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beastofburdenxo · 4 months

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Deal of A Lifetime

Tommy's new wife has a terrible accident. He makes a deal that could change everything.

MINORS DNI 2.1k words Tags: Language, face fucking, oral sex, degradation, unsafe sex, P in V sex, cream pie, slight dom/sub vibes, slight dacryphilia, multiple orgasms

“I’m sorry Tommy.” Polly’s words rang out like a bell in his head. “There was a terrible accident. She was hit by a car crossing the street to go to work. They don’t know if she’s going to make it.” Tommy dropped to his knees cursing any deity listening to his cries. “I told her Polly; I told her not to go in today. I knew something bad was going to happen, I just knew it. I can’t lose another wife; I just can’t do it.” A few years back his first wife was shot and killed in front of him, and now this. It’s almost like a cruel prank the universe has put on Thomas Shelby. He can only be happy for a little while until everything comes crashing down. She was his saving grace in his personal storm called life, and now possibly she may be called away. Tommy stood up, a mixture of sadness and pure rage in his heart. “I must go to her Polly. Maybe I can call her back to me.” He goes outside with almost a physical storm cloud over his head. The people of the town know to stay away, not even to give their condolences. The first person stupid enough to come up to him is liable to be shot. Tommy almost wishes someone would; so, he would have something to take his anger out on.

He storms through the hospital doors, demanding to see his angel on earth. “Where is she?!” Tommy roars to no one in particular. “So help me God, where the fuck is she?!” A timid nurse takes him to her, and it is a grim sight indeed. She is lying in the hospital bed, with bandages on much of her body. She is unconscious, pain meds running through her damaged system. “It’s not looking good Tom,” Arthur comes up behind him, hand on his shoulder. “She has lost a lot of blood; Doctor’s say it’s touch and go. Most of her body is damaged in some way.” Tommy’s knees got weak at this news. “I want the driver found and cut on the spot; I don’t care who sees.” He enters her room. She looks so fragile and weak lying there. “Tommy’s here angel, I’m right here.” He gently grabs her hand. “Stay with me love, please, I need you.” With no one else around, he starts to cry. “I told you to stay home didn’t I, eh? So stubborn you are.” Tommy leans down to put his face in the crook of her neck, and just sobs. Begging and pleading with her and anything or anyone listening to stay with him. “I need you, love. Please. I love you so much, I can’t be left alone again. You are my everything, you know that? I do this all for you, fuck everyone else. I need you with me.”

Night falls, and there is no improvement. Eventually, the nurses kick Tommy out and he is forced to leave her. Threatening them was no use. Anger surfaces again in place of despair as he proceeds to punch the brick building until red leaves his vision. He slumps down against the building, face in his bloody beat-up hands. He knows what he must do. Opinions of the family be damned. Against better judgment, Tommy Shelby must go to the crossroads. He’s heard of the crossroad demon all his life. He never had much use for one until now. He knew the payment in return would be high, possibly even his tattered soul, but it was worth it in his eyes. Five minutes till midnight he stands at the crossroad, small wooden box in hand. Inside is a picture of the one he is doing this for, and a lock of his hair. Tommy digs a small hole and buries it, a small offering to call the demon. For good measure he cuts the palm of his hand and trickles his blood over the mound of dirt. And now Tommy waits. He checks his pocket watch; it is midnight on the dot. “Alright, you demon where are you? I left the offering. I know you can’t resist the smell of blood.”

Tommy hears footsteps. “Actually, it’s the smell of desperation that we can’t resist. The blood is just an added bonus.” A woman; or what used to be a woman now stands before him. Tall and graceful looking, with deep amber skin. She was quite beautiful, but Tommy knew it was just a vessel. The inside was rotten as could be. “Ahh, Tommy Shelby. The devil of Small Heath. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Her voice was intoxicating, running up his spine almost causing a tremor. “Cut the shit, demon. You know why I am here; I want to make a deal.” The demon slowly walks closer to Tommy. “Is that right? What could I possibly do for big bad Tommy Shelby? Not tall enough, are you? Trade your soul to feel like more of a man?” She finds this very funny, and she begins to giggle. Tommy’s patience is running thin. “This isn’t about me you bitch. It's my wife. She's in the hospital and it’s not looking good. Please help her.” She stops giggling. She blinks and her eyes are now solid black. Demon eyes. “Oh, poor baby. Tommy’s flavor of the month is going to die, oh no! Only a demon like me can save her.” Her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s in it for me? Your soul? That pathetic thing isn’t worth trading for. You have taken almost as much lives as me.” Tommy drops to his knees. “Please, I have money. I have gold. I have cocaine. Please name your price.” An evil grin crawls across the demon’s face. “Well, well, I have Tommy Shelby on his knees. She must be important for you to grovel. This is quite a pretty sight. Are you going to start crying too?”

The demon reaches down and tugs at his hair, making him look at her in her midnight eyes. “I could leave you be with your love for ten years. Then send my hell hounds after you to take you back where you belong. Make you watch her cry for you until she moves on. Have you watch as another man claims her as his own. Would you like that? She would still be alive to break your heart over and over again.” Tears form in Tommy’s eyes at the thought of her forgetting him. But she would be alive, and that’s all he ever wanted. “You say you have gold, money, and cocaine. Is your body on the table as well?” Tommy’s eyes grow big. “Are you asking to use my vessel? Possess me?” She shoves him to the ground using her unnatural strength. She straddles him, pinning him to the spot. “Well, I'll certainly be using you. You’ll be begging me to possess you before it’s over. The pleasure will be just too much for your mortal vessel.” She bends down and licks the side of his face, making him cringe. “You nasty bitch!” Tommy snarls, “This is serious and you're using the situation to get laid?!” She runs her hands along his body, “What can I say? When the opportunity presents itself, you’ve got to take it. Besides, it’s the only thing I miss about being mortal. The hot nasty sex. That’s one thing you pathetic humans get right.”

She pulls down the top of her dress, exposing her large breasts to Tommy. He turns his head, willing his body to not betray him. “Look at me Tommy.” She purrs seductively wiling him to fall prey to her. “Look at this beautiful body. Don’t you want this? I see inside you Tommy; I see your weakness. You love a willing woman, don’t you?” She slowly starts to grind against him, demanding that he participate in her sick game. “You’re not a real woman demon!” Tommy protests. “You’re using some poor vessel to disguise yourself. You are far from human you evil whore!” This angers the demon, and she slaps him across the face. “This is how it will be Tommy, give yourself up or little wifey dies. Got it? Now seal the deal with a kiss.” Tommy takes a shaky breath, knowing there is no way out now. He started this whole thing, he summoned her. Now it’s time to pay up to save his wife. He angrily grabs her face and kisses her with all he has. The deal has been made. “Now was that so hard Tommy?” The demon asks, as her hand reaches down to undo his pants. “Ahh, now here’s something that is hard.” Her hand contacts flesh and finds what she is looking for.

She slowly pulls his cock out, her eyes returning to human form. “Well, well, so rumors about you are true huh?” Tommy sits up, fed up with her mouth. He grabs the sides of her head and forces himself in her mouth. “Shut the fuck up demon. You wanted me so badly, well here the hell it is. Choke on it.” She easily slides down to the base, taking every inch of him down her throat. He growls at how well she takes him. His wife can’t even do that. “Can’t speak now, can you? Just some fucking peace and quiet with a human cock down your throat.” Tommy continues to use her throat like a toy, berating her with every stroke. “Even a demon needs a man to put her in her place huh? Still some holes that need to be filled, soul or not.” Now it is the demons turn to be sick of his shit. She grabs his hips and throws him off her. She moves faster than the blink of an eye and has him on his back again. “I only let you do that to me. I could have broken your neck, you worthless sack of shit. You are my toy to do as I see fit. Now serve your purpose and shut your mouth before I change my mind you cock with legs.” Before he can form a rebuttal, she sinks down on him in one swift motion. She may be dead inside, but she is still very warm around him. Drawing him in her web. Tommy’s mind goes blank, too drunk on her to feel angry anymore. She tilts her head back in pleasure. “Yes Tommy, this is definitely your purpose. Just a brainless hole filler, aren’t you?” She looks down at his drunken face. “Can’t even form a response, it’s like you’ve never been fucked before.” She grabs his face, “Look at me when I fuck you, Tommy. It’s just what you need, to be reminded where you belong. Underneath. Me. Servicing. Me.” Thrusting hard with every word. As much as he hates this, her words make him fall apart with a cry inside her. A woman has never spoken to him like this before and his body can’t get enough of it.

He comes inside the demon, his whole-body trembling. “Oh no Tommy, was that too much for you?” The demon feigns compassion. “Looks like we’ll have to go again, see if you can get it right this time.” Tommy tries to tell her no, that he is too sensitive. She starts up again, ignoring his pleas for a small break at least. His body ignores him too, he’s hard as iron ready to be used again. Tommy bites his lip, trying to hold in the whimpers of sensitivity turning into pleasure. “Let me hear those pathetic whimpers, Tommy. Be good for me, yeah? Be a good cock for me?” She rides him on the hard ground with all she has, and Tommy can’t take much more. “Yes, yes, I'll be a good cock for you. Yes, please come, please come, yes, I'll be good.” Tommy is blabbering, not even sure he is making sense. He doesn't know if she is really that good, or if she's just using her magic on him. He honestly doesn't care. She is just so good that his mind is melting. “Good boy, Tommy. Good boy. I'm going to come so hard; you are such a good toy for me to use, aren’t you?” Without any further warning, the demon milks him with supernatural strength, making tears fall down Tommy’s face. Her orgasm causes her eyes to blacken again as she looks down at her human toy, crying and spent with pleasure as it’s her turn to tremble and shake. Coming down from her release, she strokes his overwhelmed face. “You know, you are so pretty when you cry. I’d go again if I didn’t think it would kill you. Maybe next time.” She stands up like nothing happened between them, fixing her dress. “Your wife is awake; you might want to fix yourself up and go see her. Consider the debt paid, until I want more that is. You will be seeing me again dear Tommy.” The demon disappears into the dark, leaving Tommy wondering if the debt will be until he dies naturally, or until she kills him.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x fem!reader #peaky blinders

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in3rci4 · 28 days

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maybe you could do TBP boys x GN reader who is always serious and calm and doesn't have the habit of smiling, smiling for the first time

Thank you for the request and for giving an idea too 😊🥹 ! I appreciate it , hope it's not too bad ❤️‍🩹

" And then they smiled , that's what i'm after . A smile on their eyes , the sound of their laugher"

The title comes from a small piece of the lyrics of the song " Drift away" from Steven Universe

Prompt : The Black Phone boys reaction at the reader who's always serious and calm , smile and laugh for the first time

Characters included: Vance Hopper , Bruce Yamada , Billy Showalter , Robin Arellano , Griffin Stagg , Finney Blake

WARNINGS !! : Character x reader content , no use of y/n , idk what else to say , Gn ! Reader , Reader might have some backstory I guess ¿? maybe a mix of Fluff and Angst ¿? Some gonna be shorter than others , spelling mistakes

Vance Hopper

You two knew each other for some time now , you were home schooled not so long ago so you didn't had an idea of Pin Ball Vance Hopper reputation . The moment the teacher assigned the both of you for a project , you weren't walking on eggshells like everybody else did with him while talking , you didn't expect anything from him , for you , Vance was just ... Vance . That's the exact reason why you befriend him in no time , your non judgmental personality , and you were completely unaware he wasn't like this with anyone , anyone but you . Even if your words were nice and honest he noticed how cautious you were with your movements and expressions , he thought it was weird at first , your voice didn't matched with the look in your face in his opinion , but Vance got used to it pretty quick , he's not a smiley guy either , he was ... A little more grumpy person than you . Just like usual , in the weekend you would stay by his side watching him play his Pin Ball game , and also making sure he didn't beat anyone if anything went wrong with it , but those are details . You got hungry and decided to buy Mrs Ellen a small snack bag , when you went back to the side of the machine ( not too close to possibly bump it though ) he started to get close to beating his high score . You gasped in excitement and then he heard the sound of the machine saving his new record on the top of it . Vance let go of the arcade game machine and started to shake you excited as well by your arms , you doing the exact same thing with the snack bag still in your hands

" You did it Vance , you finally beat your high score !"

You said with a smile while laughing of enjoyment

" See !? Told ya , told ya I would fucking beat that shit , didn't I !? "

You kept laughing and smiling from the happiness of had seen it happening after so long , so many failed tries were worth for this day to happen . Vance in the other hand stopped moving your body to stare at you instead .

You were smiling , smiling in a genuine , happy and .... He would say in a beautiful way too . Is this how you look like when you're happy ? The real you ?

Maybe he should try to get you to smile more often .

Confused about the sudden change of attitude you asked him with a small giggle

" Vance , are you ok ? "

Yes , he would be ok , as long as you are with him for a little longer like this .

Bruce Yamada

He was a popular and loved guy , he didn't had trouble hanging with almost everybody in school, and Bruce didn't have to do any effort in finding someone to date either . And yet , a particular classmate of his , you , was the one that had all his attention . A person that minded their own business and never had smile in front of anybody before , and still looks like a magazine model .

Bruce wanted to get close to you for years , but he never had the opportunity , ironically , he never had the courage to go straight at you and tell how good looking you are , you look so serious that you kinda scared him , but not enough to stop liking you .

The biology teacher didn't had a clue how happy he made Bruce the day he paired you and him in a project for the science , finally he could have his opportunity , his chance with you . Dying of anxiety inside like his first baseball game , he asked you

" Hey , I know we never talked before and stuff , but would you like to stop at my house tomorrow to speed up things ? For the project , you know ? Maybe we could go out somewhere in the weekend if everything goes well "

Looking into his eyes and with suspicion in yours you asked as well

" As a date ?"

He wasn't expecting you to be straightforward as well , so he fidget with his fingers a little and with a nervous yet bright smile he said

" Yeah , I mean , if you want to of course "

The recess bell rang and everybody stood up to be free again , you grabbed your book and walked towards the door , but before you leave you said looking at him

" it's a date then "

With a smile that could've killed Bruce if he didn't want to stay alive to see you tomorrow , God bless the biology teachers man .

Billy Showalter

His dog Harper was Billy's loyal companion , a very well behaved girl too , never biting things that she shouldn't , no barking unless there's danger or she's commanded to , not jumping into people in excitement , in general , a really good girl . The mornings delivering News Papers are much better with her by his side , at that hour people are still processing their awakening and there's little people on the street , but the ones that are outside never got a complain about her , in fact , they usually want to ask for permission to pet her instead . Lately someone that he seen outside at early morning was you , sometimes with groceries in your hand , sometimes only walking by yourself . You were one of Billy's classmate , but he doesn't talk with anybody in it , at least not anymore , and you were no exception . Sometimes he founds himself staring at you and then snapping out of it , trying to ignore whatever feeling he had to do such thing , but something about you , that mysterious unexpressive charm , the stern look in your eyes , is something that he can't quite describe with words and is afraid of digging for a definition in his mind . Unfortunately for this boy one of those mornings you decided to walk your rescued male dog and Harper for the first time ran away towards the dog to meet him , both with waggy happy tails sniffing each other . Billy stops his bike at a mailbox and runs towards her , to you

" Harper ! Harper ! I'm Sorry , she's never like that , I don't know what's up with her "

The female dog comes close to you waiting to be petted , and you were more than happy to give her what she wanted

" it's ok , she's a really good girl , she just wanted to meet the new handsome boy here "

Billy knew you were referring about your dog , but his stupid brain still made his cheeks burn from the blush , why's he's being like this ?

Harper licks your hand and you giggle from the tickle feeling in your palm , you smile , and he smiles too . More pleased about the morning you said

" You want me to walk with you while you deliver your papers ? Then we can both take the dogs for a walk "

Something more mysterious about you was how quickly you made Billy accepted the fact once for all about his crush about you , maybe the moment your face light up with your smile had enchanted him

" Yeah , I don't mind , Harper hasn't seen that many dogs around anyway "

Harper always helping him in the simple things , she's for sure getting a special treat today after you're gone .

Robin Arellano

He may not seem like that , but he's a person with a good memory and remembers a bunch of people even they don't remember him ( Difficult to say since almost everybody in school knows his name ) . He remembers you from elementary school , Robin thought you were the cute one of the class , although his classmates prefer to call you the " quiet " one . He noticed how you never changed , always focusing on your studies and never smiling , not even for the photos , not even for politeness , always keeping your expressions neutral and seriousness in your way of acting .

Life crossed your paths the day a bully that didn't find his victim who didn't showed up in school decided to go after you instead , poor choice of decision , because Robin did , he showed up , and beat him up .

After he was done , he walked on his way to the boy's bathroom , but you stopped him , and Robin was deep down afraid he messed up things instead of making them better between both of you

" Robin ! "

Trying to keep his cool when he hears your voice behind him , he turns around and responds

" yeah ?"

Without finding more words to describe your gratitude , you kept it simple and said with a gentle smile

" Thank you "

Yes ! He did impressed you ! It was all damn worth it !

" No problem "

Robin walked again feeling like the main character of an action movie , and you smiled at him too ? You ? The good looking and serious you ? Nah he ain't forgetting this day for nothing !

Finney Blake

This year he wasn't sitting alone on the back on the class , well , he was still on the back on the class , but he was sharing his desk this time , with you . Finney had to admit it was hella awkward , I mean , he can't complain that much since it could be worse or Finney himself is too much of a shy guy to start a conversation or keep it on with a stranger . You , his desk mate , never talked to him , not even once , and your cold serious personality didn't make things easier , the two of you introverts , teachers never had to complain about the noise that you guys could make in class . A regular day in math class the teacher talked about the possibility of numbers being negative and being under the 0 , this got the interest of the students because it was something relatively new so far .

Finney murmured to himself casually

" Damn , not even numbers can't stay positive "

It was a bad joke ? Yes , but it was so unexpected he stole a snort and giggle from you , you had to shut yourself up with your hand or else more laughing would be heard by the teacher .

In Finney's opinion it was a terrible one , he's not even that funny , he was surprised yet amused at your sudden change of expression . Maybe he could push his luck a little further ?

" I guess we can't be negative if we just started "

You stopped from escaping a laugh from your mouth once again , maybe Finney couldn't see your complete smile , but your half closed happy eyes got his ego fly over the roof .

They say " stay with the one that makes you laugh "

So don't worry , laugh all you want from now on , he's good at math anyway , he can always teach you if you got too distracted for him .

Not like Finney minds your company at all .

Griffin Stagg

The day he saw you smile after 2 years of watching you keeping your face as unexpressed as possible , was the day a older group of bullies bumped into him , and God , he was so fine with being invisible for other students and not dealing with being a punch bag , that he tried to run away as fast as he could before they could do anything . But stronger and experts on making kid's lives hell , they quickly grabbed his shirt and started to mock him and test him in front of everybody in the cafeteria . Griffin didn't say anything , he couldn't , or else it would be worse , he knows that like the back of his hand . 3 tall dudes , 1 grabbing his shirt , 2 grabbing each of the boy's arms , it seemed like everything was lost , but you pulled up the one in front of Griffin by the shirt and tucked him to the ground . The two boys left pushed Griffin to the ground as well , and went straight to attack you .

But you dodge all of them easily .

After giving the whole cafeteria a show to watch , the boys got up and swore that it wasn't over , but you couldn't care less . You walked towards Griffin and offered him your hand , he stays still without knowing what to say or do more than stare in confusion , until he spoke

" Thank you ... For helping me "

With a big bright smile that didn't fit someone like you , so serious and capable of defeating 3 guys , you responded

" It's nothing , now get up Griff "

Griff ? No one has called him like that before . But , it doesn't sound bad , right ? He kinda likes the nickname .

#the black phone #tbp headcanons #tbp fandom #tbp #the black phone x reader #finney blake #bruce yamada #billy showalter #griffin stagg #robin arellano #vance hopper #finney blake x reader #robin arellano x reader #vance hopper x reader #billy showalter x reader #tbp griffin #bruce yamada x reader

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gretavanlace · 11 months

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Welcome To Hell

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, angst, degradation, praise, impact play and illusions to impact play, unprotected sex, language, dirty talk, oral sex, alcohol consumption, etc.

This one spun outta control like I wrote it on black ice. My apologies for length and shitty editing in advance xoxo

Jake hates a scene. Loathes raised voices that might demand the hushed attention of a room. Despises eyes hungrily devouring, unblinking, staring, consuming. The morbid curiosity of it all is abhorrent.

What’s going on here? Those eyes ponder, raking over the situation in devilish glee. It’s human nature, he knows, like when you struggle to look away from something gruesome, but he doesn’t have to like it.

Unless he is strutting his way across a stage, soaking in the anguished, desperate need and admiration of those who buy a ticket to take the ride, he doesn’t want it.

Wrapped in an embellished suit and spilling his soul into the universe from behind a sword made of frets and strings - that is the only time his stoic nature allows him to step into the light when he so often yearns for the shadows.

Jacob is a libertine of the finest sort, but only once the curtain has dropped. Or, with you wearing the marks of his teeth, legs spread wide and inviting, beneath him.

You know of this particular aversion, this detest of observation. Of course you do. You know it now, and you knew it last night. You just hadn’t been able to find the will to give a damn.

So, rather than taking a few deep breaths to center yourself and maybe making the switch to water, you had fumed, allowing frustrated thoughts to stoke the bonfire of anger within you - and you drank. And drank. And drank. Ordering rum and coke after rum and coke until you could feel the bartender clocking you carefully, attempting to decide if he’d overserved you. He had. He most definitely had.

As is so often the case with angry drunks, it suddenly seemed such an ideal time to pick a fight. A good time to pitch your voice loud enough to bring the conversation at your table, in a tucked away corner of the bar, to a grinding halt.

A great time to accuse him of wanting to fuck the bubbly little raven-locked beauty, with the tiny skirt and anything but tiny tits, that had been fluttering around him at the pool table. A sex dripping hummingbird flitting about in his personal space, while he donned a soft, welcoming smile.

A wonderful time to invite him to go fuck himself as you stormed through the crowd dramatically.

A fantastic time to rage against the situation concocted within your inebriated haze, complete with sloppy tears and dramatic overreactions, until Danny had finally wrangled you into an Uber…riding along beside you while you dozed, head heavy on his shoulder. Exhausted from your drunken tantrum.

When you woke this morning, you did so with no memory of how you had ended up in bed, or who had removed the complicated, strappy heels from your feet. Or who, like some great god of mercy, had left the tall glass of water waiting on your bedside table. But you had your suspicions, and they were paired with small flashes of memory that proved you were correct. Daniel. Who else?

Another elusive bit of information was when Jake had finally made it home. You’d found him, splayed across the couch, hair tangled against a throw pillow, boots kicked off, but otherwise fully dressed. He was home, but you were unsure of how long that had been so. He might have collapsed onto the cushions five minutes after Danny tucked you in, or he might have stumbled in with the sun, cock still warm from her mouth.

Though, without the alcohol clouding your judgment, the very idea seemed ridiculous. Jake, with his sleepy eyes and gentle heart could never, and would never, even if he could.

He’d rolled off the sofa while you quietly rummaged around in the fridge, yanking out the ingredients you’d need to create a ‘terribly sorry for being an embarrassing mess last night’ BLT…a peace offering stacked high with peppered bacon and remorse.

When he found you once more, he was showered and looking no worse for wear. He looked so softly domestic in his hard worn jeans and long sleeved T, and you had longed to make amends, but he declined your breakfast of apologies. Even waving off the steaming mug of coffee you held out to him, while muttering something about the studio.

Never one to withhold affection in twisted punishment, he had kissed your forehead and strode out the door, assuring you he’d call if things began to look as though they might run late.

But his irritation with you was evident. Tangible in a way that sent a sharp pang of guilt flashing through your heart. He hadn’t forgotten, and he hadn’t yet forgiven.

You’d spent the rest of the morning ambling through the market. Piling your basket high with carefully selected root vegetables. Bags stuffed full to their brims with parsnips, turnips, and sweet potatoes. Onions, carrots and fennel, nestled in beside the broth and spices that would soon create the base for Jake’s favorite stew.

Veggies, lovingly sliced and diced, were rolling lazily this way and that, dancing in a slow simmer, when the first spits of rain began to pebble at the kitchen windows…

And now, here you sit, waiting patiently at the bottom of the stairs, legs tucked to the side and hidden beneath the hem of his favorite outfit. A worn and tattered, thrifted sweatshirt, at least three sizes too large, displaying the name of a university neither of you have ever heard of.

Inexplicably drawn to it at a flea market the two of you had stumbled upon, you plunked down a five dollar bill and immediately made it yours.

That same night, he’d watched you hack away at the sleeves with kitchen scissors, then hem the jagged edges with a needle and thread, tongue clenched between your teeth in concentration. And as he watched, he sank even deeper into the pool of his love for you.

That unskilled tailoring had resulted in sleeves that were uneven, but no longer swallowed your hands up. You wear that stupid sweatshirt around the house as a dress constantly, hair a mess atop your head in a bun, legs bare, and he doubts he could love it more if he tried.

You don’t know a thing about his little love affair with this particular article of clothing. Sometimes he says nothing at all when words threaten to fail, which is so very often the case between his heart and the tiny things that make you, you.

He finds you there, biding your time until he slips back into your orbit…waiting for his return with hopeful eyes glittering with love. That love softens his resolve and he feels the annoyance that has tried his patience all day, lessening.

“Hi.” You sound quiet, your one-worded greeting weighed down with contrition.

“Hi.” He takes his time leaning his guitar case against the door jamb, meticulous in its placement to be sure it won’t shift and hit the floor, and then adds a somber, “Something smells good.” as he pulls off his water sodden boots.

“I made stew.” You’re avoiding his eyes now that you can feel his energy. “Your favorite.”

“S’good weather for it.” He nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Chilly.”

You want to rise to your feet, to close the gap of space between the two of you. It feels cavernous. But, you prove rooted in place with the uncomfortability of it all. Are you actually discussing the weather? Like strangers on a train?

At last, you gather your bearings and stand, no longer a deer frozen in the headlights of his disappointment. “Jake…”

“Let’s just forget about it, alright?” He turns away, though you’ve reached for him. “Maybe it was a little much. It’s understandable that you’d be jealous, she was pretty. Beautiful, really.”

He’s said it to be cruel, to be hurtful, and the low blow has successfully landed, but you pretend it hasn’t. On with the show. He won’t remember she ever existed to begin with by the end of the night.

“But you’re still upset, baby…” you breathe the words gently and nuzzle your nose along his jawline. “You’re still angry with me, underneath it all. I can feel it.”

Relaxing his stance in your arms he huffs a tiny sigh. “I just— I don’t know why you have to—“

Your teeth graze over the delicate scar that lives just below his cheekbone. The spot that never fails to render his heart soft and his cock hard. “Why I have to what, Jake? Misbehave?”

A smoky ‘fuck’ slips of his lips when your fingers curl into the waist of his pants, tugging the linen with just enough force to remind him of where your fingers are.

“You should make me behave.” You kiss your way along until you find his mouth, licking into it with a quiet and obscene hum.

“I was mouthy and so mean,” your palm slides across his warm, soft stomach, fingers inching further downward just to hear the breath in his lungs catch. “and you’re always so good to me, Jake. So sweet. I don’t deserve it.”

Deeply perturbed though he may be with you, his love runs deeper still, “you do deserve it, sweetheart. Even when you’re drunk and terrible, you’re still my favorite girl.”

The pad of his thumb trails across your bottom lip, string-worn callous catching the velvet skin that scrubs and masks keep silken. “Careful with my lips, Jakey,” You lightly scratch against the sparse, downy hair that trails his navel. “I work so hard to keep them soft for your pretty cock.”

His hand runs up the nape of your neck and, with his fingers wrapped around the base of your bun, he snaps your head back with a deft flick of his wrist. The searing sting makes you hiss through your teeth and he calls back with a groan through his own clenched bite. “I didn’t ask for your smart mouth. You’re in trouble and I think a bit of respect would be a wise decision on your part, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” You arch forward, longing to press yourself against the sturdy warmth of his body.

Rather than allow it, he loosens his hold on you and steps back, studying your flushed face as though he’s never laid eyes on you before. As though he’s heard tell of what you’re capable of, and is deciding whether or not it might be worth his time to fuck the brat out of you.

“You want to be punished?” He walks his fingers down the outside of your thigh, barely making contact with the trembling muscle you’d give anything to feel him bury his grip into. To watch him spread you open wide and claim his prize.

You nod, cock drunk on him already, though you’ve yet to see it, touch it, worship it.

He tilts his head, as if weighing the possibilities “What if I take you outside, hmm? March you to the gallows?” His touch remains far too light, too gentle. “Make you pick a switch…put you over my knee right there on the front porch, show the whole neighborhood what a nasty fucking handful you are.”

“Whatever you want, Jake.” And you mean it. You probably shouldn’t, but you do. God help you, you mean it.

“Call me Jake one more time and I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.” He warns, pressing a finger to your lips. He doesn’t want a response. Watching you play by the rules for once will do just fine for him, thank you.

In a breath, his hand is warm between your thighs, fingers toying with you, taunting, teasing, withholding. “Upstairs. Now.” His demand comes gently, but it leaves no room for discussion all the same. “Everything off. I’ll be up when I feel like it.”

You wait without patience, but he isn’t in the room to scold you for fidgeting this way and that, nor is he close enough to hear your tiny huffs of annoyance…

…until he is.

You never hear a sound. Not a creak on the stairs, nor footfall in the hallway…he simply appears in the doorway like a specter. An apparition, bathed in darkness and sex, sent to ruin you.

Your black phantom moves closer, eyes never landing on you, though you wait on display for him. Nipples pebbled and aching, sitting on your heels with your knees parted so that he might catch sight of his favorite place to play.

He ignores all this and instead, focuses on the soft lengths of rope you have laid out beside you at the foot of the bed.

Jake knows this rope. His thoughts skip to the white rose bushes you planted out back one sunny morning, in homage to his band. You’ve cut it from the spool you use to tie the bushes to stakes, ensuring they grow straight and strong. He will never look at those white roses again without remembering this moment.

“And what is this for, baby girl?’ He runs a length of it through his fingers thoughtfully. “Are you expecting to be tied down? Would you like that?”

“Yes.” When did your voice grow so meek? “Tie me down and punish me…any way you’d like.”

He drops the rope, entirely disinterested, “Spread your legs and touch yourself. Love on her for me. She must need it bad by now.”

You obey instantly, earning a lazy smile in reward. But as quick as that smirk appears, it vanishes, when he leans in close enough to brush your nose with his own, while you circle your clit with faint pressure, careful not to get greedy.

“I don’t need rope, sweetheart.” He hushes like a secret “You will stay where I put you. You will lie still when I say so, and you will move when I say so. You will do as you’re fucking told, or you will suffer the consequences. Are we clear?”

Leaning in, your tongue laps over his lips, desperate to taste him…he takes momentary pity on you and offers the tip of your tongue a gentle suck before straightening.

Wandering over to the dresser, he begins digging around in your top drawer, shuffling satin and lace around, searching. “I’m thinking of filling your pretty mouth up. You look so lovely with my cum dripping off your lips.”

A sound of wanton anticipation whines out of you. “You like that? You want to get down on your knees and ask forgiveness? Prove how sorry you are with a cock in your mouth?”

He’s fucking obscene, and you plan to relish every second of his condescending filth. You sigh shakily in confirmation and lick the lips he spoke of so indecently, eager to get on with it.

“Well, it sounds like you want it, so I suppose that isn’t much of a punishment at all, now is it?” At last he turns, and you drink in the beauty of his face.

“Put these on.” A scrap of fabric lands on the duvet beside you.

Fingers clasped around white silk, your eyes squint in question. “You’re asking me to get dressed? I thought we were moving in another direction here, Kiszka.”

He is across the room in a blink, grip locked around your chin. “Watch your tone, miss mouth. You’re toeing a line you don’t want to cross, I promise you.”

The brat in you shoves up her sleeves, ready to get to work. “Or what? Are you going to bend me over and spank my ass until I beg you to stop?”

The light in his eyes snuffs out, leaving only a menacing darkness that sets your pulse to racing as he slowly leans in. Lips caressing the shell of your ear, he strokes a thumb down the swell of your breast. “No, Sweetheart, I’ll bend you over and fuck your ass until you beg me to stop.”

A sigh of a gasp escapes you, fluttering his hair.

He straightens and casually pets your hair, “But we don’t need to worry about that, do we? Because you’re going to be a very good girl for me, aren’t you? You’re going to be the best girl - all for me, isn’t that right?”

Your response comes immediately, and without thought. “Yes, sir.”

“You see?” He smiles, booping your nose with the tip of his finger. An innocent, cuddly act that doesn’t match the tone of the room “My baby girl has such manners. Now,” he swats a finger at your cheek, “put your panties on.”

“Why?” You’re doing as you're told even as you question him.

With an off handed air, he answers, as if bored with your inquisitiveness. “Because I’d like to taste your cunt on them, that’s why.”

“Please?” Oh, how fucking pathetic you are - and oh, how little you care.

“Please what?” He is so quiet, so tender, as he sinks to his knees before you, you can almost trick yourself into believing he’s going to give in.

“They’re on.” You snap the elastic at your hip and fall back on the bed, nestling into the cool cloud of blankets and sheets beneath you. “Taste me on them. I want your mouth.”

He hums softly, the back of his knuckle trailing over your clit as it aches in desperation. “You’re beautiful everywhere, aren’t you? My pretty, pretty girl. Don’t you wish for a kiss, baby? Wouldn’t that feel nice? Soft and slow? Right here on this perfect clit?”

His fingers wander with just enough intent to make your hips rock as he gazes down between your thighs “Sweet and swollen. Just wants to be spoiled a little, doesn’t she?”

Nodding eagerly, you fist at the blankets, grounding yourself. “Please,”

“You want my mouth?”

Suddenly, you have it. His tongue, like warm, wet satin, laps over you through the scant material you’ve already soaked. “Like that, baby?”

He sounds so smug “is that how you want it? Or do you want it like this…” his fingers peel your panties aside to allow his tongue to wander along freely.

A muffled hum chokes it’s way out of your chest “Yes, baby, please. Don’t stop…” your hips thrust up to meet him “More...”

“Aw, sweetheart…” he taunts, landing a cruel smack against your center that makes your thighs snap together “and you were doing so well, too. Bossy gets you nowhere, little girl.”

Shoving your legs apart, the pad of his thumb circles over the dripping material that is, once again, concealing your clit. “Think you can cum like this?” He sounds so casual, as though he’s asked you for the time. “If I touched you and licked you just like this?”

As his face draws nearer, you begin to pant…breathing lust heavily into the room. “Yes! Yes! Please, Jake…”

His eyebrows raise, mockingly pondering your face as you stare down at him, silently willing him into action “But I’m not even really touching you. I’m touching your panties, that’s all. Are you really that pitiful? Needy little pussy, dripping and begging.”

“Fuck!” Your fist tangles in his hair, tugging at it urgently and without care.

He hisses at the burn of the sting - the flash of pain he has never hidden his affections for - and then there are both of his hands, wrapped around your throat carefully. Ever mindful to never hurt you in a manner unintentional. To never get carried away and leave a mark he hadn’t thought out, coaxed a tear he didn’t anticipate.

You’re left to whine under his wicked glare until, at last, his voice comes…guttural and threatening, yet still glazed in velvet, lush and rich. “Fucking behave yourself. I won’t tell you again.”

His grip tightens, locking you in the warm vice of his hands. He sees the insubordinate gleam in your eye, and he’s warning you, though he knows it will do no good. “And if I don’t?”

The second you speak, you wish you hadn’t. He isn’t the only one who can read the thoughts behind your eyes, and a poisoned malevolence is darting about in his.

“If you don’t,” he offers you a cruel tip of his brow, like he thinks the answer should be obvious. “If you don’t, I’ll make you watch her preen, pretty and sweet, with my cock down her throat.”

You ought to be ashamed for the way your body writhes and throbs at the very idea of it, but you’ll worry about that some other time.

“You’re evil,” you breathe.

He seems amused as his thumb begins to stroke over your pounding jugular, “Am I?”

“Yes.” You’ve never wanted him more.

“Well then, pretty girl…” his tongue snakes up the side of your cheek, “welcome to hell.”

Hours may have ticked away, or perhaps just minutes. It’s entirely plausible that time stopped its monotonous shuffle all together, and you’re now floating in limbo.

There is no way to tell. There is only Jake.

Jake, as he moves above you slowly, deliberately - tangled waves of silken chocolate gently swaying, creating a hazy curtain of his scent around you as your vision blurs.

“Harder, baby…” your words are quiet, barely a whisper, and pointless. “Please.”

“Shut up.” He hushes back as if confessing his love. “I’ll fuck you harder when I decide you deserve it.”

You shouldn’t do it. It’s manipulative, and underhanded. You do it anyway. “Did you really want her?”

You know he didn’t, you’re simply aiming to weaken his resolve. It backfires in a way you’d never expect.

“How do you know I didn’t have her?’ He taunts mercilessly, slipping his thumb in your mouth to pry it open. He speaks into it, licking and sucking at your lips and tongue between vicious words, still sliding in and out of you at a maddeningly slow clip.

“How do you know I didn’t go home with her?” He eases his thumb into your mouth for you to suckle comfortingly “Maybe, while Daniel was tucking you into bed, I was tucking my cock inside her?”

“Liar.” You choke out through a moaning clench around him.

A feral sound growls out of his lungs as you squeeze up tight. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t think about it. You were being so mean. Maybe I wanted her because she looked at me like I hung the moon and made her little pussy all wet and messy.”

Your teeth bury themselves into his flesh, but he merely curls his thumb and pries your bite open.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” With a blissfully swift snap of his hips he fucks into you a little harder. “You don’t wanna play in the kitchen anymore now that the heat’s caught up with you?”

Your hands move to latch onto his shoulders through the shirt he has refused to remove, his pants are only unbuttoned and shoved down far enough to slip inside of you, he says it’s all you’ve earned.

Yes, your hands reach for him, but he puts a stop to it with a harsh, clipped, order. “Hands down. Now.”

Palms once again flat against the bed at your sides as you’ve been instructed, he carries on fucking you, filling the room with your desperate moans and whines, and his bullshit lies.

“I wanted to put my hand on her waist right here,” he tucks into the dipping curve just above your hip and grips tighter and tighter, tugging you closer. “Yeah, right here, just like this. Just the way you like. Right where I grab you when you’ve been a good enough girl to take it hard.”

He can feel the muted fury seize your muscles up tight while your heart begins to pound a hyper-beat of fiery madness, and he jabs at you further with a taunting grin, smoothing his palm flat up your trembling skin sweetly until the globe of your breast is cupped in his hand. “And I’d have done it, baby girl. I’d have fucked her, but I knew you’d smell her on me…perfume that wasn’t yours, the scent of her skin, of her pretty cunt…”

“Fuck you,” the blow comes out of left field, even to yourself, and lands hard upon his cheek.

He fights the recoil and nuzzles into it, body humming with electric lust. “You’re so mean, sweetheart. Do it again.”

“Please!” The sobbing need turns your plea into a prayer, fraught with the desperation he has grown completely addicted to.

It rips a carnal, raspy groan out of his chest. He is full of lies, and he knows it just as well as you do. He needs what only you can give. You’ve rendered him a man willing to do anything to get even just a taste of the way you love him.

But, Jake loves the game, as well.

His warm clutch, rough from the unforgiving metal of strings, closes around your throat once more, eyes fluttering when a moan chokes out of you.

You sound like angels sighing, but he doesn’t allow himself to be lost completely, lest you win this round.

“I said, do it again.” Teeth clenched, his demand comes with authority that leaves no room for defiance.

He steels himself to absorb the blow, but his cock twitches wildly inside you upon the cracking impact and you can’t help yourself. “You like that? You sick fuck.”

A grin, flashing and gorgeous, settles upon his beautiful lips. It steals the moment, shaping it into something new, something softer.

“You fucking love it. You want me to hit you back, I can see it in your eyes.”

You can’t hide anything from him - never could. He reads you with astonishing ease; fingertips racing deftly over the tiny blips of braille that map your thoughts. The rushing thump of your pulse spoken word poetry whispering secrets to him.

“I do.” Your confession slips off your tongue with quiet confidence. You are safe with him.

He caresses your face gingerly, adoring you with a feather-light touch you haven’t asked for, “I’d never hit you, baby. I don’t want to.”

A frown that you try to fight pulls at your lips, eliciting the softest chuckle from him, baptizing you in his love. He is your sweet Jakey again. Just that quickly. You don’t know whether to rejoice or mourn. “She pouts because I refused to mar her lovely face. Scandalously filthy, sweetheart.”

You take advantage of that pout he can’t seem to resist, “Fuck me harder now, sir. I need it, baby.” Sir and baby intermingle strangely, but something about it works.

“Yeah? You need it?” He begins moving faster, roughly jerking his hips back until only the silken tip of his cock rests inside you before driving back in, punching a cry of relief out of your lungs each time, over and over and over.

“Let me touch you…” you’re panting and struggling to speak.

“Go ahead, baby,” he sounds so gentle, but he dips down and bites into your neck viciously, releasing only to groan your praises as your fingers lace into his wild tangles “there’s my good girl, there’s my good fucking girl.”

He sweeps airy kisses over the apples of your cheeks, each in turn. “Pretty little piece of heaven, just for my cock. All snug and soft, aren’t you, sweetheart? My girl.”

Nodding in frantic agreement - you are his girl. You couldn’t be anyone else’s - you raise your head and press your forehead to his shoulder, wailing against the cotton of his shirt as you bite into it…so close you can nearly taste the grainy, sugary sweetness of your long awaited release.

“Cum for me pretty, baby.” His demands are breathing out of him tenderly now…gentle as the rain that’s still tapping at the windows. “And say my name, it sounds so beautiful on your tongue. Makes my heart hurt.”

You know what he means, sometimes there is too much love between the two of you. It batters itself against the cages of your hearts. Enormous and overwhelming, threatening to split you wide open at the seams of your very souls…it is too much, and it is never enough.

And you do; you call his name. Chanting it like the chorus of your favorite song, pressing it into the cracks in the wood, etching it into the glass with your cries, so this room, this house, never forgets the love it once held.

The house will remember him as well, the pained sounds that claw out of him wildly as he fucks you through it, and lets go, sinking into you as though he’d like to disappear inside you completely.

This is all that matters. Jake. You. Love.

You’re both breathing up at the ceiling, hands clasped between you as you hunt down some semblance of calm.

“The stew.” You remember, too tranquil to really care.

He sounds just as serene as you do, “Took it off the heat before I came up.”

You squeeze his hand in silent thanks. “We’ll go down and eat soon. I’ll heat up the bread I picked up and…”

Trailing off, you don’t finish your sentence, but he’s crossed over into half-sleep as well, so there’s no one to notice.

Some time later, you blink slowly awake, confused by the darkness in the room. He stumbles his way back to consciousness soon after, and the night settles in with you curled in his lap on the back porch, sharing a bowl of stew - the rain, now nothing more than mist, dancing on the grass.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #greta van fic #gvf fic #jake gvf #fanfic #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #gvf jake #jake kiszka imagine #jake greta van fleet

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brittle-doughie · 5 months

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Infinity and Beyond - Looking Into The Sweet Signals from Space Update!

We’re finding the imposters among us with this one!

The aim of this concept is to have it be a multi-update deal akin to the Dragons storyline with how they say “like the dragon series, we’re diving into a story set in a rich, expansive universe”. This peaked my interest, I’d love to see what they have in store! I know there are some folks who like or don’t like the Dragons story, so I wonder what you all think of this!

Meet Astronaut Cookie! She’s cute, has an ice cream sandwich satellite for a pet, even has a cat cookie motif with her costume? What more could you want! Yeah, her skill might be a bit too reminiscent of Cyborg’s (who also got a skin after 84 years lol), but I’m willing to look past that.

Alright, I’m kind of vibing with the setting already, cookies are probably toothpaste, wonder if they clean your teeth when eaten. How does one “escape” or even fortify against a blackhole? The event itself sounds similar to the Sugar Maze event to me…in a way somehow. Wait, why is Stollen Cookie here?Also Planet H A M B O R G A R

I’m now getting Star Wars: Rogue One flashbacks. Just like Cyborg, it’s been 84 years since he got attention, so I’m happy to see he got a cool skin to deck himself out with!

The Surprise Bears. They can either go well or go very poorly, still means I don’t have to run over and over again for the god damn legendary ingredients. However, I do hope the challenges aren’t meant to be a cap in any way, since that already drags it down when you were able to AFK for hours beforehand, even if it sucked. Team Fight getting a gem boost might give me more incentive to play.

(Gmod flatline sound effect plays)

The Deal with Legendaries is canceled, y’all /j. I can’t keep up with their pace, bro. I’m over here trying to write it from time to time and they already have another one on the way, I’m dead. Xylitol Nova himself is getting flak for having a supposedly dull design unworthy of the rarity, I’m already seeing it in the QRTs on Twitter lol. For me, I’ll wait until I cast judgment, he has a pretty cool skin though…

———————————————————————

(Astronaut Cookie looked all around her new setting, seeing the city’s sleek, clean, futuristic design she hasn’t seen much of back on Earthbread. The cookies here didn’t look all that different too, save for their ingredients being possibly toothpaste in some capacity. She was caught staring at this one cookie in particular, she observed them inspecting the shield and instructing the robots to different spots close to the barrier, Xylitol Nova Cookie chuckled at her once he noticed.)

Xylitol Nova Cookie: Ah, I see you’ve taken an interest in one of my cookies. That would be Xylitol Y/N Cookie, they’re in charge of making sure the barrier is in peak performance, they’ve been hard at work ever since we’ve seen reports of the blackhole.

(Xylitol Nova walked over to them as Astronaut followed. Meanwhile, you were instructing both cookies and robots alike on the status of the barrier, making sure that no fault in any way was detected. Until the voice of someone very familiar to you called your name..)

Xylitol Nova Cookie: Hello, Xylitol Y/N Cookie. How are you doing?

(You greeted Xylitol Nova in return and proceeded to ramble on about the barrier. You did your best at trying to speak to him, but couldn’t ignore that cookie next to him staring at you. It also looked like Xylitol Nova wasn’t taking your analysis seriously with that smile of his, something that bothered you to no end!)

Xylitol Nova Cookie: How routine of you, Xylitol Y/N Cookie. Always thinking about the barrier when we haven’t had any issues in the past couple rotations. We have a guest here today and I’d like for you to meet her-

(You couldn’t, you had to inspect the rest of the barrier-when Xylitol Nova Cookie suddenly hugged you from behind with a strong grip, a scene that made Astronaut Cookie feel…envious. You complained and grumbled as you try fruitlessly to free yourself)

Xylitol Nova Cookie: Xylitol Y/N Cookie. You are taking a break from now until further notice, I’d hate to use my authority on you, but this is for your own good. Feel free to interact with your fellow cookies, come and see me in my residence, or even introduce yourself to our guest here~! (I’d prefer you pick the second option in my opinion)

(You continued to struggle until it felt tighter to move, you looked to your front to see Astronaut Cookie hugging you from the front, her head resting on your chest. You swear she’s…shaking a little bit?)

Xylitol Nova Cookie: What do you know? Even our visitor is agreeing with me, she appears to have taken a liking to you too.

(…Who was this?)

#brittle speaks #cookie run x you #cookie run x reader #cr x reader #cookie run #cookie run ovenbreak #cookie run ovenbreak x reader #crob x reader #crob #astronaut cookie #xylitol nova cookie #cookie run update

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mearcatsreturns · 4 months

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I have a bookstagram, and I recently followed someone because they posted about the overconsumption issue that most bookish social media seems to have. Today, though, they posted another controversial "opinion": that listening to audiobooks isn't reading, and people who claim to have read a bunch of books that they listened to as audiobooks are lying and/or deluded. Listening to audiobooks, she said, is just consuming books.

I disagreed in a fairly politely worded reply, and I intend to unfollow/block, because I find it unlikely this person will change their mind, especially since I'm far from the only person to point out that this is exclusionary and ableist. But this is tumblr/my house, and now I'm going to be as blunt as I want to be.

I'm a librarian and archivist. So much of the work I and others in my field do focuses on making books and reading more accessible and less exclusionary. It is, in fact, incredibly ableist to negate how important audiobooks are for people who have certain disabilities or challenges, and I would in no universe say they aren’t reading. For that matter, a busy person who only has time for audiobooks and for people who just prefer them--it still counts, as far as I'm concerned.

See, there's a difference between an audiobook and a podcast or long song or radio program. An audiobook is still a book--it was written with a particular narrative structure, and the author plays a defined but limited role (once the book is written, it's written; the author isn't tuning in next episode with comments and corrections based on what listeners said). An audiobook is a book, ergo, listening to one is reading. Using braille is reading, and listening to audiobooks is reading.

The part that has me in full Captain Raymond Holt "apparently that is a trigger for me" mode is that this bookstagrammer called listening to audiobooks consumption. In the context of her other posts about overconsumption as an issue in the bookish community (again, agree, but also...mind your own business), this seems particularly insidious to me. Conflating influencer-driven (and capitalist hellscape) consumption with listening to an audiobook (again, a massive boon for the visually impaired and those with disabilities like ADHD, dyslexia, etc.) is rude at best and dangerously exclusionary at worst. Stop letting comparison be the thief of joy; mind your own business and stop looking at the pages that bother you. Focus on the kindness of leaning towards inclusion, meeting people where they are, and leaving judgment behind.*

*This person also said "feel free to comment if you disagree but please don't be mean or judgmental," as if they hadn't just posted the most ableist and judgmental sludge I've seen today.

tl;dr: don’t be a gatekeeping shithead, mind your own business, and

(gif by matalyn on tenor, couldn't find on tumblr)

#books #bookstagram #reading #bookish culture #audiobooks #inclusivity #i am honestly so brave for not arguing with more people #I didn't become a lawyer because I didn't want to monetize my number one hobby (arguing)#this person says they're getting a PhD and writing a dissertation on publishing #so I worry that people will lend their posts a certain weight they don't deserve #so here I am: I've literally taken graduate courses in the history of books and the text as a concept.#i specialized in that. it's what I intend to get a PhD in if I decide I'm insane enough to go back to grad school #anyway trust me bro (gender neutral)#(i won't die on ANY hill but i sure will on a whole lot)

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transmutationisms · 7 months

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people take architecture seriously in the wrong way the same way they do fashion. there's no universal good or bad or ugly or beautiful & you should see ample evidence of this in the mere fact that aesthetics trend in and out over time lol. the ugly white-wall flipped-house aesthetic of today is the nostalgic 2020s-core of tomorrow just as the wood panelling or banisters you love now were once passé and hideous, and before that were the cutting edge of trendy. these types of value judgments aren't interesting. yet architecture and fashion both have a capability to express in material objects various political agendas, personal manifestos, social-engineering visions, and so forth. where did these materials come from? why have they been arranged in this particular manner? what trends or pieces was the creator responding to, relying on, or emulating, and what does that indicate about their purpose or material constraints? what aesthetic language is available in this particular context of creation, and how is it being purposed here? literally so many more interesting questions that don't just lead to "things i don't like are ugly and morally offensive because society is degenerating"

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icedbatik · 1 month

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I saw this opinion piece in the New York Times and, while I don't normally copy and paste entire newspaper articles, this is an excellent (if scary) read.

Aside from the sections on how much lack of consent there is in today's sexual landscape, hockey fans -- who should be well aware of the dangers of concussions -- might take particular note of the section in which "choking" during sex is linked to brain damage on par with concussion damage.

The Troubling Trend in Teenage Sex

April 12, 2024

By Peggy Orenstein

Debby Herbenick is one of the foremost researchers on American sexual behavior. The director of the Center for Sexual Health Promotion at Indiana University and the author of the pointedly titled book “Yes, Your Kid,” she usually shares her data, no matter how explicit, without judgment. So I was surprised by how concerned she seemed when we checked in on Zoom recently: “I haven’t often felt so strongly about getting research out there,” she told me. “But this is lifesaving.”

For the past four years, Dr. Herbenick has been tracking the rapid rise of “rough sex” among college students, particularly sexual strangulation, or what is colloquially referred to as choking. Nearly two-thirds of women in her most recent campus-representative survey of 5,000 students at an anonymized “major Midwestern university” said a partner had choked them during sex (one-third in their most recent encounter). The rate of those women who said they were between the ages 12 and 17 the first time that happened had shot up to 40 percent from one in four.

As someone who’s been writing for well over a decade about young people’s attitudes and early experience with sex in all its forms, I’d also begun clocking this phenomenon. I was initially startled in early 2020 when, during a post-talk Q. and A. at an independent high school, a 16-year-old girl asked, “How come boys all want to choke you?” In a different class, a 15-year-old boy wanted to know, “Why do girls all want to be choked?” They do? Not long after, a college sophomore (and longtime interview subject) contacted me after her roommate came home in tears because a hookup partner, without warning, had put both hands on her throat and squeezed.

I started to ask more, and the stories piled up. Another sophomore confided that she enjoyed being choked by her boyfriend, though it was important for a partner to be “properly educated” — pressing on the sides of the neck, for example, rather than the trachea. (Note: There is no safe way to strangle someone.) A male freshman said “girls expected” to be choked and, even though he didn’t want to do it, refusing would make him seem like a “simp.” And a senior in high school was angry that her friends called her “vanilla” when she complained that her boyfriend had choked her.

Sexual strangulation, nearly always of women in heterosexual pornography, has long been a staple on free sites, those default sources of sex ed for teens. As with anything else, repeat exposure can render the once appalling appealing. It’s not uncommon for behaviors to be normalized in porn, move within a few years to mainstream media, then, in what may become a feedback loop, be adopted in the bedroom or the dorm room.

Choking, Dr. Herbenick said, seems to have made that first leap in a 2008 episode of Showtime’s “Californication,” where it was still depicted as outré, then accelerated after the success of “Fifty Shades of Grey.” By 2019, when a high school girl was choked in the pilot of HBO’s “Euphoria,” it was standard fare. A young woman was choked in the opener of “The Idol” (again on HBO and also, like “Euphoria,” created by Sam Levinson; what’s with him?). Ali Wong plays the proclivity for laughs in a Netflix special, and it’s a punchline in Tina Fey’s new “Mean Girls.” The chorus of Jack Harlow’s “Lovin On Me,” which topped Billboard’s Hot 100 chart for six nonconsecutive weeks this winter and has been viewed over 99 million times on YouTube, starts with, “I’m vanilla, baby, I’ll choke you, but I ain’t no killer, baby.” How-to articles abound on the internet, and social media algorithms feed young people (but typically not their unsuspecting parents) hundreds of #chokemedaddy memes along with memes that mock — even celebrate — the potential for hurting or killing female partners.

I’m not here to kink-shame (or anything-shame). And, anyway, many experienced BDSM practitioners discourage choking, believing it to be too dangerous. There are still relatively few studies on the subject, and most have been done by Dr. Herbenick and her colleagues. Reports among adolescents are now trickling out from the United Kingdom, Australia, Iceland, New Zealand and Italy.

Twenty years ago, sexual asphyxiation appears to have been unusual among any demographic, let alone young people who were new to sex and iffy at communication. That’s changed radically in a short time, with health consequences that parents, educators, medical professionals, sexual consent advocates and teens themselves urgently need to understand.

Sexual trends can spread quickly on campus and, to an extent, in every direction. But, at least among straight kids, I’ve sometimes noticed a pattern: Those that involve basic physical gratification — like receiving oral sex in hookups — tend to favor men. Those that might entail pain or submission, like choking, are generally more for women.

So, while undergrads of all genders and sexualities in Dr. Herbenick’s surveys report both choking and being choked, straight and bisexual young women are far more likely to have been the subjects of the behavior; the gap widens with greater occurrences. (In a separate study, Dr. Herbenick and her colleagues found the behavior repeated across the United States, particularly for adults under 40, and not just among college students.) Alcohol may well be involved, and while the act is often engaged in with a steady partner, a quarter of young women said partners they’d had sex with on the day they’d met also choked them.

Either way, most say that their partners never or only sometimes asked before grabbing their necks. For many, there had been moments when they couldn’t breathe or speak, compromising the ability to withdraw consent, if they’d given it. No wonder that, in a separate study by Dr. Herbenick, choking was among the most frequently listed sex acts young women said had scared them, reporting that it sometimes made them worry whether they’d survive.

Among girls and women I’ve spoken with, many did not want or like to be sexually strangled, though in an otherwise desired encounter they didn’t name it as assault. Still, a sizable number were enthusiastic; they requested it. It is exciting to feel so vulnerable, a college junior explained. The power dynamic turns her on; oxygen deprivation to the brain can trigger euphoria.

That same young woman, incidentally, had never climaxed with a partner: While the prevalence of choking has skyrocketed, rates of orgasm among young women have not increased, nor has the “orgasm gap” disappeared among heterosexual couples. “It indicates they’re not doing other things to enhance female arousal or pleasure,” Dr. Herbenick said.

When, for instance, she asked one male student who said he choked his partner whether he’d ever tried using a vibrator instead, he recoiled. “Why would I do that?” he asked.

Perhaps, she responded, because it would be more likely to produce orgasm without risking, you know, death.

In my interviews, college students have seen male orgasm as a given; women’s is nice if it happens, but certainly not expected or necessarily prioritized (by either partner). It makes sense, then, that fulfillment would be less the motivator for choking than appearing adventurous or kinky. Such performances don’t always feel good.

“Personally, my hypothesis is that this is one of the reasons young people are delaying or having less sex,” Dr. Herbenick said. “Because it’s uncomfortable and weird and scary. At times some of them literally think someone is assaulting them but they don’t know. Those are the only sexual experiences for some people. And it’s not just once they’ve gotten naked. They’ll say things like, ‘I’ve only tried to make out with someone once because he started choking and hitting me.’”

Keisuke Kawata, a neuroscientist at Indiana University’s School of Public Health, was one of the first researchers to sound the alarm on how the cumulative, seemingly inconsequential, sub-concussive hits football players sustain (as opposed to the occasional hard blow) were key to triggering C.T.E., the degenerative brain disease. He’s a good judge of serious threats to the brain. In response to Dr. Herbenick’s work, he’s turning his attention to sexual strangulation. “I see a similarity” to C.T.E., he told me, “though the mechanism of injury is very different.” In this case, it is oxygen-blocking pressure to the throat, frequently in light, repeated bursts of a few seconds each.

Strangulation — sexual or otherwise — often leaves few visible marks and can be easily overlooked as a cause of death. Those whose experiences are nonlethal rarely seek medical attention, because any injuries seem minor: Young women Dr. Herbenick studied mostly reported lightheadedness, headaches, neck pain, temporary loss of coordination and ear ringing. The symptoms resolve, and all seems well. But, as with those N.F.L. players, the true effects are silent, potentially not showing up for days, weeks, even years.

According to the American Academy of Neurology, restricting blood flow to the brain, even briefly, can cause permanent injury, including stroke and cognitive impairment. In M.R.I.s conducted by Dr. Kawata and his colleagues (including Dr. Herbenick, who is a co-author of his papers on strangulation), undergraduate women who have been repeatedly choked show a reduction in cortical folding in the brain compared with a never-choked control group. They also showed widespread cortical thickening, an inflammation response that is associated with elevated risk of later-onset mental illness. In completing simple memory tasks, their brains had to work far harder than the control group, recruiting from more regions to achieve the same level of accuracy.

The hemispheres in the choked group’s brains, too, were badly skewed, with the right side hyperactive and the left underperforming. A similar imbalance is associated with mood disorders — and indeed in Dr. Herbenick’s surveys girls and women who had been choked were more likely than others (or choked men) to have experienced overwhelming anxiety, as well as sadness and loneliness, with the effect more pronounced as the incidence rose: Women who had experienced more than five instances of choking were two and a half times as likely as those who had never been choked to say they had been so depressed within the previous 30 days they couldn’t function. Whether girls and women with mental health challenges are more likely to seek out (or be subjected to) choking, choking causes mood disorders, or some combination of the two is still unclear. But hypoxia, or oxygen deprivation — judging by what research has shown about other types of traumatic brain injury — could be a contributing factor. Given the soaring rates of depression and anxiety among young women, that warrants concern.

Now consider that every year Dr. Herbenick has done her survey, the number of females reporting extreme effects from strangulation (neck swelling, loss of consciousness, losing control of urinary function) has crept up. Among those who’ve been choked, the rate of becoming what students call “cloudy” — close to passing out, but not crossing the line — is now one in five, a huge proportion. All of this indicates partners are pressing on necks longer and harder.

The physical, cognitive and psychological impacts of sexual choking are disturbing. So is the idea that at a time when women’s social, economic, educational and political power are in ascent (even if some of those rights may be in jeopardy), when #MeToo has made progress against harassment and assault, there has been the popularization of a sex act that can damage our brains, impair intellectual functioning, undermine mental health, even kill us. Nonfatal strangulation, one of the most significant indicators that a man will murder his female partner (strangulation is also one of the most common methods used for doing so), has somehow been eroticized and made consensual, at least consensual enough. Yet, the outcomes are largely the same: Women’s brains and bodies don’t distinguish whether they are being harmed out of hate or out of love.

By now I’m guessing that parents are curled under their chairs in a fetal position. Or perhaps thinking, “No, not my kid!” (see: title of Dr. Herbenick’s book above, which, by the way, contains an entire chapter on how to talk to your teen about “rough sex”).

I get it. It’s scary stuff. Dr. Herbenick is worried; I am, too. And we are hardly some anti-sex, wait-till-marriage crusaders. But I don’t think our only option is to wring our hands over what young people are doing.

Parents should take a beat and consider how they might give their children relevant information in a way that they can hear it. Maybe reiterate that they want them to have a pleasurable sex life — you have already said that, right? — and also want them to be safe. Tell them that misinformation about certain practices, including choking, is rampant, that in reality it has grave health consequences. Plus, whether or not a partner initially requested it, if things go wrong, you’re generally criminally on the hook.

Dr. Herbenick suggests reminding them that there are other, lower-risk ways to be exploratory or adventurous if that is what they are after, but it would be wisest to delay any “rough sex” until they are older and more skilled at communicating. She offers language when negotiating with a new partner, such as, “By the way, I’m not comfortable with” — choking, or other escalating behaviors such as name-calling, spitting and genital slapping — “so please don’t do it/don’t ask me to do it to you.” They could also add what they are into and want to do together.

I’d like to point high school health teachers to evidence-based porn literacy curricula, but I realize that incorporating such lessons into their classrooms could cost them their jobs. Shafia Zaloom, a lecturer at the Harvard Graduate School of Education, recommends, if that’s the case, grounding discussions in mainstream and social media. There are plenty of opportunities. “You can use it to deconstruct gender norms, power dynamics in relationships, ‘performative’ trends that don’t represent most people’s healthy behaviors,” she said, “especially depictions of people putting pressure on someone’s neck or chest.”

I also know that pediatricians, like other adults, struggle when talking to adolescents about sex (the typical conversation, if it happens, lasts 40 seconds). Then again, they already caution younger children to use a helmet when they ride a bike (because heads and necks are delicate!); they can mention that teens might hear about things people do in sexual situations, including choking, then explain the impact on brain health and why such behavior is best avoided. They should emphasize that if, for any reason — a fall, a sports mishap or anything else — a young person develops symptoms of head trauma, they should come in immediately, no judgment, for help in healing.

The role and responsibility of the entertainment industry is a tangled knot: Media reflects behavior but also drives it, either expanding possibilities or increasing risks. There is precedent for accountability. The European Union now requires age verification on the world’s largest porn sites (in ways that preserve user privacy, whatever that means on the internet); that discussion, unsurprisingly, had been politicized here. Social media platforms have already been pushed to ban content promoting eating disorders, self-harm and suicide — they should likewise be pressured to ban content promoting choking. Traditional formats can stop glamorizing strangulation, making light of it, spreading false information, using it to signal female characters’ complexity or sexual awakening. Young people’s sexual scripts are shaped by what they watch, scroll by and listen to — unprecedentedly so. They deserve, and desperately need, models of interactions that are respectful, communicative, mutual and, at the very least, safe.

Peggy Orenstein is the author of “Boys & Sex: Young Men on Hookups, Love, Porn, Consent and Navigating the New Masculinity” and “Girls & Sex: Navigating the Complicated New Landscape.”

#off-theme #and long #but worth the read

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damonblack966 · 3 months

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How To Master Witchcraft Even Having Little Spare Time

When Life Makes Practicing Witchcraft Difficult

Are you finding it hard to make time for your daily magical practice? Do you feel overwhelmed by all the other obligations of life, and have no idea how to fit one more thing into your already crammed schedule? You’re not alone! This is one of the most common things that I hear when I chat online, what’s stopping them from really pursuing the craft. It always comes down to too many responsibilities and too little time.

The truth is that the flashy witchcraft practices you see online are often staged, exaggerated, or even entirely made up. Comparing yourself and your practice to what you see other people doing online simply isn’t reasonable. Why would a mom of three who also works full time have a witchcraft practice that looks the same as a university student on TikTok who has no job and very few responsibilities? The answer is, she wouldn’t! That would be insane!

The thing that is actually causing such a major block in your ability to practice witchcraft isn’t a lack of time, it’s actually a lack of self-compassion. By constantly comparing yourself to other people and getting down on yourself about how you can’t, or you’re not good enough, or you’ll never be a real witch because… you’re adding a huge amount of judgment and shame to your life and your craft.

In all honesty, this kind of negative self-talk takes up a ton of time and energy! That’s time and energy that you could be putting toward literally anything else, like, ya’know… witchcraft. Rather than spending a bunch of time and energy beating yourself up for not being a good enough witch, why not make ANY amount of witchcraft a win?

The key is to start small. Instead of fitting an hour-long ritual into your daily life, try sneaking in a few minutes of magical activity here and there. Regularly writing down your thoughts in a journal that you keep near your bed or planning out a few quick spells can be just as powerful as doing full-fledged rituals. Just because it’s not big or flashy doesn’t mean that it doesn’t count! Start counting absolutely every magical moment, even 10 seconds of tuning into the energy of a room, as real witchcraft and you’ll likely find that you’re already doing way more than you thought.

You can also try to make small tasks magical. Channeling your energy toward something small can help increase the power of your spellwork and ritual work significantly. Even doing ssimple things like taking care of plants or wearing particular colors or jewelry that have special meaning for your practice can add an extra layer of magic to any activity.

Most importantly, give yourself permission to take breaks from witchcraft when needed—it’s ok if you don’t always find time for it! It’s more important that you take care of yourself first—and will ultimately help maintain stability and balance in both your magical and mundane life.

Where to Find Magical Time in Your Schedule

You don’t need to give up on living a magical life just because you don’t have the time to focus on witchcraft. With some creativity, you can find a few moments here and there to fit in magical practices but again, the key is to approach this with self-compassion. You may not be able to find time every day. Even one extra moment of focus on your craft during the week counts as a win!

Start by mapping out your weekly schedule. Take a look at the hours you spend on work and other responsibilities. Think of what small changes you can make in order to create space for witchy activities—even if it’s only five or ten minutes here and there.

For example:

Wake up 10 minutes earlier for a morning tarot card pull

Take a short meditation break during lunch

Spend half an hour listening to an audiobook or podcast before bed or during your commute

Fit in manifestation sessions or spell casting during study breaks

You’ll soon find that you are able to fit in small doses of ritual and these small moments can really add up!

Finally, if even these small moments still don’t seem to be enough, look into creative ways to practice and immerse yourself in the world of witchcraft. From joining online communities to taking classes or workshops, to learning from books, there are plenty of ways to enrich and add depth to your craft that don’t have to take up a ton of time.

At the end of the day, carving out a successful magical practice requires a bit of ingenuity and flexibility. Don’t feel bad if you can’t meet the expectations of a glitzy witchy lifestyle—start with small changes and over time, you’ll be able to gradually create a more grassroots and fulfilling magical practice.

Establishing a Daily Practice

You might not think you can make time for a daily practice of witchcraft, particularly if you have a demanding job or too many responsibilities. But it’s actually easier than it sounds—you don’t need to do something elaborate. All it takes is a little bit of effort and the right mindset.

To establish a daily practice, start by carving out just a few minutes each day for yourself. This could be during your lunch break, when you wake up, or before bed—it doesn’t matter when, as long as it works for your schedule.

Here are some simple steps to get you started:

Choose something that resonates with you—this could be divination, writing, or meditation.

Create an easily accessible space where you can set up everything you need for your chosen practice. Not having to do any setup or put things away every single day takes a LOT of the burde out of this process and makes you much more likely to return to it regularly.

Be flexible. If something in your life changes, let your practice change with it. Consistency requires that you keep the reality of your life in mind! Sometimes schedules change, your energy levels change, and what you need and want from your practice changes. Switch from mornings to evenings when you need to, let yourself do a tarot pull instead of meditation sometimes, and build ease into the practice.

Finally, BE COMPASSIONATE WITH YOURSELF. Did you miss a day? That’s fine, life happens. You missed a week? No sweat, that’s life. Get back to it when you’re ready just stop agonizing over not doing things exactly right all the time. You can become a perfectly good witch even if you get it “right” less than half the time! You are good enough.

What Do You Do If You’re Short On Time And Not Sure Where To Start?

I get it. You’re busy, you have a million responsibilities, and finding time to practice witchcraft is one thing but you don’t even know what to DO with that time when you manage to find it.

Make Figuring It Out The Goal

If you have no idea where to start, the first thing you should do with the time you do manage to carve out is figure out where to start. Literally. That is a perfectly good goal to begin with. This could mean something like spending 15 minutes a day reading about witchcraft or spending a few minutes writing about what you actually want to do with your craft. It’s ok to spend a few weeks or even months just getting the lay of the land and figuring out where you want to focus your energies first. Witchcraft is a huge and incredibly varied subject and nobody expects you to just jump straight in and know exactly what you’re doing.

Start With What Interests You

It’s important to focus on what really resonates with you when it comes to your craft. Pick one thing that speaks to you the strongest and start there—maybe you begin by studying astrology or learning spells—and go from there. This way, you don’t feel overwhelmed with all the options out there and can concentrate on mastering that one thing first before moving on to something else. It doesn’t really matter what you pick as long as it’s something that piques your interest, there’s really no “correct” order to learn things in.

Learn from Others

No one ever said that mastering a magical practice had to be done alone. Reach out to experienced practitioners and those knowledgeable in witchcraft to pick up tips and learn from their experiences. Don’t be afraid to ask questions and to open up about your own struggles—not only will it help you to get perspective on things but it will also create a sense of community among those who have similar interests and goals.

If you want someone to help you learn witchcraft in a more structured way that takes a lot of the guesswork out of it, look on a site like Udemy.

Track Your Progress

Finally, make sure to keep track of your progress. This doesn’t have to be complicated; it can take no more than writing a few words in your journal each day or creating a spreadsheet or digital document to track your spells, rituals, divination, and other activities related to your practice. Write down all of your wins, big and small. In fact, especially write down the small wins! Remember that those little moments add up and they DO count.

By tracking your progress, you’ll be able to easily refer back to your successes, what worked and what didn’t. And on days when things seem to be hitting a dead end, you’ll be able to look at the progress you’ve made and remind yourself of how far you’ve come.

By integrating these tips into your magical practice, you’ll be well on your way to mastering witchcraft despite life’s little hiccups and obstacles.

When life gets overwhelming, don’t forget that you can still practice witchcraft. It doesn’t have to be an in-depth practice or a lengthy ritual – it can be a five-minute positive affirmation every morning or lighting a white candle every night before bed. While it’s important to build a strong foundation of knowledge and practice, a lot of times the simplest techniques are the most powerful.

Remind yourself that you are in control and have the power to shape your life. Invest in yourself and create a personalized practice that works for you, but remember that a little bit goes a long way. No matter how busy or stressed you might be, a few simple steps can take you a long way on your journey to mastering witchcraft.

#witchblr #witchcraft #witch #witches #baneful magic #occult #occultism #hoodoo #black girl magic #afro witch #black witch

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konohokelly · 4 months

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LEECH - Sejanus Plinth (1/2)

Leeches are segmented parasitic or predatory worms that comprise the subclass Hirudinea.

Summary: Hirudinea Snow is going to baby-trap Sejanus Plinth to get her hands on the Plinth fortune. Warnings: Sex, manipulation, sexual assault (baby-trapping), toxicity, gaslighting, OC is a bitch, Sejanus is too good for her, OC is a bad person through and through, OC is a Capitol supremacist, Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Minors DNI Past!Hilarius Heavensbee I’m a first time smut writer. Sorry if it’s not good :( MC is fem and named but her appearance is NEVER explicitly described.

Borders by @saradika on tumblr

Graduation was a few months away, and Hirudinea Snow saw no future ahead.

Hirudinea was a lot of things; she was mean-spirited, spiteful, judgmental and shallow. Or at least that's what she's been told.

If her outside matched her inside, she would be as hideous as could be, but they didn't match, and she thought herself to be fairly good-looking. After all, she didn't have much else going for her.

Unlike her older sister, Tigris, she wasn't talented at anything in particular, and unlike her cousin Coriolanus, she wasn't academically inclined.

This was going to be a problem. Her time at the Academy was coming to an end, and she couldn't cheat off Coriolanus to get into University like she had done to secure her place at the Academy.

She often dreamt of her childhood before the uprisings when she was content with the family fortune, but they were brought to ruin by those ungrateful districts, and the money wasn't coming back. It was blown to bits with District 13.

If Hirudinea had her way, the rest of the districts would have ended up like 13, but the Hunger Games would just have to do.

It was times like this that she ruminated on the Plinth family, who were dirt beneath her shoes, yet they lived like kings while she holed away in this rat's nest they called an apartment. And Sejanus Plinth was the worst of them.

She couldn't keep her vision from turning red whenever he spoke against the Capitol in class. He should be thankful that people like her tolerated his living amongst them.

‘I deserve everything he has. It’s not fair.’

Yet he had a legacy set out for him, and all she had was a year left at the academy. After which, her popularity with the student body would mean nothing, and all her friends would move on.

She was nothing, and she contributed nothing. Tigris took care of the family, and Corio studied hard to take them out of poverty, but how would he afford university? How would Tigris not burn out before she achieved her dream?

Hirudinea couldn't help them, all she did was take; she was just a parasit-

"Dinea," Tigris interrupted the depressing train as she entered the room.

"You should come while the food's still hot," Tigris informed her with a warm smile.

Right in the middle of the old oak dining table was a large loaf of bread flanked by a meager serving of butter and jam. Grandma'am and Corio were already seated, eating in silence.

Hirudinea didn't bother using the knife. Tearing into the bread, she moaned as the taste of freshly baked goodness filled her mouth.

"Hey!" Coriolanus exclaimed, unimpressed by her lack of table manners.

The cousins never got along; they were too alike yet too different at the same time. Both had a deep-seated cruelty but while he kept his sentiments disguised, she struggled not to let them out.

"Don't shout at little Dinea, Coriolanus. Manners!" Grandma'am warned. It was no secret that Dinea was the favorite grandchild. The girl could get away with anything in their home.

She tutted smugly at Coriolanus before turning to Tigris with her mouth still full.

"It's sooo good. How did we afford fresh bread?"

"I, um... I had some extra money from work," Tigris rushed out, quickly turning away to cut a piece for herself.

Hirudinea threw her gaze across the table, meeting Coriolanus's. They both knew what Tigris did to feed them tonight.

It was one of the many things they acknowledged but never voiced aloud.

Sensing an oncoming uncomfortable silence, Hirudinea quickly changed the topic. "You'll never guess who Lysistrata was spotted with last week."

She looked off mysteriously, hoping to drum up interest in the otherwise irrelevant drama.

Back in her room, Hirudinea resumed her wallowing as she flipped through the gossip column in yesterday's newspaper.

She thought of the bread and the things her sweet sister had to do to put food on the table. Their parents would be rolling in their graves to see their daughter reduced to such. How Tigris was worth.

Hirudinea’s eyes landed on the story of a woman who was impregnated by some society woman's husband and has allegedly been living off the child care allowance ever since.

'Isn't that funny, my life is going down the drain but some hussy gets pregnant and...'

A lightbulb went off in Hirudinea's head. She sat up on the bed, a scheme coming to life in her mind, one that would change everything.

Hirudinea would get her fortune, and she would leverage all she had to get it.

For the first time in probably forever, Hiridinea was excited to be in school.

Today was the first day of her new life.

It was easy.

All she had to do was have a baby. She decided that going off with some gross old man would leave her with too little control so the father of her child would have to be around her age.

She never cared much for children. She wanted them at some point, but it was never a priority and never for any reason more than she felt she was supposed to have them.

But now there was urgency to it. The only question was which one of her classmates would be the patsy.

She sat in the last row of the class alone today, far away from her best friends, Arachne and Livia.

As she saw their mouths move in conversation, she didn't wonder what they were talking about; she knew the topic was probably her. Hirudinea didn't mind; she did it to either of them whenever the other wasn't around too.

She scoped out the boys in class. None of them would do. In fact, most of them would outright call her a slut and turn her away if she came up to them and said

"Remember that time we had sex? Yeah, you got me pregnant"

Hilarius Heavensbee was her first choice; they had dated for a long time and had similar views of the world, but he was also deathly afraid of disappointing his mother, a battleaxe of a woman who didn't like Hirudinea much. The feeling was mutual.

The woman had finally told Hilarius to break up with Hirudinea after a particularly bad argument between his mother and girlfriend, and he did!

If she ended up pregnant for Hilarius, she would either be forced to abort or give away the baby, and then there wouldn't have been a point to any of it.

Pup was the next best choice. Although she couldn't imagine kissing him, with his food-lodged braces, she knew of his father's sense of responsibility, a military trait.

If she had Pup's baby, the boy himself might turn her away, but his father would not.

As she began to pack up her belongings to move over to Pup and begin her seduction, the doors of the classroom slammed open.

In came Sejanus Plinth. Hirudinea scoffed, he couldn't even be bothered to show up on time. But this lack of public etiquette was to be expected, after all, he wasn't like the rest of them.

"Sorry," he quietly apologized to the professor, not bothering to explain himself, as he knew a trip to the dean's office was in his future regardless.

He looked towards Coriolanus to find the seats surrounding his friend already full. He sighed and reluctantly moved towards the back of the class.

As he walked up the stairs, Hirudinea noticed his shoes; they were brand new, dark leather with silver accents. They must have cost a fortune.

The cogs in the girl's head began to turn.

He sat a few chairs down from her.

'Maybe...but no...wait, this might be something. No, this is perfect!'

She gathered her books and quietly moved down the aisle, settling down beside the curly-haired boy.

The young heir didn't notice her. He was too focused on whatever he was writing in his notes.

From what little she had gathered over the years, he was the perfect candidate: Insanely wealthy, influential, attractive and stupidly naive.

The best part was that he had an annoying sense of moral superiority and would never turn her child away. His parents were a piece of cake; Mrs. Plinth seemed nice enough, and Strabo, in desperation to be considered Capitol, wouldn't deny his grandchild, born from a member of the reputable Snow family.

Of course, there's the fact that Sejanus is District. He was below her. But it didn't matter, she reasoned; the districts owe her for the dark days, and this was just compensation. The Plinths would take on the burden of providing for her child, and she would get their money to save her family and do with as she likes.

Yes, it was perfect.

"Psst," she whispered. "Hey. Sejanus."

Sejanus finally glanced up, shocked when he realized who had called to him.

Hirudinea never made much of an effort to interact with him in recent years, only ever addressing him directly, although briefly, when she needed to speak with Corio and Sejanus was around.

He didn't really miss their childhood interactions either, which consisted of her leading the charge to push him around and call him district scum on the playground.

As they grew up, she had become cordial with him but would still snicker whenever someone made a comment about his upbringing.

He quickly returned his expression to the stoic face he wore when dealing with Capitol people like Hirudinea.

"What are you up to?" She asked with a smile, a playful lilt in her cadence.

Now that was weird to him.

"Taking notes" he replied neutrally

She nodded, looking around as she came up with something else to talk about.

She turned back to him,

“I forgot my notepad in my locker” she used her arm to cover her notepad which was on the table “Is it okay if I copy off yours after class?"

Was this some sort of trick? He thought.

She saw his hesitation and acted quickly "I'm doing really bad in this class, and I can't afford to fail the next quiz." She placed her soft hand over his. "Please."

It would be wrong of him to let her fail, wouldn't it? His soft brown eyes sparkled with compassion.

"Okay, I have a free period next. Meet me after class?"

Coriolanus seemed to be the only one to notice the strange interaction.

He had been surprised when Dinea had sat away from her irritating friends but now she was talking to Sejanus of all people.

She was definitely up to something and he would get to he bottom of it.

She met Sejanus in the library after class. There weren't many people around, and the librarian was busy somewhere far from them.

He stayed mostly silent, expanding on certain things he had written every now and then.

She needed to get the conversation started. But what could she talk about? A shared memory, maybe?

"Do you remember that field trip to the Capitol testing facility we went on when we were eleven?" she asked out of nowhere.

He was confused about the question but remembered the trip well. "The one where you dared Felix to sneak out one of the specimen; he was too scared so Clemensia went instead."

He laughed a bit, remembering how a little Clemmy was led out of a lab by her collar. She still hadn't lived it down.

"She got in so much trouble. A whole week's suspension," Hirudinea added with a giggle.

"What did you call Felix the next day again?" He asked

"I said he was so chicken, I could see the feathers growing out of his ass."

They both burst out laughing.

It was the most relaxed he had ever been around her.

It wasn't long before the librarian came over to shush them. They apologized and spoke with a quieter tone.

"You know, he made sure I wasn't invited to his birthday because of that. I hoped the party was a disaster. What did you think of it?"

"I, um, didn't get an invite either, remember?" Sejanus said with an awkward chuckle.

She did remember now. Hirudinea was the one to tell Felix not to invite the boy. In front of his face too. It didn’t do her any favors so she decided to change up the story a bit.

"Felix was such a jerk for doing that to you. I told him not to, but he never listens."

Sejanus vividly recalled her being in on it too but decided he remembered wrong. After all, she had been so nice today, why would she lie now?

The girl got somber all of a sudden, looking down shamefully.

"You know, I'm really sorry about how we all treated you in the past. You didn't deserve that." She hoped he didn't catch her false sincerity.

A small smile appeared on his face. "It's okay."

"Am I forgiven?" She playfully offered her hand to him.

"You're forgiven." He took her hand in a surprisingly firm handshake.

Hirudinea hung out with Sejanus often over the following weeks.

They established an easygoing friendship.

She made him swear to keep their friendship secret from Coriolanus, although he didn’t like it.

She didn't need her cousin sticking his nose in her business.

Sejanus came to trust the Snow girl to the point he spoke of his home in District 2 with her. She didn't say much about the topic during these conversations and he assumed it was because she wanted to listen intently. But the truth was she could hardly hold in her groan whenever he spoke of his old home.

‘Why is he reminiscing over THAT when he’s in the Capitol? How ungrateful can he be?’

She didn't abandon her objective of getting into his bed, pushing it as subtly as she could. A too-long hug here, a lingering hand on his thigh there. It always left him flustered.

He was fast developing a crush, and she knew it.

Soon enough, the moment of truth came. Sejanus had invited her to his place to hang out, and would make sure to be prepared.

It was almost time for Hirudinea to leave for Sejanus' house; she just needed to get some things in order.

Tigris was the only one at home and was holed up in her room. Hirudinea was thankful for this since her broken door lock provided no privacy for what she needed to next

She picked up a small foil packet from her lap. It was a condom. Without hesitation, she used one of Tigris smallest needles to poke holes through the protective barrier. She couldn't let Sejanus into her raw just yet; it had to look like an accident when she ended up pregnant.

When she felt like there were enough holes in the foil, she retrieved another and repeated the process.

Hirudinea sat on Sejanus bed.

He was in the kitchen getting her a glass of water, refusing to send an Avox. An act of rebellion against the status quo.

Hirudinea had to hold a fake smile through a brain-numbing conversation with Sejanus mother when she arrived. The woman was kind, but the lack of Capitol urgency made speaking with Mrs. Plinth feel like a chore. Thankfully, the woman had left to attend a party soon after, giving the two some privacy.

The girl dreaded having to hear Mrs. Plinth drone on about baby tips in the near future.

Hirudinea just wanted to get this over with and go home.

So she got up and stripped down to her lacy underwear. It had taken all her savings to afford them, but they would be worth it.

"Sej" She whispered the nickname seductively as he entered the room.

"Here you go..." He trailed off, closing the door behind him.

Sejanus paused. His face heated up as his eyes moved over her body once before snapping to her face.

"Come over here, Sej" she purred.

She brought her fingers to her mouth, twirling her tongue around them expertly. His jaw slacked.

Her fingers dropped to her panties next, slowly working the wetness into her entrance through the fabric.

His eyes were glued to the wet spot on her panties but his face was riddled with guilt.

"What about Hilarius? Aren't you together?" He asked

She freely rolled her eyes since he wasn't looking at her face. Only Sejanus would be worried about another man's relationship when a pretty girl was spread out before him.

"We broke up a while ago"

"I'm sorry"

She had no idea why he was apologizing.

"It doesn't matter. I want you"

His eyes snapped up. He was confused, but she gave him a soft smile, her eyes squinted ever so slightly, and his heart melted.

He placed the water down and moved over to Hirudinea.

Settling on the edge of the bed, He slowly brought his hand up to stroke her shin, moving up to her knee, then back down again.

"I want you too. I-I really like you, Hirudinea. I have for a while now”

'This is too easy'

All the lust gone from his eyes and replaced with something gentler. Hirudinea didn’t need that right now.

She took his hand from her cheek and slowly slid it to her waist

"It's okay, Sej, you can take what you want. I want you to"

That last statement was all he needed.

Sejanus surged forward over her and captured her lips in the most gentle kiss possible. It didn't last long, as she opened her mouth and initiated a deeper kiss. It was wet and hot. She wondered if the sloppiness of the kiss was due to a lack of experience or his need for her. She decided it was the latter when she felt his growing erection against her core.

Hirudinea lifted her hands to his curls, tugging at the strands, earning a deep groan.

He pushed his tongue into her mouth, licking at her tongue, her teeth, anything he could reach. The hairs on her arms stood up as she moaned softly at his need.

His lips moved down from her mouth to the curve of her neck, licking and sucking at her skin until he arrived at the cup of her bra.

He looked up, asking for permission to remove the article of clothing. She nodded, biting her lip.

He struggled for a second but once it was off, he sat back on his heels. Looking at the beautiful woman before him.

He was in absolute awe, and it was making her impatient.

Hirudinea raised her hands to her breasts, squeezing them harshly and moaning his name.

Almost immediately Sejanus reacted, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her onto his lap.

With his height and powerful build, she shouldn't have been surprised by his strength. She kind of liked the way his big arms held her so firmly...

He buried his face in her breasts, nuzzling into her and taking in her scent, before turning to take a nipple into his mouth. His tongue laved over the sensitive spot as he breathed heavily into her chest. Her other breast occupied by his hand which squeezed her gently.

"Oh, Sej" she breathed, leaning into his touch.

"Take off your clothes, baby" she said.

She didn't have to tell him twice. He laid her down, kissing her softly, before rising to pull off his clothes.

She bit her lip as each piece of clothing fell away from his body. His boxers were the last to go, and she gasped when she saw what was beneath them.

His rock hard member was long and wide as it stood at attention, curving slightly to the left. The head of his cock was an angry red and the veins around the shaft were strained with his need.

Underneath Sejanus’ shaft were his large balls, they sat heavily, ready to be emptied. His hair was trimmed neatly.

She knew he was big from the outline in his trousers when he was flaccid but she never imagined this.

She mentally prepared herself to take him, having never been with anyone so well endowed.

It didn't take Sejanus long to grasp the edges of her panties and pull them over her legs, adding them to the pile of clothes on the floor.

She wasn't expecting him to brush over her clit high his fingers. She gasped at the tingles it sent down her legs.

“I want to touch you, can I?” He asked with a politeness that didn’t belong in the bedroom.

"There's no need for that, Sej. I want you inside me" she said with a laugh.

"Please baby, let me make you feel good" he begged.

As much as she wanted to get to fucking, she supposed she could allow herself a treat.

'I might as well get off since I'm already here'

"Okay, baby. Go ahead"

Rubbing over her clit with his thumb, his middle finger teased her entrance.

"Mmm" she sighed. Pressing her head back against the bedding

After a few more swipes with his thumb, his middle finger began to work its way in. He pushed in as far as he could go, stopping when his knuckles met her mound.

Her back arched up from the bed as his finger brushed over that spot inside her.

Sejanus could help but groan at the way her walls gripped his finger. He imagined what she would feel like around his cock.

Her wetness coated his finger as he began pumping into her core and before long, he added a second finger, stretching her out. She cooed and rocked her hips against his hand.

She moved her hips in time with Sejanus’s movements. Spearing herself down on his fingers. A coil had begun to wind itself in her abdomen, begging to snap.

"Oh Sej, I need more"

He pumped harder, adding a third finger. Wet sounds filled the room.

That was it.

Hirudinea threw her head back, hands squeezing the sheets as she writhed against them, crying out her pleasure.

”Yes, Sej!”

The bliss was so intense her vision whited out temporarily.

As she came down, still letting out soft moans, she wondered why she had never come that hard when Hilarius had fingered her, or any of the other boys.

But she didn't have time to think about that, not when she needed Sejanus’s cum inside her.

"I need you in me, baby," she pleaded.

He didn’t need much convincing. He was aching and ready to burst.

Reaching under the pillow, she revealed one of the tampered-with condoms she hid there and with a naughty expression tore the foil open and slid it onto him.

He climbed over her as she spread her legs wider.

Holding himself up by his forearms and knees, he lined up his cock with her entrance.

“Are you sure” he asked, needing her explicit consent.

“Fuck me, Sejanus” was all she said.

He pressed against her entrance and took his time pushing in. He couldn’t get enough of the way her gummy walls bared down on his cock but didn’t want to hurt her.

The stretch was uncomfortable but she would have to manage. She she brought her legs up and used them to put slight pressure on his hips which spurred him to relent and slide home.

His cock was stuffed into her as far as it could go, making him groan uncontrollably. The feeling of her around him was better than anything he'd imagined.

"You feel amazing," he grunted out.

He didn't move for a second, enjoying the fit. But soon enough, he was gently thrusting.

Hirudinea wasn't satisfied his pace, "Harder, baby" she demanded.

He obeyed and began thrusting hard and fast. He tried to control himself, letting out grunts of passion, but they quickly turned into "oh"s and "ugh"s.

"Does my pussy feel good, Sej. Do you like the way I squeeze your huge cock" she asked with a sexy voice.

"Feels so good, baby. Ughhh"

His upper body fell a bit, letting half of his weight pin her to the bed as he shoved his cock deeper into her pussy, hitting her cervix. His forehead resting against his lovers.

Wet squelching sounds filled the room as his cock went in and out and in and out. Her hands ran over his bare back, pulling him into a passionate kiss.

Although she felt some discomfort with the way he was pressing against her cervix, she let out moans at the stimulation to that sensitive spot inside her. No inch of her pussy was left untouched by his thick cock.

Her sweet sounds fueled his relentless thrusts, and she didn't mind. It was actually really hot.

His hands found her knees, pushing them against the bed to spread her wide open for him. This was hot. She could feel another orgasm building within her.

If only her grandma'am could see her now, legs wide open and spilling soft noises as a district boy ruts against her. The old woman would certainly have a heart attack.

Sejanus pulled away from her lips to look deep into her eyes. It felt as if he were staring at her soul.

"Your eyes are so pretty," he whispered. The softness of his voice didn't match his thrusts.

She was dumb-struck. This hadn't happened to her during sex before; it usually came before sex to lull her into a false sense of security. She needed whatever he was doing to stop.

Splaying her hands out on the back of his head, she guided him to look down at where they were joined.

'This will distract him'

It worked. Sejanus groaned loudly as he watched his cock push and pull from her core covered in her slick. He stayed like that for a minute or two, allowing her to enjoy the feeling of his cock scraping against her g-spot, but then the spell wore off of him, and he was looking into her eyes again.

"So beautiful"

He had caught her out of left field. She didn't know what to do, so she pulled him close and buried her face in his neck, breathing in the citrus-y scent of his shampoo.

He was getting there; she could tell by the way his body was stiffening and the way his movements were getting jerkier. She was close too, moans falling from her lips like a waterfall.

"I'm so close. Are you gonna cum, Sej?"

"I'm going to come so hard, baby," he groaned, body continuing to tighten.

"Then fucking cum," She said through gritted teeth as her second orgasm hit her. She cursed out loud, feeling the waves of ecstasy wash over her.

He moaned her name as his end hit him hard, spurred on by the tightening of her cunt. "Fuck, I'm cummin'," he paused, pushing flush against her before beginning to thrust faster and shallower, his rhythm completely lost.

His eyes nearly crossed at the pleasure. Rope after role of cum filled the condom, and Hirudinea smiled to herself, knowing it was leaking into her womb. He moaned loudly.

“OHHHhhhh…”

His arms gave out, and he fell fully on top of her, but she wasn't bothered by his weight. He once again nuzzled into her breasts as his breathing evened out.

"Mmm, You smell good," he murmured.

She gave him a few moments before gently pushing him off and rolling on top of him. Removing herself from his cock, she carefully took the condom off under the guise of helping through the post-coital haze, pecking the tip of his nose before standing up. She disposed of the rubber before beginning to dress.

"You don't have to leave yet; my Ma won't be back for a while,"

Hirudinea cringed at his use of District 2 vernacular.

She hoped their child would never address her in such a manner. She preferred a distinguished 'mother' or 'ma'am'

"I should get home. I don't want to worry anyone"

She was a little peeved when Sejanus insisted on walking her to the Corso.

He had escorted her home before, but tonight, his incessant need to smile like an idiot the entire time was pissing her off.

Walking side by side, the backs of their hands brushed occasionally, sending sparks up his arm. Eventually, Sejanus takes the initiative to grasp her hand in his own, entwining their fingers.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" He asked hopefully

"I would like that." She feigned bashfulness.

When they arrived the door of the Corso, she refused to let him take her any further, saying, "My grandma'am won't like to see me with a boy this late."

It convinced him to let Hirudinea off here, not wanting to get her in trouble. He did ask for one more kiss though, which she allowed. It was sweet and light.

"Goodnight, Dinea" he said as the door closed behind her.

The journey upstairs gave her time to think about what had just happened.

Her periods were infrequent, only coming every three months or so. So she would have to get pregnancy tested at the hospital. But how would she afford it?

It was only when she reached the penthouse that she realized he had called her by her nickname.

'What gives him the righ-'

The door burst open to reveal an upset Corio.

"Where were you!?" He yelled.

Hirudinea rolled her eyes and pushed past him.

She went straight to her room and laid back on the mattress, picking up a magazine to flip through.

Corio had decided not to let it go and ended up standing over her with his arms folded.

"If you must know, I was with someone" she finally said after a minute of him just staring.

"With who?"

"That little friend of yours, the one from District 2," she waved her hand as if trying to recall his name. As if she hadn’t been screaming it out an hour ago.

"Sejanus?"

"Sejanus! That's the one. We were studying at his house"

"He's not my friend, Dinea. I tolerate him, but you don't, and the last time I saw you study, we were still using crayons. So you should understand why I don’t believe that’s what were you really doing there?"

Dinea stood up at full height and jabbed her finger into his chest. "I don't need to explain myself to you, Corio. You're not my dad"

"I might as well be, since Tigris and I have been carrying your weight ever since we were kids, just because you're grandma'am's golden child. You've never achieved anything by yourself!” His frustration was evident in his voice.

"Is that what this is about? You're looking for a reason to get me in trouble with grandma'am. You're pitiful, Corio," she laughed and walked into the living room. "It's no wonder your mother died trying to replace you; you know, old Crassus Snow probably killed himself in 12 to get away from you too"

Coriolanus' face hardened as he began marching over to her.

She always dealt out the low-blow in an argument.

Tigris came out of her room at just the right moment, "What's going on, you two?"

"Go on, Corio. Tell her the great sin I committed," Hirudinea pressed. She knew Corio would look like he was overreacting if Tigris knew the fight was over Dinea hanging out with Sejanus, whom Corio himself hangs out with.

"Nothing," the young man huffed.

As the family dispersed, Hirudinea called out to the blonde boy,

"Don't worry about what I'm doing. Remember, snow lands on top" she assured.

Part two

How do you feel about Hirudinea and Sejanus? I'm really interested in your thoughts on Dinea and the things she’s doing!

Please like and reblog, if you feel like. Your feedback and interactions keeps me motivated XO

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motleyfam · 2 months

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In the most non-judgmental way possible (because fandom is for fun and everyone is welcome to enjoy it whatever way suits them best), it really amuses me when people bookmark an ongoing fic series as “to read when complete” or something similar. Like, every individual fic within the series will be completed—it’s not a cliff hanger or anything!—but since the series itself is still actively updating, they’re holding out for that green check mark before they dive in.

Like maybe it’s the binge media consumption culture we live in or whatever, but it’s just so funny to me. Because when I get invested in a particular fic universe—whether as a reader or as the writer—I hope it never ends. I hope the author keeps on getting more ideas and expanding and growing and adding to that world that they created because it’s giving them so much joy they don’t ever want to stop. I hope we all get to play in that sandbox they created as long as possible because… what else was the point of making it?

An ongoing fic series just means that there’s still potential for more, and it always leaves me scratching my head how that could ever be taken as a bad thing.

#I get not reading an updating chaptered fic until it’s complete #because you don’t want to end on a cliff hanger or whatever #but when it’s a series?#when it’s a whole collection of individual fics in the same universe?#so many of those never get marked complete because the author’s having fun playing in the sandbox they created #and isn’t that that whole point?

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leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesworld · 1 month

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CALM AFTER THE STORM |BTS OT7 X READER| HYBRID AU (M)

{Chapter One – Disgusting Humans}

Pairing: OT7 BTS!HYBRID X FEM!HUMAN READER.

Kim Namjoon: Black Mackenzie Valley Alpha wolf

Kim Soekjin: Alpha White Lion

Min Yoongi: Alpha White Jaguar

Jung Hosoek: Alpha Snow Leopard

Park Jimin: Alpha Albino Cobra

Kim Taehyung: Alpha White/ Bleached Tiger

Jeon Jungkook: Alpha Black Panther

Reader: Heaven Valentino

Status: Ongoing

RATED (M) FOR MATURE

Words: 2.4k!

WARNING: EVENTUAL SMUT, BLOOD GORE, DETAILED GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION, ABUSE (ALL FORMS), PROFANITY, VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, CHARACTER DEATH(MINOR), SADOMASOCHISM ACTS, MENTIONS OF BDSM, ETC...

CHAPTER WARNING: The following chapter contains sensitive and distressing subject matter, including references to child rape, kidnapping, and child trafficking. If you find such topics triggering or uncomfortable, I encourage you to exercise self-care and consider avoiding this particular chapter. Your mental and emotional well-being always come first.

Previous Next

MATERIALIST

~Valentino Mansion~

3RD PERSON'S POV

Heaven Valentino, a skilled and determined woman, had just finished a rigorous training session at her gym. With precision and composure, she fired round after round at a target dummy, hitting the bullseye every time. Satisfied with her performance, she exited the gym and began making her way back to her room.

As she walked, a voice called out to her,

"Ms. Valentino?" It was her secretary and trusted right-hand man, Park Hyung-jae, hurrying to catch up with her.

Curious, she turned to face him. "Yes, Jae?"

"Someone is requesting your presence," Jae informed her, the urgency evident in his voice.

Heaven's sharp mind instantly assessed the situation.

"Who is it, and what role do they play?" she calmly inquired.

Jae answered without missing a beat.

"Choi Woobin, Chief Executive General Officer," he replied, conveying that the person in question held a position of significance.

"Very well," she replied nonchalantly.

"Set up an appointment for two in the afternoon. If he fails to arrive on time, I will not entertain him. Punctuality is of utmost importance to me."

With that, she moved on, resolute in her decision. It was typical of her to make swift judgments and take charge of her own schedule, refusing to waste time on those who did not value timeliness.

Her composed demeanor left Jae slightly taken aback.

"Well, that was easier than I expected," he mused to himself, shrugging off the surprise. With a sense of relief, he left to fulfill his assigned tasks.

~Heaven's Room~

Heaven's POV

Ah, I knew it wouldn't take long for him to come begging. I could see right through his façade, right from the start. You see, there are very few things that I despise more than tardiness, laziness and liars.

Hybrid abusers.

Growing up as the youngest daughter of the illustrious Valentino family, I've had my fair share of enemies. From the moment I entered this world, there were those who sought to bring me down, to harm me, or even to kidnap me, all in an attempt to weaken my family. But these feeble-minded individuals could never succeed.

Many assumed that, as a wealthy and privileged young woman, I would be nothing more than a spoiled brat with no ability to defend herself.

But oh, how wrong they were.

From the day I could walk and comprehend the world around me, I have been trained relentlessly.

The Valentinos believe in honing the skills and fortitude of their children, regardless of their gender. So, from the tender age of four, I began my journey towards becoming a force to be reckoned with.

By the time I reached fifteen, I had accomplished what most could only dream of. I graduated high school with a flawless 5.0 GPA. But my thirst for knowledge was insatiable, leading me to a prestigious university known as the "Gifted Souls."

In just a few short years, I secured a PhD in psychology, a Masters in business, and even delved into the realm of fashion. I achieved all of this by the tender age of twenty-two, and now, at the age of twenty-three, I am well on my way to solidifying my empire and making a name for myself.

The professors at my university were astounded by my brilliance, bestowing upon me the moniker of the 'female version of Albert Einstein.' But, I paid little attention to such trivialities.

My single-minded focus was on gaining knowledge and establishing myself as a force in the business world. I aim to take over one of my parents' companies, the very essence of the Valentino empire.

People may see me as a woman who walks with an iron fist. When they encounter me, they don't think of mesad merely as Heaven of the Valentino family, they see Heaven Valentino, a woman who commands respect and exudes power.

Some have even had the audacity to refer to me as the ice princess, the demoness and a sadist. But I take such labels in stride because I know the true strength that lies within me.

As an individual who values efficiency and productivity, I possess a limited tolerance for trivial matters or individuals who impede progress.

In the circle with which I surround myself, idleness and unproductive behavior have no place.

Vigilance remains paramount, as there are perpetually individuals plotting one's downfall or even one's demise, and I personally acknowledge the latter as the ultimate threat.

Over time, I have accumulated a considerable list of adversaries. The number of instances where I have inadvertently provoked others is too extensive to accurately quantify, such is the nature of my assertive personality.

When confronted with something disagreeable or incongruous to my stated preferences, I swiftly take decisive action.

The ability to discern and rectify undesirable situations is a responsibility I take seriously, akin to the saying,

"With great power comes great responsibility."

In my case, this responsibility is focused solely on my survival.

While some may perceive my approach as cold or detached, it is merely a matter of survival in a world where dangers often lurk beneath the surface.

In conclusion, my aversion to nonsense and unwavering commitment to productivity have inevitably resulted in the development of numerous adversaries.

This is an outcome I readily accept due to the assertive nature of my character.

My consistent and immediate response to unfavorable circumstances is driven by a sense of responsibility towards self-preservation.

Ultimately, it is this unwavering dedication to my own well-being that helps me navigate the precarious landscape of existence.

I felt my eyes narrow as I thought about the man who had recently come into my crosshairs,

Mr. Choi, the Chief Executive General Officer of Seoul National Police.

To the public, he was a respected figure in his early fifties, but I knew the dark secrets that lurked beneath his facade.

Mr. Choi's wife had tragically succumbed to stage four cancer, leaving him without any children to carry on his legacy.

Many saw him as a pillar of the community, a dedicated servant of the people. But I saw through the facade to the truth - he was a twisted, solipsistic man who had been engaged in despicable acts.

It was a revelation that had shaken me to the core when I had discovered that Mr. Choi was involved in taking bribes from hybrid traffickers.

The thought of such corruption within the ranks of law enforcement made my blood boil.

But what truly turned my stomach was the knowledge that he was also a child rapist and a sadistic individual who derived pleasure from the suffering of others.

Only I and my uncle knew the extent of Mr. Choi's depravity. My uncle ran a Hybrid facility called Hybrid Heaven (HH), dedicated to rescuing hybrids from abuse and capturing traffickers who sought to exploit them for profit.

When my uncle had uncovered Mr. Choi's involvement in these heinous activities, he had turned to me for help in bringing him to justice.

With the help of my loyal team of associates, I had quickly gathered evidence of Mr. Choi's crimes. It was not difficult to connect the dots once they realized that a police officer was complicit in covering up the illegal activities of hybrid trafficking.

And when Mr. Choi's name had surfaced as the linchpin in the operation, I wasted no time in setting my plan into motion.

I stood in my room and felt a surge of anger and revulsion towards the man who had committed such atrocities. I knew that he was reaching out in a desperate attempt to cover his tracks, but I also knew that I held the power to bring him to his knees.

With a steely resolve, I prepared myself for the confrontation that lay ahead. I would not rest until Mr. Choi faced the full force of justice for his crimes.

And in that moment, I squared my shoulders and steeled my gaze, I knew that I was ready to confront the darkness that lurked within the heart of a man who had once been seen as a paragon of virtue.

°●°○°●°○°●°○°●°○°●°○°●°○°●°•°•°•°•°•°•°

~Mayás Fashion House~

As I arrived at my company building, the energy in the air shifted as the employees stopped in their tracks to greet me politely. With a nod and a smile, I returned their greetings, keeping the interactions brief.

I made my way to the private elevator that would take me up to the 8th floor where the meeting room awaited.

As the elevator came to a stop, I stepped out and approached the meeting room. The transparent glass walls and doors allowed me to catch a glimpse of Mr. Choi inside, his figure pacing nervously.

I watched as he reached for a handkerchief to dab at his sweat, a reaction that I found somewhat distasteful. Pushing open the doors, I sauntered over to one of the swivel chairs, disrupting Mr. Choi's anxious movements.

"Good Afternoon, Mr. Choi," I greeted him calmly, causing him to visibly startle. With hesitant steps, he made his way towards me and took a seat on the opposite side of the table.

"G-good af-afternoon, Ms. Valentino," he stuttered out, clearly flustered by my presence.

"Relax, Mr. Choi. I just need some information from you, and then we'll be done," I reassured him with a light chuckle, meeting his gaze as he averted his eyes and nodded eagerly.

"Good. Now, let's not beat around the bush. Tell me everything you know about the illegal underground Hybrid dealers," I said, leaning back in my chair, a sense of authority evident in my tone.

Mr. Choi hesitated before beginning to speak, revealing details about the underground operation.

He mentioned a mysterious figure known as Black Eagle who orchestrated the kidnapping and sale of hybrids for profit.

The auction took place over five days at a luxurious resort on the outskirts of Seoul, shrouded in secrecy to all but those in attendance.

His eyes met mine as he shared more about the nefarious activities, including a bi-monthly Hybrid auction where rare exotic hybrids were sold off to wealthy clientele with exclusive VIP passes provided by Black Eagle.

I listened intently, absorbing the information and maintaining a composed demeanor throughout.

It was clear that Mr. Choi was apprehensive, but my focused interrogation drew out the pertinent details I needed to pursue further action against the criminal syndicate.

My eyebrows creased as I listened, a mix of disbelief and horror washing over me.

The thought of such a place existing where people indulged in their darkest desires on hybrids, pushing the boundaries of cruelty and exploitation, made my stomach churn with disgust. The depths of depravity that some individuals would sink to astounded me.

He continued, "Participants torture hybrids to feed into their twisted sexual gratification,"

What the actual fuck!

These creatures, who were part human and part animal, deserved compassion and care, not to be subjected to such heinous acts.

It was a stark reminder of the darkest facets of humanity, a side that I never wanted to believe existed.

As the details of the auction event unfolded, each revelation seemed to plunge me deeper into a pit of revulsion.

"They also indulged in the "hunger games" a concept, where the rarest hybrids were paraded and objectified for the amusement of the audience, they would compete to inflict pain and suffering on the hybrid, all for the chance to possess them as prizes."

It felt like a nightmare brought to life. To think of it was sickening beyond words.

My heart ached for the hybrids subjected to such cruelty, for their pain and helplessness in the face of such brutality.

It was a stark reminder of the darker side of society, one that I had never truly comprehended until now.

The callousness and inhumanity displayed towards these creatures left me feeling a deep sense of shame for belonging to the same species.

Despite the turmoil of emotions swirling within me, I forced myself to remain composed, to listen to the grim details of the auction event with a steely resolve.

The urge to lash out in anger and despair clawed at the edges of my composure, but I held onto my restraint, determined to bear witness to the extent of the atrocities being described.

As the final details of the event were laid bare, the mechanics of the auction and the fate of the hybrids outlined in chilling clarity, a cold fury settled over me.

The thought of the buyers participating in such cruelty, of treating living beings as mere objects to be traded and discarded, filled me with a sense of loathing that I had never experienced before.

With a clenched jaw and a heart heavy with sorrow, I steeled myself to hear more, to confront the depths of depravity that lay at the heart of the five-day auction event.

Despite the revulsion and horror that threatened to overwhelm me, I knew that I had to bear witness to the truth, no matter how harrowing it may be.

I made a solemn vow to ensure their safety and vowed to lead them to a life free from such atrocities.

Determination consumed me, and I pledged to keep my promise, declaring my identity as Heaven Valentino.

In the intense confrontation that followed, I confronted Choi Woobin with unwavering resolve, demanding information and justice.

As the truth unfolded and the gravity of his actions came to light, the shock on his face was palpable.

Despite his pleas for mercy, I stood firm, condemning his heinous crimes and refusing to yield to his empty remorse.

Taking charge of the situation, I orchestrated his confession and surrender, unwilling to let him escape accountability.

With a mix of anger and compassion, I ensured that justice prevailed, even as his pleas for forgiveness fell on deaf ears.

The moment was charged with raw emotions as he was escorted away, a tearful reminder of the consequences of his despicable deeds.

After the intense encounter, I made a call to Jae, seeking solace after the harrowing events.

Exiting the meeting room, I left the company building and made my way back home, reflecting on the tumultuous events that had transpired.

~Unknown Location~

3rd Person's POV

Two hybrids were drained and weak, their bodies suffering from the beatings they received for sleeping in. Locked in a heavily secured cell, they endured days without food or water, leaving their mouths dry and their bodies craving molesols of food. Heavy metal shackles dug into their wrists, leaving painful bruises as a reminder of their captivity.

One of the hybrids expressed a strange premonition to his older brother.

"Hyung, I have a weird feeling," he murmured, his eyes distant.

“What is it?” his brother inquired, concern evident in his voice.

“I feel like something big is going to happen,” the younger one replied, his hybrid instincts alerting him to an unseen future.

As they shared a tense moment, the older brother hoped silently,

'I hope it's not bad, my dear brother.'

°●°○°●°○°●°○°●°○°●°○°●°○°●°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hey lovebugs,

I'm super excited to hear your thoughts on this book!

I added a tad more detail to offer a glimpse into the world of the book, just enough to spark your curiosity without giving away too much. I wanted to provide a little peek behind the curtain to entice you to come along for the ride.

A quick heads up - this book doesn't hold back on the intense stuff. It deals with some heavy, triggering content that might not be everyone's cup of tea. So, fair warning, this is not your typical light and fluffy read. It's raw, real, and might hit close to home for some.

I'm all ears and eager to hear your feedback, so drop a comment and let me know your thoughts.

Thanks a ton for taking the time to check this out and for sharing your thoughts. Your support means the world to me! Let's dive in and see where this wild literary journey takes us. 📚✨

Thanks a ton again!

TAGLIST OPEN!!

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delta-pavonis · 8 months

Text

Ficlet: O that I were a glove upon that hand

Dreamling || Human AU || Rated E || ~1100 words

(Because Tom doing Romeo at VogueWorld 2023 gave me some feelings and Ferdie is often in his Venice Preserv'd look in my head... although with longer hair.)

This has, perhaps, gone too far.

Let's back up.

Everyone in the department, most people on campus, and – because of a viral video of him going off at the director during a dress rehearsal of a Shakespeare in the Park performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream – a damned large swath of London all know of Dr. Robert Gadling's particular and peculiar hate of the Bard. It is what makes this whole thing incredibly frustrating.

Gifts. Hob has been getting gifts. Left for him in conspicuous places, each more finely crafted and expensive than the last. And each with a goddamned Shakespearean love sonnet on it.

If it wasn't for the nature of the gifts themselves Hob would be absolutely certain someone was taking the piss. (Jo, that would probably be Jo.)

But each gift is so bloody thoughtful; carefully chosen with an uncannily tuned awareness to Hob’s personal needs and tastes. This person either really cares for him or… well, he would think the person a possible stalker except that everything they have done relates to something that has happened in public, with full easy access for many people to make a judgment that Hob likes or needs something.

There have been six of them now. And aside from the fact that Hob’s living room wall now looks like all those movies where the authorities are frantically tracking a serial killer, complete with a map of London and lots of red sharpie, he is rather… flattered?

It has been a long time since… well. The anniversary of Eleanor's death will be rounding on eight years this winter.

Hob thinks he has worked out a pattern to when he gets the gifts, is like 80% confident he can guess when they have gotten placed in each location, from his university office, to the men’s dressing room at the White Horse Community Theater, to his usual table at the New Inn. Add to that his approximately 60% confidence in the reasoning behind the temporal spacing of the gifts, and he is ready to roll the dice.

He locks up his office a tick early, as usual on Thursdays, and makes all appearances to head home before going to that evening’s rehearsal. But as soon as he gets home he is donning a new hoodie no one has seen him wear before, slinking back out the garden door, over the hedge, and jogging to the theater. Hob closes himself into the darkness of the men’s dressing room a solid two hours before anyone is scheduled to be anywhere near the place.

And he waits.

Hob is good at waiting.

He is crouched where he will be behind the door when it opens, but this puts him immediately next to some of the accessories storage for costuming for this show. And oh, they have gotten in a new pair of leather gloves for him.

Just because he is good at waiting doesn’t mean that he never gets bored.

Hob slips on the new gloves and works his hands in them. These will be perfect to swordfight in, fantastic.

And then the door creaks open.

He freezes and watches, only the sliver of light coming from the hallway to help him. A masculine figure, slim, in a peacoat, walks silent as a hunting cat to the second chair from the far wall, just where Hob usually gets ready.

A hand runs softly across the back of the chair once before a small box is left on the tabletop. Then as quietly as they came in, the person turns to leave.

Just before they get to the open door Hob pounces.

There is a shout and a scuffle, the two men – for it is another man, of that Hob has no doubt – grappling as one tries to escape and the other hold on.

Which is how Hob ends up with his black leather-gloved hands wrapped around the pale swan neck of his longest friend.

They haven’t seen each other in… fuck, it feels like more than a hundred years. And they had not parted on good terms.

“Christ, Dream?” Hob pants out the nickname but does not let go.

Diamond-sharp blue eyes that could belong only to one person stare at him from beneath heavy lids. He parts his lips to speak, but at the same time Hob shifts the grip of his hands and any words Dream was going to say get lost in a breathtakingly thready moan.

Barely a heartbeat later they meet in the middle, Hob’s hands going to the back of Dream’s head and Dream’s arms going around his shoulders and their mouths fit together like goddamned puzzle pieces and Hob knew, he fucking knew, it would be like this.

They knock over no less than two chairs, collapse against a wall for a minute, then one of them pushes off and they are almost going ass over tea kettle onto the couch. A bit of quick footwork on Hob’s part and they are on the opposite side of the room.

By the time Hob has Dream sitting on the vanity they have gotten their shirts off and his bare back slams into the mirror’s surface, sliding and squeaking with the thin sheen of sweat. He gets his hands under Dream’s thighs, hikes him up to grind their clothed erections together, and once Dream has his legs wrapped around Hob’s hips he brings one hand to his mouth to pull off the gloves.

An unsteady hand grabs his wrist. “Leave them on.” Dream’s voice is even lower than Hob remembers it.

There is fumbling to get flies open and then Hob has his hand wrapped around both their cocks and is pumping. Dream’s fingers are now tugging on Hob’s hair, his body arching prettily as Hob gets his lips and tongue onto that beautiful neck.

Hob is about to be embarrassed by how quickly he is nearing completion when Dream pulls him into a kiss, moaning into his mouth as he shudders through his orgasm.

“Come with me, Hob,” is whispered against his lips and Hob is absolutely lost to it, shouting into Dream’s collarbone.

They are still panting, large heaving breaths, when Dream tugs Hob’s hand up from where it is wrapped around their spent pricks so that he can lick the leather clean. Hob watches that pink tongue dance between his fingers and his cock almost twitches in interest. He huffs a laugh and takes Dream’s chin in his grip, pulls their mouths back together so that he can speak against them.

“Hello, Stranger.”

#Dreamling #Pavonis writes

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