Aaand another one
http://callmegallifreya.tumblr.com/post/73660380194/littlemissmochablue-lalonde-strider-i-want-a
[AN: I would consider it a courtesy that the original poster of these ideas is notified that said idea has become a thing. I can’t always do so myself]
Life was generally easy for a succubus. For starters, she never had to go hungry, so long as there were MRAs in the world.
It usually went like this:
1) Find the nearest neck-beard with a trilby on his head who mistakenly called it a fedora.
2) Smile at him
After that, it was just giggling, flirting, and free alcohol until he decided that he was owed sex and she got a free feed.
Nobody would miss them anyway.
Not tonight. Tonight, the only trilby-wearing neck beard in the club was propping up the counter in extreme disinterest. Sipping club soda and evidently trying not to fall asleep.
Temptrotica bumped into him accidentally-on-purpose and made sure his water spilled all over her front. “Oh! Aaaaaw…”
The guy handed her the paper napkins. Handed them to her! Any other neck-beard she knew would be falling all over himself to lay his hands on her copious breasts.
Maybe he was one of those rare, self-diagnosed ‘gentlemen’ who thought manners paid for sex, too. Temptrotica did her best to show off her assets as she mopped up the spill. “Thank you. It’s so nice to meet someone who respects personal boundaries.”
“You’re welcome,” came the neutral reply.
“Usually, I have like, a dozen guys trying to stick their whole arm down my cleavage…” Hint, hint.
“Yeah, I can see how that would be a pain.”
What the hell? “Can I sit here?”
“Sure.”
He was handsome enough, in a neck-beardy way. Not the usual gamer-chub that came with the hat and the hairstyle. His body-speak didn’t say Leave Me Alone, but it didn’t say I’m Looking, either.
“What’s a gentleman like yourself doing in a nightclub like this?”
He pointed to the water. “Designated driver.”
“Religious?” she asked, since the uptight ones had interesting hidden depths. And amazing energy. She could often leave those walking away pleasantly surprised.
“Allergic.”
“Wow, that’s got to suck. How do you even have a good time?”
“Well, for starters, I usually don’t let my friends take me to a nightclub so they can score.”
“Where are your friends?”
He scanned the crowd. “Those fucking shit-holes abandoned me again! Fuck. I could kill those shits…”
“Why are you even friends with them?”
“I’m starting to question that, myself.” He smiled and said the magic words. “Want to get out of here?”
*
It was a nice night. He certainly knew how to have a good time. But he didn’t touch her. He didn’t look. And he certainly wasn’t getting any creepshots. She’d know.
“Charles?”
“Yeah?”
“Is there something wrong with me?”
“What? No! You’re perfectly… perfectly… uhm… hot, I guess.”
“We should be making out or something…”
Sigh. A shameful droop of his head. “It’s literally not you. It’s me. I’m… asexual.”
OH. “Shit,” she shook her head. “I was starting to think my game was broken.”
“Wow. That’s it? No amoeba comments? No 'how do you survive’? No 'so you don’t have junk’ bullshit?”
“No, I’m familiar with all the varied kinks. And un-kinks. Y'see…” She sighed and looked away. “I’m a succubus.”
“Wow. Sucks to be you, tonight.”
She thought about this. “You know… it’s actually nice to have company that doesn’t want to get into my pants. Do you… like… physical contact?”
“Well, yeah. I’m not aromantic. It’s just… people expect things. It’s difficult. I actually cultivated this look so that ladies would avoid me.”
“And I hunt people who look like that because they usually think they’re entitled to sex!”
They laughed. Held hands for the first time in the evening. It felt nice to get cozy with someone.
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