#half note jazz club
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" Budi Butenop - Tiger Lillies "...
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Ο Δώρος Δημοσθένους τραγουδά Μπιτλς στο Half Note
Ο εκρηκτικός και πάντα ξεχωριστός ερμηνευτής Δώρος Δημοσθένους είναι πάνω απ’ όλα ένας ολοκληρωμένος και δυναμικός performer. Ο πολυτάλαντος καλλιτέχνης, στην επιστροφή του αυτή στην σκηνή του Half Note Jazz Club, ετοιμάζει ένα εξαιρετικό αφιέρωμα στο μυθικό συγκρότημα των Beatles και των κομματιών τους, που όλοι αγαπήσαμε. Από την Παρασκευή 15 έως και την Κυριακή 17 Μαρτίου.
Ο Δώρος…
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A jazz band plays from the top of a liquor cabinet at the Half Note nightclub, a regular hangout for the Beats, 1959. The Half Note was renowned for showcasing up and coming jazz musicians in the 1950s and 1960s.
Photo: Burt Glinn via Magnum Photos/All That's Interesting
#vintage New York#1950s#Burt Glinn#jazz band#Beats#Greenwich Village#vintage Greenwich Village#Bohemia#nightclub#Half Note#Half Note Club
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The Devil Wears Valentino | MYG
Title: The Devil Wears Valentino
Pairing: Devil!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader
Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff
Summary: Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.
Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.
And obnoxiously flirty.
Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,
Explicit warnings under the cut.
Word Count: 10,488
Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM
A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!
A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much
A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.
Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....
Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word.
Intimate. That would be a better choice.
From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering.
The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony.
You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.
He’ll be back for another soon.
While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy.
Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts.
Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.
And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go.
Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.
Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between.
Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company.
Most of the time.
You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight.
“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”
“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.
Fucking incubi demons…
You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off.
You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.
You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”
Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges.
Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter.
They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot.
It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are.
You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back.
“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses.
And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up.
“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.”
There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.
“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.
It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.
Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.
Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.
And obnoxiously flirty.
But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is.
Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.
Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck.
It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.
He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself.
“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.”
To which you think again, fucking incubi…
Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night.
You learned your lesson.
So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung!
You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.
From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.
Which can only mean one fucking thing.
You just lost all your tips for the night.
Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it.
Fuck.
“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.
“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet.
You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know.
“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’
You know exactly where it is.
No one else will touch it.
Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass.
No one serves him but you.
But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you.
You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.
You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year.
After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,
“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”
He didn’t take another breath.
A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.
“Thanks,” You’d said.
“It’s where he belongs,” he responded.
Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.
But he was more than pleased.
After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.
He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you.
Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it.
A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink.
Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;
‘One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret never to be told.’
You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself.
‘Eight for a wish,
Nine for a kiss,
Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,
Eleven for health,
Twelve for wealth,’
You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.
“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.”
He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.”
You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.
“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”
He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.”
“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”
You know the entire club listens in to your conversation.
No one calls the Devil by his first name.
Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to.
And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives.
No one except you.
What a funny little exception you are.
Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”
You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.
You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is.
“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that.
Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in.
“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night.
He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker…
“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.
Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up.
You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.
Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…
Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.
You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath.
The King of Hell.
He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end.
Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon.
Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging.
He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.
You have to stay away from him.
But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.
As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers.
It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully.
There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity.
“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”
Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.
Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive.
The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again.
Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well.
You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while.
All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was.
And maybe he is.
But not to you.
The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow.
You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him.
The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world.
And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you.
It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.
You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find.
Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos.
They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.
All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside.
Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor.
Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.
You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding.
You needed this.
A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system.
You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth.
“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing.
“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer.
You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.”
Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target.
In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own.
Yoongi.
God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.
Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself.
Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real.
And he looks like sin incarnate.
Fitting.
Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?
Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you.
Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.
When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on.
Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved.
Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.
They were all you.
Maybe his plan was working after all…
“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.
What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.
“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”
He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.
“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.
A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises.
“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”
Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!
Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night.
Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse.
Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him.
You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.
“What do you think?”
Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.
“May I touch?”
You don’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.
“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body.
This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.”
Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now.
Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening.
The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you.
“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..
Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant.
Beautiful.
“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says.
“My birthstone,” you reply.
“Your birthstone.”
You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.
“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”
“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you.
Makes you wonder what he promised.
Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers.
Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.
Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you.
Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring.
What is he doing to you?
“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear.
“Mmm?”
“Would you like to dance?”
Fuck would you ever, but wait—
“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse.
Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.
“Is that something you’d be interested in?”
“Yes.”
You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly.
“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.
Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.
Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’.
They don’t know about Yoongi.
They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him.
You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides.
You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it.
You’ve decided.
To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power.
To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years.
You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back.
But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.
You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.
“Let’s go to yours.”
“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”
Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club.
“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.
Fuck, you don’t want to wait.
And apparently neither does Yoongi.
“Do you trust me?” He asks.
“Yes, but what does tha–”
“Close your eyes for me, Love.”
Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate.
So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil.
You trust Yoongi.
“That's a good girl.”
One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft.
Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people?
But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.
What?
“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on.
Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.
“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.
Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get.
He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.
“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”
You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight.
There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent.
Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.
Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.
“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.
He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea.
Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh.
You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”
You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off.
“Please what, Love?”
“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”
“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?”
“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.
“There she is.”
Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs.
They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you.
Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.
“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.”
His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.
“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”
You nod, but that’s not good enough for him.
“I need to hear it.”
“I understand.”
“Understand what?” He pushes.
“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge.
“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.
The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.
“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”
Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”
He spares you one completely unsympathetic look.
“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”
Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”
His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.
“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded.
Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter.
If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.
Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip.
“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”
He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.
He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue.
“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.
“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.
He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.
“Gotta stretch you out for me first.”
Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.
“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”
“And if I do?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”
Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”
“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck…
You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get.
And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it.
Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt.
Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines.
“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before.
Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”
“Whatever you want, Angel.”
Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip.
“Fuck—”
Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him.
“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”
Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.
“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”
The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it.
Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it.
“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.”
His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures.
You’re the most powerful person here.
You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible.
And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know.
“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact.
Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets.
“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”
His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.
“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”
“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace.
You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them.
Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.
This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.
This is about you.
And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.
You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else.
You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal.
Perfect in every single way.
“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”
He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too.
“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”
You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”
“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.
“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.
“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”
The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back.
Not yet.
You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.
Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling.
Ever.
And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more.
He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence.
There was only you.
Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He exists only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows.
And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.
It’s time for him to finally claim you back.
“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”
“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”
Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.
“Only for you, Yoongi.”
His thrusts stutter.
“Fuck!”
He’s coming.
He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance.
It’s the first time he’s said your name.
And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white.
You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.
Whatever you want. Whatever you need.
It’s yours.
He’ll make it so.
At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.
He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze.
You got exactly what you wanted.
He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented.
And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.
“What changed?”
“Hmm?”
“What about tonight made you change your mind?”
You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?”
That seductive smirk makes an appearance.
“Yes.”
“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”
Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before.
“Next time,” he says. A promise.
You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking.
“What about you?” you ask.
“What about me?”
“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”
He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say.
“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.”
“My soul?”
“Mhm.”
“You’ve never asked for mine before.”
“Never needed it.”
At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”
“You.”
Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him.
You just know it.
“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”
You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless.
You never expected anything like that.
You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years.
Kindness. Patience.
The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better.
Because of you.
“I don't know what to say.”
“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”
You can do that.
“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly.
Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.
“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.
“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell.
He was yours now.
The Devil was yours.
King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.
“Oh thank fuck.”
“Not thank God?” you tease.
Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”
A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3
#yoongi#min yoongi#suga#min suga#agust d#bts yoongi#bts min yoongi#bts min suga#yoongi x oc#yoongi x y/n#yoongi x you#yoongi x reader#min yoongi x oc#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi x y/n#min yoongi x you#min yoongi fluff#min yoongi smut#min yoongi angst#min yoongi fic#yoongi smut#yoongi fluff#yoongi au#bts fanfic#bts fic#yoongi scenarios#bts imagine#yoongi imagine#bts smut#bts x fem!reader
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I Put A Spell On You
synopsis: On one of his rare nights off, Dick Grayson decides to check out the bustling, newly reopened underground jazz club in Blüdhaven where he meets a woman that he can’t resist, losing all control of himself.
notes: 18+, Dick Grayson x reader, 3rd person pov, inspired by middle painting & Nina Simone’s “I Put A Spell On You”, put on some jazz while you read💋
Dick didn’t know why he chose to go to a jazz club on his first night off from Nightwing duties in weeks, all he knew was that he had put on his nicest navy silk button up, black dress pants that barely went over his ass, and a black blazer gifted to him by Bruce, all worn with the intention of spending a night at Blüdhaven’s favorite new spot, The Siren’s Den.
There’s been a lot of talk in the city about the former speakeasy. The music was great, hell it was exceptional, the food and drinks were ambrosial, and the singers, the best part, were enchanting.
All of the above were correct. Even though this wasn’t his usual scene, Dick was enjoying himself. The Siren’s Den had the best music, the best food, the best drinks, and by far the best singers he’d ever heard. The space was lit up by soft red lights with one warm spotlight on the stage leaving the table and bar areas pretty dim but light enough to see. Overall, the atmosphere felt sexy and mysterious, and due to the popularity of the place, it was packed this Saturday night.
He’d been sitting at the bar for about half an hour now enjoying the music and the booze when he spotted her. There she was, a woman around his age sitting all alone at a table with a drink in her hand just like him. She had on a silk navy dress that flattered her breathtaking figure, matching perfectly with his button up. One of her straps was teasingly sliding off her shoulder, hair pushed away to the other side leaving the soft skin exposed.
Dick Grayson had seen, and been with, many gorgeous women in his life, but this one felt different. She was tantalizing, swaying to the jazz songs so sensually evoking a familiar feeling deep inside him.
“How could a woman like her be sitting all by herself?” He thought, “How could no one have approached her by now, tried to win her affection? Has she rejected every man who has tried already, god am I about to make a fool of myself?” But when has shame, humiliation, or rejection ever stopped the Boy Wonder, don’t answer that.
With a little more liquid courage, he confidently makes his way over to her without any idea of what he’s gonna say or do when he comes face to face with the beauty.
“Hi,” Dick greets her taking her attention away from the band to him, “Dick Grayson.”
She slowly tilts her head to the side inquisitively, curious as to what he was going to say next. Silence was the only thing to follow his introduction as he himself had nothing prepared making her lips curl up into a small smirk.
“Hi, Dick Grayson,” she broke the silence.
“Hi,” he said again breathlessly, “seat beside you taken?”
“Nope,” she said sweetly paired with an angelic smile that he returned.
“Mind if I join you?”
She didn’t say anything, instead she slowly shifted her herself over making room for him. Without hesitation, Dick relaxes next to her, not using the extra space she gave him resulting in their thighs almost touching. He took off his blazer feeling his body temperature already rising, he already wished to rip off both their clothes and take her right here in this booth, he’s never felt this aroused by a stranger before.
She shifts her attention back onto the performance in an attempt to hide her already rosy cheeks, but Dick was feeling needy and selfish, wanting the beauty’s eyes and ears on him, not the musicians. He gently placed his strong hand under her jaw, slowly moving her head to look at him again, smiling when he does. He had a beautiful smile, the kind that made you smile without even realizing it, even if you tried your best not to.
“How does a beautiful angel like you come here by yourself?”
“Maybe I just enjoy quality time with myself, and you’re interrupting my night,” she giggled sweetly causing Dick’s smile to grow wider.
Dick chuckles, “Interrupting huh,” he leaned in closer, their noses now only an inch apart and thighs touching, “you did after all let me join you, I must be something special for you to let me in like that.” Dick’s always been a forward and bold man but this time around it was different, the place’s erotic energy, the booze, and this gorgeous being in front of him quickly made him crazily hot and bothered.
She felt nervous, knowing that he can read her like a book, knowing that he can tell how attracted she was to him, it was written and painted all over her pretty face. He brushed a lose strand of hair from her face, then dragging his hand down her rosy cheek to caress her, keeping his blue eyes locked on hers. Those pretty blue eyes, she was getting completely lost in them.
“You’re the most beautiful thing my eyes have ever been blessed with,” he softly admits, warm hand still placed on her burning cheek. He made her feel like a little kid talking to a stranger for the first time, like a teenage girl walking past her hallway crush, she was a nervous wreck with him in the best way possible.
“What’s a charming man like you doing single?”
“Looking for a woman like you,” he moved his hand down to her exposed neck, every part of her body was burning up, same with his. His eyes trailed down to her mouth, leaning in closer, brushing his pink lips against her soft ones colored in red from her expensive lipstick.
“Please let me kiss you, I don’t think I can wait a minute more,” he breathed out, looking into her eyes again for approval.
“It’s only been a few minutes,” she teased.
“Please,” he asked again, even more desperately than the last time.
The second she gave him a nod of approval, he pressed his lips to hers, slowly savoring each moment and movement. They hungrily continued kissing each other, like it was the last time they would share this moment together, growing more and more hot with each exchange. Sloppy lipstick stains were marked on Dick’s mouth, claiming him as hers for the night, the sight was salacious. Yes, the place was packed, no, they didn’t care, all they cared about was having each other.
Dick started shifting his lips down her jaw, causing her to lean her head back, hoping he’d soon reach her neck, “That where you want me doll?” She nodded to his suggestive question, “Tell me, tell me how you want me to kiss your neck, tell me how bad you want me to mark you up.”
“Please, Dick,” was all she could muster. Dick didn’t have the patience within him to tease her, he needed to ravage every bit of her, now.
“Anything for you, pretty girl,” He finally connects his lips to her pulsing neck, taking in her sweet scent. He starts drawing purple marks on her neck, licking the spot over once done with his work, earning a sweet sigh from his girl. While continuing his painting on her neck, one hand started to make its way down her body, rubbing up and down the sides of her glorious frame, the other holding the nape of her neck, his long fingers caressing her hair.
She reaches her hands out to feel him up that way he was touching her, one hand in his soft wavy black hair, pulling him closer where she needs him, the other traveling across his muscular thigh.
Dick pulls one of her legs onto his lap, spreading them slightly. He finishes his piece on her neck and focuses back on her eyes again, not wanting to miss a single reaction of hers. He keeps one hand on the base of her neck, the other one now moved down to her spread thighs, rubbing up and down. He watches her closely, seeing how far she’d let him take this in a public setting.
She moves a hand to rest atop his much larger one, guiding him higher up where she’s waiting for him. Once his hand reached the small space between her inner thigh and lacy panties, she pulled herself off, letting him take control.
He rested his calloused hand over her clothed heat, teasingly rubbing small circles in the perfect spot, “Dirty, dirty girl. You want me to please you in front of all these people?” Even if anyone was looking at them, they didn’t care. Their desire for each other was uncontrollable, their bodies felt like they were on fire. The music felt like it was getting louder, the lights more red and the conversations around them more lively.
“Yes,” she breathed out, “Yes, please.”
Her sweet pleads and lustful look was all Dick needed to slip his hand into the fabric she called underwear. He pressed his lips to hers, suppressing any moans she’d make while his he used her slickness to rub her where she craved him and prep himself for her entrance. She moved one of her hands to his shirt, unbuttoning him a bit for her and feeling his toned chest, her arousal growing stronger.
Tell me how much you need this, tell me how much you need me,” he moved his lips to her ear, demanding her response to his risqué request.
She needed him more than air right now. She felt so empty without him, like Dick Grayson was the only man who could ever fill her void, the only man who could sate her hunger. She couldn’t verbalize how eager she was for him, letting her body tell him instead.
She trailed her hand up to his crotch, feeling Dick grow with each movement and sound she made. He was straining against his slacks, desperately trying to free himself, but he wanted to hear her unravel for him first.
Dick quickly slipped in his finger with ease causing her to gasp and bury her head in his neck, “Don’t by shy baby, want everyone to hear how I was the lucky guy to get this pretty pussy tonight,” shamelessly adding another finger in her needy hole that was molding around his long fingers, welcoming him in, hoping he’d never leave. She felt whole with him, he was filling her up so well, making her feel euphoric.
The crude wet sounds of Dick pumping himself into her and her gentle moans were drowned out by the band and crowd getting louder. His curved fingers brushing her sweet spot, thumb rubbing fast circles on her clit, his other hand now pulling her straps further down in an attempt to get more of her, his dirty dirty mouth, “You like this? Like me fucking fingering you in front of all these people yea? You’re a sin,” was enough for her to want to release already.
“Wait, Dick–mm, not here,” she hesitantly pulled herself off of him, “need you all, come with me,” Dick helped her stand up, letting her take him anywhere as long as he had her. Her hair and dress were disheveled, his blazer thrown over his shoulder, button up not even buttoned, bulge very prominent, begging to be inside her, and both their faces red with desire.
With that, the two walked out of the club, hands still all over each other, not even bothering to adjust themselves, to continue their night, consuming each other so they will never forget their night at The Siren’s Den.
#dick grayson#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x fem!reader#dick grayson x female!reader#dick grayson fic#dick grayson smut#nightwing#nightwing x reader#nightwing x fem!reader#nightwing x female!reader#nightwing fic#nightwing smut
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Hello!! How are you??
If you take requests, could you please do the Tokyo Ghoul boys reacting to reader being a famous artist who is "hidden" (like: has naver shown their face in public, uses a different name, etc)?
MASKED CREATIVITY
Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!
__________________________________________________________________________
Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul
Pairing(s): Kaneki Ken x Reader
Uta x Reader
Kirishima Ayato x Reader
Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader
Notes: I only do three characters max for headcanons! So, if you’d like more, send in a request for part two!
Also, Ayato is :re age in this!
Also, also, I interpreted “artist” pretty differently for each person :)
__________________________________________________________________________
Kaneki Ken: Painter
Kaneki initially meets you when going to one of your art galleries!
You open a brand new exhibit in a famous bookstore, and he goes because, coincidentally, it’s one of the only stores carrying a copy of Takatsuki Sen’s latest books.
He spots you immediately in the crowd, recognizing your mask as one of Uta’s.
It’s a beautiful full-faced masquerade mask, seemingly made of porcelain or ceramic, and has colorful plumes of feathers obscuring your head from view.
All he can see are your twinkling eyes as you excitedly talk about your work.
Admittedly, he’s VERY nervous as he approaches you with his desired book in hand to compliment your latest piece.
You turn to face him, and he offers what he hopes is a kind smile.
“You have some amazing work here.” He says and can tell by how your eyes crinkle that you’re smiling.
“Thank you.” Is all you say, and before he can stop himself, he blurts: “Is your mask one of Uta’s?”
You freeze and look at him with wide eyes before nodding once.
Luckily, no one has heard your conversation yet.
He smiles again, “I’m familiar with his work. He made a mask of mine as well.” He explains, and you relax.
“He’s quite the mask monger, isn’t he?” You say, almost breathless, as if you had anticipated something… else.
So Kaneki utilizes his senses and takes a discreet sniff.
There it is… You’re a ghoul!
The two of you chat for a bit before he heads out, but not before shaking your hand and congratulating you again on your work.
He stares at the card you slipped into his hand, your name and number scrawled on it in neat letters.
He hopes he can get to know you… something about you is incredibly fascinating.
Uta: Musician
So you and Uta have been together for a while, and he only now finds out about your talent and fame as a musician.
He finds out on accident, really, by coincidentally going to one of your shows.
He’s with Itori and Yomo, lounging in a ghoul-friendly jazz bar and nursing a glass of blood wine when you come on stage.
You’re carrying your prized saxophone and wearing the mask he made for you.
It isn’t a full-faced mask. Instead, it only obscures the upper half of your face in lace and feathers.
You scan the crowd, spot him, and your eyes widen briefly in surprise.
But you recover quickly and smile, bow slightly at the waist, and begin to play.
And Uta is blown away by your talent.
Kirishima Ayato: Poet
Ayato really didn’t want to be here.
He really doesn’t.
But he promised you that he’d show up. So here he is.
He sits at an open-mic night at a local club on the outskirts of Tokyo.
The room was dim, the air filled with the lingering scent of smoke and whatever disgusting human food was being made across the street.
All chatter dies down, and clapping erupts when you come on stage.
Ayato almost doesn’t recognize you.
You are wearing a mask made by some mask maker in the fourth ward, and he can only tell it’s you by the smell of your perfume/cologne.
Your mask is stunning, if not a bit creepy. It’s made of white material and painted to resemble a doll.
You tap the microphone, pull out your worn notebook, and begin to speak.
#tokyo ghoul x reader#kaneki ken x reader#ken kaneki x reader#uta x reader#kirishima ayato x reader#ayato kirishima x reader#ayato x reader#fairy writes#tokyo ghoul
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dive // jay (ENHYPEN)
pairing: secretary!jay x CEO!fem!reader (minisode part 11 of the series)
genre: office!au, smut (minors dni) // warning: older reader; Jay calls reader “Boss”; oral sex (f. receiving, obviously) // wc: ~2.5k oops
previous chapters:
part 1 - carmesí
part 2 - mi reina
part 3 - millones
part 3.5 - hasta los dientes
part 4 - vente conmigo
part 5 - tusa
part 5.5 - apaga y vámonos
part 6 - versos de placer
minisode part 1 - cuando nadie ve
part 6.5 - yo te quiero más
minisode part 2 - la niña de mis ojos
part 7 - aeropuerto
minisode part 3 - falling autumn
minisode part 4 - night night
part 8 - ambulancia
minisode part 5 - subtítulos
part 9 - al caer la noche
minisode part 6 - after last night
part 9.5 - the way you look tonight
part 10 - mon soleil
minisode part 7 - daylight
minisode part 8 - subside
minisode part 9 - your princess, my queen
part 11 - qué bonito
part 11.5 - enchule
minisode part 10 - meet cute
next chapters:
click here for the masterlist
summary: you've been sleeping with your dearest secretary for a while and you're dying to know how it feels when he goes down on you.
author’s notes: here's the second treat of the week--minisode part 11!!!
I know, I know. I just released minisode part 10 yesterday but that's the best thing about owning a blog and writing your own series--you can post whatever you want, whenever you want!
to be honest, I had a different minisode prepared that was sfw and takes place way before yn and Jay started their thing, but I was chilling and putting Spotify on autoplay and it played this song:
go google the lyrics... maybe then you'll understand why I felt compelled to write this minisode.
taglist: @thots4hee @jayked @end-hyphen @nyanggk @yoursjaeyun @maggstar @bucketofhiros @dimplejaehyuncutie @excusememissiloveyou @shinkenprincess-oh @mochimchimo @jongseonglogy
(send an ask if you want to be added or removed)
Staying at a luxurious hotel over the weekend was one of the very few indulgences that you would let yourself have. Normally, you would never splurge on a suite for just two nights, especially when the hotel is not out of town. Fortunately, this time your suite was a complementary gesture from the event that hired you as one of the keynote speakers.
Unfortunately, though, since the event was downtown and you did not have to travel, you handled everything alone. You could not ask your staff to accompany you to do something that was not part of their job, and not when the task did not concern your company either. You even sent Mr. Lee home early the day before, claiming that you could just take the bus or ride the subway to the hotel.
The first day of the event ended right on time, and you were invited to the gala dinner in the main ballroom. You attended, ate just enough to keep your stomach satisfied, and then you excused yourself to go back to your suite. You wanted to take advantage of the huge bathtub and treat yourself to a nice hot bath, thinking that you deserved it after all the talking and walking around in heels.
Maybe because it was in your nature to do things fast, your pampering session ended quickly. Your hair was half dry, and you were already lounging on the loveseat, playing a series you already finished on Netflix. You just needed the background noise, you thought, as you scrolled through your phone. It was a Saturday night, so most of the people you followed on Instagram were posting stories of their night out.
You wondered what Jay was doing at the moment.
Your thumb stopped scrolling and you eyed the clock in the corner of your screen. It was almost eight, yet you feel bored, but it was too late to get ready to go out. Where were you going to go anyway? Taehyung’s jazz club would be way too crowded, and it’s not like any of your close friends were within reach—your two best friends lived in other countries, and it wasn’t the scheduled night for your monthly video calls.
You mindlessly opened your phone’s gallery and found pictures of documents and a couple of videos from the meetings that were held the past week. You clicked on one that showed Jay giving a short presentation, it was on the day that you were not feeling your best, so he stepped up and filled in for you. You focused on the way he was gesturing with his hands—and the way his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His hair was slicked back, and his jaw clenched whenever he was emphasizing a word. You then looked at the way he repeatedly licked his lips, and you noticed yourself breathing a little heavier.
Great, you thought. A little pathetic, actually, that you were sitting alone in a hotel, thirsting over your secretary whom you started sleeping with since, what, a couple of weeks ago? None of you were keeping count. This behavior of yours was a little uncalled for, and you got suspicious of yourself that you opened the app that tracked your period.
And of course, you found out that you were ovulating.
Usually, you would always take the more practical path. In this case, you could easily watch videos, or look at pictures of Jay and imagine him touching you as you touch yourself.
But why would you do that when he was literally just one call away?
“Hello?” You heard his voice as he picked up your call. “Is this an emergency? I didn’t get a text from you.”
You heard him entering a room and closing the door behind him.
“Boss?” He called for you after not hearing a reply. “Everything good?”
“I need you to come over,” you replied.
There was a brief pause before Jay answered.
“Alright,” he said as he took a deep breath. “On my way.”
“Not to my place,” you hurriedly added. “The hotel. You know my schedule.”
“In that case,” Jay said, seemingly shoving something into his pants and opening the door again, “I’ll be there in ten.”
You frowned but Jay ended the call before you could even say something back. You decided to retreat to the bedroom and check your reflection in the mirror. Your black silk camisole was tucked into your beige cotton shorts, and you still had your hair down after the bath you had. You then remembered that you had not put on any fragrance yet, so you rummaged through your makeup pouch and spritzed on the first fragrance you could get your hands on.
The bell rang and your heart almost dropped to your feet. You did not think ten minutes would go by so fast. You grabbed the satin robe from the bathroom and quickly wrapped it around your body as you made your way to the front door. When you opened it, Jay stood in front of you with a confused look on his face.
He was wearing rimless glasses, which you doubt were a fashion statement, and underneath his denim jacket, he was wearing a graphic tee of some sort of logo you had never seen before. It seemed like he was going for a comfortable look, judging from the chinos he had on in place of jeans. The Converse shoes also made him look like a regular college student going for a fun night out in town.
“I was in the area,” Jay explained without waiting for you to ask him. “Which is why I could come fast but also unprepared. Did you need your iPad?”
“Just come inside,” you said softly, holding the door wide open for him. He hesitated before taking a few steps in. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Jay frowned, but at the same time, he started looking around and admiring the suite. “This is a nice view,” he stated, gazing outside the window. “So, what do you need me for?”
“You’re really going to make me say it?” You asked back, crossing your arms in front of your chest.
Jay took off his denim jacket and set it on a lounge chair. If he had to be honest, he actually sprinted here, determined to reach you as fast as possible even though he wasn’t quite confident if the reason he thought you called him was the actual reason you had.
At the sight of his arms, you breathed out dramatically, and it just made Jay even more confused.
“I just didn’t want to be alone,” you confessed, taking your robe off and throwing it to the same spot where Jay had placed his jacket.
You boldly took the couple of steps that you needed to reach him, and when you did, you carefully took his glasses off before circling an arm around his neck, making him instinctively pull you in by your waist.
“I wanted company,” you continued, placing his glasses carefully on the table nearby. “Your company.”
Hearing your confession, you could clearly see the way Jay’s lips curled up into a smirk.
“I canceled plans with my friends to be here,” Jay spoke in a whisper, gradually leaning in towards you.
Your eyes fell to his lips. “Why would you do that?” You asked back, also in a whisper.
“Because,” Jay said, hanging his sentence so he could graze his lips against yours.
“Don’t say because I’m your boss,” you spoke, purposefully against his lips.
Jay chuckled softly, and all you wanted to do for the rest of the night was to breathe the air that he exhaled.
“Because I think I’ll like it better here,” he said before sealing your lips with a deep kiss. You had to fight back a moan to not give him the satisfaction, but you still reciprocated his kiss.
“You think?” You said as you pulled back. “You’re not sure?”
Jay squeezed your waist, turning your legs to jelly. The moan you tried hard to stifle eventually found its way out of your lips when you felt his mouth latch on to your neck. You began caressing the back of his neck, squirming as he was determined to leave marks on your skin.
“Jay,” you breathed. “Fuck.”
“Hmm,” he hummed before pulling back to look at you. “Do you want me to continue?”
You cupped his face before smashing your lips onto his, making him take a step back to keep his balance. After that, you took his hand and dragged him to the bedroom. You sat on the edge of the bed and pulled him in by his neck, and after a short fight, he finally threw his body on yours, kissing you fervently as his hands tugged your shorts down in a rush.
When you felt his fingers trace your thighs, you felt the heat rush up to your cheeks. Your lips were still pressed on his, and his tongue was still tangled with yours, yet you were desperate to feel both elsewhere. Jay’s hand managed to slip in between your legs and your body jerked the moment he palmed your clothed core.
“Jay,” you called as both your hands grabbed his shoulders.
He answered you with a look in his eyes, demanding you continue what you wanted to say.
“I want to see what your head game is like.”
You weren’t expecting Jay to laugh, resting his head in the crook of your neck as his shoulders moved up and down.
“Ask and you shall receive,” Jay said after containing himself. “You really called me over so I could go down on you?”
“Okay, can you stop being so patronizing?” You moved your hand over to his chest, pushing him away.
“Whoa, whoa.”
Jay propped himself up with his elbow as he took your hand and brought it up to his lips.
“I’m sorry if it came off that way,” Jay spoke with his lips against the back of your hand. “I will gladly show you my head game.”
The way he emphasized the last phrase made you roll your eyes. Jay chuckled lightly, kissing your cheek as you looked away from him.
You relaxed once he started peppering kisses down your jaw and to your neck. At the same time, his fingers were skillfully pulling the straps of your top down, revealing your breasts, and perfectly matching the timing of his lips. He kissed your nipple softly before circling his tongue around it and sucking it gently, only to release it with a pop.
“Close your eyes,” Jay said. You were in no position to disobey him.
He continued kissing you while pulling your camisole down, bunching it up around your waist. He planted a harder kiss to the right of your waist before pulling your panties along with the top down to your feet. You kicked it away way too enthusiastically, and Jay merely smirked at the way you were behaving.
Your eyes were still closed, but you could sense that he was tugging his shirt off, and it was proven right when you felt him settle between your legs, placing both of your thighs on top of his now bare shoulders. He kissed the inside of your thigh and you flinched, and you could feel the way your arousal dripped out of you.
“God,” Jay muttered, more to himself. “You’re gorgeous.”
He bumped the tip of his nose and you whimpered at the delicious contact. Once he placed his mouth on your cunt you moaned, feeling an overwhelming mixture of pleasure and contentment. At first, he was just kissing your folds, making loud sloppy sounds on purpose, and when you began to moan louder, he decided it would be nice to let you feel the warmth of his tongue.
“Fuck,” you sighed, jerking your hips. You could hear and feel Jay chuckle against your core, lapping up your arousal and strengthening the grip he had around your thighs.
His tongue made steady strokes against your folds and your legs were already shaking from the pleasure. You couldn’t stop thrusting your hips and grasping the sheets under you, and Jay literally had to push you back down.
“Relax,” he said as he detached his lips. He looked up at you and you looked back at him through your lashes. “Stay down.”
“Fuck you,” you replied weakly. Jay laughed and placed his lips between your legs again, making you feel the vibration of his voice against your cunt.
You began jerking your hips up again and Jay figured that he needed a new way to keep you steady. He noticed how hard you were grabbing the sheets, so very slowly, he pulled your fingers apart before placing them on his head.
“Just grab here,” Jay spoke against your folds. “I don’t mind.”
You sighed once you feel his tongue graze your clit. After placing one hand behind his head, you realized it wasn’t enough, so after a while you rested both your hands on his luscious hair, pulling only when it became unbearable.
Soon after, your grasp on his hair tightened and you became silent. Jay’s eyes flickered to your face, and he tried his best to keep his pace.
“Are you close?” He asked. You replied by nodding frantically.
Jay continued to eat you out, keeping the same pressure and pace no matter how hard you squirmed or how harshly you were pulling on his hair. He let you grind your hips into his face, careful not to let his teeth graze you, and when you finally reached your high, he groaned against your cunt, almost matching the moans that you let out.
Jay waited for you to catch your breath, gradually lowering your hips down and gently stroking your thigh to comfort you. You were breathing with your mouth open, and only when you came back down from your high you realized how dry your throat had become. You licked your lips and coughed a little, and Jay winced at the sound that you made.
“Are you okay?” He asked, his hand giving you a gentle squeeze on your hips.
You nodded slowly as you opened your eyes. When your gaze met his, his lips formed into a smile. Not a smirk, a genuine smile.
“So, what do we think of my head game?”
“Oh my God.”
At the sound of your groan, Jay laughed softly, crawling up to level with your eyes. You hesitated when he leaned in to kiss you, but he did so in such a gentle way that you couldn’t help but whimper into his mouth.
“Do I taste okay?” You asked, your eyes glowing in pure curiosity.
“You,” Jay replied, kissing your cheek. “Taste,” he kissed your jaw. “Divine,” he whispered, kissing your neck.
You closed your eyes and pulled him into an embrace, sighing in relief as you felt his skin come in contact with yours.
“There’s gonna be a round two, right?” Jay murmured against your neck.
You smiled, almost snorting from the bold question. “Only if you stay with me throughout the weekend.”
“Deal,” Jay replied, not missing a beat.
-END-
© forjongseong 2023, all rights reserved
read the next part: tus gafitas
#writtenbynana#fic: dive#enhypen#jay#enhypen jay#jay enhypen#enhypen smut#enhypen jay smut#jay enhypen smut#jay smut#enhypen hard hours#jay hard hours#jongseong hard hours#jongseong#park jongseong#jongseong park#jongseong smut#enhypen x reader#jay x reader#nana secretary!jay agenda#Spotify
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MOBILE/MOBILLACE HEAD CANNONS :DDD
@rawio-star SOME SHIT HAPPEND ON TUMBLER. IT WONT LET ME EDIT THE POST :(( BC I HAD MORE HEADCAMNOMS AND I DIDNT ADD IN THE TAG BUT BEJFEJDJS
Also
Question in context anyways les go. I wanted to edit a few bits anyways so yeah
• ever since I had that tumbler poll I'm questiong myself if wallace should work 3 jobs rather then just one bc no way can he afford that bad of a apartment and provide for himself and scott on a 15$ paycheck so yeah it's reasonable. Wallace works as a telemarketer or some office job (makes more but is fucking boring). Old navy (makes less bit is pretty simple and he can hear his coworkers gossip and pick a few songs) and at a diner (it's in the middle honestly. Makes a god amount of money and is decent, works his ass off but still gets to hear whoever can gossip but sorta wants to quit. Stays at the job bc of one coworker who begged him to stay)
• Mobile works in a library or Spencer's (IK mobile works in some random ah office job but seeing how the rest of the crew in the scott pikgrim series has a pretty minimum wage job I sorta see him start off slow in a new province and have a relaxing ot fun job. Library seems to suit the guy because uts laid back and quiet. Also I took the inspiration from the anime "book seller Honda-San". BUT...but (idk my friend suggested this to me) but mobile: the most average lookin ah guy in the whole entire franchise working...in a Spencer's...it's pretty fuckin funny- just imagine you see some office worker lookin ah dude stocking up on the spiked collars with the most bland lanyard) but I'm sticking with the library idea
• Mobile is a music nerd. He plays a few instruments when he was younger and sticks to playing the piano and sometimes the violin. He likes jazz but likes fast paces music for one thing....rhythm games- idk why but I sorta imagine wallace, scott and mobile going to the arcade one day, scott showing off his epick DDR skills and mobile absolutely DESTORYS HIM. DOUBLE PADS. EXTREAM OR INTENSE IDK AND ALL PERFECT TOO...and then scott never brings walace to the arcade again because he knows mobile would just show off again-
• Wallace is filopino (idk I just see him loving filo food, karaoke, bejng loud af at parties and come on. He loves to gossip) and mobile is half veitnamese and half Korean but is extremely white washes but by the time he reaches freshmen year of collage he actually wants to learn a bit more about both cultures and sorta enjoys trying to get in touch with his roots
• Mobiles parents names are Sam jin and April Nguyen-jin (nick named apple) (divorced) now you might he wondering abt thier names and...I just thought it would be funny to sorta name them after phone companies (like SAMsung and APPLE) because...COME ON THERE HAS TO BE A REASON WHY HIS NAME JS MOBILE
• Mobile likes cold weather meanwhile wallace likes hot. Mobile likes to wear alot of layers during the winter so whenever ut gets too cold wallace immediately just snuggles up with him :)
• Mobile visits wallace whenever he's on break from the library job and helps him (ex: whenever wallace is at old navy or something he drops by and helps walace folds or tag any of the clothes while they talk)
• Joseph and mobile work at the library while wallace and Jimmy both work at the diner
(Those were from my notes onto a few new headcannons-)
Since Todd's pyshic powers are green. I look into the color wheel to see the opposite of green which is likena sorta pink and I just imagine that's what's mobiles powers might look like :) (also TV girl reference)
Mobile is one hell of a quiet guy. Dosnt like to talk often at parties or at clubs and tries to survive any sort of small talk BUT when it comes to wallace he enjoys long conversations about the most random shit that pops into thier heads. Eaither it's gossip from work, some random ass fact that mobile found out, or how to do X thing for Y...thing?
MOBILE CANT READ TONE like sorta- whenever someone is joking around him (especially wallace or other scott) he sorta...takes it seriously? Like a joke when other scott said and mobile just spitting out random facts on how its basically impossible for the chicken to cross the road without getting hit, depends on how fast the cars are going, What time of the day it might be, if the chicken were to walk to cross the road or jumo over cars. Really comes off to being defensive and he dosnt mean any harm so whenever someone like wallave was telling a joke he laughs it off, realizes mobiles confused as hell expression and just says "...that's a joke-" With mobile replying with "....oh yeah-"
Mobiles and wallaces dates usually consist of: museums, the aquarium, some fine dining. Any fancy shit mobile can afford, wallave would LOVE
Mobile overworks himself often and sometimes dosnt realize it. He sorta sees himself just simply finishing a task that he's SUPPOSED to finish in reality it was justa. Option if he wanted to do it or not. Even when he's working in Nintendo he gose into crunch mode often and gets tired more easily WALLACE on the other hand reminds mobile to be on breaks whenever he needs to and takes care of the guy (awh :))
In collage mobile majors in computer science or coding or game development. Whatever computer techy course, he just takes it and then ends up working for Nintendo so :)
Wallace has bad posture. Trues to go ahead and fix it himself but just gives up easily so whenever wallave is with mobile. Mobile just random slaps (lightly) wallaces back and reminds him to stand up straight
Wallace cracks his knuckles often or pops his neck and whenever he dose it makes a loud Crack or pop sound (yk the ones) and it freaks mobile out sometimes
Mobile is prone to carpal tunnel and migraines and has to wear those arm braces often and take those migraine pills too.
Like I mentioned before mobile is a deadpan sorta dude, monotone voice sorta stuff but when wallave is around he's...a bit more expressive.
EDIT: BOUNUS. MOBILE DOSE TAROT CARD READINGS i had this headcannons for MONTHS now and thought it would be silly and then i realize I did this so....yeah. I imagine whenever mobile and Wallace do morning cuddles and shit wallace is like "...yo what's my daily reading" mobile:"...okay let's see, 3 of cups-". Mobile learned how to do traot card reading easily. Like Todd mentioned before he had this picture memory thingy and can remeber scripts easily but its weak sometimes (*FLASH BACK TO THE TRAILER INCIDENT-*) so I imagine mobile dose the same when it comes to memorizing tarot cards meanings
Wallace/ or mobile sits really weird in chairs. Before living with scott, Wallace would sit... Basically like L from a death note or some shit, or one leg up while the other is crossed. He's been used to doing this a lot when he was still in high school while eating dinner with his family, but he soon grew out of it once he reached college. Meanwhile, for mobile, he's just been doing it. Somehow, he is still managing good posture tf
Mobile eaither has a good and fashionable wardrobe comsisting of dark or light academia sort of clothes (wallace didnt know what it was called so one day he just called it "collage professor drag") OR he has that one goofy ah cartoon character looking closet where it's just the same thing over and over again
Mobile tends to chew on his pen often. Was a bad habit he had back in elementary, worsen when he was in highschool due to alot of extra credit and after school programs he was in, collage it got even worse because he mainly used pens and got ink EVERYWHERE
Like hollie and Kim. Joseph and mobile work together in the library, they don't...really talk to eachother but he dose eyeball Joseph sometimes whenever knives brings stephen along to the library and joseph just stares at stephen. Mobile couldn't tell if Joseph likes stephen or just hates him
Wallace brings mobile to some of the sex bob-ombs practices and shows. mobile just watches patiently like romona, wallace and neil would but afterward give pretty decent advice to knives since... he experienced piano player. And whenever stephen ask mobile for advice in general; mobile would just give them a rating out of 20
Another reason why mobile dosnt show alot of expression and is mainly just a deadpan sorta dude is because when mobile was in highschool he had braces and it sucked ass for him. It hurts all the time and he had those rubber band things in his mouth MEANING whenever his friends made him laugh or he had to yawn THAT SHIT HURTS WHEN IT BREAKS. Later in his adult life he just gets retainers instead
Sometimes at night. Whenever mobile comes home tired and worn out He and wallace just silently ea0t dinner and cuddle while they drink wine
Wallace is a vodka mom. Mobile is a wine mom. Change my mind
#scott pilgrim#wallace wells#gay#wallace x mobile#mobile scott pilgrim#headcannons#mobiallace#questions#random#mobillace
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It Takes 200 to Tango (Emily X Dancer!Reader)
Request: R is a back up dancer for a singer like Taylor Swift or Lady Gaga, and is dating Emily. They end up going to a club and doing the tango or something. The team is shocked emily can dance.
Author's note: So this one is a very very old request. Special thanks to @literaryhedgehog. We hope you enjoy. Hit us up with comments or requests.
You sighed at the table, taking a long sip from your beer. You wanted be with Emily on your weekend off, but that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted to be here.
There had been a time when you were comfortable at a club, maybe when you and Emily were younger. When the two of you were still in college and you didn’t spend hours rehearsing. When you had more than a weekend together every 6 weeks.
Your eyes followed her as she approached the bartender, ordering for her and several of her teammates.
Being here was better than her being there without you. Even if you had to deal with bad music and people who didn’t know a jazz square from a chassé.
“So you’re telling me Emily used to dance?” Kelley asked you, raising her eyebrow at you.
You hummed, dragging your eyes away from your girl to meet hers, taking another gulp. “Yeah, she was a ballerina. She hasn’t told you?”
Megan's head tilted at the information. “No. Is that why her posture is so impeccable?”
Your shoulders lifted and fell. Emily’s posture had always been good.
“Is that how you two met? Dance class or something?” Alex asked, wiggling her brows. “Did you teach her how to tango?”
“No. We met after she launched a soccer ball into my face,” A small smile played at your lips. “And I didn’t teach Sonnet to tango. She taught me,”
“Taught you what, babe?” Emily asked, sliding into the spot next to you at your table, cocktail glass in hand.
“The tango,” You answered, shifting so your arm was wrapped around her shoulders. “Taylor is still jealous I won’t dance it with her,”
“Taylor… as in Swift?” Alex’s eyebrow arched.
“Yeah,” you shrugged off handedly. “I’ve been one of her dancers since Red. She’s obsessed with all things romantic. Dances included.”
“Valid. I still swoon every time I see the dancing in the Love Story music video.” Megan sighed. “That and the dance at Netherfield in the 2005 Pride and Prejudice movie have ruined my expectations for love.”
You smirked. “That’s nothing compared to the Eras tour choreography. She’s letting me dance with a girl too,”
Emily turned slightly to frown at you, setting her drink down sloppily on the table so a few drops slipped over the side of the glass.
You smirked. You always thought it was adorable when Emily was jealous. “But I wouldn’t let her put me in the tango she’s doing for I knew you were trouble,”
“You told Taylor no?” Kelley asked incredulously.
“Not exactly,” You said, leaning forward. “She knows that there are some things I don’t share,”
“And the tango is one of them?” Kelley’s frown deepened.
“Yep. My tango belongs only to Emily,” you said, moving your arm around her shoulder to trail your fingers over her skin.
“That’s like weirdly romantic,” Lindsey chimed in, sipping her own drink. “Still, I won’t believe it till I see it,”
“Yeah, Em is clumsy as fuck,” Kelley agreed.
“Okay rude,” Emily protested. “I scored the winning goal game against Colombia,”
“You whiffed so hard you did a backwards roll the last time we faced them,” Alex said looking at her nails in mock absentmindedness. “If you want us to believe you’re really that good a dancer, you’ll have to prove it.”
“Yeah kid, put your money where your mouth is,” Kelley agreed, sharing a look with her girlfriend. “I say like… 50 is fair,”
“200,” Emily shot back immediately. “That’s half of Y/n’s rate,”
“Whoa, I’m not involved,” You said, shaking your head. You had learned long ago not to get involved in the shenanigans of the USWNT. The last time you had, you had ended up with blue hair and a fine from Lady Gaga’s tour manager.
Emily shot a look at you. “You love me right?”
You gulped, nodding.
She leaned forward, so her grinning face was inches from yours. “Then you’re involved.”
“I’ll pay the full 400 if you can actually dance,” Kelley shrugged, sipping her beer. “Wouldn’t want Y/n to feel cheated,”
“200 is fine,” you said, rolling your eyes as you got to your feet, anticipating where this conversation was going, “I’m sure when we win, Emily will pay me back more than enough for making me dance - on my only day off - once we get home. Won't she?”
Emily smiled at you as she stood. “I’m sure I can make it worth your while.” She didn’t look away from you as she told Kelley what song to request from the DJ.
Her fingers linked with yours as she guided you to the floor.
You had never really been a fan of dancing in clubs. It was too chaotic. Too… unstructured for you to actually enjoy it. Too many people who would try to cut in like they knew anything.
“Don’t worry, once we start, they’ll probably form a hole for us,” Emily hummed as if reading your mind. “Everyone likes to watch when people actually know what they’re doing, and you like it when people watch.”
“That’s part of the fun of tour,” You agreed, closing your eyes as the song that was playing was slowly mixed into the song that belonged to you and Emily.
You let the opening chords wash over you. You let the notes calm your racing heart as Adele began to sing.
Skyfall was familiar, and you found it easy to slip into the leading role.
Your leg slotted between hers, and you pulled her back into you. “Let’s see if you remember anything of value,”
Your lips grazed Emily’s ear, and the shiver if sent down her spine didn’t go unnoticed. She liked the confidence that the music gave you.
“Bold of you to assume I’d forget.”
Your hips swayed together through the opening verse, slow, but steadily building. The warm up for what was to come. On the line before the chorus you slowly dipped Emily back, pulling her up so when the chorus hit, you both spun carried by her momentum. Her leg hitched around your hip, allowing you to lift her, even while her back toes dragged behind you in a familiar sequence.
She twirled through and around your arms like it was second nature, and you guessed by this point in your relationship, it was. You didn’t have to think about how far to dip her as you spun, or worry about where her feet were.
You just knew.
It was the part of dancing that you loved. The moment where nothing else mattered besides you and your partner. The part where you didn’t have to think.
It let your mind wander to more pleasant places. Like how Emily’s skin felt sliding against yours. How her fingers dragged against you more than they needed to as you spun her. How she completely let go and trusted you to support her weight as she leaned on one leg, the other out as high as it would go.
It was clear she was teasing you as much as she was teasing her friends.
You had danced with some incredibly talented people in your line of work, but that was work. Emily may not have the same level of training, but to dance with her was to dance with passion. You lifted Emily up into the air, and as the final note of the song held slowly let her slide down, eyes locked with hers.
You couldn’t help but lean in and place a soft kiss on her lips, ignoring the clapping that surrounded you.
“You know, you already messed up my plan for the evening. I was serious about that payment,” You said, pulling away and breathing heavily.
She smirked, her finger catching your collar as she pulled away. “Don't worry, I’ll put my money where my mouth is.”
A low groan left your lips as she guided you back to the table where her friends were staring at you with wide eyes.
“Pay up bitches,”
This night was going to be very long if you had your way.
#uswnt x reader#uswnt imagines#uswnt imagine#emily sonnett x reader#emily sonnett imagine#literalhedgehog
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P5R Pilgrimage: I ❤️ Akechi Goro
Finding out the jazz club really exists was the highlight of this trip :)
As usual, more pics and screenshot comparisons under the cut!
First, a quick detour to talk about Penguin Sniper...
There’s actually a number of darts bars in Kichijoji, but I didn’t manage to find any that gave me Penguin Sniper vibes (do message me if you know of one, though!). In the first place, I’d always wondered why a bunch of high schoolers were allowed into a darts bar at all -- you’d expect it to have an older clientele and probably serve alcohol, fr’instance.
Then, after scrolling around the map for a bit, I noticed there’s actually a ROUND1 on the Kichijoji SUNROAD main strip. ROUND1 is an amusement store chain, kind of like an arcade that offers activities like bowling, karaoke, billiards, and darts. Since it’s an amusement center, even elementary schoolers are allowed, though I think there’s some kind of curfew for kids.
So in this particular ROUND1, the darts machines and pool tables are on the same floor...
The layout of the room is pretty close, I’d say, although the RL “bar” is actually a cashier, not a place to eat. The machines in front of the bar let you sign up for play sessions.
I thought about playing a game of darts but decided against it. x) Next time I’ll bring a friend!
Fun note: some of the dart machines make the exact same sound effects that are used in the minigame in P5R. I had a mild out of body experience hearing them go beep boop IRL xd
Anyway back to the jazz bar. XD Even the stairs down to the bar are reproduced faithfully.
The lunch menu, for interest! (I had a lunch set of an anchovy and olive tomato sauce spaghetti with a latte au lait, a slice of cheesecake, and a lime soda. Yeah ok I pigged out. I blame Akechi)
I got lucky, arriving about half an hour before the first show was scheduled, so the place was pretty empty and I got a seat at the bar. The cover charge was 1500 yen; I stayed and watched for an hour. :D
youtube
Satou Tatsuya on sax and Michishita Kazuhiko on guitar -- hopefully I didn’t butcher the romanization of their names!
The seats depicted in the game give the best view of the live performances, and are reservation only...although for reasons of needing to face the in-game camera, you will notice that they are looking at a wall instead of the actual performance. XD
(Also, in my head this means that Akechi reserved seats for them on their date there, ahead of time. It’s how it works in real life, so it must be true!)
I took a couple of photos after customers cleared out between shows. You can see the grand piano as well as the raised seated area behind the stage, and the additional restaurant seating on the right -- there’s stairs leading both up and down to more tables.
Just a close-up of the “stage”.
A funny aside that has little to do with Akechi -- while I was sitting there enjoying my food and the music, I noticed that several other customers had with them what looked an AWFUL lot like a single American dollar. Obviously the bar is in Japan so I was wondering wtf was going on; genuinely thought I was losing my mind. Or maybe it was like some kind of secret code that I wasn’t aware of...???? IDK, I was spiraling lmao
It turns out it’s actually your check. (A dollar “bill,” I suppose.............)
Even with the cover charge, the bill came to like $30. Pretty worth for the semi-religious experience of watching a jazz performance at Akechi’s favorite place.
Ending things off with an evening shot of the place lit up :)
That’s it!
I’ve actually got more photos and videos from a couple of other places like Akihabara and the cafe that possibly inspired Leblanc, but...I’m getting tired of doing these xd So this may or may not be the last one, at least for now!
Hope y’all enjoyed the posts :D
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Martyn Jacques, Adrian Stout - Tiger Lillies "...
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Πέτρος Κλαμπάνης: Σε ένα μοναδικό αφιέρωμα στο Wayne Shorter στη σκηνή του Half Note Jazz Club
Μετά το εκπληκτικό sold-out Homage to Miles που πραγματοποιήθηκε πρόσφατα, ο διακεκριμένος μπασίστας και συνθέτης Πέτρος Κλαμπάνης επιστρέφει στη σκηνή του Half Note με το αγαπημένο του τρίο. Μαζί του θα βρίσκονται ο εξαιρετικός πιανίστας Kristjan Randalu και ο εκρηκτικός ντράμερ Ziv Ravitz.Αυτή τη φορά, το τρίο θα παρουσιάσει ένα συναρπαστικό αφιέρωμα στον Wayne Shorter, έναν από τους…
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Scarlet Seth Renard
Age: 30
Pronouns: He/she (either, interchangeably, anytime)
Height: 6’0” (183 cm)
Birthday: March 9 (Pisces)
Identifies as: Pansexual, Queer, Demiboy, Bigender, Genderfluid, (in his own words) "a transvestite" or "a guy with tits"
Scarlet states he is happy identifying as both a very femme man and a handsome lady, sometimes a drag queen. He once had extreme gender dysphoria over only his chest and hair until he was able to fully change them. Usually her fully masculine appearance is displayed only at home and she is slightly embarrassed without makeup. Regardless, she is immensely confident in any form of herself.
Occupation: Host/travel attendant, translator/interpreter, singer
Scarlet works long shifts away from home on a luxury train that travels between the USA and east Canada. She acts as a supervisor, tour guide, attendant, and translates between English and French fluently for guests and staff. Her adoration for the snow is expressed at least once on every round-trip.
He additionally sings at a club where his friend works as a bartender. Scarlet’s performing genres are electronica, jazz, and hard rock. He once recorded vocals for a musician friend's electropop album, subsequently gaining a small fanbase. His music combined with vlogs from his traveling job has earned him a loyal online following.
Hobbies: Golfing, Playing bass, Playing adventure video games, Reading fantasy books, Aromatherapy
Due to his job, he has no pets but is likely a plant dad. On free days he likes to golf alone or with his friends and practices music for fun, owning both a guitar and upright bass; smooth jazz and psychedelic rock are his favorite genres to practice. His preferred colors to wear are emerald green, dark violet, and ash gray. He loves rose gold metals which compose at least half of his jewelry collection. He has an amount of baggy cardigan sweaters he likes to wear at home.
Scarlet has deeper connections with his female friends. He is single and secretly looking out for a long-term relationship, but gets nervous on serious dates. In the meantime he holds his friendships close to avoid loneliness, inviting others over for movies, games, and cuddling. His favorite foods are soups and fancy salads like poke tuna.
Artist’s notes:
Scarlet is my symbol of gender euphoria, a person who is fully comfortable in their form inside and out, though not free from his own regular struggles. He was created to have a dysphoric experience that mirrors my own, but on another end of the spectrum (for example, he is a C-cup because that’s what I used to be). Scarlet is someone that anybody could talk to, flirt with, or be friends with. I imagine her singing voice would sound like Børns, Jamiroquai, or Mystery Skulls: masculine yet still androgynous. “Shapes” by Poppy is his theme song since it’s my personal euphoria anthem.
#artists on tumblr#digital art#original character#character design#comfort character#character profile#writing#lgbt#pansexual#queer#demiboy#bigender#genderfluid#transgender#drag queen#top surgery#Please be nice to him/her :)
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𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙢 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙘. bold: always applies. italic: sometimes applies.
𝙞. 𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚. love poems. flickering candles. conversations in the meadow. roses. midnight meetings. silk dresses. long phone calls. spilling your heart out. curtains blowing in the breeze. cheap paperbacks. the sun’s reflection on the water. smooth jazz. waiting for something to happen. blushing cheeks. kisses in the rain. faded polaroids. noses bumping. floral perfume. a restless spirit. oil paintings on canvas. hiding under an awning during a thunderstorm. candlelight dinners. horse drawn carriages. sunset views. smeared lipstick.
𝙞𝙞. 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. streetlights reflected on rainy pavements. a phone alarm. rapid texting. the smell of smoke. aggression. the natural instinct to fight. dramatic reunions. distant gunfire. funerals in the rain. the coppery scent of blood. solitude. fierce protective instincts. doomed to fail. driving too fast. near death experiences. inner turmoil. running through crowds. expensive watches. tired eyes. overnight plane rides. cold cups of coffee. dangerous secrets. lying through your teeth. bullet holes.
𝙞𝙞𝙞. 𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙧. a distant farmhouse. congealed blood on the hardwood. ice picks. tilted headstones. bare feet on the carpet. splintering wood. masks that hide who you really are underneath. quiet summer camps. ghost stories. locked rooms. sharp knives. a full moon. the scent of rust. grasping hands searching for something to hold. last minute decisions. bags under your eyes. a cross hung on the wall. crawling maggots. the carcass of a dead animal. an abandoned hotel. blood-soaked clothes. broken bones. the sound of glass shattering.
𝙞𝙫. 𝙖𝙙𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚. gnarled rope between your fingers as you hold on for dear life. glittering gold in a dark room. snakes. an incoming sandstorm. the consequences of your actions. hidden secrets. an unopened door. a leap of faith. squeezing your best friend’s hand. shelves of dusty books. ancient curses. the smell of fire. crumbling buildings. complicated puzzles. mystery novels. footsteps echoing in a large room. smudged lenses on glasses. warm skin. doing what’s right. dirt under your fingernails. scribbled notes. cobwebs blocking your path.
𝙫. 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙮. friends you’ve known for years. crowded comedy clubs. crescent moons. open mics. out of tune pianos. a messy desk. leather messenger bags. stacks of papers. huge sweaters. bitten nails. ordering takeout every night. dog-eared pages. unmade beds. hand movements & broad gestures. the smell of the subway. colorful graffiti on brick buildings. big dreams. enthusiastic phone calls. rejection letters. the heat of stage lights. pulling pranks. restless sleep. cold showers. laughing until you’re crying. half-finished ideas. tiny apartments. velvet curtains. cheap alcohol.
tagged by: @heartofglass-mindofstone
tagging: I don't know who hasn't been tagged, so just steal it if you like to
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rendezvous
a detective!kyle x gang leader!female!reader series
detective kyle broflovski is possibly the most determined member of the south park police force has ever seen. currently, he is tasked to solve a recent string of murders appearing all over south park. he believes the culprit is yn, leader of the black stones, so he goes undercover to collect more evidence.
you, however, already know what he's here for, and you want to see how far he's willing to go to get something, anything, out of you.
cws: crime, assault and violence, drinking + substance abuse, mental health, abusive parents, stalking, animal violence
(tws will be updated as story goes on)
things to note!
the story isn't really in line with the actual ongoing story in south park. some characters have never dated each other (like red and kevin) or didn't grow up in south park at all (like kevin and red again 😭).
context about the lives of the characters growing up will be provided, but basically kyle grew up in south park with the same group of friends in the show, and other characters who did not grow up in south park in the story reside in the city now. (just to clear up any confusion, haha)
for reference, the characters are in their mid-to-late twenties when the story takes place!
the povs will be a lot more focused on kyle since the murder is definitely integral to the story.
while i did do some research, i still barely have any idea how police and gang systems work and all that jazz :'] so please forgive me if i get anything inaccurate or make some complete bullshit up LMAOO
any more questions? feel free to let me know in my asks :D
logbook (7)
Day 1
Tale of Two—The Black Stones : an introduction to one of our two leads, yn. (wc: 716)
Tale of Two—Detective Broflovski : a look into our other lead, kyle, and his motives. (wc: 773)
Rough Starts : the story kicks off as kyle and yn get a drink while the black stones also brews a fun idea in the process (wc: 2195)
May Lead to Rougher Journeys : brad and the black stones meet up with a borrower. (wc: 1479)
After Hours / I Think We Have the Guy : during the few hours after the meetup, kyle gets a troubled tip from a mysterious text and yn gets a name. (wc: 1739)
Day 4
Poorly Disguised Exposition : captain yates and kyle share a conversation. (wc: 1050)
Half-Doomed, Semi-Sweet : brad finds that a night in the club with ed (kevin) and the girls churns out a few interesting details. later, brad and yn are alone. (wc: 3162)
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"Hm, what's in my glass? What would such a thing matter to you? Tsk Tsk"
Character Playlist / Character Inspirations
Full Name: Alice Antonia Darius
Nicknames: Pain in the ass (Vin by @authoruio ) Partner in crime (Maria by @windbornearchon ) The only other sane one here (Hecate by @terrovaniadorm ) Vampire Squid (Floyd) Mademoiselle Vigneronne (Rook) Lady Darius (Lilia) Aunt Alice (Silver)
V/A: Kikuko Inoue (JP) Natasia Demetriou (EN)
!Twisted from Lady Alcina Dimitrescu from Resident Evil Village!
Age: ???
Birthday: November 4th
Horoscope: Scorpio
Species: Vampiric Faerie
Gender: Female
Pronouns: She/her
Height: 234 cm (or 7'8)
Hair Color: Ebony Black
Eye Color: Sickly Gold
◈━◈━◈━◈━◈
Homeland: Briar Valley
Family: Unnamed Father, Unnamed Mother, Unnamed younger sister, Unnamed younger brother
Dominant Hand: Right
Dormitory: Terrovania (belongs to @terrovaniadorm )
School Year: Third Year
Class: 3-C (No. 13)
Best Class(es): Defensive Magic, Magical History, Ancient Curses
Worst Class: Potions
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Favorite Food(s): Grapes, Cheese, Chocolate, Wine, Blood
Least Favorite Food(s): Cauliflower, Asparagus
Hobbies: Fencing, Listening to Jazz music, Teasing others
Dislikes: Sunlight, Hot weather, War
Talent(s): Basketball, Wine-making, Chess
Sexuality: Sapphic Bisexual
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Personality: A calm and elegant woman with a slight snobbish aura, Alice is the definition of the perfect noblewoman who thinks a bit too highly of herself at times. Although she keeps a level head most of the time, Alice's wrath is know all around Terrovania for being unforgiving and merciless. Alice tends to play with people, confusing them with stories or taunting someone during a fight but in all honesty, she does not mean half of what she says. Alice can be scarily protective of those she enjoys the company of, as willing to go on a rampage just for them. Alice has little to no regard for rules enforced by others, actively breaking as many as she can get away with. Alice also has a bit of a sadistic streak, ever since she was young but keeps this part of her hidden away.
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Backstory: Alice comes from the prestigious Darius family, known for their world class wine and service to the royal family of the Briar Valley. Due to her family's immense wealth and status, Alice was surrounded by the finer things in life and always appreciated the idea of having wealth. When she was much younger, she met the feared General Vanrouge at a royal ball. Alice hates to admit it but she was intimidated by him at first but grew to love and care for him. The Darius family even tried to arrange them to be wed but these plans were quickly forgotten. Many years later, she would help that same Vanrouge raise a child of his own. Alice at first was hesitant to help raise a child, a human one no less, but later on she grew to love the boy like a son of her own. Around the same time as Lilia, Alice decided to attend NRC for a change of scenery and was sorted into Terrovania.
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Unique Magic: Death's Flowers
The user unleashes sharp claw like nails from their fingers. These claws are so sharp that they can cut through many materials from metal to even flesh. Takes little magic to use due to years upon years of refinement and perfection.
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Trivia!
Alice is one of the star players on the Basketball Team and is known for being one of the best in the school
Alice, Vin, and Maria are always seen chatting together despite Vin saying he dislikes them both
There was one night where a poor Terrovania student wanted a midnight snack and saw Alice with some red liquid dripping all over her face. Note to self, never startle Alice when she's having a midnight drink
Alice grew fond of jazz after hearing it in a club many years ago, she even attempted to join a jazz band herself but was seen as "too scary"
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