hips stuttered as weak, high pitched, dragged out moans left him while he enjoyed the warmth of your mouth. He kept you there for a moment, nose buried in his pubes, looking up at him as you swallowed around his head.

“God, fucking look at you…” he mumbled. “Wanna keep you there forever.”

Yet, he pulled back and pulled you back up. His lips ghosted yours with a temporary hesitance before he kissed you softly. There was no rush this time when he tenderly explored your mouth, his hands resting on your hips.

It surprised you when he pulled your skirt back down before he pulled his boxers up and the smile he had was calmer than any you had seen before.

“Can’t have people get a look at you,” he mumbled, as if you practically hadn’t been giving a show to any possible passerby. You doubted anyone would have seen, considering the time, but still. A hesitant smile formed on your face and you nodded quietly. He’d probably go somewhere else now, right? To someone else? You hadn’t done everything but the last part was honestly the easiest if you did the rest well enough. Gator took your chin between his fingers and gave you a concerned look.

“Why are you so quiet? Did I hurt you or something?”

“No, you didn’t, I’m fine.”

Gator rolled his eyes at your obvious lie and bent down to help you back into your panties and tights. As if that would help. If anything, these unexpected kind gestures only made it harder. His next question surprised you.

“Why’d you say “touch her” earlier? Make “her” feel good?”

Honestly, you wish he just left. What kind of question was that? Wasn’t it obvious?

“Well, since I know you’re here to… learn, and it’s not about me or anything, I thought I’d… I don’t know. Just removed myself from the narrative I guess.”

“Well that’s stupid,” Gator mumbled. “I’m here to have sex with you, not someone else. I came back, didn’t I? I wouldn’t have if it wasn’t good and… tonight was really good. Like, better than watching porn.”

You snorted and felt relief slowly surge in your body as you took in his words.

“I sure hope so, yeah,” you sighed with half a smile.

“Are you only having sex with me because I’m a virgin? Is it a savior complex kind of thing?” Gator looked at you intensely, impatient for your mouth to give the answer.

“No.”

“Why then?”

“Because I…”

Like you. 

“I like you,” Gator blurted, voicing your own thoughts out loud. “I only wanna have sex with you. I wanna go all the way someday too but… not now.”

He looked a little shy, as if being open about his feelings was a completely new concept to him. It probably was.

“What do you wanna do now?”

“Kiss you. But only if you like me back.”

You smiled and loosely wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I like you back.”

“Good.”

He kissed you slowly, with the silent promise of doing it again, and again, and again.

If you enjoyed reading this, please know that comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :) Likes are lovely but sadly do nothing to spread the fics around! Help your favorite writers (not saying me - in general) out like that so you can continue to enjoy consuming the free work they put out, it's a win-win.

#gator tillman #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman x y/n #joe keery

[thetriumphantpanda]

Writing's On The Wall | Agent Whiskey (One Shot)

A case of mistaken identity. A spy who should know better. Another spy who knows how to get what she wants. An apology in the only form Agent Whiskey knows how. A night neither of you will forget in a rush.

Pairing | Agent Whiskey x f!reader

Word Count | 2.8k

Warnings | Alcohol consumption, SMUTTY SMUT, oral (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex, a knife is mentioned but not in the context of the smut. Lots of flirting. Reader has an accent described but no physical description apart from the colour of her lipstick, no use of Y/N.

Authors Note | This idea has been rotting my brain so I had to get it down on paper. It actually turned out better than I could have expected. This is probably the best smut I've ever written, I hope you agree. I hope you enjoy it! If you do, please consider giving me a follow, liking the post or reblogging. It all helps.

Main Masterlist

The juice of the orange slice burst onto your tongue as you chewed it. Fished from the dregs of your negroni it had the bitter taste from the alcohol, but still acted as the sweet treat you wanted. The bartender swiped your empty glass and replaced it with a freshly made drink, one you hadn’t asked for. 

“Compliments of the gentleman at the end of the bar.” He informed. 

You turned your head in the direction the bartender had pointed to see the man who’d had his eyes on you all evening raise his glass of whiskey towards you. You shot a sultry smile in his direction, lifting your own glass in a kind of long-distance cheers before taking a sip. You wiped the red stain of your lipstick from the rim, rubbing your thumb on the napkin on the bar. 

You watched intently as he stood, glass of whiskey in hand, and walked towards you, “I hope you don’t mind some company,” His American accent floated to your ears, “A beautiful woman like you should never sit alone.” 

“I like my own company,” You replied in your heavily accented English, “But I suppose I can make an exception for you.” You rested a hand on his arm that was placed on the bar. 

“What brings you to Budapest?” He asks, “Business or pleasure?” 

You look him up and down, the situation dripping with the sexual tension you thrived on. Slowly dragging your eyes down from his face and over his perfectly tailored suit, catching his eyes as he did the same to you. He was mentally undressing you of your slinky black dress in his mind and you knew it. These men were all the same. 

“Both.” 

He raises his eyebrows at that, “What kind of business?” 

“Well, now, if I told you that I’d have to kill you,” You retort, your face dropping all pretense of the previous flirting between the two of you. You watched as he swallowed nothing, his Adams apple bobbing before you let out a laugh, “Lighten up, you Americans are all the same, it was a joke, but my work is dull, and I would rather not waste time talking about it.” 

He laughed along with you, but joined in a beat too late, just enough to make himself feel awkward about the situation. You picked up the negroni in front of you, draining it down in three long sips, slamming the empty glass on the bar. 

“There’s been a distinct lack of pleasure from my side,” He admits, going back to dragging his eyes over your body, “I hope you’ve had more luck than me.” 

A smirk falls back over your red painted lips, “Well that will never do, are you staying here?” You gestured to the bar in the hotel. 

“I am.” He replied simply. 

“Maybe you’d like to show me your room?” You winked as you stood from the bar, watching out of the corner of your eye as he finished his drink, leaning over the bar to tell the bartender to put both his and your drinks for the evening on his room tab. 

You were already stepping into the elevator when he caught up to you. He pressed the number for his floor before settling back against the wall, his hand coming to rest at the small of your back, “I don’t even know your name.” 

“Maybe that’s for the best,” You shrugged as the elevator came to a stop on his floor, “Passings ships in the night and all that,” You could see that he wanted to press you, but the doors opened, “Lead the way.” You motioned for him to step out in front of you. 

Following down the hall behind him you couldn’t deny the back of him was just as delightful as the front had been. His suit was cutting down all his best lines and you could swear he’d asked for his trousers to be tailored too small because there was no way any respectable man would pick trousers that showed off his ass like this man was. 

He stopped in front of a door, fishing keys from his pocket to unlock the door, motioning for you to walk in first, which you did. 

As soon as you were through the door of his bedroom, you felt yourself propelled against the wall, knife pressed dangerously close to jugular vein. Your lips grew into a smirk as you watched Agent Whiskey, face looking like the cat who got the cream. 

“Put the knife away,” You spoke, dropping the vague European accent you’d been putting on all night in favour of your actual British one, “Agent Whiskey.” 

Confusion flashed across his features, knife still pressed into your neck, his body still dangerously close to yours, “Agent Lancelot, Kingsman.” 

Dropping the knife from your neck, you couldn’t help but stifle at laugh at his expression, now one like a child who had opened their last Christmas present expecting it to be the thing they’d asked for all along, to find it was just a pair of socks. Defeat. 

“See, this is why women make the best agents,” You mused, walking into his room, nicer than yours, you’d have to have a word back a base, “Because we don’t think with our cocks.” 

The silence was palpable but a welcome change from his constant chatting downstairs. He was handsome, but that southern drawl was grating after a while, “What about the real Irina?” He asked, referring to the real reason you’d both been there. A Russian agent with an alleged briefcase full of documents your government’s both wanted. 

“Oh you don’t have to worry,” You smirked, turning to look at him, “I put enough drugs in her drink before you’d even arrived that she’ll be out until tomorrow morning at least.” 

He stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips looking completely lost, “So what now?” 

You let out a hearty laugh, “I think you should take my clothes off.” 

His eyes widened in shock, which earned a shrug from you, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Whiskey stated. 

“You almost slit my throat; I think you owe me an apology.” 

You faced him, eyes staring straight into his own as you reached behind you to unzip your dress. You pulled the shoulders down just enough for it to fall from your body before side stepping out of it, leaving you in just your underwear. You sit yourself down on the chaise in front of the window, spreading your legs obscenely wide, “You’ve gone awfully quiet on me Agent, come on.” 

He takes off his hat, placing it carefully on the desk before he drops to his knees in front of you, hooking your thighs over his shoulder. You could feel his breath on the lace covering your pussy and you couldn’t deny it was driving you mad. He pressed an open mouth to your thigh, switching between chaste kisses and running his tongue along the skin of your thighs. 

“Can’t believe I’m about you eat your pussy before I’ve even kissed you.” He mused, moving the lace of your panties to bare you pussy to his mouth. 

He was teasing you. Mouth placed just out of reach so you could feel his breath on your pussy, even when you moved your hips to try and find what you wanted, it wasn’t enough, his big hands holding your hips steady, exactly where he wanted you. 

“You’re meant to be apologizing,” You breathed out, “Not teasing.” 

“You brought this on yourself,” He spoke, looking up at you, “You knew exactly what you were doing out there.” 

“Just shut up and eat me out, Agent.” 

Your hand flew to tangle in his hair, dragging it towards your pussy whilst moving your hips up. Both movements together had his mouth bumping against your sex. His hands gripped at your hips, pulling your ass off the chaise, tongue darting out between your folds. He pulled back, groaning at the taste of you, like you were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted, before he dove back in, using the pad of his tongue to drag along your folds once more, stopping briefly to lick at your clit. 

Moving his hands from your hips, he pulls back just enough to pull your panties off before his face is back where it was, hands spreading your pussy wide for himself. His tongue focuses in on your clit, moving slow circles over it as your hips bucked into his face, adding to the friction. He was slow and methodical with his mouth, using the tip of his tongue to draw circles over your bundle of nerves and then using the full length of his tongue to drink your wetness from your weeping core like a man who’d gone thirty days without water in the desert. The sounds of his slurping between your legs was frankly obscene, your chest was heaving from not being able to catch your breath. You needed more. 

“Fuck.. please…” You begged, “Put your fingers inside me.” 

Without dragging his mouth from you he did as you’d asked, slipping two fingers into your slick pussy without warning, earning a fully-fledged moan from your throat. They were thick and moving in and out of you at a languid pace as his tongue started to focus on your clit once more. The circles of the flick of his tongue and the curl of his fingers inside you hitting just where you needed had searing heat settling in your lower stomach. 

“Please don’t stop.” You groaned, hand fisting in his hair, not caring how hard you were pulling. 

You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge of the cliff and you were practically aching for your release. Another few pumps of his fingers and the action of his covering your clit with his lips and sucking whilst the tip of his tongue still flicked across it had you slamming into your orgasm like a brick wall. 

A wail left your mouth as your sex pressed further into his mouth. You could feel yourself clenching around his fingers as your legs shook on his shoulders, stiletto heels digging into his back as he softly licked at your clit to ride you through the aftershocks. He dropped your legs from his shoulders, making sure you were watching him as he sucked his fingers into his mouth, licking your wetness from them as he stood up. 

Your chest was heaving as you tried to catch your breath, pussy clenching around nothing as Agent Whiskey shrugged out of his suit jacket and toed his boots off. His shirt was next, unbuttoned slowly enough for your insides to set fire to themselves with desire. Fuck, he was perfect under those clothes. Shirt discarded on the floor with your dress, he unbuckled his belt, dropping it to the floor with a clatter. Your eyes could see the outline of his hard cock through his trousers and your mouth practically watered at the sight. 

As he unzipped his trousers, your hand flew to your clit, rubbing in tight circles, if he was putting on a show then you would do the same. You were oversensitive and the attention you were giving your clit was bordering on painful, but your fingers sped up as his trousers dropped, kicked to the side and forgotten. 

“You gonna make yourself cum for me?” He asked, palming his cock through his briefs. 

“Do you want me to?” You asked, voice coming out almost as a cry. 

“I’d like nothing more.” 

Thumbs hooked into his briefs, and they too were discarded, revealing the most gorgeous man you’d ever laid eyes on naked. He took his cock in his fist and ran his hand up and down his length as your fingers brought you to your second orgasm of the night, the walls of your pussy fluttering around nothing as you worked yourself through the release you’d given yourself. 

“Looks like that pretty pussy is crying out to be filled.” His words were filthy, but you couldn’t deny he was right. 

“Judging by how hard you are, I’d say your crying out for somewhere to put that, maybe we could help each other?” You winked, standing on shaky legs to walk the few steps towards him. 

Hand placed on his chest, you pushed him back until his knees hit the bed, forcing him to sit down, his hands still fisting his cock. You pushed him by his shoulder, Agent Whiskey taking the hint, shifting so he was led on the bed. You wasted no time in crawling on top of him, grabbing both his wrists to pin them by his head as your wet sex rubbed against his cock. 

You let go of his wrists to reach behind you and undo your bra before they move to grip them once more, pinning him to the bed. You shifted your hips just enough that his cock was nudging at your slick heat, his hips bucking slightly with a delicious moan falling from his lips. If you hadn’t been so desperate for him to fill you then you would have spent more time teasing him, but you slowly sank your wet pussy down onto him. 

The two of you let out a salacious moan as he bottomed out inside of you. You took a few brief seconds to get used to the stretch of his cock inside of you before you moved your hips, dragging your pussy off his cock before slamming back down onto it. Your body was pressed flush to his and you dipped your lips to his neck, pressing a kiss to his pulse, leaving behind a perfect lipstick mark. 

“Fuck, you feel perfect around me.” He choked out, “But baby, you gotta move.” 

You let go of his wrists, using your hands on his chest to push you upright. His hands flew to your hips automatically, using them to drag your hips in a back-and-forth motion that had him hitting parts of you that you weren’t aware even existed. Moans were tumbling from both your mouths, mixing with the sound of his skin slapping against yours as he fucked into you from below. You grabbed one of his hands and dragged it between you. 

“One more,” You begged, “One more and you’re forgiven for almost killing me.” 

“Greedy little minx.” He replied, but obliged, using the pad of his thumb to rub those delicious circles on your clit. 

You could feel your pussy tightening around his length as it pushed into you, the fire in your belly telling you the inevitable was coming. The third orgasm blinded you. White spots clouded your vision as you practically screamed into the room, hands squeezing at whatever part of his body you could reach, no doubt your nails were leaving half-moon shapes on his skin. 

“Fucking hell baby,” He moaned as he continued his bruising thrusts into you, “That was perfection.” 

You could tell he was also close, his hips stuttering and his moans falling from his mouth quicker each time. He went to open his mouth, but you put a finger against them to silence him, “Inside me.” You answered for him. 

He was all but done then. A few more snaps of his hips and he was stilled inside you, you could feel the hot ropes of cum coating your pussy from the inside as he let out a low groan. You both took a moment to catch your breath before you pulled yourself off him, his cum working its way out of your pussy and down the inside of your thigh. 

You sauntered to the bathroom, feeling his eyes on your ass as you did, to clean yourself up. When you looked in the mirror your lipstick was smudged, and your hair had that perfect ‘just fucked’ looked to it that had you smirking to yourself. 

Agent Whiskey was already dressing himself when you emerged from the bathroom, so you followed suit, slipping your underwear back on. You pulled your dress on, touching his arm gently before turning around. His hands gently worked the zipper back up, a kiss pressed to the back of your neck. 

“I suppose we should go and get that briefcase.” He mumbled into your ear. 

“Hmmm?” You asked, turning around but taking short steps backwards towards the door. 

“Irina’s briefcase, with all the intelligence in it?” 

“Oh, yes,” You nodded in understanding, “You don’t have to worry, I took it whilst I was putting her to bed earlier,” A smirk fell across your lips as his expression changed once more. Fury at being bested, “We’ll be in touch.” 

With a slam of the door, you were gone. By the time Agent Whiskey had realized what you’d meant and yanked open the door to follow you, it was too late. The hallway was empty. He was in for a storm of shit when he got back, bested not only by a woman but from the agency they always seemed to be one step behind. Fuck.

#Agent Whiskey #kingsman the golden circle #Agent Whiskey Smut #agent whiskey fic #Agent Whiskey x you #Agent Whiskey x reader #Agent Whiskey x female reader #Agent Whiskey x f!reader #jack daniels #jack whiskey daniels #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels smut #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal fic

[secretwhumplair]

Bedtime

1,304 words | Mirai and the serpent king (sequel to Welcome)

Content | Slavery, anxiety, touch starvation, nightmare (non-con touch, briefly mentioned non-con), implied future non-con

Notes | I am delighted to be introducing Shasha and Izara. And also an interesting tidbit about elven culture/probably biology.

Taglist | @yet-another-heathen @echo-goes-aaa @whumpinator

The day passed quietly, almost disturbingly calm. Mirai was half-expecting something awful to interrupt the peace, but nothing happened except lunch—they were, he learned, getting three meals a day, every day.

He sat quietly with the others, too shy to join their games or talk much, but slowly, slowly getting used to the fact he was in company now. Sure, there had been other slaves in the trader’s possession as well; but they always knew they might be, at any point, mere days from being ripped apart at the next market, and it was easier not to get too invested, even if the circumstances hadn’t been so wretched they allowed for little more than survival.

Now, for the first time in, oh, years, he might make friends.

If he had the nerve.

After dinner, a young guard appeared in the door, rather at ease, as if this was an ordinary occurence. They gave a brief order, in Hishissa.

The red-haired man rose, and, accompanied by a serpent woman—he assumed—covered in scales like fresh spring leaves, followed the guard out, with a passing »good night« for the others. Neither of them, Mirai noted, seemed terribly miserable to have been called upon; the human appeared as one going to work they didn’t loathe which fed their family, and the serpent, if Mirai wasn’t mistaken, outright pleased.

Surely, that was a good sign.

The rest of the evening passed in the same peaceful quiet. One after the other, or sometimes in pairs or threes, the slaves withdrew into the bedrooms, and Mirai started to get nervous, unsure of how he was supposed to act.

He didn’t want to sleep alone. He had been forced to often enough, but it wasn’t normal for an elf to do so, and he craved cuddling up with someone, anyone.

Maybe that was why he had slept so well last night, all curled up in the middle of the serpent king.

Finally, almost everyone had disappeared, with only the other elf—Izara—and the dark shimmering serpent Mirai had seen him with earlier left in the living room. Izara was reading out loud from a book, lounging comfortably in the snake’s coiled body, in a language that must be the local—it didn’t quite sound the way it did from the guards, but Mirai didn’t understand a word.

Suddenly, Izara closed the book and looked right at Mirai. »So. You won’t want to sleep alone, I guess?«

Mirai shook his head. He still didn’t want to speak to Izara. Not because of anything Izara had done, but because he would be the first to understand the true magnitude of his defect.

»You can sleep with us, if you want to. I’m Izara. This is Shasha.« He sounded very matter-of-factly about it, which was the best Mirai had dared hope for. They had hardly met, after all.

»I didn’t know that by getting entangled with one elf, I’d be dealing with every elf,« Shasha sniffed.

»Don’t listen to him,« Izara said immediately, rolling his eyes.

»Yes, don’t listen to me, I’m just playing. You can sleep with us, I know you people can’t sleep alone.«

»‘Can’t’ is a strong word.«

»And you’re but a weak elf, so I shall not use it again to spare your fragile mind.«

Mirai had watched the exchanged nervously, unsure how seriously to take it—and if it really was all play, worried to encroach upon a long-established friendship after a manner he could barely understand.

»Come on,« Izara said, ignoring Shasha’s last comment, hopped off his scaly seat, and led the way into one of the bedrooms.

Mirai hurried to follow, with Shasha close behind. He followed the example of the others in taking off his clothes. Izara showed him where he could put them in the wardrobe, and Mirai put his hair into one big braid to protect it overnight. By the time they were done, Shasha had curled up on the bed.

Izara climbed over them to rest in the nest Shasha’s body made. Mirai hesitated.

»Oh, it’s always alright to climb over a snake. They don’t mind. It’s a cultural thing. I guess they’d get into each other’s way far too much otherwise.«

»Centaurs are weird about it, though. Don’t reach over Ikkira’s back. It’s rude, apparently.«

»You used to do it all the time,« Izara remarked.

»Yes, and she hates me for it,« Shasha replied gleefully. »Anyway, come to bed. Snuggle up.«

They reached out a hand and helped Mirai climb over them. He laid down and nuzzled into Izara’s back; it felt so right he had to hold back a sigh of relief.

Izara for his part threw an arm out over Shasha’s chest, which they had arranged before him, and rested his head on their body. Shasha blew out the light.

Mirai wasn’t half as tired as he had been the night before, and maybe that was why he was so keenly aware of the snake body looped around him. He would have to get used to it, not only to be surrounded by the other snake folk in the harem—but also to be held and touched and—probably it was good practice to sleep here with Shasha.

If he could manage to sleep, now that he was thinking about these things.

He had to ask. It felt easier in the dark.

»Is- what is the king like?« He kept his voice to a whisper, hoping to conceal its real sound for a little longer.

»Oh.« Izara half-turned. »He’s…« The pause drew on far too long for Mirai’s comfort, then Izara went on, quietly, »Frankly, I’m the wrong person to ask this. He’s saved my life. He’s not… he has his desires and he did buy each of us for them, but he takes good care of us.«

»He said he won’t hurt me.«

»Not for now, no.«

Mirai looked up, fear piercing through him at Shasha’s words.

»Was that necessary, Shasha?« Izara had felt his movement. »Look, it’s better here than almost anywhere else. He’ll be gentle with you until you’ve recovered enough to handle a little stress. And he’ll be kind with you.«

»That is true. But, you know. You’ll find out in time. Don’t worry about it too much, it isn’t worth it. You’ll be okay.«

»Okay.« Mirai’s voice came out even smaller than he had intended to.

»Aw, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just didn’t want to lie to you.«

»You were a con artist, Shasha.«

»That doesn’t mean I’m a liar.« Shasha seemed scandalized.

»Whatever, I’ll leave you criminals to it. Good night. It’s going to be alright, Mirai.«

»Good night, you little innocent lamb.«

»Good night,« Mirai muttered, and although it took him a while to calm his swirling thoughts, eventually, they were all asleep.

Mirai was alone in the dark.

But not alone alone. Someone was there, someone big and powerful, and soon, he felt their hands on his hips, digging into his skin. There was more than one, in fact, he could tell when more and more hands grabbed and groped at him, pushed into him, bruised his thighs and hips.

He tried to scream, but no sound came out, and he could feel more than hear them laugh at his pathetic attempts to crawl away, gripping more and more of him, his legs, his arms, and then a pair of hands closed around his throat—

Mirai started awake, gasping for breath.

»Shhh. ‘s alright… oh. Wrong elf.« Before Mirai could process what was happening, Shasha moved, and moments later, Mirai found himself in a soft, warm hug, nothing like his nightmares. »It’s okay, Mirai. You’re safe.«

He was too upset and frightened to question it; he just buried himself in Shasha’s chest, grateful for the comfort.

#whump #whump writing #slavery whump #my writing #mirai and the serpent king #mirai #shasha #izara #fun fact: shasha is dyslexic that's why izara reads to them #I love them both a normal amount send me asks about them

[quits-writing]

SUKUNA RYOMEN X MALE READER

a/n: first of all, i’m so done of ftms being a fucking bottom like damn man just bcuz we have a fucking vagina doesn’t mean we like to take it in and get fucked like a common whore ??? smh

and also, not to break anyones heart and dreams but, sukuna would be downright transphobic as he is misogynistic.

cw: very short fic since it’s an old wip, pwp (?), transphobia, t-slur, sub bottom sukuna, trans dom top reader, strap is referred to as cock, degrading, hatefuck, ooc sukuna

⊱ ────── {.⋅ 👹 ⋅.} ───── ⊰

sukuna ryomen, a millennium old curse who had the guts to be transphobic in a modern day era. you were sure he only did it to get under your skin (or shall i say, clothes?) and boy, did it work.

so you decided to show him how wrong he was, and god, does he look so pretty twitching and moaning like that.

“look at you, the big bad curse called sukuna ryomen who called little old me a fucking woman now begging for this pity ‘woman’s cock” you taunted

this pathetic sight of a curse legend that you’re fingering is the man who claimed to be the most powerful of them all, the man who wreaked havoc and judged death for all the sorcerers who stood in his way in the old days, the man who views women and children as pawns. as his personal plaything, and so does those who “pretend to be men”.

“ngh..fuck! just get on with it already! you’re boring me” he demanded however, his ass said otherwise

“you don’t get to command me here, you little shit. if i didn’t know any better, i’d almost mistaken you for being a common man-whore instead”

“says you! you- mm fuck”

“for a pretty face like you, you certainly have the mind and the mouth of a trash bag. don’t worry, i’ll fuck the trash out of you”

“you’re all talk, no bite”

“oh, but i do bite” and you did, you almost laughed on how he released a loud pornographic moan. and now who was the one that’s really ‘all talk, no bite’?

you were also getting impatient but you’d rather die than admit it. begrudgingly, your lubed cock finally had finally gone in his ass, his hands are making way to your shoulders. his nails digging deep in your flesh, you’re almost certain it would draw blood.

“taking me so well– now i know why you hate women so bad. or anyone with a ‘female’ genitalia, it’s because you like taking dicks, isn’t it?” you said as you caress his stomach

“don’t push your luck, tranny” he grunted, switching his other hand from your shoulders to grip your wrist

oh that little shit, how you hated that word. guess you’d have to fuck that transphobia out of him, huh?

#finally published this. thanks to @wedgiewarriors #not proofread #sukuna thirsts #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryomen x male reader #sukuna x male reader #jjk male reader insert #male reader #jjk x m!reader #jjk x male reader #sukuna x m!reader #x male reader #reader insert #afab!reader #top male reader #dom!reader #dom male reader #dom reader

[writingwhimsey]

Hiii I saw the following celebrationn so i just had to ask for ikesen Mitsuhide only one bed and smut (i am over 18) honestly would live it if it’s their first time so like cute feelings but ofc you are the writer 😁

Sorry it has taken me so long to get to this ask. I've had a shit ton of stuff going on irl. I still have a few more to get to in this celebration, but I want to thank you all for your support for hanging in there with me during all of these crazy ups and downs.

Here we are Mitsuhide and one bed smut...with a modern AU twist. Hope you enjoy!

18+ content, female reader, PIV, fingering, oral female receiving

A Business Trip turns Personal

I sighed as I arrived at the hotel with my business partner, Mitsuhide Akechi. We had been traveling for work and were due to head home when a sudden storm hit. So we had no choice but to pull into the first hotel we could find and hope we could wait out the storm for the night.

“We are gonna get soaked, even if we had umbrellas.” I said as we sat in the car. “The weatherman said we were supposed to have clear skies.”

“It seems they get wrong more often than they get right.” Mitsuhide replied. “We’ll just have to make a run for it. I’ve parked as close as we can.”

I nodded. “Alright.”

We got out of the car, making a mad dash for the front door. I was surprised when Mitsuhide caught up to me, taking his coat off and holding it over the both of us to try and provide some level of protection against the hard rain. Though this did require us to be rather close together… which had my heart racing. I’d be lying if I were to say that I didn’t find Mitsuhide attractive.

Once we made it inside the hotel lobby, Mitsuhide was bringing his jacket down. We were both still rather soaked, but at least our heads were mostly dry. A sweet old lady was sitting behind the front desk. “Oh you poor dears.” She greeted us. “Got caught in the storm.”

“Yes, we were on our way home from a business trip.” Mitsuhide explained.

“I see. Well you are in luck. We have one last room available.” The woman replied, grabbing her book and the key for us.

“Only one room?” I asked.

“That won’t be a problem, will it dearest?” Mitsuhide said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

I was stunned as I looked up at him. “M-Mitsuhide…”

He winked at me as he signed the guest book and took the key. The old lady behind the desk smiled and winked at me. “You two are so cute. Enjoy your stay.”

We were then heading away from the front desk and down the hall, Mitsuhide leading me to the room indicated by the number on the key. “Mitsuhide, w-what…”

“She said they only had one room.” Mitsuhide replied with a shrug. “And she seemed to be mistaken. It seemed easier to go along with it than to worry about anything.”

I just hope there’s two beds. I thought. Being close to Mitsuhide like this was bad enough on my heart. I had always thought Mitsuhide was attractive…every woman in our department did… and they were all jealous of me when I got put on this project with Mitsuhide.

But of course, just like the plot of some romance novel, when we arrived at the room, there was only one bed. Okay all the girls at the office are gonna kill me if this ever gets out.

“Oh look at that only one bed.” Mitsuhide said, his voice sounding rather sly.

I looked up at him. “There’s a couch there, I can sleep on that…”

“Nonsense.” Mitsuhide replied. “What kind of man would make a woman sleep on the couch. I can take it.”

“That wouldn’t be fair to you, though.” I replied.  I then let out a sigh. “Well, we are both adults. It’s no different than if I were on a roadtrip with one of my girlfriends.”

“See, we can work through this.” Mitsuhide said, giving me a cheshire grin.

Something about that smile made my heart flutter. “Well….uh I think I’m going to go grab a shower and change in the bathroom real quick.” 

“Good idea.” Mitsuhide said. “You don’t want to catch a cold.”

Well, if you keep looking at me like that I’m going to need a cold shower. I thought before heading into the bathroom. Even though I was the one who said we could share the bed… this was so completely different from being on a road trip with one of my girlfriends.

I ended up taking a rather cool shower, trying to calm my racing heart. I changed into a t-shirt and clean underwear before heading back into the room. Mitsuhide had dried off and changed into some casual clothes…looked like a t-shirt and boxers…was I really seeing him in his underwear? To be fair…I mean I was in just a t-shirt and my underwear too.

“Ah, did you enjoy your shower?” Mitsuhide asked.

“Uh…yeah.” I replied, suddenly self conscious about my pajamas. We’d been traveling and staying in hotels for so long now…but we’d each had our own rooms.

Mitsuhide sat down on the bed and patted the space next to him. “Come, we should probably be getting some rest.”

“Right.” I replied as I made my way over to the bed. I mechanically sat down on the bed, my back to Mitsuhide. 

“You are not going to get much sleep if you don’t lay down.” Mitsuhide said.

“I…uh…”

“Nor if you cannot relax.” Mitsuhide said. I could hear him moving on the bed behind me and then his lips were at my ear. “Perhaps I should help you.”

I shivered and shot up. “Mitsuhide…what…”

Mitsuhide smiled at me. “I was merely thinking I could give you a massage.” He said, his voice far too innocent yet not at all. “I do know my way around the human body. Allow my hands to work magic for you.”

“I mean…a massage might…be nice.” I said. “But…I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Mitsuhide said, his long graceful fingers grasping mine and gently pulling until I was sitting back on the bed. He was sitting behind me and then his hands were on my shoulders, gently kneading my muscles.

“This…does feel nice.” I admitted.

“See, I knew I could make you feel good.” Mitsuhide said, his tone rather suggestive as his breath washed over the nape of my neck.

My breath hitched and my heart rate picked up. “Uhm…Mitsuhide…”

Mitsuhide was leaning in, his nose was running along the side of my neck. “Yes…” He replied, his voice husky.

“W-what…what are you doing? I mean…this isn’t…exactly relaxing…me…”

“Hmm, then perhaps you would like this?” Mitsuhide asked as his lips began to kiss along the side of my neck.

I felt electric thrills running through my body from his touch. “I…I think…I am… feeling quite… the opposite…a little…worked up…”

“Then that means my plan is working.”

I turned my head and was face to face with Mitsuhide’s gorgeous amber eyes, which were holding a barely concealed desire. “I…”

Mitsuhide’s slender fingers were beneath my chin, tilting my head ever so slightly and then his lips were on mine. My body responded of its own accord, my lips molding to his as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

When we broke the kiss, I was breathless. “Mitsuhide…”

He smiled at me as he lowered me back on the mattress and hovered over me. “I had been hoping that we could get this lucky to be alone like this.”

“You…have?” I asked.

“Yes, I was rather pleased when we were paired for this project. I have been attracted to you for a long time.”

Before I could respond his lips were on mine once again. My lips parted of their own accord as his tongue slipped inside to caress my own. Mitsuhide just admitted to having wanted me and we were really here…and he was really kissing me.

Mitsuhide broke the kiss again, looking at me with an achingly tender smile. “If you do not want this just say so and we’ll end the night here.”

“I…I do want it.” I said. “I want you.”

Mitsuhide kissed me again, his hand sliding up under the hem of my shirt and teasing over my bare flesh. Our kiss quickly became passionate as Mitsuhide began to remove my clothes. His eyes drank in my form in the most gratifying of ways.

“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” He told me, his long graceful fingers stroking my skin.

“You’ve…imagined?”

Mitsuhide grinned at me. “You are a beautiful woman. I would be insane to not notice you or not think of you or imagine what this moment would be like…and it’s not as if you haven’t had similar thoughts about me?” He added this last part with a teasing smile before taking his shirt off.

He was then reaching for my hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss my fingertips before resting my hand on his chest. “Feel free to touch me as much as you like.”

I ran my hands over his body, feeling every line and muscle as I did. Mitsuhide shivered deliciously under my touch. He was leaning back down to cover me in kisses as I continued to run my hands over his body. I let out a moan when Mitsuhide’s lips enclosed one of my nipples, sucking even as he flicked the peak with his tongue.

“M-Mitsu…hide…” I moaned.

His hands were moving over my curves, fingertips tracing delicately over my most sensitive places. I gasped when his wandering hands found their way between my thighs, fingers stroking my sensitive bud before sliding back and slipping between my folds.

“You’re so wet already…” Mitsuhide cooed as he came back over me, his fingers still working me.

“I…ngh…Mitsuhide…” I moaned as the waves of pleasure washed over me. 

“The sight of you writhing in pleasure beneath me…you’re simply irresistible.” 

I moaned and arched my back as his long fingers continued to work me. Just as I was about to fall over the edge, Mitsuhide withdrew his fingers. I let out a whimper at the sudden loss of stimulation.

“Mitsuhide…why…” I pouted up at him.

He grinned at me. “Don’t worry, I intend to take care of you.” He told me before moving once again. The next thing I knew, my thighs were resting on his shoulders and Mitsuhide’s head was between my legs. His lips descended upon my heat, tongue snaking out to flick my bud.

“Ah…ngh…” I moaned as the pleasure washed over me once more.

I could feel the coil winding tighter in my lower belly as Mitsuhide performed gymnastics with his tongue. Stroke after stroke, twisting and teasing…the coil winding ever tighter. My back arched and my thighs began to tremble as a powerful orgasm washed over me, Mitsuhide remained between my thighs, his tongue drawing out my release.

I was still trembling and sensitive as I began to descend from my high. Mitsuhide was kissing up the front of my body. “You taste…delicious.” He told me as he was now directly over me once again.

I shivered as I looked into his eyes, burning with desire, lips still glistening with the proof of my release. “I…I wouldn’t know…” I replied.

Mitsuhide grinned. “Well you should…” He was then capturing my lips with his, his tongue diving into my mouth, allowing me to taste my own desire.

I moaned into the kiss as I wrapped my arms around him and pressed myself close. Mitsuhide’s hands moved over my curves once again, pinching and fondling my breasts before tracing patterns over my lower belly.

He was grinning as he broke the kiss. “I hope you know…I am just getting started with you, my dear little mouse.”

I didn’t even know when he had slid his boxers off, but they were gone and the next thing I knew, he was sliding inside of me, causing me to gasp and moan. I wrapped my arms and my legs around Mitsuhide, drawing him in for a kiss. I was in for the longest and most pleasurable evening of my life.

#300 follower celebration #ikesen mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #otome mitsuhide #smut #one bed #whimsey answers #fanfic #fanfiction

[ascendanceseriesveteran]

A future with you (part 3)🌹

Ascendance series fanfic

Previous/Next

Chapter Index:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 (current)

Chapter 4

⚔️⚔️⚔️

The doors were wooden and rough against my skin. That was perhaps the most familiar thing about this place so far. I held it open as Imogen, Tobias and Roden stepped in. The inside was different too. There was a red carpet, which seemed normal enough. But the odd, spherical chandelier and lack of torches didn’t explain the abundance of light that seemed to rain down from the ceiling. There weren’t many windows here either. Like my castle, wooden beams held up the roof, some flags hanging against the wall. But not Carthyan ones. I dropped my hand on the hilt of my sword in case we would have to use it. The carpet led to a desk, surrounded by books and objects encased in glass. Those objects were the only things that I truly recognised. Carthyian style candle holders, coins, boots. Why were they locked away?

“Can I help you?” A young woman behind the desk straightened up, red hair tied back and in a simple green dress. Her eyes were wide as she took us in. The first reaction of apprehension we had received since arriving. I gave Roden a quick glance that he knew meant to stay guarded.

She seemed harmless enough. The red hair reminded me of Wilta, but nothing about the girl seemed to indicate malice. But I had been mistaken before. And we needed information one way or another. I’d rather someone who at least appeared harmless to know that we were outsiders rather than someone who would likely cause harm. “Yes. We need directions back to Drylliad.”

Eyes narrowed and head tilted. I would have to try harder for information. “What was your name?” She inquired.

I took a moment to reply, “Sage.”

Something told me that was a grave mistake. Maybe it was the fact that her breath caught and she called someone’s name. My hands were beginning to sweat on my sword, and I stepped in front of Imogen. The girl's own eyes seemed trained on my hand. It was a tense standoff. I took note of our exit points, just in case.

“You called for me?” A greying man stepped into the room. His smile quickly fading into a frown when he caught sight of us.

He stepped around the table, hands up, “Can I help you, Sir?”

The man was in his seventies, I guessed. Winkled skin made it seem like he smiled frequently. He certainly wasn't smiling now.

“You all seem quite tired. Perhaps some tea?” He nodded at the girl and she disappeared. It was a code. He was getting her away from us. He was scared of us. I released my grip.

“Apologies for the intrusion, we mean no offence.”

He nodded and put his hand together, “I sure hope so. What was your name?”

“Sage.”

“Sage,” He repeated, a smile returning to his face. Suspicion, however, never leaving his eyes. “And your real name?”

I raised my head, “If you ask that, then you already know.”

He chuckled, “Though it may not be humble to say, I am very well versed in our history. And I have to tell you. These costumes are incredibly accurate.”

He walked closer, holding his hands where we could all see them. Unimposing. He stood a few inches shorter than me and yet his mannerisms bore a resemblance to my very tall prime regent, Rulon Harlowe.

“May I?” He gestured at my vest, and Imogen tugged me in warning. If this is what it took to gain his trust, so be it. I nodded at him as he took a closer look at my clothes. Removing something that looked like reading glasses and putting them on. Perhaps he wasn’t accustomed to finery. Though his clothes were certainly not of the lower class. Some of the fabrics were unknown to me. Potentially exotic. He took a keen interest in my buttons and golden trimmings. Then his eyes landed on my sword, and with a grunt, he straightened back up.

“If I may ask,” His grey eyes met mine, inspecting, “These are incredibly realistic, and that sword is not blunt. Where did you find them?”

Perhaps it was a trick question, but we had wasted enough time. If I answered honestly, I hoped he’d do the same. “They’re mine.”

“Passed down in your family?”

“Only my ring.”

That made him pause, glancing at my hand with a gasp, then suddenly scurrying to one of the glass cupboards with all the items. A simple silver key seemed to unlock it, and a few moments passed until he returned with a very familiar object in hand.

“How did you-?”

The stranger seemed just as confused as I as we compared the rings. Everything apart from a scratch was identical. “If I may ask another strange question.” He met my eyes again, as if following a path of realisation. “What year is it?”

“Fourteen-Eighty-Eight.”

After a calculated nod, deciding something for himself, he returned the ring double back into its casing. He didnt look up or say a word as he hurried around us and locked the door we entered through. I dropped my hand back onto my sword.

“I mean you no harm either. I just thought you might prefer privacy.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, “Privacy for what?”

“To ask you to verify a few things.”

“Jaron,” Imogen whispered and I gave her my attention, “We should just ask him where we are and leave.” I squeezed her hand but it did nothing to wash away the worry that filled her gaze.

“Could I potentially see your wrist?” It was a genuine question. He seemed to harbour no ill-intent, but only wished to indulge his facination. I knew how word about me travelled. It even crossed seas, turning into legend. I supposed there was no problem with obliging the old man. I did what he asked, rolling back my sleeve and letting him twist my arm around as he inspected my branding. A smile slowly growing on his face. Eyes full of wonder, the type you couldn’t fake. I let myself relax and even winked at Imogen which seemed to calm her down a litte.

“And I am so very sorry to ask," he paused, "But could I have a look at your back as well?”

“Why?” Roden butted in, rather hostile.

But the man merely smiled at my Captain, “I thought you all looked familiar when you stepped in, but decided it couldn't be. But I'm starting to think that I may have the answers you are looking for. I just want to be sure that I'm giving them to the right people.”

“Okay,” I started to undo the buttons on my vest.

“Okay?” Roden was outraged, “Since when is this okay?”

“Since I ordered it, Roden. We don’t really have much of a choice.”

Between obliging and allowing Roden to harass the stranger, I opted for obliging. I had already done a visual search of him as he walked around the room. There were no weapons on him. When I pulled down my undershirt, it was only to show the top half of my back.

“Christ,” The man whispered. He didn’t look at my back for long. I pulled my shirt up when I heard him walk towards the table, leaning against it for a moment. Not many people were comfortable with violence, even mere echos of it, I supposed.

"I think I have all I need now. I’m going to tell you something and you won’t believe it at first. Even I barely do,” He broke off into a chuckle, looking younger than he was, “But I will be able to prove it and help you, if you give me a chance to do so.”

“We’re listening.”

There was a moment where we just looked at each of us, a more meaningful gaze than most. “You are technically still in Carthya, Sire. Although Carthya is no longer Carthya, and you are no longer King.”

“What?”

“It is the year twenty-nineteen. You are in the future."

With those words, the world as I knew it crumbled before my very eyes.

Previous/Next

#the ascendance series #the ascendance trilogy #king jaron #the captive kingdom #the false prince #the runaway king #the shadow throne #jarogen #jaron #jaron eckbert #the shattered castle #ascendance series #ascendance trilogy

[wooahaes]

sweet night [pt.4]

pairing: non-idol!mingyu x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k~

warnings: more talks of a proposal. mingyu’s slight one-sided pining underneath his desire to care for reader. wonwoo having none of gyu’s shit. more talk of reader’s position as a woman in the company and the expectations she faces.

daisy’s notes: :)

summary:  As the adopted daughter of the Kim family and current heir to the company, you have it all. An arranged marriage with your soon-to-be fiance who you truly fell in love with, respect from your workers for being good at your job, a good relationship with both your family and your good friends... What more could you want out of life? And yet all it takes is one night for everything to fall down, and one man to help pick up the pieces.  

< previous part || masterlist || next part >

“Will you marry me?”

Mingyu was kneeling before you, the question hanging heavily in the air as you just sat and stared at him, mind running rampant. You weren’t going to marry for love in the end as you always hoped you would. So maybe you should say yes and marry the one person you thought could make you happy? The one person who you thought might be able to settle for you, too? Getting married to your best friend didn’t seem like such a bad option, after all. The sappy part of you was sure that you’d never love anyone as much as you had loved Seungkwan, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. Despite the way he had hurt you, you were still in love with him. But...

All you could do was stare at Mingyu a few moments longer, searching for the right words to say. And maybe you didn’t pick them well, settling for a, “Why not?”

Mingyu didn’t expect a yes, or, well, ‘why not?’--but that was pretty much the same thing. “You don’t have to--”

“I’d rather be happy with you than be miserable with someone else,” you said, pulling your hands free. “It’s for business, right?”

He nodded. Just business. Nothing else. That’s all this would be for you, at least: Mingyu didn’t want to think about the way his heart skipped a beat when he asked the question. 

“Then... Let’s do it,” you smiled. It was only semi-forced that time. “But,” you held up a finger, “you have to ask me properly.”

He giggled, moving closer, “I’ll make it special,” he promised. The way you deserved to be proposed to. He always had the idea of a romantic candlelit dinner for two: cliche, but intimate. No lavish party where he’d be announcing an engagement before sweeping you off your feet with some grand proposal. He wanted it to be a private moment between the two of you.

You immediately set off talking about how you’d call your parents in the morning to say that the two of you started talking about how your companies would benefit--skincare and hair care went hand in hand, didn’t they?--from a closer relationship with one another. Mingyu just shifted back onto the couch, listening as you talked about how you’d ask Secretary Lee to call Secretary Chwe to make lunch plans between the two of you--and he’d have to make further arrangements to have your parents present for that lunch, too, so that the two of you could talk to them directly. He’d call his parents tomorrow morning, too. The two of you were going to make an offer no one would be able to refuse, papers drawn up to show how much both companies would profit in the end.

In the end, you told him that you tried to call your brother, too, only to get his voicemail. He’d buy you a ring while he was out: something he knew you’d love. The two of you had looked at rings before and been mistaken for a couple. Admittedly, Mingyu had gone with you because Seungkwan had asked him to, back when the two of you had been pressured toward getting. Mingyu had accidentally let it slip during that trip that Seungkwan wasn’t ready, that he was only doing it because your father put pressure on him, and that had ended the trip right then and there since you had gone home and been the bold person Mingyu knew you to be. He didn’t expect for the two of you to be allowed to just date for another year, but maybe it was because you genuinely loved Seungkwan that they thought you’d never split. It stung to think about after what happened.

Even if you didn’t love Mingyu, he’d at least ensure you’d be happy. That was the least he could do when living a life like this.

“You’re joking.”

Wonwoo sat across from Mingyu at one of his favorite steak restaurants in the city, having agreed to meet him when Mingyu asked him to come. They’d made small talk, Mingyu catching up with how Wonwoo had been doing in his own department until the entrees finally arrived. That was when Mingyu broke the news, and Wonwoo had nearly dropped his knife. Mingyu almost wished he had asked Eunwoo to come along. But he knew, just as Wonwoo did, that Mingyu had been harboring feelings for you for a long time. Letting Wonwoo know was a slight risk, but letting anyone else who knew? That was only worse. He didn’t need Eunwoo to accidentally let it slip.

“She’s in a tough position,” Mingyu said as he cut into his steak, juices pouring out of it. “If I didn’t offer, she’d end up with someone else.”

“So this is about you.”

“No!” Mingyu looked up. “This is about her not ending up miserable. You never saw her with Seungkwan, did you? If you had seen her face when he proposed to that person...” He frowned, looking away. The one time Wonwoo had been out of town...

“They have a name,” Wonwoo frowned. ���Seungkwan told me they haven’t been speaking to him.”

“You’ve spoken to him?”

Wonwoo almost rolled his eyes at how offended Mingyu sounded. “Just once,” he said. “He’s distressed.”

Mingyu scowled. “He should be! He broke my best friend’s heart in the most embarrassing way, in front of a whole crowd of people. If he actually loved her, he would have thought twice--he would have ended things months ago!”

“I know you don’t want to,“ Wonwoo said, voice low and serious, “but you should talk to him once. Just to hear what he has to say.”

Mingyu furrowed his brow as he looked back up. “You know something?”

“It’s not my place to say.” Wonwoo reached for his water, pausing just for a moment. “You’re serious about marrying her?”

“For business.”

Wonwoo saw through him too easily, and took a long sip of his ice water. He set it down on the coaster, before setting his hands into his lap for a moment. “You should tell her one day.”

Maybe Mingyu would, once his feelings were completely dead and buried. Once the marriage really did feel like a business deal between the two of you. That wouldn’t take long, after all. All he had to do was remember that you didn’t love him like that, and he’d be able to soothe the ache on his own. He’d still take you on a nice honeymoon, though: just so you had a short break from all of this bullshit. You deserved at least a chance to rest.

And after he nursed his own heartache? He would deserve it, too.

You had gone out for lunch as well, sitting across from a model you’d met through your brother’s work. Hwang Hyunjin was closer to your age than your brother’s, though, and the two of you managed to hit it off after you’d been introduced to one another. He’d introduced you to a few people in his circle, just so you had some people a little closer to your age (younger, sure, but closer than some people you knew)--an actor named Bomin being one of the ones you still occasionally spoke to. It was pretty fun to just meet people from different walks of life.

Even though you considered Hyunjin a friend, the two of you rarely were able to meet up. Between your busy schedule and his own, things just didn’t work out often. So you were surprised when he was available after you texted him, asking if he felt like getting lunch. With Mingyu gone to meet one of his own friends, you honestly wanted some company that you didn’t work with. He’d texted you before, wishing you well after what happened, too, and he seemed more than happy to agree to it on a rare day when he wasn’t working.

“Why didn’t you get your brother?” He had asked the moment the two of you were left to yourselves--nothing but the two glasses of water between you.

As much as you wanted to see him, you couldn’t. “He’s still out of the country,” you sighed. “He’s supposed to come back tomorrow.”

Hyunjin nodded along. “So... About Mingyu...”

You had filled him in on the ride over. “My parents want to interrogate him,” you said. “I don’t see why. I think it’s more for the business side of things.” You paused, toying with the straw in your drink. “I feel bad for Mingyu.”

Hyunjin furrowed his brows tightly together, thrown off-guard from the sudden sentiment. “Huh?”

“If he marries me, he doesn’t get to fall in love and get married. I know he wants to,” you sighed. “He wants to have kids, too. I can’t help but feel like I’m taking all of that away from him by saying yes.”

“Maybe you should talk to him about it,” Hyunjin frowned. “If you’re worried.”

“He told me he isn’t seeing anyone and that it’ll benefit our companies. It’ll make both of our families happy,” you sighed, “and it’ll keep me from being miserable with someone I don’t like. Plenty of people don’t marry for love,” you paused. But you always thought you would, when you were with Seungkwan.

“It’s hard,” Hyunjin said with an understanding nod. “But if he’s okay with this, wouldn’t you rather be happy with him?”

That was what you said. That was how you always reasoned it out. Mingyu said he would be happy, too: so what was stopping you every single time you thought about it? Mingyu was one of your closest friends. There were worse people you could marry. If things were worse, you’d be trapped into a marriage with Seungkwan where he was still seeing the person he loved on the side. You wouldn’t hold it against him as long as he was smart about it, truly, but... at least you weren’t stuck with someone who’s betrayal still stung deep.

“If all else fails,” Hyunjin brought you back to reality after a long sip of water, “I know your parents are fond of Choi.” A teasing smile played at his lips as you held back the urge to groan, since you knew he was right. “I’m sure they’d love to have him as part of the family--”

“Don’t make me throw up,” you whined. “He’s too much of a brother figure.”

“I’ll tell your brother you said that,” he snickered. “I’m sure he’d love to hear that.”

“No!” You whined again. “Then I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“So... About this dinner,” he said, glancing up to see your waitress returning at last with your entrees. “Will that be tonight? Or tomorrow?”

“Tonight, most likely,” you continued on, giving a polite nod to the waitress as she carefully set the plates down in front of the two of you before moving on. “I already know what they’re going to say.” Hyunjin gave you an expectant look, you continued on, “If he proposes too soon and makes our relationship known, people might talk. It’ll reflect badly on both of us if people think there’s something else going on, like a pregnancy. It’ll affect my image more than his, especially after what happened before.”

Hyunjin sighed. “It’s so complicated.... I don’t see how you handle these things.”

“It’s part of my job to be aware of my public image,” you said. “And it’s... harder for me, sometimes. It feels like there’s always a shark out there waiting for me to be weak so they can prove that I’m not capable of running the company one day.” With a deep breath, you picked up your fork. “So I can’t be emotional. People view emotions as making you weak,” you stared down at your lunch for a moment, focus not quite there anymore. “I always thought it was a sign of strength to know your limits.”

Hyunjin watched you a moment longer, and then frowned. “I’m sorry you have to go through all of that.”

You pushed back those feelings the moment he finished saying ‘sorry,’ and you put on a smile instead. “Forgive me for talking about that sort of thing. I’m just thinking out loud.” 

Hyunjin knew you, though. Most people always saw through you when you were trying to put your guard back up, to rebuild the walls that were beginning to crumble. “We’re all here for you if you need us.”

Even still, your mind wandered back to the only other person who had heard those thoughts. You pushed that away, too. “I know,” you said, keeping up the smile, “thank you.”

Professional. Clean. Correct. The way you’ve held yourself up time and time again. Hyunjin didn’t push you any further on the topic, and you were thankful. This was the way you’d always hold yourself up, for your safety and for those around you, as well.

Dinner with your parents that night was a formality. They already knew Mingyu well, and they knew his family, too. The two of you would have dinner with his family later, but this was also him asking your parents for permission--more-so for business than anything else. He had squeezed your hip and told you he had the permission of the only person who mattered in all of this. He helped you zip up your dress before the two of you left his home, and he promised you that he’d be right there with you the entire time. You weren’t afraid of your parents by any means: they still loved you, and always would, but after what happened...

You weren’t sure if you could forgive them for letting Seungkwan do that to you.

Mingyu asked your father as soon as he could, and he laid out the benefits neatly. He was so serious about it. You didn’t think you’d ever see him this serious, but it felt more like business than anything else. “I promise I’ll work hard for the success of both of our companies,” he had said at one point, holding your hand tightly under the table. He gave it a reassuring squeeze, meeting your gaze before he gave you a soft smile. “And more importantly, I’ll take good care of her.”

Your father watched him for a moment, the gears turning in his mind as he considered everything Mingyu had just laid out for him. Mingyu had been thorough in his plan, and you saw the look of surprise on your father’s face at that. You thought that maybe he was under the impression this was you rebelling in some way, running off with Mingyu because you knew he’d be there to catch you whenever you fell. Your father’s consideration period was the part that made you the most anxious, but you knew Mingyu could handle himself. You matched gazes with your mother across the table, and all you could see was concern. Are you being pushed into this? Is this because we expect you to marry?

“If I’m going to marry someone to benefit the company, I want to do it on my own terms,” you said outright. Even though the two of you weren’t blood, you always swore you took after your brother in how outspoken you could be. He had taught you to challenge things, to challenge yourself, and to hold your head up high. You almost wanted to crack a joke, though, to relieve the tension in the room that you wouldn’t have to change your last name if you married Mingyu. You instead stayed serious, “And I want to marry someone I know I can trust both with our future and with myself.”

Your mother spoke up, confirming your suspicions toward her thoughts, “If this is about us expecting you to marry someone, we can work something out.”

It felt as though there was an insult hidden there. “Is Mingyu not responsible? You know how hard he works,” you smiled. “Our companies working closer together would benefit us both. We all know this. That’s why you had me see Yoon Jeonghan and why you were going to set me up with Cha Eunwoo. That was why I was supposed to marry Boo Seungkwan. I know what has to be done.” You squeezed Mingyu’s hand for reassurance. “And I want to marry Kim Mingyu if I have to put the company first.”

Mingyu could only watch you in silent awe for a moment at how serious you’d become. How well you were holding yourself together despite the fact you were squeezing his hand tightly under the table. You were nervous, yet you were speaking back. He knew you’d done it before. The last time was when you defended Seungkwan, who had wanted to date you longer first before marrying you, your companies still working closely together in the meantime. His family had helped, Mingyu knew that, but you had put Seungkwan’s comfort first.

Something about all of this made him realize you always saw this as something inevitable. Like you knew that putting the company first above your own happiness was something you’d have to do when it came to your own personal life. If you had to do that and marry him, all he wanted to do was make sure you were happy in the end. As much as he wished he could fall asleep with you in his arms every night, he was okay with waking up and making you breakfast every morning after spending every night in separate bedrooms. You would be happy and comfortable, and he would ensure it.

Your father finally nodded after taking in every single thing that had been said. “If you’re serious,” he said to Mingyu, “then I expect a proposal after a month. Boo’s mishap has reflected badly upon both of our families. I expect different from you.”

Your father continued to say exactly what you had thought: people would assume that you ran off with Mingyu and ended up knocked up if things went too quickly. There was probably already gossip being squished by both companies who knew of your friendship. A month meant people would still talk, but you could spin the story. The two of you could put on public appearances: he could send you apology flowers or something. He could make it seem like he came along and picked up the pieces of your broken heart. Everyone loved a tragic romance, even if this was all for business. There were ways to save you from looking like a tragic woman who had pursued someone in a rash manner as a rebound.

“We don’t need anymore harm to come to her image,” your father said, “and to yours as well.”

Mingyu nodded, letting go of your hand. He gave you a gentle pat on the knee instead. “I understand.”

Your father started discussing plans to have dinner with Mingyu’s family eventually, to have further discussions. To celebrate, too, in the most formal sense of the word. You, on the other hand, found joy in the fact you wouldn’t be thrown into anymore dates. The tension was already easing off of your shoulders.

Maybe getting married to Kim Mingyu wouldn’t be so bad. He was already right there on your side, after all. That was all you expected from a partner, and now it was all you truly wanted, too.

general taglist: @wonuziex​ @twancingyunhao​

sweet night taglist: @twogyuu @itsveronicaxxx @caratluvie​

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #wooahaes.sweetnight #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #mingyu x y/n #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x you

[kissmyhandcallmedarling]

trust in a beast

dracula x agatha van helsing

(these gifs are beautiful @thebeautyofdisorder )

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

The night breeze sent a shiver up her arms. It was just the two of them left. Everyone else had abandoned the Demeter in a lifeboat, as she’d instructed them to do so (well, rather forced - she knew the power he held and she did not fancy any more bloodshed than was necessary). There was a somber tranquility in the air, the type that comes about when a returned soldier steps foot on his homeland, with one less friend and more than a life’s worth of horrors haunting his mind. Still, the stars shone bright, and that gave her hope.

“I’ve always loved the stars.”

Agatha turned on her heel, to see Dracula standing majestically by the helm, steering the ship with such ease she could have sworn he was a sailor… perhaps the sheer number of sailors he’d consumed over the past month had helped build up his repertoire of naval expertise. 

“Like a thousand candles flickering in the night sky. A thousand suns, guiding one home. They truly are… beautiful.”

“I suppose they are.” She rubbed her forearms in an attempt to warm herself.

“You look cold. Here-" Dracula approached her and before she had the chance to protest, he had removed his coat and placed it over her shoulders. 

“Thank you.” She met his gaze - it was piercing yet so very seductive, as though the devil himself was staring into her soul. 

“Just doing the gentlemanly thing, and offering up my coat to a lady, as any respectable man should, Agatha.”

“You consider yourself respectable?”

“Borderline, I suppose, if we have to get all specific. The eating people bit is kind of my downfall when it comes to that category.”

“You are truly baffling, you know that? You are utterly shameless in a way that is almost crude… Profane.”

“I’ve actually never been told that before,” he replied matter-of-factly, with a slight chuckle brewing in his throat. “I’ve gotten ‘evil’… ‘Lucifer’… ummmm, ‘insane’. But out of all the people I’ve ever met I’ve never once been called ‘baffling’. And believe me I have met alot of people.”

“Yet you’ve kept none alive as long as me, if I’m not mistaken.” She was quick with her wit.

The count rolled his eyes. “One does not rush a vintage, Agatha, we’ve been over this countless times-“

“Oh, what, my blood just happens to be the best does it?” She continued sarcasticly. “The woman who you declared yourself was the closest ever to beating you just happens to have the most superior blood? Why don’t you just kill me now! Suck me dry before I can do anything more!”

“Nope, that is truly all it is. I just enjoy the way you taste.”

“No. No, there must be something more.” Agatha began to pace the deck, as though in her own world of thought and completely forgetting that she was in the company of another. “No. Dracula is particular and indulgent, a snob to be frank, but he is not merely a connoisseur. No, there must be another reason…”

Agatha continued to pace, as Dracula returned to his post at the helm, lazily steering the ship, watching her.

“You’d drain a warrior of his blood without so much of batting an eyelid if you felt threatened, but me- a woman who is determined to undermine Count Dracula and destroy him, and has proven victorious in areas so far,” she waggled a finger. “You are keeping alive simply because ‘she tastes nice.’?”

“Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps I am fond of your company, Agatha.”

“You’re a beast! You’re not a man! You don’t enjoy people’s company! You hunt your prey like the predator you are and always will be!” 

The count tied off the wheel to hold it in place, and approached Agatha so that when she turned around, his face was only  inches away from hers.

“What are you doing?” She mumbled.

“I’m showing you.”

“Showing me what?”

“Why you are still alive.” He placed stroked a finger down her jawline. “Do you trust me.”

“I’d be insane to trust you.” But she didn’t flinch nor brush off his touch. “I know better than to trust a beast.”

“Well, you’re no simpleton, are you, Agatha. Just as I am no beast.”

And he kissed her. 

#dracula bbc #dracula 2020 #dragatha #dracula #dracula x agatha #agatha van helsing #claes bang #dolly wells

[lizzyverydizzyyo]

D.E.A.N | Chapter 23 - Retreat

Masterlist and overall summary of the whole novel is here. | Prompt on trope-appreciation-tuesdays that inspired this is here. | @whumptober-archive

Fandom : Original Work

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

AO3

Wordcount : ± 3863

TW : Allusion to CSAM (underage noncon)

Summary:

The team might have arrived in their temporary asylum unhurt physically (except for their charge), but it doesn’t mean they are fine on the inside, and definitely not their charge either. It also doesn’t mean they can breathe easy yet with the brewing war to prepare for.

This story is set in the last half of 2016.

——

The team room and the med bay in 1034’s headquarter are separated by two walls (the med bay wall and the team room wall itself), with a wide hallway in between. Unlike 1056’s headquarter, 1034’s team room is a giant closed-off space, instead of simply a connecting hallway where they plop in their tools and techs. It makes sense for that team since they have almost 20 agents. Still, Mark knows—from when he was walking in—which direction the med bay is.

He stares in that direction, surrounding blurring together and voices around him sounding submerged. He can’t focus on anything else but the thought of Nick’s condition, with his wound now being treated again by Doctor Lowe, his three nurses, and additional doctors and nurses from Central Hub.

“Mark.”

He turns, seeing Anna looking at him with a somewhat irritated look, so he decides to rotate his body to face forward and see the other agents, all standing over their physical paper map while discussing plans with grave voices.

“We have requested backups from Nevada Central Hub, and they said they can give at least 70 personnel within 36 hours, maybe even faster, thankfully,” Mark hears Agent Leonard says. “If possible, we’d like meet them halfway rather than expecting them to help us here. 1056 might have been followed or tracked, at least, so we have to assume staying here isn’t safe either.”

Mark sees other agents nodding at the dark-skinned man.

“Here is our closest route to a convergence point with Central backup’s route. Approximately, they’ll be there at around hour 17:35 tomorrow.”

All the surrounding agents look at where he is pointing at the map.

“But Tactical Intelligence there…” another commanding officer starts, now from team 1023, while she nods at Tactical Intelligence agents next to the crowd around the map, “…said that around 10 miles from this spot—” she is now tapping a spot in the middle of black marker line on the map, pointing with an index finger, “—there is a very probably spot of a Helga circle.”

Mark looks at the Tactical Intelligence agents focused on their computers, then back at the pale woman with tall and burly stature. Her name, if he is not mistaken, is Florence Hall.

“Since you said our informant warned you to expect all circles within 100-miles radius to attack us, I’d rather have this route as the last resort,” Agent Himura says while looking at Anna then the rest of 1056. “We don’t know how many men they have on this spot, or if they are all armed and battle ready.”

“There is another route, which requires us to detour a little to the south,” Horace is now the one talking, pointing his HT antenna to the other black marker line on the map, “but this means we have less time to prepare to make sure we get there in time. It’s 25 miles longer than the one more on the north.”

Mark furrows his eyebrows.

“Is that the only other coordinate we can go to meet Central halfway?”

Now that he is more focused on the discussion, he realizes the convergence point is incredible close to the usual route they used to meet their drop-point agent. That has to be the most predictable route to be tracked by Helga.

“There are other points, yes. We haven’t ruled them out, but we’re prioritizing the closest ones to us,” now 1082’s commanding officer replies—a dark-skinned woman with ponytail dreads named Imani Maxwell.

“Is it possible to just go out of state? It’s much closer for us to go to Oregon or California from here.”

“They will be expecting us to go out of state since, as you said, that’s much closer. It’s too predictable,” Agent Hall responds again.

“And Central Hub closest to us is here, in Nevada, not one out of state. We need backup ASAP more than we need faster route away from possible Helga circles who want to attack us,” Agent Leonard adds. “Besides, we already contacted them and have confirmation of backup coming.”

“But that’s our route when we needed to replenish our stocks. Would that be safe for us?”

Mark looks at Don, somewhat pleased that, for once, they’re on the same thought track.

All four teams’ commanding officers look at each other, consideration and deep thinking clear on their faces.

“We’ll retrace again the route Central gave us, one they’ll use to go to us. See if there are other possible convergence points,” Agent Himura finally concedes, “but we have to decide quickly. Or we won’t be able to send them the coordinates in time. We can’t afford to miss each other.”

Agent Hall furrows her eyebrows and leans forwards a little bit more.

“What if…” she tilts her head to side while looking at one of the black marker lines, “…we ask the backup team to meet us at a later time?”

The others look at her with their own contemplating expressions, but Agent Maxwell replies to her.

“You mean asking them to stay in a spot along that route until we arrive there?”

1023’s commanding officer nods to the 1082’s one.

“But that means the backup have to stay stagnant at the point of convergence while waiting for the agents from here to arrive,” Horace explains now with the others nodding at him. “It will put the backup team in vulnerable position, because it would be easier to ambush them than if they are moving.”

Agent Himura nods too at Horace.

"That's not an option. We can't have them sitting duck because we will be putting both of us in danger."

Agent Van Hoven raises his head from looking down at the table.

"Is it possible that we just go whenever we're ready? And just meet them wherever we will meet them along the route that they sent us?"

The other agents look towards him now, then each other.

"We might miss them and risk having to go back and forth," Anna finally replies.

"We can have consistent online communication with the backup team to update them on where we are and where they are," he adds.

"That's putting our connection in extreme vulnerabilities," Mark now explains. "If it's constantly on, there will be higher chance that it will be detected and intercepted."

Some agents agree with him, nodding their heads.

"We can do it incrementally, then. Just send a signal maybe every few minutes so that we can update each other."

Some agents, including Anna and Agent Himura, seem contemplating.

Eventually, Agent Van Hoven adds, "We won't have enough time to keep discussing where to meet, and all the coordinates we come up with are either too far or unsafe."

After 1034's deputy says that, the man waits a bit to let the others digest his words. Agent Van Hoven takes a while to explain more.

"I think our odds are better if we just go as soon as we are ready, and meet them wherever we can meet them. That way, none of us is vulnerable due to being stagnant in one spot for too long," the lean man suggests more, "and since we don't have predetermined coordinates to meet, we won't risk having information intercepted by Helga since there is no intel to intercept anyway."

Anna seems more receptive of the argument, then she turns to the side where Tactical Intelligence agents are still sitting in front of their computers. Some of them are also hunched in their own spot where there is a table with the destroyed laptop pieces on top of it.

They push around the pieces, prodding and moving them around using a wooden chopstick on top of their gloved hands. They said they are avoiding metals and direct human contact, making sure they don't accidentally transmit some electrical charge or signal if the laptop parts are deceptively still on.

The other agents around Anna also turn to them.

She says, "We can ask them to create stronger signal protection, see if they have any idea for it."

Agent Himura sighs deeply, seemingly not liking his own deputy's idea, but resigned towards the possibility that they might have to do just that. He eventually cocks his head to the side, a gesture to invite the others around him to follow him. He then walks closer to the Tactical Intelligence agents.

Realizing that they're being approached, some of the agents look up to face the Offensive teams.

"Sir," one of them greets Agent Himura, straightening her back as she is subtly deferring to him as a higher hierarchy agent, but also signaling being the leader of the other Tactical Intelligence agents. If Mark is not mistaken, her name is Agent Landau.

"Any progress on what we can find in that computer?"

She looks down again to the table then to her side where the other agents are focused on their own screens.

"We are still separating some of the parts, see which one we can still recover and access. But we're not plugging in any of it to a device with outward connection."

Anna hums in understanding.

"Wouldn't want it to accidentally connect to Helga's server and give away our location."

"Understood," Agent Van Hoven says.

"We're still going to disconnect everything in this headquarter when we plug in any part later, so we hope you can help us check everything in this building that might be connected to the satellite, or anything of kind."

Mark and the rest nod at her.

"Speaking of which, is there anything you need now?" Agent Landau asks professionally.

"We might need extra masking encryption for our communication with Central Hub backup," Agent Himura takes over, "We might have to meet them in a non-predetermined convergence point, and we need something that protect our communication so that we can continuously update them on our location."

"Oh, that makes sense," she replies, "we will figure something out."

Agent Himura nods again.

She is about to turn around to her own subordinates when she halts with an unsure face. She seems to be uncomfortable about something.

"Just... to be sure..."

She falters, slightly biting her lip.

"What... what are we..." she pauses again while her eyes dart again to the side where the row of computers is located, "...if we manage to recover a part, especially things that keep the device memory... what are we going to see?"

She then points to the table where Nick's broken laptop parts are spread out.

Mark's face falls, just as his other teammates' do. Anna parts her lips then blinks, clearly unsure about what to say.

Agent Landau explains again, still uncomfortable, "say, if we recover the drive, or something—and it might have saved the last state of the laptop before it was shut down completely—we're going to see whatever the screen showed before... what would we see there?"

Anderson gulps deeply, clearly sick to his stomach, while Mark feels protective of Nick. He is reluctant to tell her what it was, or let her and the other Tactical Intelligence agents plug it in at all, even if it is important.

Nick doesn't deserve to have that... video... shown to anyone else again.

"It's just..." her eyes now dart to somewhere else, towards the direction of the med bay from where she is standing within the room, "...we got reports on what kind of informant, um, victim he is... and you lot told us he... um... injured himself after this video. And that's why you escaped 1056 headquarter."

Mark, Anderson, and Anna look towards each other. Even Agent Van Hoven and Agent Himura look unsure and uncomfortable too, seemingly having a guess already.

"It's... uh..." Anna starts, clearing her throat tightly, "...something that... we should give to FBI."

Agent Landau furrows her eyebrows, taking a while to connect the dots as the Offensive agents around her squirm uncomfortably. Eventually, her eyes widen.

"What age?" she asks, sounding almost scared.

Anderson lifts his hands to stare down at them and cracks his knuckles absently, as if he is feeling deeply awkward. He tells her, "17."

She surreptitiously sighs in relief, glad that maybe Nick was not too young in whatever she is going to see.

"Um, well, it's..." she turns again to the table, "...it's not guaranteed, though, that we can recover the full state of the machine when it was shut down."

Even if she gives them a professional and impartial look, the atmosphere is still somewhat tense and mourning.

"We probably will only recover partial data."

Mark hears Anna sighing in relief beside him and closing her eyes shortly.

Another Tactical Intelligence agent stands up and approaches her, saying, "Ma'am, we might be able to use this."

He is holding a plastic ziploc bag with a shiny metallic part in it, hands still gloved. Agent Landau looks at him shortly, then turns to Agent Himura again.

"We will have to do that later," she says, referring to the comm additional security layer that Agent Himura requested before. "We need to inspect this now, unfortunately."

Mark and the Offensive team crowd look understanding, promptly taking out their communication devices to deactivate them as Agent Landau instructed.

"Can you two go around and check in with everyone else to turn off their comm devices?" she says to that agent holding the plastic, and another one still standing near the table of the laptop pieces.

They both nod and walk away, presumably doing what they are told. She then turns back again to Agent Himura and those standing behind him.

"If you don't mind, I would like for you too to inform your teams to check for any comm device and turn them off."

They all nod again and disperse, with Mark following Agent Van Hoven to the roof to inform the snipers to disconnect their devices.

There are other spots that they go to, coincidentally meeting the other agents in discussion with Anna and Agent Himura before, then diverging to visit some nooks and crannies of the headquarter to see if there are other stray agents who are not aware of the instruction by Tactical Intelligence.

When they're done, all of the agents walk in droves to the team room, along with the two Tactical Intelligence agents commanded by Agent Landau. Mark sees the other Tactical Intelligence agents who are working on their computers now click around, some even turning their PCs and monitors off completely.

Mark frowns, seeing just how many people are in the room, supposedly waiting to see whatever it is they're going to see on the broken device, or any information at all pertaining Nikolai’s laptop and its access to Helga's server before. Even if it makes sense that they want to know, it still makes Mark feel sick on behalf of Nick. He wishes there were fewer of them here.

Nick's humiliating past and abuses should not be watched by this many people. Or anyone at all. He deserves that dignity, at least. Mark is apparently not alone in this, considering his fellow agents in team 1056 are all looking down or fiddling with their tools tensely.

As the two Tactical Intelligence agents from before approach Agent Landau again, they say something in hushed voices, and then she nods. She faces the Offensive team agents again.

"Please make sure all of you have turned off everything that can connect to the outside. Even your radios."

There is a wave of agents fishing out their pockets to double check if everything is turned off and that they didn't miss anything. At that, she looks quite satisfied and approaches a desk, now the one holding the plastic bag containing a part of Nick's broken laptop.

She gloves up, putting double layers of them, then fishes out the metal piece around half the size of her palm from the plastic. She puts it on a computer desk while pulling a connecting hub full of USB ports, memory card slots, and other ports dedicated to connecting more obscure computer parts. The hub is connected to her own computer with another USB cord.

There is also a PC case that’s opened to the outside. It’s connected by a cable to Agent Landau’s computer through one of the ports in the hub. The PC tower has some hardware attached to the motherboard inside, but some slots remain empty. She tries to plug the broken piece into one of the slots.

She has to struggle a bit because of the somewhat mangled state of the metal piece, making sure that she is gentle enough not to damage it further, but forceful enough to make the part yield to the port shape. She succeeds after a few attempts.

"Wait!"

Everyone turns to Mark, making him realize that he even says anything at all. Some of them look at him with furrowed eyebrows, and others look irritated.

He looks around unsurely, but firms up himself to say, "Not everyone has to be here for it, right?"

He tries to steady himself, hoping he doesn't waver for this.

"I mean, not everyone has to see what's inside there, do they? We just need to know what damage is done to our network, and if all of us here are safe for now?"

He is desperately hoping that they will listen to him for this. He doesn't want Nikolai to be defiled further. Nick deserves this, at least.

Thankfully, the ones who know—like Agent Landau herself, Tactical Intelligence agents who have been listening to the conversation before, and some agents from 1034 and 1056—nod in understanding with forlorn looks.

"I think only the commanding officers and the deputies, except for 1056, need to see this. We will inform any important findings to the rest of you once the inspection is done," Agent Himura commands.

Obviously, the rest of them look puzzled and even offended that they're being singled out.

"It's a sensitive footage of our informant," Horace adds, uncharacteristically testy and seemingly impatient for the other agents to comply. "If you have weak stomach, I suggest you don't stay."

Some still look clueless as to what that means, but others have realizations on their faces, so they whisper to rest to listen and just go.

"Trust me, I don't think you want to see it," one of them whispers as they leave, “Let’s just check our stocks in the back and prepare.”

Mark's fellow agents in team 1056 look down mournfully, some—including himself—also walk out as if they don't want a repeat of what they saw or heard before. Eventually only 10 agents are left in the room aside from Tactical Intelligence agents: the commanding officers and deputies of each team, with Mary and Lena.

They both look sympathetically at him as he walks out. He is trying his hardest to keep his composure and not jump towards the computer and unplug it. Fortunately, he has enough self-control to not do that.

He leans back against the wall outside the team room, closing his eyes for a while to steady himself. When he opens them again, he sees some agents outright getting out of the building with only a handful staying near the team room. The ones who stay in the hallway cross their arms on their chests, also leaning against the wall and uncomfortably avoiding eye contact, especially with the rest of 1056.

He tries to distract his mind from the imminent moment that the footage has to be played again, looking at the doors to the med bay instead. He is hoping that the part is too damaged to be accessed at all. Alas, after waiting a while until he thinks his prayer is answered, he eventually hears whirring from the inside, clacking of keys, and a long moment of silence before he hears loud gasps.

"Oh god."

"Jesus Christ!"

"I can't... I can't see this."

"Can we make it quick, please?"

"Oh, fuck. I'm... I'm sick."

He doesn't recognize the voices, so he assumes they're from the Tactical Intelligence agents. Mark closes his eyes again with wave of cold washing over him, somewhat feeling nausea at the implication of what's being seen inside.

Even highly trained agents who are supposed to be steady in the face of dangers can't help being horrified by it.

The agents around him also appear horrified, looking up to stare at the door. He supposes only hearing partial information without knowing exactly what's going on will make their imaginations run wild. It’s probably worse the longer it takes for the people inside to just… come out and give any news.

The clock is ticking, and the people inside are now growing quiet, but still, it offers no reassurance. It doesn’t feel like a good silence.

Eventually, some agents who are milling around in the hallway choose to stand up to leave. Mark can only guess what the reason is: either bored, impatient, driven with the feeling of urgency to prepare for battle, or unwilling to bear witness to whatever bad news the people inside are going to bring them.

Or maybe all of them.

Mark still cannot make himself walk away, so he keeps witnessing one agent after another walking away, including the rest of his own team. At one point, Luke looks at him, then nods to him in question, offering Mark to leave with him so that he doesn’t continue getting haunted by the agonizing wait. He shakes his head, so Luke sighs and leaves without him.

There are still a handful of agents in the hallway, talking in low voices to one another, but mostly to fellow agents in their own teams. Mark and Anderson now are the only ones left from his team, and they choose not to converse.

He shoots up to stand from leaning against the wall once the door creaks open. He sees Agent Landau standing on the doorway, and she looks pale.

“I’m sorry, but the inspection is going to take a while,” she says with firm voice she is obviously trying hard to maintain, “so I would suggest moving everything in this room that you might need to somewhere else because…”

She gulps and shortly closes her eyes, clearly no longer able to hide that she is shaken.

“Well, we’d rather have the room exclusively for our work in inspecting 1056’s informant’s broken laptop.”

There is some unsaid understanding that Mark sees in some of the other agents, while the rest simply furrow their eyebrows but seem accepting. Mark hazards a guess that they think it’s for technical purposes—that Tactical Intelligence might need the whole room to themselves so that they can work efficiently.

“You can move all tools and things you need inside to another area,” she adds again, now back to firm and impersonal voice.

Some agents who stay around ask her if they can call for the rest of their teams, the reasoning being to help determine which things they will need and then move them to another convenient place. She simply says yes and walks in again while closing the door behind her.

***

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

#whump #whump community #whumptober2023 #whumptober #whumper turned caretaker #OC #original work #misunderstanding #depression #caretaking #comfort #suicide attempt tw #rescue #whump rescue #OC whump #D.E.A.N #multiple whumpers #whump prompt #prompt fill #writing #english #me #me-write #mention of CSAM

[wistfulcynic]

A World In Lilac Hues, 22

Jane tucked her arm into the crook of Darcy’s empty one and gently tugged him towards the crowd. “There are some people here I’d love for you to meet,” she said. “Charles, if you would, please?”

“Oh, right, yes, of course,” said Bingley, and relieved Darcy of the gift he held between his elbow and ribcage. “I’ll just pop this over on the table and be right back with you.” He grinned at Darcy then darted away, as Darcy allowed himself to be drawn into an assembly that appeared to be comprised largely of Bennets, but also several other individuals whom he deduced were most likely Longbourn villagers. This theory was confirmed by Jane, who introduced them as Mrs Long, a tall, pointy woman with a very keen eye; Mr and Mrs Phillips, a kindly couple the female half of which bore a remarkable resemblance to Mrs Bennet; and a jolly, rotund gentleman Jane declared to be Sir William Lucas.

“Charlotte’s father,” she expounded, with a look in her eye Darcy could not quite decipher. “You remember Charlotte Lucas, I am certain.”

“Yes, quite,” Darcy replied. “A pleasure, Sir William.”

“And my mother of course you cannot have forgotten,” Jane continued, before Sir William could give voice to any of the obsequious utterances that were almost visibly forming on his lips. Darcy was grateful for her speed and tact.

“No indeed,” he murmured. “Mrs Bennet, how lovely you look this afternoon. Such a charming hat.”

He was mildly astonished to hear how easily these polite little speeches were tripping off his tongue, a highly uncharacteristic state of affairs for him to say the least. There was just something about Jane Bennet—this glowing, happily-engaged-to-the-love-of-her-life Jane—that put him quite at his ease.

An ease that flickered and died mere moments later, like the flame of a spent candle, when he heard from behind him the cadence of a familiar voice and, turning, beheld the face that haunted his every moment, waking and asleep.

“Jane,” said Elizabeth. “Charles has been cornered by our cousin Collins and is in desperate need of rescue.” Her eyes flitted, just for a the space of a blink, to Darcy’s face. “I can take Darcy off your hands and ensure he’s introduced to everyone he ought to meet.”

That phrasing sounded ominous to Darcy’s ears, but Jane merely nodded as her worried gaze swept the crowd and then with a muttered “Thank you, Lizzie,” she released Darcy’s arm and was gone. Darcy turned to Elizabeth, who was now gazing intently at—unless he was quite mistaken—his left eyebrow.

He cleared his throat. “Elizabeth,” he said, “it’s lovely to see you.”

Some of the effect of Jane’s calming presence appeared to have lingered, for the words came out smoothly measured and without a single break or quaver to betray the frantic thumps and flutterings currently going on within his chest. Elizabeth’s eyes met his then instantly darted away again.

“And you,” she said, in a voice that came out slightly breathless. Darcy’s already thundering heart gave a most incautious leap.

“How have you been?” he heard himself ask. “And—your family? They are, er, in good health?” What the fuck was he saying?

“Yes.” A smile played at the corners of Elizabeth’s mouth. “They are all in excellent… health.”

The tiny pause before the last word let him know that she was teasing, but in a softer way than he had known her to tease before. More gentle ribbing than cutting commentary, the sort of teasing to which she might subject a friend. It warmed him, to think that she might consider them friends.

Encouraged by this, he offered her his arm. “I believe I was promised introductions,” he said.

“And… do you want them?” asked Elizabeth, cautiously.

“Well, yes,” said Darcy. “Without them, I might find myself condemned to spend the afternoon alone in the corner, trapped by my own difficulties in conversing with people I have never met before. And that is something I am given to understand you disapprove of rather vehemently.”

“I do,” agreed Elizabeth. “But I find that as with many things, the difficulty of conversing with strangers eases with practice.”

“No doubt you are right.” Darcy offered his arm again, and this time she looped her own through it. “Shall we practice?”

AO3

#pride and prejudice #p&p fic #pride and prejudice fanfic #darcy x elizabeth #the climactic chapter my dear Readers #a world in lilac hues #profdanglaisstuff

[askaceattorney]

Dear Anonymous,

If we went by technicalities, so long as a woman is able to meet with a man alone for a few minutes to seconds, it can be done. It’s an open secret in the prison how many female inmates will have their needs met with other officers or among themselves. If they had the chance, they’d do it with other male inmates in private.

However, legally, only a few prisons will allow this. Thankfully, California’s prisons can arrange special meetings where a prisoner can meet with their spouse alone in an assigned cabin or trailer for a day or two. You can also have that arranged for you, if you are in a relationship with someone outside of prison. Unfortunately, that is the key, it has to be with someone OUTSIDE of prison. 

As for me being a mother, I will not impregnate myself while I’m serving time. Do you have any idea the stress and hardship I will be placing on my unborn child!? I’ve watched pregnant women in this prison! Do you think they’re given any medication or care to ensure their baby is cared for? No! In fact, during labor, the women are cuffed to the bed before and after conceiving with little to no medical help, then are given 24 hours with their baby before that baby is ripped from their hands and thrown into the foster care system. At best, a mother inmate might be sent to a facility that includes daycare for inmate mothers to care for their babies until they’re weened, but that would depend on the inmate’s sentence and length.

So no, I’d rather become infertile than ever put any child of mine through such agony.

- Lana Skye

#Anonymous #Lana Skye #Ema Skye #Ace Attorney #Mod Commentary #I've seen a YouTube video of a former female inmate telling her story about when she gave birth to her child in prison #It was horrifying to say the least

[xxstarskullzxx]

( captions for first image if you can’t read my writing ):

Interviewer: I bet your girlfriend is lucky to have such a handsome partner!

Alma: Oh thank you! I think I’m the lucky one though haha

HERES MY SPIDER-VERSE OC!! His name is Spider-soul ( their middle name is Alma, he prefers to go by it since they don’t like the name Estephan. Hes 20 years old, born May 4th, and is a professional harp player. He has his high school sweetheart Emilia Lim who is a year older, they met in music club and bonded over basically everything.

Spider powers and stuff: He got bit while visiting Emilia’s family, symptoms showed up on the plane back home, and they only noticed after reaching the apartment. Alma asked for advice form a dear friend, who then pointed out the similarities to spider-man. He freaked out and stared to overthink it, hoping no one’s dies, hoping no villains attack, hoping only for the best. After that, he calmed down and tried figuring out how to control their powers, using a small figurine as a target. After a solid week and a half, he finally got the hang of it, and later tried designing their outfit, and landed on the purple and gold thanks to the spider!

Power is hypnotic-harp: can form a web of strings and play as if it were a harp, sound can hypnotize victim for prolonged periods of time ( power very effective ). If he’s not careful with his aim, he can honestly hypnotize anyone. He would rather be physical than use this power, as it takes patience and time to get. Power 2 is not really a power but I’d consider it one, that being silence. Alma is able to be very sly and sneaky, since growing up he’s always been into fighting, and is very good at being sneaky. They aren’t the strongest spider, so often times he’ll need to use his harp trick just to win a battle ( which he hates ).

Other stuff: They’re Mexican ( wow shocker ), 5’10, and has a secret talent of being able to do hair very well ( all categories, minus bleaching ), because he’d often help his tia at her salon growing up. He also hates having to switch to contacts jsut for battles, so he bought a second pair of glasses in the shape of his spider eye, popped out te lenses, and stuck em in so he’s able to see. He likes coffee and mint flavoured things, he often gets mistaken for a woman if he’s wearing the right outfit, since he has very feminine features and long hair, until people see them with their mask, to which the person would apologize and keep their compliment because the chin hairs don’t change the fact he’s still very pretty. He favours no animal over another, but he has a Doberman named Marzipan ( this is because she stole a marzipan from them ).

Anyways, idk what else I’m forgetting to add, please ask in my box if you’d like to know anything else you’d like to know about him!! ( he/they pronouns for Alma ) :)

#spiderverse #into the spider verse #into the Spiderverse oc #spider man into the spider verse #spiderverse original character

[skippy-says-hello]

New Verse Info

(I’ve decided to make a FNAF AU, mostly to make some sense in Grim being there. It mostly affects their backstory rather than the hunt with her target. I figured I’d keep events and characters in the modern times relatively the same. If you want to read it, it will be under the cut ^^)

Grim and Skippy were not always the assassins/demon hunters they are today. In fact, Grim didn’t always exist. Skippy did, but under a different name. Alice Green, daughter of the affluent man James Green.

Born in 1866, she was the spitting image of her mother. She was a quiet babe, her cries hardly being heard if she was across the room from someone. Her father was almost disappointed, believing he had yet another child incapable of continuing his work. However, he was proven wrong as soon as she was able to crawl.

She became extremely destructive. At first, it was small items. Things that were replaceable. But she quickly grew to attacking others. She hadn’t fatally wounded anyone. The worst she did as a youngster was break bones. But that would change under her father’s guidance.

She would always be quiet, calculating. If people didn’t know her, they would assume her timid. Even more so when she was brought into the family business. You see, her father had always been a scientist of sorts. And a killer. One of his murders produced something he had never seen before. A substance that would, much later, be called remnant. He decided to study it, wanting to see what all he could learn from it.

They became a father-daughter duo, targeting those the authorities would be less inclined to investigate the deaths of. To ensure even less investigation occurred, they made each death look like an accident of some sort or another. Those who would likely be targeted talked amongst each other, suspecting one serial killer. But they could do nothing about it.

Alice and James would use the remnant in their inventions. Most cases ended in failure, but one device was very successful. A device that not only allowed for teleportation, but time travel. The only downside of it was that it used remnant as fuel, and required refilling whenever used too exhaustively.

As time wore on, Alice’s father became more and more paranoid. One day, they would surely get caught. If he was caught with her, they would both be executed. But if Alice was the only one caught...

With those thoughts in mind, he began to plant evidence behind Alice’s back. She noticed fairly quickly what was happening. She played dumb, slowly gathering their notes, remnant, and devices to be brought to what they agreed would be a safe house. A cabin in the woods. It could house two people, but would be far more comfortable with just one.

When she just had a few notes left to gather, she killed her father and all those who were still in the mansion she had grown up in. Those siblings who were lucky to survive had been away, either already married or visiting potential suitors.

She killed one extra person, a woman who was close enough to her height to be mistaken for her. She set the mansion on fire to hide all evidence and to fake her own death. She then disappeared, only going back into civilization for more remnant and supplies.

It was 1885 when Cynemaer, a demon who would later become her worst enemy, attacked her. She was not exactly saved by Grim and Skippy. Rather, Skippy gathered all the remnant she could and went to Adonis.

Skippy had already commissioned him to create an automaton body for herself. They used magic to allow it to move on its own and appear more human, though the side effect of that was Grim. A personality the body formed almost completely by itself, though Skippy did have influence on some traits she’d rather not carry. They also ensured that the body wouldn’t have memory of this time, wanting it to believe it’s completely human.

The remnant that Skippy collected would attach to the automaton, ensuring Alice, now known as Skippy, would survive in some form. The automaton was returned to the cabin and time it ‘originated’, allowing both Grim and Skippy time to become acclimated to their body.

They became demon hunters first, assassins later as Grim became okay with the thought of killing humans. It was 1886 when they were approached with the job of hunting Cynemaer. Rather, Skippy forced the person to hire them, using the device as ‘pre-payment’ for their work.

Now, they have been hunting the demon for two years, though time hopping made such measurements moot. Skippy still makes sure to leave Grim in the dark about what and who they are. She gathers the remnant they need, fueling their device first and giving the leftovers to Grim to experiment on. She won’t explain what it is to the girl, simply saying it’s a chemical she happened upon. That it has a lot of potential, but she isn’t sure what kind of potential it has.

#ooc #FNAF Verse #Muse: Skippy #Muse: Grim #Muse: Cynemaer #Muse: Adonis #tw: murder

[dankusner]

A moment with Sedaris

David Sedaris might be the greatest living humorist in America, if anyone could decide what “humorist” means. (Do stand-ups count?)

The author of more than a dozen essay collections, most recently Happy-Go-Lucky , Sedaris returns to Dallas on April 25.

We talked to him about travel, his early ’80s opioid addiction and why he’s giving people permission to say “shut up.”

The Dallas Museum of Art has brought you to Dallas 15 times. Do you think of yourself as the Seinfeld of the “Arts & Letters Live” series or the Gunsmoke ?

Ooh. I’m gonna go with Gunsmoke .

I assume you’re flying on this book tour.

Flying is not in its peak form.

I’m on planes constantly, but I’ve never seen a fistfight.

I’m not on the right airlines. I think that happens on Frontier or Spirit.

The fistfight airlines [laughs].

I’m impressed you haven’t gotten into the rut of writing about travel and the publicity grind, a danger for writers who tour as much as you.

Sometimes things do happen.

I was just in Kenya, and there are a lot of missionaries.

I was on a small plane, talking with the guy across the aisle, and I told him, “I’ve just been to a little village, so impoverished, and I worried people thought I was a missionary. I would rather be mistaken for a pedophile than a missionary!”

And then he said, “I’m a missionary.”

Oh my God.

Not only was he a missionary, he was a doctor who had just performed neck surgery on a kid lying on a pingpong table in a church.

Luckily, the plane was really loud.

We could just take off, and I could just die. But I’d watched this documentary, God Loves Uganda , about missionaries in Uganda passing really restrictive bills against gays.

Anyway, I learned my lesson.

From now on, when I meet someone on the plane, I will say, “I’m not a missionary.

Are you?”

What do you read when you want to laugh? [silence] Maybe you don’t read to laugh.

I like tragic books.

I just read Dopesick , the book about opioid addiction that got turned into a series with Michael Keaton.

As a person who was a drug addict, I was able to clean myself up, but only because my dealer left town.

This was in the early 1980s, but if she hadn’t left town?

If this happened 30 years later?

I was lucky. It’s not like I had willpower.

Quitting drinking [25 years ago] was different.

There was booze all around.

But I don’t think alcohol has a grip on you the way certain drugs do.

Your writing is pretty nonpartisan, but you’re a gay man married to another gay man in a state that hasn’t always looked kindly on that. Is Texas weird for you?

I find the Dallas audience very generous.

I’ve done shows in El Paso or Odessa, and people are like, “You’re not gonna go there!”

Like it would be dangerous for me.

The place I stayed in Odessa had a replica of the Ten Commandments in front of the hotel, but the biggest queen who ever lived was behind the front desk and a trans woman was at the hair salon/coffee place in the lobby, and everybody was perfectly lovely to those people. … On

paper, a place can look pretty bad, but when it comes to community, it’s much more tolerant.

I find that all over the United States.

I’ve found I just can’t trust anybody who doesn’t laugh.

I think a lot of people feel that way, but everyone’s so afraid.

Someone I know who works in theater was having a private conversation about his ex-girlfriend, and a stagehand complained the conversation made him uncomfortable.

He got written up for it.

It’s not like he was saying, “God, I really miss raping my ex-girlfriend.”

I wonder how we get out of this.

I think it starts by saying to people, “Shut up.”

When some person complains to the head of the theater, “I was made to feel uncomfortable, because that person was talking about his ex-girlfriend,” then you say,

“This is silly, and you need to shut up.”

But nobody wants to take the hit.

I will.

[thechristiansuburbanblackgirl]

God, Gen Z, & Hookup Culture: Why Marriage is Losing its Meaning

by Diana Sanchez

First comes love. Second comes marriage. Then comes a baby in a baby carriage. Or at least, that’s what I thought growing up.

I’m pretty sure all of us little girls growing up remember our peers teasing us about kissing in a tree with a boy. I can still hear the dreaded song in my head as I’m writing this paragraph. However, as I’ve grown older, this schoolchild rhyme of the order of relationships has changed slightly for me, but plenty for others, for various reasons.

If we’re going to discuss this issue, we have to define marriage. According to Oxford Languages, marriage is, “the legally or formally recognised union of two people as partners in a personal relationship”. According to Britannica.com as of January 1, 2024, marriage is, “a legally and socially sanctioned union, usually between a man and a woman, that is regulated by laws, rules, customs, beliefs, and attitudes that prescribe the rights and duties of the partners and accords status to their offspring (if any)”. Something that I find extremely interesting is the fact that both define marriage as a legal commitment between two people. Should we all define marriage that is simply something that is to be recognised in the court of law? As a Christian and as a black woman, my definition and views of marriage are a lot more complex than this.

We cannot talk about marriage without talking about love. If we look at the meaning of life from a secular perspective, as we live in a secular society, is that we get a variety of different answers. Some believe that love is a feeling, rooted in affection. Others believe that it is rooted in pleasure. While elements of this may be true, if you were to ask me, I’d say that this is too simple, but we’ll get to my take on the topic later. One of the most interesting takes on love that I’ve seen belongs to author Bell Hooks. In her popular book, “all about love”, she is quoted in her books introduction, “There are not many public discussions of love in our culture right now. At best, popular culture is the one domain in which our longing for love is talked about” (Hooks, 2001, p.18). This is an observation that was made by Hooks in 2001, and it’s funny how even now, at the beginning of 2024, nothing seems to have changed. In fact, it seems to have gotten worse.

This can be proven not only in TV and movies, but also in music. Popular artists like Rod Wave seem to prove this observation true. Songs like “Heart on Ice” and “Great Gatsby” and their immense popularity amongst my age demographic show how our young adults feel on the concept of love. Sure there have been songs that have gained popularity amongst us that have talked about having love such as “Hrs and Hrs” by Muni Long, but overall, music that is enjoyed by teens and young adults doesn’t talk about love in a caring or considerate way. Love seems to be confused with lust today, especially as sex becomes a more popular topic to discuss explicitly. Love and lust transcend language, as both are talked about in every country around the world. Lust is something that can be confused with love, something that is unfortunately very common, especially amongst young adults. This translates into sex, as hookups and other forms of casual intimacy have become normalised…and have all been mistaken for love.

Even when talking about sex, the emotions and love that come with sex have been taken out and replaced with lust. This is something that I have discussed in my essay titled, “Gaze Through the Music”, in which after discussing the uniqueness of the Rauw Alejandro songs “Museo” and “Al Mismo Tiempo”, I stated, “Despite the songs being rather salacious, its muse is never lost in translation. This emphasis on emotional connection is something that I personally believe is a lost art in sex” (Carmela, 2023). This lost art is very prevalent in our society, one that encourages casual sex as if it’s an upgrade on an iPhone. According to one article by The Daily Targum, hookup culture is something that has a lot of different factors that go into it, especially in college. Two lines report, “It became a well-known stereotype that going to college meant sleeping with many people and that one should not date or they will miss out. Somehow, this is still expected of college students”(Benitez, 2023).

This expectation is something that is prevalent amongst HBCU culture. I’ll use myself as an example. I have no sex life. I’ve had a few instances that were sexual in nature, like making out, but it never got anywhere past that. I have had the privilege is participating in a panel discussion with a few representatives of my institution, including members of our Royal Court, NPHC, and student government. This discussion was about who the prize was in dating. When everyone was asked if they would ever date someone that they are not sexually attracted to, I raised my hand with confidence and had said that I have done so. I was met with great surprise, and even a question in relation to my sex life that I had answered quickly. I would also like to mention one quote that was said by a young man that was also participating in the discussion. He had said, “One thing I have noticed throughout this discussion is that ya’ll are extremely horny” (Anonymous, January 2024). I find it very weird as to how love is talked about with such reluctance, and almost with disdain, especially when sex is involved, but when we talk about sex in a very casual way, so many in the room seem to jump at the opportunity to discuss it with an almost braggadocio effervescence.

Love is nothing to be ashamed of, but unfortunately we are born into a society that says and shows so. This is not a new standpoint, but it is one that prevalent in American society. One part of the book, “all about love” introduces its first official chapter with the following quote, “As a society we are embarrassed by love. We treat it as if it were an obscenity”-Diana Ackerman (Hooks, “all about love”, p.31). As I have explained before, this universally broadcasted disdain of love is something that affects my generation like no other. The words “I love you” seem more like a curse to many than words of affirmation. If you were ask the student body of my current university how they feel about love, most of them would probably say, excuse my French, “Fuck love”. It’s unfortunate, but it’s true.

Remember when I said that we can’t talk about marriage without talking about love? There’s someone else that we can’t omit when discussing love, and that is God. Love is not just a feeling, it’s a person. This isn’t about to be an Isley Brothers “(At Your Best) You Are Love” kind of situation either. This is biblical. John 3:16, 1 Corinthians 13:4-7, Romans 5:8, the list goes on. 1 John 4:8 affirms this statement further by saying, “He does not know love does not know God, for God is love”. This generation has become a manifestation of what happens when you raise them without a healthy and accurate portrayal of love. This reminds me of a fiction book that I read on the infamous site of Wattpad, called “Confessions of a Scared Hoe”. One character in the book says the following quote that I believe resonates with plenty. The male main character states, “It angers me. To know that the men you’ve encountered in your life have misguided you. Made you think that lust equates to love, that sex equates to care” (Woods, p. 16). So many are misguided to believe that lust is love. Though both contain a great amount of passion, one purely only admires the physical aspect.

This is a great time to address the popular literature of today. The pastime of finding books as a reader who consumes little to no salacious material is like trying to find a feather of hay in a stack of needles. The discussion of its difficulty is nothing new to me either, as me and a friend of mine have both expressed our frustration with it, with my friend stressing how it is normalising porn addictions in women, quite literally from under our noses. This hidden normalisation also contributes to how the perception of love, as well as marriage, has become so twisted in our society. The way that we have normalised, and almost glorified sex and marriages that either have no true love, contain abuse, or are done out of convenience in movies and in books, along with fornicating relationships that use sex as a weapon rather than the sacred covenant it was created to be (Colleen Hoover and Sam Levinson, I’m talking about you) is something that greatly affects the generations that they are marketed to and/or consume it like an idol. There seems to be a blurred line between reality and fiction, much like lust and love, that is not being taught to the youth.

Let’s talk about marriage. I have noticed as I have gotten older that marriage seems to be a fading topic of discussion. More and more people in my age range are expressing their borderline hatred of the idea of marriage, especially women, with claims that they “don’t want to be tied down”. Another trend that I see is that people have normalised making fun of or discouraging (practically cursing) those who marry young or want to marry young. There is no damage in wanting to do so. Marriage, like death, doesn’t discriminate by age. At least, between two consenting adults. I’ll even confess something myself. I have always wanted to marry young. It’s been a dream of mine since I was a little girl. If that’s not what He has in His will for me, then I am content with that as well. Another thing that I would like to personally criticise is the fact that we have normalised this belief that anyone who has married young is too young to make such a decision. Sweetheart, I’m old enough to file taxes and join the military if I wanted to, marriage is a much easier decision.

Marriage, like sex, is a covenant between three people; the bride, the groom, and God. What I’ve noticed is that we have made marriage and sex with no concept of a covenant, just like love without a the concept of a choice, far too common. This is also where I could get into the discussion of the discrimination between ethnic and gender groups in dating as well as marriage, but that’s a topic for another day. The way we discuss marriage, as well as how we treat it is like that of a business deal on Wall Street or like a title upgrade in Bridgerton. So I conclude this essay with one question.

Where is the love?

#black tumblr #thechristiansuburbanblackgirl #essay #education #article #christianity #christian blog #marriage #sex educator

[moonbeam-dreamer]

 Unexpected (Continued from part 1)

  I became engrossed with a novel of a woman who lived as a servant in a household and was a near twin of the lady of the home's daughter. She traveled on the Lusitania and both the mother and woman drowned. She was mistaken for the daughter but rather than keep her title of servant, she didn't correct their assumptions, and went on to have a good life. His voice pulled me from the beginning pages and his kindness was disarming. 

        "Your library is going to be full soon".  

        His eyes caught my attention; a light, beautiful blue that shown like mirrors. The gentle visage put me at ease, but I was momentarily struck dumb. The perfectly cut raven hair gave him a darker, gothic appearance, and my weakness for this chiseled type was trying to overcome. I floundered under the waves of desire and hope, yet managed to pull myself together. Someone as good looking couldn't be single. Especially with his muscled build and how his figure looked in the black uniform. I gave him a once over before offering a kind smile, the same I'd give a customer that approached my desk needing to check out. 

        "I'll just have to build more shelves". Hell, I'd build a shed in the backyard and use it for storage. If the book wasn't worth keeping, I'd sell it back to the store and find something else.  

        "Your husband not good with his hands?"  

        I knew what he was doing. The leading comments were never hard to miss, and just because I was cynical of others, didn't mean I paranoid. He was being sarcastic while trying to gain information. I was never one to lie, so why start now? 

        “I don’t have one”, I stated dismissively while putting the novel in the hand basket. They didn’t make books with plotlines that simple anymore, and I was already hooked for what came next. I didn’t miss the way his shoulders straightened and he seemed a little more cautious. Obviously, this struck the chord he was hoping for. 

       “Any reason?”  

        His tone was genuinely curious. Maybe I had some horrible ailment that I was concealing, did I, perhaps, swing the other direction, or I was some uptight witch that wanted a man with millions in his bank to spend for whatever I wanted? His mind had to be turning with possibilities. I could drag this out, but I never did like games. They grew old fast and the rules were constantly changing. I put a stop to it all a long time ago.  

       “They lack the constitution to be with me”. At this I met his gaze. Better to bring it out in the open and quash his hopes than lead him through falsehood. “Either I’m too demanding by wanting an actual life, they live too far away and can’t go the distance, or the drama that used to encompass my life was too much for them. Between my health issues and my now ex homelife, they get tired and I do away with them”. The last four relationships I ended for these reasons alone, and I never looked back after.  

        His look surprised me. One eyebrow lifted, judging the weight of my words against that of my body language. He was piecing together what I’d told him and trying to decide if he wanted to stick it out or call it quits. Most would just laugh and tell me how they were different from everyone else. They would seek to reassure me with words that they were strong men and not little boys, but didn’t they turn out that way in the end? I expected him to shrug his shoulders and skulk away with apologies, while telling me to have a nice day. Rather, he seemed to lean a little against the shelf, as if he had time to listen, but also bringing his own curiosity under control. I gathered there weren’t many interesting girls around if he was talking to an outsider. Then again, he wasn’t like the prissy dressed townsfolk. The gothic in me recognized the darkness in him and I felt comfortable in a way that was nearly foreign to me.  

      To Be Continued...

#creative writing #writing #short story #writerscorner #writerslife #writersofinstagram #story time #drama tw #romance #new beginnings #slow burn