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peachesofteal · 2 days

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Cool girl

ghoap x female reader / 18+ warning: the boys are foul - could be considered dub con / part one / part two

Two (three) can play at that game.

"When you're done being a brat, call us."

You decide within a week, that you're very much not done being a brat.

And you're very much done with them.

Fuck them, you coach yourself in the mirror as you fix your makeup. Fuck them both. And her, whoever she is, though you know she doesn't deserve your wrath. She probably has no idea the tangled web she's walked into, she's the one stuck in the trap, now.

The doorbell rings, and you check your reflection one more time, satisfied with your dress, the way it gathers across your breasts, how it flatters your shape. It's a tad short, there's a bit of cleavage, little pieces that make it more than perfect. Something about this style, the way it fits, always drove the boys nuts, so it should be more than good enough for your date.

Fuck them.

You bring him to the dive. It's a safe choice, the bartender knows you, pays attention. You feel safe here, familiar. It's a great option for a first date.

And because you're a cool girl, you don't know how to play pool.

Of course, he's happy to teach you.

You start with a tequila. It scalds on the way down and settles like fire, but it takes the edge off. One turns to two, and it's enough to get you closer, allowing him to rest his hand on your knee at the bar, allowing him to keep a hand at the small of your back as he guides you to the finally empty pool table.

He's handsy, and normally, you'd be a little put off.

But not tonight.

"Okay, it's simple. You use the white ball to break." He lines up your shot for you, folding you into place, bending forward, hand brushing against your thigh as he leans beside you.

You intentionally short the shot, barely breaking the triangle of balls free. He chuckles. "Not bad for a first go."

"What do I get if I win?" Your smile is shy, and it's only half forced. You do like this guy, he's very nice, very attractive. Tall with a strong jawline, kind eyes. His fingers find yours, and his touch is gentle, patient.

"A kiss?" He ventures, testing the waters. You nod.

"Sure thing."

You're halfway through the game when the energy in the bar shifts. It's like everyone freezes, a collective whoosh of air washing through the bodies hunched over at the bar, loitering on the walls, perched on the wrought iron chairs out back.

The regulars look at one another and then return to studying the TV, or each other, their half empty drinks.

You don't need to look, to know.

You can feel them.

Apparently, so can your date.

"Don't look, but there are two guys staring at you, across the bar." You bat your eyelashes.

"Who?" It's innocent, this kind of play. Playing dumb. It's pure, until your chin turns over your shoulder and find them, white knuckled and focused, Johnny alight with anger, Simon stoic as ever. Sadness, and rage, roar inside your head, and you force yourself to look them in their eyes. Force yourself to be brave.

After a second, you turn away and into your date. He pulls you closer, palm resting on your lower back, mouth dangerously close above your ear. "Are they bothering you?" What a nice guy.

"No." You assuage immediately. You know what would happen, if he tried to be your knight in shining armor. You know how it would end.

With blood. Broken bones. And tears.

"Let's keep playing." You suggest. "Will you show me how to hold the stick?" Your teeth hold onto the last syllable, hand wrapping around the polished length of the wood, slowly moving it up and down. Your heart pounds, but a thrill rushes through you at the same time. Fuck them. Your date raises an eyebrow, mouth cocking into a sly smile, and nods.

After your third drink, you can't delay using the bathroom anymore. Skin tingling from all the places his hands have traversed, you're dizzy with the pulse of power, the high of your performance. It's wrong, and twisted but...

they deserve it. They deserve worse.

"I'll be right back." You promise, tracing a fingernail down his arm. "Get another round?" He trots off, eager to please.

The chairs scrape as soon as you turn into the dingy hallway, and their shadows fill the air, sucking it dry. You resist the urge to turn, palm flat against the swinging door of the toilets.

"What are ye doin'?" Johnny rages, and you turn to mouth off, only to jerk backwards at the realization of how close he is. You can count the flecks of gold around his irises, see the shimmer of cerulean blue. Simon stands at his back, a wall blocking out the rest of the hall, hiding you from view.

"I'm on a date." Simon laughs.

"You call this little show a date, sweetheart? Is that what you think that is?"

"Not sure you'd know what I'm like on a date since you never took me on one." You spit, and Johnny goes rigid, muscles hardening.

"Not sure that little boy would know the first thing about handlin' ye."

"Handling me?" The squeak your voice makes is embarrassing and incredulous at the same time. "Handle me? You think I need handling? I'm a full grown woman. I don't need-" He presses closer, close enough you can smell him, and your mouth drops open when he pushes you against the wall, cock hard under his jeans. "J-johnny."

"Aye, we think ye need handlin'. Ye're only supposed to be handled by us. Not by some sad wank who cannae stop droolin' like a dog."

"Stop." The resolve in your voice wavers, your resistance cracking and crumbling as Simon appears beside him, mouth pressing to your ear.

"You think that boy has a fat cock to feed you, sweet girl? Think he knows how-" One of them cups you between your legs over the fabric of your dress, palm grinding against your clit, and you grit your teeth against the friction, the moan it tries to pull from your throat. "to take care of this pussy?"

"She's high maintenance, ye know." Johnny snickers, lips dotting your cheek, down to your neck. He cups a fistful of your breast, thumb stroking where your nipple strains beneath your bra. "Ye think he'll be able to make ye gush for him? Make ye cum on his cock?" You're boiling, anger and desire feeding twin flames, trying to sputter out a response.

"What's going on here?" Your date practically shouts from the edge of the hallway, and Simon's grin turns feral. Predatory.

Fear strikes, and turns you cold.

"D-don't." You try to implore.

"Are you okay?" Your poor date catches your gaze, and you try to will him away with your eyes.

"Leave him alone." You plead.

"Fuck off mate. This is between us and our girl. Ye're done here."

"Excuse me?" He steps closer, and Simon pushes off the wall. Desperate, you latch onto his forearm.

"Simon, please. He's not-"

"He said you're done here." Simon snarls. "Run along like a good boy."

"Fuck you." He postures, and you shake your head frantically, trying to step out between them. Johnny doesn't budge, keeping you half pinned against the wall.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Maybe you'd like to watch us fuck her, after we make you beg for it. After we stretched out your neglected little hole." Johnny laughs, a cackle full of crow, smart and mischievous, and you nearly faint. Your date looks sick.

He takes one look at you, another look at the boys... and then flees. Johnny whistles. "Coward."

When they both turn back...

you burst into tears.

#lmaoooo #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #its a milkmaid dress for sure #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #unedited

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sysig · 4 months

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Just keep getting back up (Patreon)

#Doodles #Handplates #UT #Fellplates #Gaster #Asgore #The thought of Gaster able to heal himself! Rather to only have himself to rely on in a world that lives to hurt him (and everyone else)#It's an interesting inversion that's for sure #Is it as satisfying if it's not the one who deserves the broken bones? The pain of rejection or of justice retribution punishment?#It's still the same face - and it's not like he's wholly innocent here either #And besides it's always fun to draw tears hee ♪#Get him just a bit disheveled aside from the broken bone - it's hard to imagine him in different clothes even after drawing him in the dress #Softer clothes would be so nice to hold Babybones with but even just dropping a shoulder off his coat or untying his bow tie - it's strange!#I do like the image of his flower crown shedding petals when he gets roughed up tho hehe - tossed around just a little too much!#Breaking his hand right down the middle - it'd be much easier with the holes in his hands as a weak point #All his bones could break easier than his hands before that but now-#It's weird to draw Asgore like that lol I dunno....Works well enough for utility but pffblt :P I always forget his pauldrons anyhow lol #Really rubbing it in that Gaster will be fiiiine he's sooooo special what with his ability to heal >:( Lol #It does make him a bit of a target - a regenerating punching bag? Ideal to see just how far you can push him #It was fun to draw with my green coloured pencil as well ahh <3 Healing magic always gives me a bit of the warm fuzzies #It was the original comic that made me fall in love with Handplates after all ♥ Pretty and feelings <3

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selfloverrrrrr · 3 months

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Watching You~

Part 3

Warning: smut, heavy smut, noncon, jealousy, unprotected sex, age gap, yandere.....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Masterlist

Minors Do Not Interact

Read those warnings carefully.....if you don't like my stories block me not report....

Gojo stopped his car. "There we are" he spoke. I looked out side, there was the prettiest house I have ever seen. " That's your house?!" I asked. " Yupp" he replied. " That's so beautiful...I loved it" I said. " Pretty girl has pretty choice ~" he teased and I giggled. " Now don't think about Megumi and keep that smile on your face... He'll be fine soon." Gojo said and I nooded with a smile.

"Let's go inside" Gojo spoke."yeah" I replied. I opened the car door and bend to get out of the car. I didn't noticed that while I bend over my ass cheeks were out from my short skirt and was revealed to Gojo. He stared at me then went out of the car and lead me to his house.

We entered the house. He showed me the house. He showed me my bedroom. Then give me dress for the night. I thanked him. He told me that he's coming back and going to change. While he went to change I was walking in his house. Suddenly I saw a room. Gojo didn't show me the room.

I went to the room. I thought that the room is locked but when I grabbed the door knob it was open. I opened the door and went inside. My eyes were wide open from the view infront of me. I was froze in my place. That room's wall was full with my pictures. My pictures that I didn't even know someone took. And there was a big table in that room. On that table on one side there were some panties. When I went closser I realised those were my panties which were suddenly missing in my closet. Then on the other side of the table there were two laptop. Those laptops were open. And what I saw on those two laptop screen gave me Shiver down to my spine. On those laptops live camera footage were going on. One was my room's footage and the other one was Megumi's room's footage.

All I can feel was fear. I understand all things. All fucking things. I started stepping back and decided to run from the house. I turned around and was about to run when I bumped into someone. And that was none other than Gojo Satoru. I looked up at him with fear in my eyes. His face was expressionless. The way he was starting at me it digging into my soul. He started walking towards me and I started walking backwards."you shouldn't have seen these." He said in a low voice still walking towards me. " W-wait-" I tried to speak. " Now you have to face the consequences" he said. A smirk appeared on his lips.

My back touched the table. Gojo was so close to me. He leaned towards me. and then he spoke. " You shouldn't have date Megumi. You shouldn't have sex with him. He doesn't deserve you. I do." He was starting deep into my eyes. More sceary thing was that smirk on his face. His face was too close to mine. I was breathing heavily. Then he leaned towards my ear and whispered in a low voice. "I did that with Megumi last night. I'm the one who broke his bones and stabbed him. I broke both of his forearm's bone then I broke his spine bone. He couldn't stand anymore and fall on the floor and then I stabbed both of his legs. And the way he was screaming in pain...ahhhhhhh... that was too satisfying..... and you know what.... today at the hospital.... I was torturing him.... I grabbed his broken arm and squeezed it tightly....and he was trying to scream in pain but couldn't..... that was moreeeeee satisfying~" His smirk became more hard. Tears falling down my cheeks but I couldn't say anything.

"oh don't cry, pretty girl~" he cooed in my ear and grabbed my hair and dragged me towards his bedroom. I groaned in pain. He threw me on his bed and locked the door. Took off his shirt and threw it on the floor then started crawling towards me on the bed."please stop" I said and tried to push myself backwards but he grabbed my leg and pulled me towards him. I gasped. He was still smirking."stop?... Where's the fun then? The fun part is about to began ~" he whispered and crashed his lips on mine.

I tried to push him away but his grip was too strong. I can't even move myself. He was kissing me too roughly. I couldn't breathe. He grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. My boobs bounced out. He looked at those with lust in his eyes and didn't waste any time, crashed his mouth on my breast licking, sucking and teasing the nipple and squeezing the other one with his hand. I moaned in the sensetion. I grabbed his hair and tried to stop him by pulling it but it didn't even effect on him. "S-sensei stopppp" I scremed but he didn't stop.

Then he took off my skirt and then took off my pantie."I'm gonna took it too" he whispered and then looked at my pussy. He rubbed his finger on my clit and whispered " so wet. You naughty little slut, you were imagining about your Sensei doing dirty things with you ~". Then he licked my pussy. I couldn't help but moan loudly. He smirked at my reaction and undo his pant.

His dick sprang out. It was too big and too thick. Fear grabbed me by my neck. " S-sensei no no no... P-please no... s-stop" I begged but didn't even listen to me and slammed his whole dick inside me in one slide. I scremed. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thursting in and out roughly. I was throughig my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he was liking it so much. His thurst became harder and harder. I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " ughhhhhh....ahhh s-so...ahhhh....so f-fucking tight " he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thurst I came. He was still thursting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh...no please no....ahhhhhh..... n-not ahhhh.....not inside..." I moaned. He grabbed my throat and chocked me down to the bed. " Shhh.... shut up and just fucking take what I'm giving you." He screamed. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out. My vision blurred out.

" You are mine and just fucking mine. Don't ever dare to think of Megumi for a moment. Or else you know damn well what I'm gonna do." He whispered in my ear.

Masterlist

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests<3

#jjk #gojo satoru #smut #jjk gojo #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #yandere gojo #gojo smut #gojo noncon #tw noncon #yandere gojo smut #yandere #dark content #female reader #fem reader

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zmediaoutlet · 6 days

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Sam marks time. Dean doesn't know why. Their watches still tick and that weird clock in the library still traces the hours and Sam writes them out on the chalkboard in the kitchen: one day and then two and then three and then—Dean doesn't keep track, doesn't want to look. The sun rises and midnight comes and it's another day in an empty world. He's not sure what the benefit of knowing how long it's been is, other than a hair shirt. Sam's good at constructing those but Dean's never felt the need. The hair shirt rides with him, inside his skin. Never really goes away.

Two remaining humans on Earth. Jack's a question mark. He spends a lot of his time split between his bedroom and sitting out on the side of the plant above the bunker. Taking in the air, or something. Dean would ask but he doesn't know what to say. When they failed—this bad. When it's their fault and there's no excuse to offer.

Sam would say it wasn't their fault but Chuck's. At least another Sam would. He tried on that first day after they came home, Chuck's glee searing some new kind of pain over every one of Dean's bones, and Sam's supposed to be the optimistic one but even he couldn't get through it. They could have, they should have. On that first night they both get very, very drunk, and Dean does have the thought somewhere between the last moments of lucidity and blackout that—okay, so they should've played their roles—at least Earth would be alive, at least there'd still be the old lady who worked the register at the grocery store and little kids selling chiclets in Acapulco and the Denver Broncos—but really, would that have been the end? If they'd gone full Romeo and Juliet. If he'd shot Sam in the head and then cut his own wrists and waited, the blood pooling into a lake, feeling every weakening heartbeat as the punishment he deserved. Would that have been enough? Or would the writer have realized that ending wasn't satisfying, either, and there'd be—shock, surprise—another sequel, the show renewed another year, and the Winchesters would be dragged back from death to enact some new version of melodrama? Dean watched a lot of soaps, back in the day, waiting through dull lonely days until he could dig a grave under cover of darkness. He knows no one ever got free, unless they got recast, and on an empty Earth there was fat chance of that. Which he explained to Sam, but Sam might've passed out by that point.

Fourth day of an empty Earth they get in a fight. It's halfhearted at best. Dean's hungover and Sam's jittery and terrified because there's nothing he can think of to fix what's gone wrong and Jack's quiet, a kicked dog not wanting attention in case another boot comes its way. Dean drank the last cup of coffee and Sam's pissed at him and then Dean's furious. It feels pointless even as it's happening. Sam gives him that look like he expects more and Dean throws his empty mug at the wall and leaves the kitchen and every ounce of anger drains out as soon as he's in the hall. He takes a shower—by some miracle, they're still getting water and power and light—and leans his aching head against the cold tile and doesn't cry but maybe he'd feel better if he could. It keeps not coming. When he dries off he pulls on boxers and a t-shirt and goes back to the kitchen and the pieces of the mug have been swept up and left in a broken pile on the kitchen island. Visual metaphor. He hopes Chuck appreciates it.

Sam's in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed with a beer in hand. Ten in the morning. "Stealing my move," Dean says.

Sam doesn't look at him. Dean sits beside him on the bed and looks at the wall, too. Says, "Where's Jack?" and Sam says, all rusted edges, "Outside," and Dean doesn't know how the kid does it. When the door's closed on the bunker it feels—not good but not all that different than it used to. When they were alone down here, and the world could pass by overhead unknown. The silence down here is something Dean loved. The silence out there—

He takes the beer out of Sam's hand. Sam lets him. He takes a deep swallow. Then he sets the beer on the bedside table, and then he sets his hand on the back of Sam's neck, and then watches Sam close his eyes and his jaw flex. Dean doesn't want to ask; he doesn't have to.

They fuck. It's not good or bad. Dean's brain shuts off and when he comes to they're panting and it stinks kind of, Sam's sweat and the jizz in the air and two bodies sticking together. Sam's arm is curled under Dean's head and Dean turns his face down into Sam's bicep, hides his eyes from the light. His hangover hasn't gone away and may never. He says, "If we could've," and can't finish, but Sam knows what he means.

"We had our whole lives to learn how," Sam says. Very quiet. He lays his hand on Dean's belly and his forehead tips down against the back of Dean's head. Kind of hurts, bone to bone. "I never could. Could you?"

Sam's blood on his hands in exchange for seven billion lives, plus or minus a few. His gut aches. He can't respond but Sam doesn't seem to expect him to.

Refractory periods being what they are in a man's forties, Dean can't wipe his brain clean again the way he'd prefer. He leaves Sam's room and gets drunk again instead. In the morning he's hungover, and Sam's made coffee, and the chalkboard says it's day five.

#happy wincest wednesday #my writing #ww lottery #a random ficlet for episode 326 #i actually forgot it was wednesday for a while #but then remembered i had to take out the trash #and also that i had to do this other thing

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infernalodie · 2 years

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Hi! Me again. I wanted to know if you could write a Maddy Perez fic where she uses nate to make the reader jealous, and I'd love it if it were a black king. Um and then maybe the reader fucks her and sends nate a video, with maddy's consent (of course). And maybe have her squirt and be choked and stuff like that. Can't forget the bulge kink too. sorry im just really horny. i love ur writing.

We're all horny once and a while lol.

𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧 || 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐳

“𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭, 𝘐 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸, 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯“

Inspo: Chase Atlantic - Slow Down Russ - Seduce

Pairing: Maddy Perez x Black!Male!reader

Summary: She always finds a way to get under your skin in the most cruel ways. But she knows she gets what she deserves in the end.

Warnings: Heavy smut, choking kink, bulge kink, squirting, dacryphilia, dumbification, degradation kink, overstimulation, just overall rough sex.

Words 1381

DNI IF YOU’RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

The alcohol in the pit of your stomach and the weed deafening coherent thoughts did nothing to help the anger you felt in your heart. It didn’t lessen the death grip you had on the red solo cup in your hand. Or the tense silence you held in the small space with some of your friends. But how could it when you watched your sexy ass girlfriend chat up her ex-boyfriend?

No one could pull your attention away from the pair. They couldn’t replace the utter rage settled deep in your bones. But that was something expected when Maddy decided to do this.

It was cruel, honestly.

From the moment you two walked into this party, she’d been begging for sex. Practically rubbing your cock through your jeans and rolling her ass against it. Willing to do anything to show how desperate she’d been for you. Of course, you told her to not be a brat and just wait. In no way had her begging been anything new to you. But this… This was something you had never expected her to pull. And the fact that she had decided to do it on Nate pissed you off even more.

You shouldn’t feel as protective as you were, but this was Maddy. She was very unpredictable with a lot of the shit she pulled. You couldn’t be for sure if she was willing to go back to Nate or if she was just playing a game. If this was a game she was playing, a part of you considered that all restrictions were off the table. Considering she was talking to her abusive ex-boyfriend.

So, without that much hesitation, you carried yourself through the crowd. Your large frame bumped into people carelessly as you had your eyes fixated on Maddy. She knew damn well what she was doing. But it was the fact that she was fine with it.

Once you had cleared the crowd of bodies, you advanced on Nate who had his back turned to you. One of his hands reached toward Maddy, who seemed to be showing false interest in what she said. Considering when her gaze found you, a smirk formed on her lips.

When Nate was just about to touch Maddy, you had grabbed it. Twisting his arm behind his back before grabbing the back of his head and slamming it against the counter he stood against. Maddy jumped back, still smiling widely as she watched you drag Nate’s face across the counter until slamming it into the microwave and tossing him to the ground.

People were all in shock at the random outburst that came from you. Sure that if you were under the right lighting, they would be able to see your caramel skin red from the pure anger that seeped through your pores.

Thankfully, before you could get at Nate anymore, Maddy stepped into your path. Masking her obvious arousal with a scolding look. “That’s enough.”

You felt your nose twitch slightly as your eyes flickered past her to Nate. Finding the boy’s nose to be broken and bleeding profusely. Satisfied with what you had done, you grabbed Maddy’s hand. A firm grip that sent the message to Maddy that she for sure fucked up for the decision she’d made.

Exiting the house, you walked her to the car. “Y/n?” No response was given, only adding to the tension that seemed to radiate from you. When she went to speak again, Maddy could only yelp when her body was pressed against the side of your car.

“Open that mouth again and I’ll be filling it with my dick.” You growled, hand gripping her chin and forcing her to look up at you. Maddy couldn’t lie that the threat wasn’t that terrible. But she also didn’t realize just how mad you were. She didn’t know that your body was practically vibrating, yearning to just fuck her right here for everyone to see.

But you wouldn’t satisfy them with what you were going to do to this girl. No, this was your chance to show her what her actions resulted in.

Maddy’s tears hadn’t deterred you from what you were putting the girl through. Her body trembled with her nails digging into your back. Sobs racking her body from the pure bliss of your cock destroying her fluttering core. Your cock stretched her to unbelievable lengths that would leave her forever sore. The inside of her thighs soaked from the inhuman amount of liquids that had shot free from her aching entrance.

“I- I can’t take another!” Maddy cried, pushing you away just enough to pull most of your length out of her.

But just as she was about to be free, you gripped her waist and slammed your hips against hers. A gasp fell from her lips as her hands grabbed the back of your neck, nails breaking your skin and painting those acrylics crimson. “Where do you think you’re going, Maddy?”

If she was being honest, Maddy doesn’t know how many times you’ve made her cum. She knew that with your tongue, you did it twice. Then she got lost after the fifth with your fingers. Now, she kept going blank whenever your cock speared deep inside her. Leaving her a babbling and sobbing mess, begging for your mercy to give her a moment to breathe. But she should’ve expected this to happen when you had her ride your fingers the entire ride back to your place.

Now, she was left blinded and trembling from your ruthless way of fucking. Not that she was entirely complaining. No one would compete with you when it came to sex.

The sudden blinding light caused Maddy to whimper, turning her head to try and hide the dishevelled state you had put her in. But your large hand grasped her throat. Despite the intention of it, you held her softly. A complete contrast to your cock rearranging her guts. Or the fact that no other cock would be able to fill her up this good.

“Playboy,” a laugh fell from your lips. “This is your ex, isn’t it?”

Maddy didn’t know if she wanted to protest or soak in the fact that you were this jealous that you felt the need to record you fucking her- No. Claim her. But it wasn’t like she had the capacity to actually say anything. Your cock was taking every thought of hers away. She was nothing but a toy for you to use for your own pleasure, and she wasn’t against it. Not when you fucked her this good.

“She looks so gorgeous like this, huh?” You asked aloud. “She’s drunk off my dick, man. Just a slut for me. Ain’t that right, Maddy?”

“Y- Y/n,” Was all that Maddy could offer besides the shameless moans that fell from her lips. Unable to focus on the way your cock ruthlessly dove in and out of her and the removal of your hand from her throat to grope her breasts. Rolling her nipples between your fingers, earning whines in response as Maddy tried to comprehend all the stimulations you acted upon her body.

Angling the camera down, you tutted softly and pressed down on the bulge in her stomach. Each consecutive slam of your hips pushes your cock further out. “Her pussy is made for just me,” you muttered. “So fucking beautiful.”

“You don’t mind if I send this to that asshole, do you?” You inquired with a grunt, hips slamming against hers. “I want him to see just how much you take me so well.”

With the last bit of thought, Maddy pulled you down to kiss her, giving her the answer you needed. Your lips melded with hers as your tongue danced with hers. Easily dominating her as your hips quickened in their past. Leaving Maddy gasping, chasing your lips as her body began to shake. Chest heaving as her head fell back, eyes rolling as you chuckled. Kissing her cheek, showing the love you held for her in contrast to the frustration you felt with your cock etching her walls in your name.

“Control that breathing, baby,” you whispered, kissing one of the tears that slithered down her cheeks. “We’re going to be here for a while.”

#maddy perez x fem!reader #euphoria imagine #maddy perez #maddy perez x reader #euphoria #euphoria hbo #alexa demie #maddy perez x male reader #poc reader #x black!reader #euphoria s2 #maddy perez x black!reader #maddy perez x black!male!reader #euphoria x black!reader #x black!male!reader #x male!reader #euphoria x male!reader #maddy perez smut #maddy perez fluff

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indirecticn · 4 months

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@dr-foster

how it begins is purely accidental. at least, that's what he says to himself when recalling the heated moment outside that grimy excuse for a tavern in this spit of a midgardian city.

he didn't mean to follow the man, it just happened his path was also loki's path. he didn't mean to catch the man unawares when the man began to fumble in his jacket for what loki realizes is something of a knife.

a poor excuse for one, but sharp and winking in the moonlight, and a danger to midgardians at least.

but what loki did do, with all the intention to see it through poured into the action, was catch the man's wrist and twist it behind the man's back until the bones gave a most satisfying crack, paired with the man's hoarse holler.

and a woman's scream, there was that too, and he supposed she never had any intention of being mugged so two accidents and here loki was doing the right thing. sort of.

he had thought of it as a one time deal, a sort of, well.. i didn't MEAN to cross that path but since i DID, and since i needed a little action to work out this frustration on, why not save the day, just once?

but then it happened again... and again.... and again... and each time it became a little less accidental until loki was now watching for a foul midgardian to fuck up and deserve a bit of godly retribution. thor couldn't know, nor his friends, nor val (well maybe val would understand, he thought.) because they would put a stopper in this delicious new drought he was imbibing.

heroics in the shadows allowed for him to release the pent up energy, the pent up... something, gnawing at his bones like nidhoggr at the roots of the world tree. whatever it was he refused to name it and instead sated the sensation with blood and bone from those who deserved to have both spilled and broken.

it was a shame that his secret had a life of it's own and seemed to guide him to cross paths with yet another letch following some woman on purpose.

because the woman, in question, happened to be... " my lady, are you oh-oh fuck me with a norn stone."

loki had a foot on the man's back, the midgardian knocked clean out, and his hand had reached out to none other than doctor jane foster. of all the fucking people!

#verse: tbd #dr-foster #sajflkajflakf im so excited for this

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thepoliticalvulcan · 5 days

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Techno-apocalyptica & Schizophrenia

Spoilers for Fallout

The rational part of my brain recognizes that the timing is too close for that poor guy who self immolated in front of Trump's court proceedings to have seen it or know much about it. However, I'm struck by the big reveal of Vault-tec conspiring with other corporations, oligarchs really, to end the world so they can all be the unquestioned absolute rulers of their Vaults and then take a "free market approach" to rebuilding civilization. It is unsettling the degree to which this is reminiscent of the theses of the now deceased gentleman's manifesto, an admittedly deeply troubled document full of an inability to accept that despoilers and despots might arrive at similar processes by similar motives independent of one another, or the inability to distinguish between cautionary tales and propaganda.

Having skimmed that manifesto and then watching Fallout, it does make me wonder. Could there be ideologues and plutocrats who have talked themselves into razing entire economies and livelihoods, perhaps literally through violence, under the idea that this would be "creative destruction?"

Unfortunately the answer is actually yes and its no paranoid delusion since this is the fervent belief of those among the fever swamp religious right who believe that prodding Israel into first rebuilding their great temple and then getting eradicated for their trouble will kickstart the End Times. This is one of those instances where I think materialist philosophy and materialist explanations simply cannot account for the elite doing things that are against what a rational person would believe is against their interests: whether its starting wars, pumping money into obvious scams like NFTs, the metaverse, and now their new religion: AI; but ultimately even the rich are simply a variable number of monkeys who happen to own a stupendous number of typewriters mindlessly pounding away trying to create value.

It is fashionable on the materialist left to assume the rich know what they're doing and are pursuing their self interest at our expense in a lawful, rational evil way.

Unless they're not. Unless they're possessed of grandiose and mystical delusions, a spiritual level belief in the goodness and wisdom of the Free Market, or in a God that is whispering in their ear and confirming all of their biases.

What is clear to me is that Max Azzarello was a mentally ill man desperately trying to make sense of a deranged world that seems to offer cruelty from the top. He deserved intervention long before he met his fate. He deserved a kinder world. He definitely misjudged Matt Groening. He tried to find order in the madness of our variable number of unhinged billionaires blindly groping for profit and indifferent to who they smash. I disagree with that order. I disagree with him ending his life. I pity him, for I think our society and its cruel oligarchs failed him.

I think he was broken by a reality that was too grim to face and he resorted to connecting threads that had no business being connected, but the theses of mad oligarchs plotting to destroy the world because they know their positions are untenable, that they are unwilling or unable to live peaceably and sustainably with the goose that lays the golden eggs, and thus absolute rule must logically be their endgame since eventually, one would assume, perpetually failing upwards, scam after scam, like Sam Altman of Open AI, or Elon Musk, must cease to be satisfying.

What if they're not actually content to simply jockey for position on the leaderboard of capitalism, admittedly while trampling the rest of us? What if in their bones they think they're the only ones fit to rule and merely influencing society by creating incentives and disincentives, creating the structures we bounce around inside of, is not enough?

I think Mr. Azzarello was wrong about the tech oligarchs for the most part. Except for the ones who are mixing a toxic stew of Laissez Faire, Francoism, and their own personal bespoke interpretations of the Bible.

Those people are real, some of them are quite powerful, and I do think they'd end the world if they believed sincerely that it would kickstart the Rapture under the assumption Christ will anoint them as his ministers since they proved to be oh so good at wealth management.

I'm fine, really, I have no intent to harm myself or anyone literal or proverbial enemies of mankind. Please don't send that bot to inquire after me, unless Tumblr is going to start letting it speak aloud and sound like Matt Berry for an upgrade. That would actually be pretty rad.

#fallout #fallout show #donald trump #foucault's boomerang #civil rights #nfts #metaverse #AI #artificial intelligence #nuclear weapons #conspiracy theories #maybe the rich are stupid #fanatics #israel #rapture

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lamuradex · 3 months

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Short Story: Last Resort

Tales of Hero City Collection

Word Count: 4952

Comedy / Super Hero Short Story

The life of a henchman is a complicated one, especially after your boss retires from villainy. Unfortunately, the hero can't seem to get it through his thick skull that the boss isn't evil anymore.

Last Resort

The bartender stood behind the bar, cleaning a glass with a cloth. He was wearing a suitably tropical shirt, as the bar faced onto the beach, the waves lapping about thirty yards away, just past the sand and a concrete walkway. Customers milled around, one walking up and ordering a fruity beverage. The bartender smiled and quickly made the drink. Satisfied, the customer went to find a seat.

Ah, this is the life, the barman thought, enjoying the sea air. He glanced down to straighten his name badge. It read “14”. He polished it proudly with a thumb.

Then something caught his eye and his smile dropped.

Walking past was a sturdily built man in a trench coat. His face was mostly covered by a hat, dark glasses, and a fake moustache and beard. The efforts to disguise himself ironically made him stand out like a sore thumb amongst the bikinis and swim trunks of the beach.

Oh hell, 14 frowned. This was going to be one of those days. Still, there was time before it all went wrong. 14 reflected if he was getting paid enough to deal with this. He already knew the answer though. Unfortunately, he was.

14 had always liked his job, not that it had always been easy. But, at this point, he certainly felt like he’d earned his place. He’d scrapped with the best of them. Cut his teeth on the usual scut work. Gotten his share of broken bones. Hell, he’d even been thrown through a brick wall once or twice. That had put him in hospital, for sure, but he always came back, no matter how many superheroes tried to stop him.

You see, 14 was an evil henchmen, and proud of it.

Henchman 14 pulled back from his thoughts and glanced up at the billboard across the plaza. There he was, the boss, portrayed across the display. It was a face a villain could be proud of. Blue skinned, one bionic eye, and a massive grey beard of lightning shaped hairs. It was the infamous face of Mr Intellitron, which was advertising the new 3 for 2 offer.

The days had been when that blue mug would strike fear into the heart of a populace. Giant robots, death rays, and massive airships accompanied by menacing laughter.

Or, at least, 14 assumed it was menacing. He rarely listened to it. For as long as he could remember, it was always being filtered through monitors, walls, or bank vault doors. That was the life of an evil henchmen though. You never got to see the action until it was punching you in the face.

14 stopped from his reverie and looked around. The bulky man in the coat had disappeared. He considered going to tell security, or maybe to try and track the man himself, but another customer approached to order a drink. And the situation would sort itself out… hopefully.

As the customer left, she eyed the drink carefully, as if it might explode. 14 wasn’t surprised. Everyone knew who the resort staff used to be. Most had come with the boss, all former henchmen from the villain days. Not everyone though, and the interviews for new employees had been an awkward process, well-meaning crooks turning up looking for criminal work. Most of them were hired as security or accountants. Honestly, there wasn’t really anyone at Intellitron Resorts that didn’t have some kind of shady past. But they all deserved a second chance, right? 14 wondered how many chances he was on, and how many digits were in the number.

Henchman 14 had started out, many years ago, as just a hired goon. He’d worked his way up to grunt, then he was a crook, then a thug. Promotion was rapid in those days. And for a few years he worked for a crime boss, Mrs Elenor Tramridge, with 14 working more directly for her two behemoth sons, Brickhead and Kneecaps. They were nice fellas, assuming they weren’t trying to break your legs.

Eventually, 14 became a proper henchman, segueing into supervillainy when Tramridge divorced a villain and lost half her goons in the proceedings. So 14 was taken on by Battering Sam, a boxing themed villain. And from there it had started. Henchman work.

Honestly, it was everything he’d expected. Guard that door? Get punched out by superhero. Move that loot? Get punched out by superhero. Go operate that doom drill? Get thrown half a mile by superhero.

Of course, it was still criminal work, illegal by nature, but it paid and no one else was hiring. And 14 had worked for a few villains over the years, most just small-timers, and repeatedly got punched out by crime fighters.

And then there was Mr Intellitron.

Wanting a change, he’d applied for a job doing lab work, which didn’t sound too hard. All he needed to do was carry chemicals and not blow himself up. And, as a plus, he was far enough from the fight that he stopped getting punched in the face. It was a sweet gig. Intellitron would even visit the labs, and he’d shout at his scientists, but he never shouted at the assistants carrying chemicals unless they did something stupid in his presence.

But then the labs started getting targeted by heroes. In response, Intellitron started arming the laboratory staff, where 14 quickly discovered a proficiency with firearms, or at least the auto-aiming lasers Intellitron gave them. And apparently this was enough to impress someone, because he was ranked up to henchman again, and then all the way up to bodyguard. He was part of a small team, twenty men, all to guard Intellitron himself. It was the big leagues.

Unfortunately, Intellitron wasn’t one for names. He gave his bodyguards numbers, one to twenty, which of course made it easier to replace them when they died. But to a henchman it was a mark of respect. A rank. You had a duty. A responsibility. You had a job to do. It was truly honourable work… in a dishonourable sort of way.

Standing at the bar, 14 admired his badge again. He honestly preferred “14” to his real name at this point. Ed was so ordinary and plain, but the name “14” meant something. He was part of something bigger. Part of schemes and plots and ploys. He hadn’t even used his so-called real name in decades, and not just because of his criminal record a mile long. He really wasn’t fond of the name, which wasn’t much of a surprise. It had not been an easy life…

Since his youth he’d been through a lot. His parents had died, murdered by some lunatic in an alley, he’d had few friends, with most of them leaving his life in a dramatic fashion or dying with poignant last words, and he’d been caught in almost a dozen lab accidents even before he became a henchman… And to add insult to injury he’d had monetary issues since the day he could work.

14 sneered to himself. Supers thought they owned the monopoly on tragic backstories, but it was just most people went to therapy rather than stuffing themselves into spandex. But unfortunately, there would always be those who did. There would always be heroes.

And 14 had faced them all, more or less. Intellitron was a big time villain. Sure, he wasn’t as giant as Annihilator, or as powerful as the dreaded Dark Dragon, but Intellitron was still formidable. And those other villains were terrible bosses, with a habit of trying to destroy the world or kill their henchmen. Rumour had it Annihilator only started building robots because his henchmen went on strike.

However, Mr Intellitron was simply about profit and changing the world for the better. Sure, he wanted to subjugate people and occasionally used giant space lasers to destroy those that disagreed with him, but ultimately he wasn’t the worst of the bunch.

But heroes still came to stop him.

And so, over the years, Henchmen 14 had been punched out by every hero going. Big Hitter, Stealth Watcher, The D-Fender, Watch Man, The Wandering Fist, Melancholy, Fist Puncher, Big William, Undead Woman, The Cartwheeler, Elder Wizard, The Unknowable Helmet and even Gun Shooter. He’d been knocked unconscious by them all, but none more than one. None more than the mighty Justice Man.

Flight, super strength, telekinesis, and a bullet proof cape, Justice Man was the whole package. He was also a pain in the neck, sometimes literally. Always delivering heroic speeches about justice and honour, or sneaking through their bases in some ludicrous costume.

Pfft, 14 almost laughed. The self-proclaimed master of disguise, indeed. They always spotted him. Every time. It was obvious, the hero sneaking around in his trench coat. But Intellitron usually had a trap primed, so they had to let him through. Hell, on one occasion, Justice Man’s false beard had fallen off in front of Henchman 8. And when he laughed, Justice Man punched him.

That aside, Justice Man was a decent hero. One of the best even. Fast and strong, he could use his mind powers to pull robots apart, and he was able to hide under his indestructible cape to protect himself. And he beat Intellitron every time. Sure, the boss would make enough to keep paying the workers, but they’d often end up in prison by the end, but always ready to break right back out and start the whole thing all over again.

Ah, those were the days.

14 wondered where the so called “Master of Disguise” had gotten to. Any minute now, the hero would surely make his presence known. 14 wondered if he’d wind up getting punched in the face again. In some strange way he almost missed it.

Then he recalled having to eat meals through a straw. He looked back at the Intellitron sign, motorised so the villain was laughing over the wonderful deals. That was when some bodyguards ran past, heading towards the flume ride. Someone else had spotted the hero.

14 sighed. Some things never changed… Some things certainly did though.

It had begun when Intellitron had needed a new lair. Some hero, possibly Gun Shooter, had discovered Intellitron’s flying fortress and a team of heroes had blown it out of the sky. Months later, after everyone escaped prison again, the search for a new base began. Just a few weeks after that, Intellitron picked out a nice remote volcanic island, with lava moats and caves aplenty, with dozens of places to install traps and death pits. Classic.

The only problem was how noticeable it was. His previous lair had been near the edge of space. Difficult to spot. This was an island. A deserted island. Heroes would be watching and notice, especially Watch Man, given how much he watched things. To counter this, the boss came up with a genius solution… Actually, one of the henchmen had, but Intellitron robbed banks, it didn’t surprise anyone that he stole ideas too. The decision was made to build the lair underground, a holiday resort atop it to explain the traffic out to the island. Perfect.

Well, almost perfect. In hindsight, just putting everything underground might have done the trick. The resort on top just made it more conspicuous if anything.

Still, it worked. People flocked to the resort and henchmen became holiday staff. Mr Intellitron hid in the shadows, cooking up evil schemes and smuggling weapons to the main land on the passenger ferries. His crimes continued, he was arrested multiple times, as were his men, but the hideout wasn’t discovered. And everything had been good.

But then came the turning point. The day it all changed.

After-hours one night, the henchmen gathered and realised they hadn’t heard from Mr Intellitron for several days. His most recent plan, to take over the city with water-borne, microscopic, mind control robots, had failed when he discovered the robots dissolved in anything warmer than ice chips. A bit of a setback, but even so, within a day or two Intellitron usually would have a new scheme ready.

But this time no one had heard from him in nearly a week. The henchmen had to do something. They picked names from a hat to decide who would check on him. When they couldn’t find a hat, they used a twenty sided dice and 14 was chosen.

That night, 14 had knocked on the gigantic metal doors, the ones covered with murals of gears and electronics, which apparently no one thought was suspicious. When no one answered, he’d gently pushed the doors open and entered.

He still remembered their conversation, seared as it was into his very soul.

* * *

Mr Intellitron was sat in a great throne behind his desk, his blue skin and bizarre beard cast in the dancing light of the fireplace. Papers were littered over his desk, and the man himself was sat with a brandy in one hand, staring into space. If the brandy hadn’t been gently swirling, 14 would have feared he was dead.

“Sir?” 14 asked, his voice quivering.

No response.

“Mr Intellitron? Are you alright, sir?”

Still nothing.

“You’ve not given us any new orders, sir. Are you alright?”

Intellitron stopped and looked at 14, who still stood near the door. The villain’s bionic eye whirred and focused. He stopped swirling the brandy, placed it on his desk, and gestured for 14 to shoo. There was no energy to it though, the wave being far meeker than his usual commands.

“Sir? What’s wrong?” 14 asked, holding back terror at defying the instruction.

Intellitron stared into the fireplace.

“Is it something we did, sir, or some hero, or do you just need more time to-”

“We’re making money…” Intellitron cut him off quietly.

“Pardon, sir?”

“We’re making money. This resort is actually bringing in a profit,” the villain said, his usual malevolence tinged with something akin to confusion.

“That’s… great, isn’t it sir?”

“Yes. It is.” Intellitron picked up his brandy again. He didn’t drink it, just swirled it in his hand.

14 was worried. Something was clearly wrong, but he couldn’t talk out of turn. But he’d come this far…

“Is that a bad thing, sir? I mean… the men will certainly be pleased to know they’re getting paid.”

“We’re making a lot of money, 14,” Intellitron stated, glancing at tax forms on his desk.

“Alright?”

“We’re making more money than ever, 14. More than I’ve ever stolen. More than we ever made through villainy!” Mr Intellitron continued, his own confusion growing.

“What do you mean?”

“More than robbing banks. More than building robots. More than fighting heroes week to week. This resort is more profitable than anything I have ever done!” he snarled, his anger rising by the sentence. He stood from his chair to pace. “We have enough money to build anything we want.”

“Then what’s the problem, sir?” 14 asked, utterly baffled.

“What do I use it all for?”

The room fell silent. 14 thought. Mr Intellitron had always wanted to change the world. He used stolen money to build new inventions and weapons. But he built those weapons so he could steal money from the banks… so he could build more weapons…

They had always known their plans were a bit circular. Every villain had that problem. Fight the hero, get beaten by the hero. Occasionally a hero would get killed or the villain would die, but any endgame was difficult to plan for when you were likely getting punched by Justice Man before you got there. Most villains were passionate, if irrational. Following a dream but not a plan. Like dogs chasing cars…

But with money, there was no need to steal. No need to scheme. No need to rob or wreck or ruin. There was no goal.

And no endgame either. No purpose. No point.

“Why am I doing this?” Intellitron said worriedly.

And 14 couldn’t answer him.

* * *

And that had been that. There had been a few more vain attempts at villainy, half-hearted plans to steal high class tech, before they realised they had no use for it. They kidnapped the mayor, then realised they had no need for the ransom. They prepared to take over the city, but then couldn’t decide what they wanted to do afterwards. It was all so… pointless.

And so it ended. Mr Intellitron filed his papers with the Villains Bureau and retired from the world of villainy. The secret underground lab became the underground storage complex. The volcano command centre became the geothermal power station. The submersible escape tunnels became the oceanic marine tours. It was over.

Mr Intellitron turned from building weapons to building rides and theme park mascots, as all henchmen became official employees. Of course, the transition to the public eye had been tricky. But after six months without any evil incident, most people just decided to live and let live.

Except for Justice Man. He really had some trouble with the concept.

14 thought for a moment, then abandoned his post. He knew where the hero would likely go.

The park plaza was very busy, as a massive crowd surrounded the central stage. 14 hurried through, glancing around, but it wasn’t difficult to find the caped crusader. He was standing at the back of the crowd trying to look inconspicuous. Of course, in doing so, all hunched and shady looking, he stood out like there was a neon sign pointed at him. His fake beard was crooked for a start.

14 wandered over to him. The hero was wearing his long brown trench coat, an artificial nose, beard, moustache, and glasses. 14 reached out and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, sir?” he began. The hugely muscled man span round in his tiny trench coat. 14 didn’t bat an eye. “May I speak to you for a moment, away from the crowd?”

“I am waiting for the floor show,” Justice Man answered in a ridiculously high pitched accent. “Go away.”

“Sir, if you would just come with me.”

“I am waiting for the show,” Justice Man repeated. He shifted his beard uneasily.

“I know it’s you, Justice Man,” 14 stated simply. He had waited years to do that. “Could you come with me?”

Justice Man was shocked. His face fell and he gawked so hard his beard fell off. This was quickly followed by the moustache and glasses. The nose stayed put.

“Inconceivable!” Justice Man muttered, the accent dropped for his natural deep heroic tones. “How did you see through my disguise?”

The nearby crowd turned to see the hero standing in their midst. A few muttered about it, but most were unsurprised.

“Just lucky I guess,” 14 sighed. “Could you please come with me, sir?”

“I’m on a mission, civilian,” he responded, trying and failing to whisper.

“I realise that, sir, but would you please come with me for a moment?” 14 could tell Justice Man wasn’t moving. “It’s of vital importance,” he added sternly.

“If I must,” Justice Man relented.

With that, they wandered a distance from the crowd. The stage was still in sight, but they had moved to a more secluded area, where the only bystander was a hot dog vendor with a Number 6 name badge. Henchman 6 saw Justice Man and quickly made himself scarce, as 14 and the hero stood near the cart.

“Ok,” 14 prepared himself.

He looked at the powerful figure before him. The chiselled features, the dark orange and blue outfit beneath the coat, the fists that he remembered all too well. In this light, the hero looked almost like famed philanthropist Justin Mann. Henchman 9 had always had a theory that they were the same person, but that was impossible. Justin wore a cowboy hat, while Justice Man was bald. Also, they were seen together, once, seven years ago. 14 remembered because that was the same week The Doppelgänger had first appeared on the scene.

“Ok,” 14 repeated to himself.

“Now look.” Justice Man cut in. “I know I have many fans, but I am quite busy.”

“I’m not a fan,” 14 said calmly.

“Oh, don’t be shy. Now that you’ve met me, you can see what a true hero is like,” the hero beamed, finally removing the fake nose. “I mean, people need role models,” he smiled broadly.

“We’ve met before, but that’s beside the point.” 14 tried to look as official as he could. “I wanted to make sure that you weren’t intending to make a scene, Justice Man.”

“I’m here to protect innocent people from evil. People like you,” the hero smiled again.

“Look, I know but…. Wait. What do you mean people like me?” 14 halted. Something squirmed inside of him. “Do you not know who I am?”

“Should I?” Justice Man asked genuinely.

“You should! You’ve punched me enough times!”

“Why would I punch you, civilian?”

“Because I am... I was an evil henchman!” he growled, anger bubbling over inside him.

“For who?”

14’s anger burst.

“For Mr Intellitron, you half brain! I can’t believe you don’t remember me! I was the one who hit you with the magma ray three years ago. I was the one turning the crank when Intellitron lowered you into a tank of poisonous sharks. You’ve broken 12 of my bones, thrown me out of 9 buildings, and punched me in the face over 500 times! How can you not remember me?”

“What’s your name?” Justice Man responded nonchalantly.

“Henchman 14!” 14 spat bitterly.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Before either could say anything else, a loud shriek came from the crowd. Justice Man turned and flew, determined to save whoever was in distress. 14 however knew the floor show was starting and walked angrily after the superhero.

The way the show worked was a woman came on stage, acting all innocent and prattling about how it was a wonderful day where nothing could go wrong, then the stage lights would come down and from the shadows Mr Intellitron, or his stunt double Phil, would appear in the boss’s latest mechanical monster, laughing manically. The woman would do a fake scream and a fake hero would come out and save the day. Simple, corny, but it always drew the crowds.

It was, of course, the scream of the actress which had caught Justice Man’s ear. 14 pushed to the front of the crowd, just as the hero landed on stage between the robotic monstrosity, today resembling a kangaroo, and the actress. The crowd crooned excitedly.

“Stop, villain!” Justice Man called. The robot kangaroo loomed over him, hissing and whirring. The actress, Melissa, just looked annoyed that her line had been stepped on before her dramatic “Save Me” speech.

“You cannot stop me, hero,” rattled the metallic voice of the robot. A dome on its cranium was translucent and a figure could be seen inside, deliberately hamming it up with theatrical arm flailing. “I will kidnap this woman and rule the world!”

“Not if I stop you,” Justice Man answered, standing as heroically as he could.

Melissa seemed to realise that something was off script. A man in the crowd, who 14 recognised as stuntman Phil, was dressed as a generic superhero and looking nervous. Intellitron was the one in the robot today.

“Save me, hero,” Melissa warbled, before running off stage towards Phil.

And with that, Justice Man leapt into the air and prepared to clobber the giant mechanical marsupial. For a minute or so, it was like old times. The giant robot leapt about, dodging and weaving. Justice Man landed blow after blow, avoiding the giant mechanical feet. Lasers fired from the kangaroo’s eyes and briefly stunned the muscular hero, only for him to recover as Intellitron laughed theatrically. Finally, Justice Man leapt and gripped the robot with his mind powers, tearing the head from its shoulders and dumping it on the floor nearby. As Justice Man landed beside it, the dome slid open and Mr Intellitron flopped out melodramatically.

The crowd roared in applause. Beside the control dome, Intellitron wailed mournfully at being defeated, as Justice Man glared down at him. Henchmen 14 knew that look. It was the look just before someone got punched.

Fortunately, that was when Melissa came back on stage.

“My hero,” she marvelled, clinging to his arm almost to restrain him.

Justice Man turned to see her, and in response he posed as heroically as he could. Melissa stared up at him admiringly, then glanced nervously over to Henchmen 14, then meaningfully to a point in the crowd. 14 followed her gaze and spotted Phil and a group of heavily armed security, waiting for a signal. The signal didn’t come.

“Thank you for coming, ladies and gentlemen,” Mr Intellitron called proudly, clambering out of the robot dressed in a cliché scientist’s outfit, with random cogs and gears glued on for good measure. “Thank you to every single one of you. This has been a wonderful performance. And a special thanks goes to our hero…” He gestured to the caped crusader, only to freeze as he saw him for the first time. “…Our good friend, Justice Man,” he played it off.

The crowd burst into further applause. Justice Man looked ready to interrupt, but Melissa stepped in first.

“Please come back for our 4 o’clock show and our 7 o’clock show. There is also the 10 o’clock show, but that is for teens and upwards,” she called out to the crowd. Mr Intellitron waved happily, and Justice Man stood confused. 14 decided it was time to get involved. He ran over to the burly hero.

“You see, Justice Man? Nothing evil going on,” 14 reassured. “Just a stage show. Now, if you could be on your way…”

“Hold on, 14,” Intellitron called over. It was said politely, but that metal tinged voice still made 14 shudder. “I want to speak with our guest.” Even with villainy behind him, the way he said “guest” made it sound like “prisoner”.

“I will put an end to your evil reign,” Justice Man spouted. He still looked confused. “I will not rest until your evil has been locked away for all eternity.”

“And that’s respectable,” Intellitron accepted. “But there’s nothing evil going on here. Not anymore.”

“You say that, but you have evil robots.” He pointed at the wreckage.

“So does every theme park,” Intellitron smiled.

“That one had death beams!”

“Stun beams,” Intellitron corrected. “They didn’t kill you, did they? I can’t afford to kill my actors.” He glanced over at Phil, who was chatting with someone, angry about missing his performance.

“You were trying to kidnap a woman!”

“Her? That’s Melissa. She’s been acting here for 2 and a half years. I heard she also does theatre in the city. She’s perfectly safe.”

“But…” Justice Man was drawing a blank. His voice had lost some of its heroic depth. “This is your evil lair.”

“It’s a holiday resort,” Intellitron grinned. “Look, Justice, can I call you Justice?” Justice Man didn’t respond. “Justice, I understand that it must be difficult for you to trust me after our history.”

“You put me in so many death traps,” Justice Man reminisced.

“And what villain hasn’t? But you need to let this go. I’m not up to anything. The police, FBI, CIA, NSA and even the CSI have each been all over this island with a dozen fine tooth combs, not to mention the IRS. It’s all clean and above board. We even have The Wandering Fist as a guest hero every few months. I’ve put evil behind me.”

“And why should I believe you?” Justice Man said suspiciously. Intellitron seemed to mull the question over for a minute. Luckily, 14 had the answer.

“Because, in all the time I’ve worked here, I haven’t gotten punched once. If we were being evil, I would definitely have gotten punched by now. Or thrown through a brick wall. Or sent flying on a doom drill,” 14 stated, glad to be rid of such perils. “It’s the best paying job I’ve ever had, the safest job I’ve ever had, and by far the most legal job I’ve ever had.”

Justice Man looked at 14 and thought. He looked around at the park and all the happy people. He could see some people were forming a queue to get autographs from either Intellitron or Justice Man, or both. Finally, the hero relaxed.

“Alright…” he muttered. “But I’m keeping an eye on you, Mr Intellitron.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, old friend,” Intellitron smirked. “Though, if you do turn up again, could you be a bit more theatrical with the show? I normally try to make it last a bit longer.” He turned to the destroyed robot. “And go a bit easier on my machines? That will be hell to fix.”

“We’ll see,” the hero smiled, his gallantry returned. “Now, to meet with my adoring fans,” he proclaimed, wandering over to the growing line of people. Intellitron and 14 just watched him for a moment.

“That was a nice speech there, 14. Short but effective,” Intellitron complimented. “It’s good to know you enjoy your work.”

“Thank you, Mr Intellitron,” 14 said nervously. “I’ve been working on it for a while.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Me and the other henchmen have an ongoing pool over how long it takes before Justice Man thinks you’re evil again. Gives you time to plan how to get rid of him.”

“And who won this time?”

“Henchmen 12. I was just shy by a couple of weeks.”

“Oh well,” Intellitron patted 14 on the back. “Better luck next time.”

#writeblr #writing #lamura dex writes!#writing community #writers on tumblr #comedy #superheroes #short story #short stories #Tales of Hero City #02 #Henchman 14 #Mr Intellitron #Justice Man #I've finally started posting my Super Hero Short Stories #Heaven save me I've started posting them

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thcophagy · 1 month

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open to: women/nbs.

featuring: maribel page, twenty-nine, lesbian, scammer.

plot: after her last disastrous relationship, maribel has been avoiding dating in the hopes of not getting her heart broken again. however, a woman has needs and after one too many lonely nights with her right hand, she's decided to visit the local lesbian bar in search of some midnight company.

maribel had never imagined herself to be the sort of woman who would find herself desperate for a hookup, emotional connection was more valuable than anything else and despite the ache to be touched that had settled itself deep in her bones, a late-night rendezvous with her vibrator had kept her more than satisfied for months on end. however, a rabbit could only satisfy a certain sized itch and couldn't replace the feeling of being kissed, of having someone run their hands through her hair or pinch at her nipples through her sheer shirts. it'd been over six months since she'd last gotten laid, a pity fuck by her ex-lover before she scurried away and left maribel alone in a new state with her heart shattered in a million pieces; she deserved a decent fuck. at least, that was what her friends told her. she'd showed up to the bar a little past midnight, hair freshly chopped to just below her jawline and cotton white blouse that highlighted her habit of forgoing bras, and for the first time in a long while, she felt sexy. it wasn't long after situating herself at one of the booths little ways down from the stage where some awful karaoke was taking place that someone came and lingered at the edge of the table, two drinks in their hands and a hopeful glimmer in their eyes. "one of those for me?" maribel shot a wide, toothy grin up in their direction before nodding towards the empty spot in front of her. "they look radioactive! i didn't know they made drinks that green."

#indie rp #indie smut rp #indie lesbian rp #indie starter #* . ⊹ maribel page › threads #* . ⊹ open › starters

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stressed-bird · 2 years

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Four-Eared MK AU

Act 1: Macaque accepted the baby but... now what?

Listen... I have ravaged the tags and aus and blogs of so many people and eventually made my own to satisfy my insatiable hunger for more monkie family content—ahem

This is very summarized, there’s lots of small details I’m not including for the sake of getting it all laid down and on the board /lh

We (Stressed) believe in keeping the trend going about monkies being born in mystical ways.

There’s Sun Wukong, who I am electing to have in this au born from a rock—yes—but it was a rock that over many hundreds of years was collecting magic in it that one day during a storm was hit by a bolt of lightning which is why it cracked in half and surrendered the stone egg that a monkie promptly escaped from with some pre-existing celestial magic properties (Heaven created its own problem /lh)

And you know I am 100% behind the headcanon that Macaque was born from a hurricane/storm and the remnants of said heaven-sent storm (his canonical title from somewhere of “Great Sage of the Informing Winds” only further sold me on this hc)

Meaning of course that MK must have his own mystic monkie origins—and you are right

MK was born of a crystal-encased rock that was initially infused with the magic of swk, swallowed by accident by Macaque, and promptly left for a few many years to soak up the shadow and demonic-celestial magic of Macaque’s dead body that was 6 feet under

But this isn’t a face-hugger situation where he bursted from mac’s chest—no, what happened os that Macaque was casually revived by Lady Bone Demon and sent on his way by her... and after a day or so of being alive and having something in his throat, he takes a moment to try and cough it out and nearly coughs his lungs out in the process but successfully spits out a crystal (rock)

And has the incredible idea of... breaking it. See what happens because this sussy little thing was in his chest and he needs answers

But once the rock is broken, out of it seeps shadow magic (that could easily be recognized as like mac’s not but exactly his) that materializes and coalesces into a baby monkey demon

Macaque is watching this happen with deep confusion (and a lot of denial)

But he can’t escape fatherhood as baby mk has seen him and already instinctively recognized their similarity and is clinging to the older demon like a... well, a baby monkey—

So several attempts to leave the child behind later (from walking away (baby mk hitches a ride in mac’s shadow for this) to handing it away to a human village to be raised (baby mk learns the word Ma from this and shadow teleported to mac’s location for this)) eventually Macaque gives the child a chance

So now Mac has a child... but what do you do after?

The answer is no one knows and Macaque just puts his new demon infant in the shadow of his scarf close to him and feeds him (names him eventually Xiaotian, Qi (firstname, surname) mangoes (it’s tragic he doesn’t love plums too but at least it wasn’t peaches, mac would’ve never coped nor recovered) regularly and they travel the ancient world as it modernizes

The shadow demon no longer really chasing after the Sun anymore, he now has a child he has to look after and he gives him the unconditional attention he deserves (mac is projecting but it’s helping him cope and if spite to be better to xiaotian than swk was to him is what he needs to become a better man, you go girl i guess)

And 200 years have passed more or less, 200 years of Macaque bringing what is now essentially a child and not really a small baby demon anymore with him as they roam the land and live a nomadic life. A life is that is promptly shut down after Macaque wanders close to the territory of the Iron Bull clan and is met by Princess Iron Fan that looks at the two monkies and calls out that Mac has no clue how to be rearing a child

She’s right, and the demon has to eventually concede to her point, to which she gives the demon a deal (because that was her intention this entire time, she sensed a powerful demon nearby and sought to make an ally of them since... well, her husband’s land is being nipped at and eaten up by opportunistic rival demons since he got sealed under a mountain a few years ago and she can only defend so much land alone while also having child red son under her care

Discovering the powerful demon is the six-eared macaque (who she does know of since her husband and swk were bond-brothers before they disowned each other and swk always had the other monkey close by) who also has a little demon child only made it easier for her to make a deal on the spot that would help them both

Macaque gets a safe territory and new home (she suspects the demon monkies have drifted apart since there’s no swk in sight and mac probably lived on flower fruit but ffm is of course owned by swk) AND a safe place to rear his own demon spawn

And she gets a competent and strong demon as an ally to help her defend the Iron Bull clan’s territory)

Macaque agrees and Iron Fan is now technically his Land Lady as he stays in her territory semi-permanently (this does make Red Son and Mk now childhood friends—they’re something else and their friendship looks so dysfunctional but is actually reasonably functional.

I mean, red son is a literal hothead and mk has been a wild feral child and is raised by Macaque—mk can be snide and a little shit and biting with his words but still a good empathetic person that understands what red son says and what he means)

(Example being like in the season 3 episode where red son is yelling at mk if he wants milk and an extra blanket in what sounds like a sarcastic tone but is actually a genuine tone since he does get mk that milk and extra blanket)

They have nicknames for each other—Red Son calling mk well.. “Monkie Kid” and “Monkie Boy” and “Pebble Brain” (MK has taken the Monkie Kid nickname in stride)

MK calls Red Son many things from “Sparks” and “Firecracker” to “Hot Head”, he does still use Red’s name—his name isn’t long enough to warrant the constant use of a nicknames unless to be teasing

And that’s the pre-episode 1 content because... it goes somewhere it does- >:3

At the end, we have established a baseline for this AU now:

- MK is the child of Shadowpeach, Raised only by Macaque (and SWK is unaware of his existence, likewise MK is unaware he has a second dad)

- Princess Iron Fan and Macaque are proper allies (friends even? neither care to elaborate beyond “ally”)

- MK and Red Son are childhood friends (this is indeed set up for Spicynoodles, may become Chimerashipping eventually)

- Macaque is semi-redeemed (the monkie animosity is still there but he’s not trying to be actively antagonistic nor helpful to LBD’s plans, his sharp anger tempered by parenthood, very open to proper “redemption” under the right conditions)

#lmk au #four-eared mk au #stressed talks #talking in the tags #shadowpeach #<- again—technically... and shadowpeach will become a part of this au later in like... what i would call Act 3?#this would be Act 1 where everything is set up and Act 2 is where action happens #lmk spicynoodles #<- again... technically.#come to my face and say that they were raised like siblings i dare you—there’s a whole small point that #both of the demon spawn are territorial little brats unwilling to share their only parent with the other #also uh... yeah. Iron Fan absolutely suspects and is aware of who MK’s other parent is and doesn’t know about the monkies #and their whole being born from unconventional means #she judges Macaque and Macaque feels all the indignation in the world about her unspoken but present suspicions #we believe in iron fan and macaque friendship moments

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