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#yet another woman for him to steal from lmao

kentopedia · 6 months

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♰ sent to destroy — dazai osamu

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ KINKTOBER NO. 5 - fallen angel!dazai

he promises he's not the devil, but he steals your soul with just a kiss.

contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, takes place in 1920s for fun ig, actress!reader, alcohol, one mention of suicidal ideation and prostitution by reader, blasphemy, sacrilege, pls don't read this if ur religious & will get offended LMAO, angel fucking (& he has wings), bondage (thru powers), unprotected sex, cunnilingus, corruption kink, possessive sex, softish dazai, mm idk what else — 6.1k

note: i didn't edit this as thoroughly as i normally do so plss ignore any mistakes and i'll love you forever

the speakeasy fills with a thin veil of smoke, coating the room with an intoxicating mix of alcohol and nicotine. it’s a lewd place, full of degenerates and failed actresses like yourself, a crowd of people who don’t belong, but try their best to find a way to keep living.

it’s a place where women pick up their clients, leading them to the hotel around the corner for a night they certainly won’t be paid enough for. it’s where people drown their miseries in alcohol and hope they won’t wake up in the morning.

it is, regrettably, the only place you can afford.

you sit alone at one of the tables, hands shaky from nerves as you smoke another cigarette, contributing just as much to the cloud that suffocates the small room.

hoards of people make their way downtown for a sip of alcohol, the drink that has so ridiculously been banned, but you are no exception, no angel amongst the sinful devils.

someone plays a saxophone at the front of the bar, spinning into a graceful melody of jazz that sings out to you, lulls you into an embrace that warms your core. it soothes the anxiety that has lingered with you throughout the day, the reminder that your life is tailspinning.

you’d failed at landing yet another role, and the acting career you’d packed your bags and moved out for was plummeting. who would accept you now, now that your hopes and dreams had been for naught, now that you’d created a shameful woman of yourself and your family?

the answer was clear; but you were too stubborn too accept it, too desperate to believe that you could be up in the glimmering lights, the brightest silver star the world had ever seen.

you lean back in your chair, stamping out the cigarette with a sigh as you stand to collect another drink. there’s not much left in your pockets, but you’ve made it work before, and you’ll keep making it work now, scrounging up coins for the relief that came with forgetting.

the only consolation is the line of women that stand alongside you at the bar, as dejected and miserable as yourself. all of you have been labeled the failures of your families, the ones that bet on a shot in the dark. none of you expected that the road would be easy, certainly not with the way the industry is hasty to pick up only the most beautiful faces… but your ambitions had led you to believe that you, of all people, had had a chance.

you know your beauty is endless, a sight to be admired, but even that had not been enough to secure your spot in the limelight.

you thank the bartender as he hands you a drink, and slump back to your table, waiting for the effects of the alcohol to kick in. yet, when you stand at the edge of the table, peer at the chair you’d once been seated in, there is already a man there.

he gazes at you with a crooked smile, eyes amused as he regards your beaten-down state.

you’ve seen him before—made every attempt not to see him again. you know what they say about him. he’s a wizard, he’s the devil, he’s a god that steals the body of a mortal, waiting to destroy the earth. all bad things, certainly, and with the way your life’s been going, you’d be a fool to get mixed up with someone like him.

still…you know of the things he’s done for people. that miracles have happened for those brave enough to ask for them.

perhaps, you’re in need of a miracle.

the dark-haired man leans forward, eyebrows raised as you gawk at him from the other side of the table. “no need to look so frightened,” he says, gesturing towards the other chair. “sit.”

“i don’t want any company,” you say, straightening, pulling your drink closer to your chest. “i came here to be alone.”

his eyes flash, predatory, as if seeing down through the depths of your soul, to the very desire that lingers within. all of your dreams, your ambitions, and your loneliness are displayed to him, a flashing banner that alerts him easily of everything that’s ever been wrong with you.

“is that so?” he asks, leaning forward, his voice deepening amongst the chaos of the speakeasy. “then, why have you been staring at me all evening?”

you can’t help the flush that rushes to your cheek, the heat that covers your entire body. with the crowd of men and women alike that are constantly at his arm, you’d hardly thought he’d notice you.

and though you know what they say about him, he is undeniably beautiful; you’re drawn to him. there is a dark and heavenly beauty about him, something that you fear is too angelic to be of this world. his eyes glimmer almost like diamonds in the candlelit room, skin so flawless that it is nearly luminescent.

it’s no wonder, really, that you haven’t been able to peel your eyes off of him.

you circle around his question, instead, and set your drink down on the table, lured in either by a false sense of safety, or the confidence of his grin. “i know what you are,” you say, swallowing back the fear that devils often prey on.

he smiles, indulging you, a lifelong game he has surely played. “and what is that, my dear?”

the mocking tone sends a cold wave down your spine, even though the sweet name seems to warm you. “i don’t believe i should say it out loud.” you’re not sure what kind of consequence that will bring you. perhaps you do not need to make a deal with him for your soul to be damned, straight to the fiery pits; maybe this conversation is enough, and already, you are on the long list of sinners that will be sent to burn.

“because you believe i am the devil? a demon sent to prey upon you and your soul, drag you down to hell once the contract you’ve made is over?”

you say nothing, but your silence speaks loudly.

he sighs, leans back in the chair and looks at you from under thick lashes. “i have no interest in the dealings of those fifty, lesser beings. i find that i can bargain for more enjoyable ventures.” two dark eyes trace over you, swallow you whole as he grazes your curves with his irises, the shape of your breasts under the tightness of your dress, the style shorter to match the current fashions. “so, i think we both may have something the other is interested in. please,” he gestures once more to the seat in front of him, addressing you by your first name—one you never even had to tell him. “sit.”

nervous, you take the chair, wondering why you aren’t running away, screaming at everyone that there is a monster in your midst, a being that hunts the weak to lure them away from their misery. no wonder he has made himself a frequent customer at this place—there are people drowning in sorrows. one deal with him, and they will wake up in the morning, drowning in riches instead.

“what do you want from me?” you ask, letting your hands fall to your sides.

“so eager to get to the best part of my bargain, silly girl. have some patience.” he takes a sip of his own drink, pinning you with his gaze, even above the rim. you squirm under the intensity, but you, even now, can’t look away. “i know you’re struggling to find work. you’ve been here for years, and made pennies to live off of.” he reaches across the table, spins a lock of hair around his finger as he sighs dramatically. “such a shame, really. they must fear the power of your perfection if they refuse to let you shine brighter than the rest of the dull creatures that they call starlets.”

your heart drops, stutters within the delicate bones of your skeleton before starting again, as you remember that this is how the devil would act, luring you in with sweetly poisoned words full of deceit. “they are talented—”

“they are nothing,” he snarls, banging his fist on the table so loudly that you jump, hands shaking against the beaded skirt of your dress. “you may claim to believe in your own talents, your appearance, but it is all a lie, a facade that you maintain to protect yourself. you are the one holding yourself back, and unless you let me help you, you’ll get nowhere.”

you feel tears burn. “you mean to lure me away from the path of god—”

his eyes narrow. “i mean to free the human race from the chains that religion has bound on them. there is nothing for you in the afterlife but an existence of slavery. one to a malicious devil who only wishes to torment, or one to a god who doesn’t love you.”

it confuses you, the way he speaks of these beings as if he is not on the side of heaven or hell. as if there could be another option. it seems surreal, a secret that you should not have been told; since the day you were born, you have learned of the path of righteousness, the will of god.

that is the only way you can obtain a life of peace… yet, there is a creature before you, claiming to offer you a third path, one that doesn’t have you bowing down for a god that won’t answer your prayers.

it may be foolish, the work of the devil, but you are willing to listen. you are already lured in by this graceful creature with a charming smile and a quick tongue, and you don’t know if it will take much more for you to succumb to him completely.

already, you have lost your way—you would do anything to escape your unhappiness.

“what is it you’re after, then?” you ask, your voice softer, weaker than you anticipated.

he laughs, and lets his head tilt sideways, studies you before answering. “my father has cast me out of heaven; i plan to build my own religion of followers, tearing them away from that idiot of a being they call their god. because i am much stronger, much wiser, and the only way that they can find peace after their death is by trusting that i will give it to them.”

you swallow, twining your fingers together, and think. “you’re… an angel?”

he waves his hand. “a fallen one.”

there are things about the world that you do not understand, but you know that god has not once help you when you were drowning without a savior. he did not guide a helping a hand when you contemplated dragging a knife across your wrists, and yet, here is something, someone wanting to save you from just that. how is it that god can be more benevolent than those he casts out, when you have seen nothing but the opposite?

“you want me to join you, then?” you ask, drawing your eyebrows together. “if i join you, you’ll give me what i desire?”

“well… that is usually the bargain i offer. however,” he hums, eyes flashing as they scour your body. he looks at you hungrily, like he has never seen a being like yourself. “it has been a while since i’ve seen a human as beautiful as you.”

you swallow, blinking at him with wide eyes as you grow hot all over. this would not be the first time you’ve sold your body for fame, but never has it been with a man as stunning as the angel before you. “you mean… if i fuck you, you’ll give me whatever i want?”

he sniffs, repulsed by your suggestion. “always so lewd, you mortals.”

your eyebrows knit together. “but you said—”

“i don’t want you for one night. i want you forever. i want you to swear your body over to me for the rest of your life, let me use it as i wish, bear my children.” he traces your features, grazes a thumb over your jaw, your lip. his eyes are hard, and you swallow, wondering why your stomach flips. “you are meant to be mine.” he smiles, and though you can see the mischief within it, for some reason, there is also softness there as he crosses his arms over the counter. “but if you aren’t interested, then the deal is off the table. i have no need for someone who doesn’t want me in return.”

you blink back at him, observing the seriousness of his expression, the softness lurking within the pools of his deep brown eyes. perhaps he is a vengeful angel… but he is offering you a life that is much more promising than the one you have now. would it really be so bad to give yourself to him, to spend the rest of your life in his arms, when he promises to give you everything you’ve ever wished for?

“i—” you hesitate, unsure how to even begin to answer the question, when you didn’t quite understand what it was that he needed from you.

“i’ll give you some time to think about it. after all, it is a decision that will affect the rest of your life.” he stands to his feet, and it is then that you notice there are some eyes on you, the women he typically has hanging off of him watching your interaction with bated breath. “when you have an answer, just call for me. i’ll be there.”

“wait,” you say, turning in your chair to face him. “i don’t even know your name.”

“you can call me osamu.” he smiles and winks at you, tucking his jacket closer as he begins to walk away. “we’ll be in touch."

three weeks pass before you see him again.

you’d decided quickly what you would say to him, and after two weeks worth of auditions that led to nothing, drinking without a friend in the world, alone to rot in your bedroom, you’d made up your mind.

osamu’s proposal, now, after everything you’d suffered, seemed too good to be true. how long had you wished for a companion, for money, for a steady job—and now, these were all things he promised to provide you, if only you’d stand by his side.

you’d called to him at the start of the week, said a prayer to any angel named osamu that was out there—but no one came.

night after night, you said the same prayer, wondering, if perhaps, you’d been made a fool of. that everything he had said was a lie, and you, truly, were doomed to live an unhappy life. maybe, he was mocking you for your misfortunes, for your weak heart.

though, on the twenty-first day after your discussion, you awaken to a figure standing in the corner of your room, watching you with hawklike eyes, the shadow of a wingspan shaped out behind him.

you gasp, nearly letting out a scream as you scramble to a seated position in your bed, bringing the sheets up to your chest. the man is nothing more than a silhouette, so dark in the moonlight, but you know, without seeing his face, that he is the one you’ve been searching for.

“osamu,” you say, trying to quell the fear that has made a home in your chest. you gawk at him as he uncrosses his arms, sauntering over like he owns the place, like he’s been here before, knows the shape of your body, even under the sheets you hide within. “you heard my prayers.”

“i apologize for not coming faster,” he smiles in the darkness, teeth glimmering under beams of starlight. his face becomes visible then, and it steals your breath away—he is more stunning than you remember, skin nearly glowing, golden. “you were beginning to sound desperate.” osamu watches as your breathing evens out, your eyes flicking over his features. “is that still the case?”

he is a sight to behold sitting before you, the very essence of power seeping off of him in waves. a creature crafted from the hands of god, shaped to be the very thing that would protect the weaker creations.

osamu’s skin, his hair, every inch of him is without flaws, while you are but a sinful human girl who succumbs to each of her urges.

“i want—” you stop, realizing that you’re not sure what you want. to be an actress, yes, a famous starlet that is cherished by the masses. but, when you look at osamu, the soft, plump shape of his lips, the lean limbs that hide under his tailored coat, you wonder if fame, security, comfort—perhaps, those aren’t the only things you desire from this exchange. “i accept—”

“you sound uncertain,” he interrupts, eyebrows drawing together in a scowl. “you called me here, begged me to come steal you away, and now, you change your mind?”

“no!” you say, scrambling to grab his wrist as he starts to stand from the bed, his eyes flashing as you reach for him on all fours. “i’m not changing my mind. i want to be famous, i want to be yours.” you swallow, choking out the word as it turns your cheeks warm, the heat making its way up from your toes.

it hit you harder that you anticipated, the taste of belonging to another. you aren’t sure if its because you’ve craved the connection for so long that it’s twisting your insides, turning you into something desperate, or if, already, you feel an invisible string tying you and this stranger together.

“but?” osamu asks, still seeming like he’s about to flee, his eyes hard, blinking back at you. there is something about you that he wants, but he won’t take it, not unless you crave him just as much. it muddles your mind, confuses you—he could have anyone, could take anything. yet—

“but why do you want me?” you ask, releasing him to curl your fingers around the blanket. “i don’t understand.”

osamu balks, then laughs, his eyes crinkling as he regards you with some sort of gentleness. “perhaps i have always loved humans a little too much, much more than i should, at least.” he curls a piece of your hair around his finger, hums to himself. “innocent creatures that my father cursed with misery, blaming their own sinfulness against them.” osamu licks his lips, hungry as dark eyes cover your face. “but it’s not entirely your fault that you must bear the torment of generations. just as it is not my fault that i was born with a lust for something much more delicate than the creatures of heaven.”

he strokes your cheek, fingers grazing you like you are nothing more than a piece of glass, that you might shatter under the force of his power. perhaps you would—with too much, he might break you, turn you into a pile of ash with a snap of his finger.

“but there are millions of us to choose from,” you say, sweating under the blanket as your heart pounds in your chest. the breadth of his power becomes more obvious with every passing second, and yet, you crave a taste of it. “what makes me so special?”

he wraps a large palm around your jaw, thumb pulling at your lower lip. the tip of it dips into your mouth as you watch him with wide eyes, frozen, but not from fear. “i was meant to be your guardian angel, to be the guide that leads you away from the devil until your dying breath.” he moves closer, dipping his head towards your lips, brown irises never leaving your own. “and yet, the moment i laid eyes on you, i had already broken the first rule.”

you stumble over your syllables, whispering them breathlessly. “and what’s that?”

osamu smiles, muttering the words against your mouth, his voice ghosting over your skin. “angels are wired to protect those that we are assigned to,” he says, swiping his tongue against your lip, just barely kissing you, the sounds low and breathy. “we’re not supposed to want to fuck them.” a finger drags slowly, sensuously up your arm, and you can’t move, can’t do anything but watch as he pushes you, sinks you slowly into the bed. “i have never wanted anything as badly as i want you.”

you breath, in and out, slow, as the heat settles in your stomach, a burning pool of need churning there. it’s been so long—so long—since anyone has touched you in a way that is kind, has wanted to please you, instead of steal from you. “all that, just for me?” you ask cheekily, though you’re still not sure that he is telling the truth.

maybe he is the devil, but you no longer care. his voice is so sweet with praise and affirmation, bleeding into the softness of your heart.

he shrugs. “perhaps i was always meant to fall.” your head hits the pillow. you aren’t sure when he got you pinned on the bed. osamu looms over you with wide, burning eyes, licking his lips with an ache he doesn’t bother to hide.

“osamu,” you shudder, grabbing his bicep to steady yourself. it is too much, suddenly, all at once. you are filled with need for him, clawing at his skin as he commands complete control over you with nothing but his words. “i—”

your sentence is stolen away by a kiss, one that burns from your mouth all the way down to your toes. it twists something within you, turns you into a monstrous being that you had not realized you were, longing so recklessly to be touched.

his hands roam over your body, touch featherlight as he removes your dress, drags it slowly off your body, eyes grazing over every inch of your skin like he wants to devour your whole.

he makes a low sound in the back of his throat, fingers lightly dipping down your chest, between the swell of your breast to your ribcage. “how cruel of our father to keep us from such divine creatures,” he says, leaning down to kiss up your stomach, lick the skin around your breasts. “perhaps we are the ones that are truly being punished.”

you writhe under him, hands curling in his hair as his own dips between your thighs. grabbing his scalp hard, you yank him back up to your lips, and your eyes meet, both dark and dangerous as you brush your nose against his own. “you are punishing me right now.”

“is that so?” he laughs, eyes flashing with humor. “such a greedy, impatient little thing.” osamu slips out of his coat, his shirt, revealing the tent that has already grown in his slacks. they are the next to go, and his golden skin is revealed, the perfection of every line and angle of his body heavenly and refined. he leans down to whisper in your ear, breath ghosting the shell of it. “act like such a princess, but i know you want to be fucked until you can’t form a single thought, don’t you?” he says, and the coolness of his voice has you squeezing his shoulders, gasping out his name.

your skin burns, your chest burns, an ache gathering and settling deep in your stomach. your cunt throbs as you look at the angel before you, and he kisses down your neck, bites a hard bruise into your collarbone.

you whimper, wondering why you ever questioned going with him, when he could make you feel this good from nothing more than his hands on your skin.

“such pretty fucking tits.” he swirls his tongue around your hardened nipple, teasing the bud as you cry out loudly in the silent room. far too loudly for the thin walls, the cheap apartment. yet, you wonder if you care that your neighbors can hear the noises that come with your pleasure.

“that’s it,” he purrs, kissing down your stomach before his lips reach your hipbone, smiling into the sensitive skin there. “so quiet before… thought i was doing something wrong.”

“n-no,” you say, chest rising quickly as you watch him hover above your soaked cunt with anticipation. “feels good.”

osamu smiles, spreads your legs farther, so your dripping, aching hole is on display, embarrassingly, every inch of you vulnerable to him. “look at you,” he says, eyes hazy as he holds you tight, digs his fingers in your skin. “so fucking perfect. bet you taste as good as you look.”

there isn’t a moment for you to say a word—his head is already between your thighs, kissing your clit before sweeping his tongue through your folds, gathering up the wetness. a moan leaves his lips, and the vibration sends a wave of need through you as you squeeze his hair, force him back down on your cunt, nose dragging against your clit. “osamu, please.”

“ah, ah, ah,” he stops, licking his lips that are moist from your juices as his head lifts from between your thighs. a dark smile stretches across his features, calculating and cruel. “where are your manners, sweetheart? i don’t want you to cum too quickly.”

you’re not sure what he means until you feel your hands pinned to the bed by an invisible force, the power of the angelic creature before you, finally obvious. you can’t move, can’t even writhe against him, even as you try to thrust your hips forward, gain any sort of relief from the position.

he laughs at you, so pitiful at your desperation to be touched. “much better,” he says, and returns to lap at your cunt, tongue already stretching you as his fingers graze your thigh.

“s-samu,” you say, feeling the heavy pressure build down in your stomach. “want,” your cheeks grow hot, and you’re tingling with a need to touch him, but you can’t move. his pace is too steady, too slow. you’ve never wanted to scream more. “want your fingers. please, please.”

“please? such a good girl.” osamu grins against your pussy. the sound of his tongue slurping at your arousal is loud in the darkened space, and you clench around him, burning with need and shame. “you taste so good, too. better than any of the fucking shit in heaven. fuck.” he slips a finger in then, working at your clenching hole as his tongue curls around your clit, rubbing at the sensitive bud.

your words leave you in a cry, every muscle in your body aching. “please, i want to move. let me touch you, i want to, i—”

“i’m not letting you go that easy,” osamu says, and he pulls his mouth away, his face glistening, soaked. his fingers curl into you and you squeeze your eyes tight as he reaches deeper, to the second knuckle. “you’re so fucking worked up. bet you could cum at the sound of my voice alone.”

“i wanna, please, i’m so close—"

he laughs, looking up at you from under dark lashes. “already?” the sound is mocking, nothing about it soft as he kisses your inner thigh. he sees the desperation in your irises as you can do nothing but stare, unable to twitch a single muscle. “gonna cum all over my face?” he asks, and he’s back between your legs, tongue diving into you. “make a mess on me, sweetheart, wanna see that pretty face of yours when you cum.”

you don’t think you’ve every felt like this before, basked in the moonlight as the angelic man soaks his face with your desire, smiling at the sight of you so sinful. your heart hammers in your chest as you remember what you’ve promised him—that you would be his forever and, perhaps, this is what forever entails.

breathy moans leave you, and with each thrust of his tongue, you’re left with less words on your lips, less thoughts in your mind. “feels so good, you’re so good, osamu,” you babble, over and over.

osamu reaches the deep spot inside of you, and you squeeze him, clenching as you come on his fingers, cry out in the space of black room, nothing but the stars to guide you. you’re not sure you’ve ever come this fast before, not without the help of your own hands, but osamu just continues to lap at your cunt, drinking the juices and making lewd noises of pleasure at the taste of you. “mm,” he hums, “so fucking perfect.”

he fists his cock, already hard as his tongue swirls inside of you, and you lose any train of thought, too focused on the way he’s making you feel.

osamu is hard, leaking before he shifts onto his knees, rubbing his cock between your folds, gathering slick at the tip. “want my cock, baby? such a pretty thing deserves it, don’t you think?”

you nod, muttering syllables you don’t even understand. osamu teases you, drags his cock against your hole as he kisses your lips.

“use your words, sweetheart,” he smiles. his soaked fingers leave patterns of your own slick on your stomach.

you groan, eyelashes wet. “want your cock, ‘samu, please, wanna be stuffed so full,” you babble, and you can’t do anything but lay there, even though you want to touch him, want so badly to shift your hips into him. “please, osamu, please,”

he makes a noise in the back of his throat, grinning as he plays with your nipple, lining himself against your dripping hole. “so fucking sweet for me, anyone would think you were the angel, wouldn’t they?” osamu asks, and then he sinks into you, slow, eyes careful as he searches for any pain in your features.

you blink up at him, making a soft noise as you writhe under your skin. “b-big,” you say, feeling him stretch your walls as he sinks further.

though his eyes are careful, he doesn’t bother to stop, each second dragging as he inches further into you. he laces his fingers with yours on the bed, grinning as dark hair falls into his eyes. “i think you can take it, can’t you? you’ve been sogood for me already.”

sucked into the coolness of his gaze, you don’t realize that he’s released you from whatever spell you’ve been trapped under, kept helpless on the bed. you gasp as he sinks into you completely, aching from a mix of discomfort and the deep need with you.

“too much,” you say, but he sinks further, deeper, and your walls clench around him, bringing a heavy groan out of both of you. “fuck, please, let me move, i—”

“i’m not stopping you,” he kisses you hard, sloppy as his saliva drags across your lips. there’s a possessiveness in the way he fucks you, dragging his mouth across your own, claiming you as his. “you take it so fucking well, angel, slipping right into this soaked pussy.”

his words take a moment to reach your disoriented mind, and when you try to move, you can, your hands flying to his shoulders to bring him closer. your whimpers are loud in the hollow room, and osamu loves the sound of you, drinking each little whisper in like a heavenly elixir.

“you’re so pretty,” he says, kissing across your forehead as you arch into him. “making you feel good, hm? so fucking innocent, and i’m ruining you.”

“mmm,” you force the sound out as osamu thrusts into you, hard against the mattress, his hips moving in a steady, fast rhythm. hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat, his brown eyes even darker in the midnight hour.

your fingers graze across his back, between his shoulder blades, and though your touch is featherlight, he freezes, stops immediately with a loud groan as he clamps his teeth down on your shoulder.

you breath in sync, your chests rising and falling together. “osamu?” you ask, staring up at him, his eyes pinched together tightly as he grits his teeth.

“sensitive,” he says, and his voice is hoarse. “fuck, i’ll cum on the spot if you touch me there.”

you blink, your haziness clearing as you let your hands fall to your sides. it takes you a moment to realize why he would curl away from your touch there, why he would—

“your wings?” you ask, and he drags his gaze back up to your’s, nodding, before dropping his head onto your collarbone. he exhales into your neck, resuming a slow, steady pace inside you. though, you place a hand on his chest, feel his erratic heartbeat. “can i see?”

“you don’t want to.”

you pinch your eyebrows together, but he shifts his hips, forces a cry out of you as you collapse back down against the mattress. “i do,” you argue, but he’s fucking you mercilessly, sensuous sounds echoing in the room as he attempts to distract you. “i want to.”

he’s about to deny your request, but you let out another soft please, batting your eyelashes so sweetly. your cheeks are flushed from the heat in the room, and, for some reason, he relents, bowing his head in some sort of remorse. slowly, his wings span out across the room.

you lose your breath for a moment as you stare at them, muddled from the feeling of him inside and the beautiful sight before you. the wings are thick, black and feathery, spanning the length of the room, casting a dark shadow over you. they’re strong and unwavering, with a sheen that could be seen only on a raven, the light turning the shades from a deep purple to green.

“oh,” you can’t mutter anything else as he drags his tip against the sensitive spot inside you. “oh, they’re so beautiful. fuck, osamu, i can’t—”

you can’t stop yourself from touching them, dragging a gentle touch against one of the feathers. osamu cries out, groans into your mouth as your walls clench around him, sweat dripping between you as your chest presses against his own.

“shit,” he says, forehead pressed to yours. “oh, i’m so close. gonna make me come, aren’t you, baby? squeezing me so fucking tight, touching me like that.”

his eyes are hazy, and, somehow, for some reason, he’s let you have control of the situation. he kisses your face, treats you with a gentleness you didn’t think he was capable of, his lips so warm against your skin.

the dark, heavy wings cage you in, falling over the two of you, and you run your fingers against them once more as you feel another orgasm creep upon you. your clit rubs against him, and your slick drips between the two of you, down your thighs as your breath catches in your throat.

for a moment, you revel in the feeling of him deep inside you, and you close your eyes, his feathered wings so soft under your palm, letting your pleasure overtake you.

though that is short-lived as osamu pinches your jaw.

“hey,” he says gruffly, “look at me. want to see those pretty eyes of yours when you cum.” and though his eyes are soft, delicate from the way you’re stroking his wings, he sounds so mean, so possessive. “gonna fuck all my cum inside you, cause you’re mine now.”

your fingers curl around the feathers, hard as you tug him down towards you. osamu moans deep into your mouth when you clench around him, your orgasm rolling over you again as you scream his name into the blackness of the room.

“such a good girl f’me, fuck, i—” he doesn’t finish his sentence, already filling your soaked pussy with his cum. it seeps deep inside of you, coating your walls white until he pulls out, lets his seed drip between the two of you.

osamu presses his fingers across your face, dragging the delicate touch around your jaw, your chin as you breath heavily, still awestruck by the creature before you. you’re exhausted, sleepy, eyes hazy as you regard him with stuttered breath.

but he doesn’t let you go, kissing you over and over again with flushed lips. “i know you can give me one more,” he says in a low voice, humming against your throat. “my perfect mortal girl. just one more, and i’ll give you whatever you want, got it, pretty?”

your body aches, sensitive and spent, but you don’t object when he slips another finger into, kissing you hard as he lets you touch his raven wingspan.

you’d always wanted to be an actress, anyways.

tags: @hannzai @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346

OCTOBER MASTERLIST

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ozarkthedog · 1 year

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summary — your car breaks down so you call the first person that comes to mind. your crush and grade a dilf, Marc.

warnings — alt universe. dilf!Marc Spector x afab babysitter!Reader. first kiss. sexual tension. grinding in the front seat of a car. filth. panty stealing. illusions to a threesome. no beta.

word count — 2.4k

author’s note — this fic is part of my ongoing series, Slow Like Honey, but it could be read as a stand alone. idk anything about cars lmao

☽ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ☾

❦ 𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ❦

— 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 - 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈. — 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝/𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦. 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 & 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

You flip through the radio in your beat up car, singing along to whatever song distracts you from the horrid day you had just endured. As you drive through the small town, the sign from the little bakery that always tempts Layla with its baklava gleams brightly in the dusky atmosphere.

Layla.

Your mind instantly summons an image of the beautiful woman. You saw her yesterday and yet, you miss her. She radiates warmth and verve. It makes you giddy just thinking about her. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when the minor attraction to the curly haired woman grew into a bonafide crush.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the check engine light flick on until it’s too late. The engine begins to sputter, forcing you to carefully pull to the side of the road.

You slam your hands on the steering wheel with a shout. This is just what you needed to add to your spectacularly shitty day.

Without a thought, you dial the number of the first person who comes to mind. The father of the children you babysit for and who just so happens to be Layla’s husband, Marc.

With looks that could kill and a body that actually can, he made you nervous the first day you met him. It wasn’t until you got to know him and saw through the rough, hard shelled exterior that you fell head over heels for the man.

Marc’s a kind, stoic man who works hard to support his family. Running a body guard protection business is tedious work and requires long hours, hence why he and Layla hired you as their babysitter.

What you didn’t expect was to develop a serious crush on the couple. The more time you spent with them, the more you saw how much love and tenderness they had for one another. They supported each other’s endeavors and would go out of their way to make sure the other knew it.

You went about your job though, taking care of the kids and household whenever they needed you. You did well not drawing attention to the silly infatuation you had on the husband and wife.

Or so you thought.

The side road was quiet; aside from crickets that sing into the night as you exit your car. The late fall sunset cools the air to a crisp temp. You hug yourself in an effort to keep warm and kick a stray rock into the brushes that line the road.

Marc pulls up behind your car less than 10 minutes later.

“Hey.” He greets you with a concerned smile as he steps out of his black Audi.

He looks like he usually does, a devastating mix of suave and rough around the edges swagger. The dark button up he’s sporting is open and loose showcasing a clean, white t-shirt beneath. Jet black hair is combed back in waves and the familiar shadow of a scratchy beard frames his jaw.

As you lean against the trunk of your car you can’t help but smile in return. Your knight in shining armor.

Marc steps closer, inspecting you even though you told him on the phone that you were alright.

He smells like home. Well, his home with Layla.

“Do you know what happened?” He asks, walking towards the front of your car.

“Not a clue.” You shake your head as you watch him prop open the hood.

He inspects the engine before his jaw molds into a grimace.

“It’s your alternator. Thankfully, it’s not too expensive to fix, but you’ll need to call a tow truck and have them drop it off at a shop.” he slams the hood and nods toward his car. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

You chuck your backpack onto the floor and sink into the leather passenger seat with a defeated sigh. This day just wouldn’t end. You rub your temples and wish away the headache that pounds lightly behind your eyes.

“How was your day?” Marc asks as he starts the engine and turns the wheel, driving in the direction of your apartment.

“Oh, just peachy.” You snort sarcastically and sink deeper into the seat. You couldn’t wait to wash off the hellish day and crawl into bed. Thankfully, you lived in a small town and your car died only a couple miles from home.

Marc side-eyes you with a raised brow. “That so?”

You try to change the subject wanting nothing more than to forget about the day but he doesn’t give in.

“Come on. What’s wrong?” He softly pushes with that concerned fatherly tone that always makes you turn to jelly.

Try as you might not to give in, it’s a lost cause. It always is with him.

“Ok, just remember you asked.” You grumble before taking a deep breath.

“1. I overslept. 2. I got a B- on an essay I worked on for 2 weeks.” You continue counting the numbers on your hand. “3. I had to watch my roommate and her new boyfriend suck face all during lunch and now my car breaks down.”

Your blood boils as you suck a heavy breath into your lungs and you hold it until it burns, forcing yourself to calm down.

Marc nods silently, keeping his eyes trained as he drives.

“Really? She was making out in front of you?” he questions, vexation dripping from his tongue.

“It was infuriating! Why would I want to see that!? It’s bad enough I’m single and have a crush on two—”

Your brain screeches to a halt.

You almost let your secret slip to one of the two people who invade your thoughts on a daily basis. Damn your emotions and damn Marc for being so sympathetic and comforting.

“What’s this about a crush?” Marc quips as he briefly flicks inquisitive eyes at you. His tongue pokes his cheek as you groan and shove your face into your hands.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s a pointless crush.” You tell him flatly, also reminding yourself for the millionth time that day.

“Ok. I get it.” He says, raising a hand in surrender.

His eyes flick to you every so often during the rest of the silent drive. You don’t think anything of it aside from him making sure you weren’t about to break out in a fit of tears.

Soft, yellow hues illuminate his handsome features and you can’t help but be mesmerized whenever you steal a glance at him.

The car finally comes to a stop in front of your apartment and you couldn’t be happier. You unbuckle your seatbelt and pick your backpack up off the floor ready to exit when Marc holds your attention with a sober stare.

“I’ve seen the way you look at Layla.” Marc murmurs, breaking the silence and forcing your heart into your belly.

“I– I don’t know what you mean.” Your backpack tumbles from your hold as you deflate into your seat and sputter around the tightness in your gullet.

His chin drops to his chest and he laughs under his breath. “You can’t fool me, Honey. It’s written all over your face.”

You play with the hem of your skirt, anxiously tugging the material between your fingers. You press your eyes tight gathering the courage to come clean.

“Yes. I think she’s beautiful inside and out. Ok?” You admit quickly with a bit of a bite.

Your shoulders no longer feel the immense weight they were used to carrying. Still, your body burns with humiliation and you hide your face in your hands, no longer strong enough to face him.

Marc rests an arm on the back of your seat with a sigh. “I don’t blame you. I did marry her after all.”

He tugs your hands from your face and cradles your jaw, softly thumbing at the apple of your cheek as his eyes dip to your parted lips. “It's ok, Honey. There’s no need to be embarrassed. You’re not the only one who has a crush.”

Marc tilts his head and leans in so slowly and cautiously it feels like he’s moving in slow motion. He places a soft kiss on your lips and your eyes flutter as you selfishly groan into the affection.

Eventually, your mind catches up and you pull as far away as the hand on your jaw will let you, which isn’t far at all. His nose bumps yours as he teasingly licks your parted lips.

He tenderly kisses you again. The tension in your jaw fades as he deepens the kiss, slotting his lips over yours with possession.

Marc groans deep in his chest when your tongue experimentally slips between your lips and smooths along his own.

His fingers press into your jaw and open your mouth wider so he can taste you completely. A sinful mewl falls from your lips as he licks into you with abandon.

Your pussy floods with heat, pooling arousal in the gusset of your panties as he hums with satisfied approval. His fingers press firmly into your cheeks like he never wants to let go.

A thin strand of spit connects you to the older man when you finally come up for air. He searches your eyes for hesitation but all he finds is adoration.

“Come ‘ere.” He commands as he sits back in his seat and reaches for the lever that slides it all the way back. “Wanna feel you against me.”

He helps you over the gearshift with steady hands before seating you in his lap. He locks his arms around your hips, fitting you snugly against his burly buttoned up chest.

With your knees stretched on either side of his expansive thighs, your barely clothed pussy has no escape from his rough jeans and the solid mass that hangs between his legs.

Your brain fogs drastically when you feel his cock pulse against your mound. He’s half hard but already he feels massive. You wonder what it’d be like to have him stretch you open and mold your core around his impressive girth.

You yelp when he nips the sensitive skin of your neck dragging you away from the filthy thoughts. The slight sting makes you instinctually grind down on his straining length. You chase the pain with pleasure forcing illicit moans to tumble from both sets of lips.

“Shit– that felt good didn’t it, Honey?” He purrs into your collarbone, scratching your soft skin with his beard and laving at the burn.

Your pussy glides smoothly across the material of your ruined panties, rubbing your clit up and down his hidden cock. Wet squelches and flustered moans fill the small confines of the car as a thin layer of dew begins to grow on the windows.

He furrows his brow, squinting at you. A large hand cradles your jaw and he shoves his thumb between your parted lips. “Atta girl, grind that needy pussy on me.”

Your eyes flutter as you suckle and circle your tongue around the digit. Your pussy weeps profusely as you drive your hips harder, frantic to ease the ache that pulses steadily between your thighs.

“Bet you’re soaking.” He grunts, shifting his hips until his cock glides against your core and a pathetic whimper tumbles from your lips. “Fuck- You’re gonna make a mess all over me aren’t you?”

His free hand molds to the shape of your ass and he shoves his hips in time with your hurried thrusts. “Just like that. Shit– wanna feel you come.”

Your grip on his brawny shoulders tightens as the tension builds higher and higher. He forces you to the edge so quickly that you have no choice in the matter but to come.

“Come on.” Marc grunts feeling you shake in his arms. “Be a good girl and cream those panties for me.”

At his command, you tug the curls at the base of his neck as you shatter and careen over the cliff. A wrecked yelp forces its way out of your tight throat as your body quivers from the overwhelming pleasure.

He hums sweetly into the column of your neck, kissing the tender flesh and holding you fiercely in his arms as you come down from the exhilarating high.

“Are you—? Did you?” Your eyes flick down to his lap when you notice his cock is still hard and twitching beneath his jeans. “Cause I can—”

Marc shakes his head. “Nah, I’m ok. I’ll take care of it later.” He nudges your nose before pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is slow and deliberate as he drowns you in affection.

You’ve never felt so safe being in his arms. You never wanted this to end but you feel his eyes check the clock on the dash and you know your time has run out.

He helps you maneuver the center console again and you settle back into the passenger seat. You timidly gather your things and move to open the car door when he stops you with a raised finger.

“Give me your panties.”

The shock of his request makes your insides burn like hot coals. “What?”

Marc bites his lip. “I’ll give ‘em back tomorrow night,” His eyes drop to your skirt in a silent command. “I promise.”

“O— ok.” You whisper and wiggle the drenched scrap of material down your legs. The gusset is absolutely soaked. A shiny, wet trail stains the inside of your legs as you slide your panties off and do your best to not cower when you hand them over.

Marc grins like a fool as he inspects them. “God damn. You made such a mess.” He moans while palming his cock with a hard squeeze.

He folds your panties carefully and pockets them but not before giving a deep sniff. “Layla will love to suck on this while I fuck her tonight.”

You gasp at the admission and from the fresh wave of slick that floods your pussy. Images of the couple fucking flash before your eyes making you woozy.

“Best get a move on. It’s getting late.” Marc states before adjusting his seat and starting the car.

All you can do is nod and robotically gather your belongings.

The idea of Layla mouthing your ruined panties while Marc fucks her breaks you. You barely squeak a goodnight to him before stepping onto the sidewalk.

He clears his throat prompting you to turn and face him one more time.

“We’ll see you tomorrow night.” Marc declares with a sly grin.

You smile dumbly at him and somehow make it up the steps to your apartment before locking the door behind you. The sound of the engine purrs to life as he drives away leaving you in a state of shock and filth.

What the absolute fuck.

#marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #oscar isaac #moonknight #layla el faouly

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al1nutzaa · 1 year

Text

💙❃.✮:▹kisses◃:✮.❃💙 pt. 1

Everything about their kisses lol

Cause I'm a perfectionist and add useless info.

Can you tell I'm a sucker for Lucifer? Now you know lmao

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

➹𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓲𝓯𝓮𝓻➷

You kissed him first. Surprisingly.

First kiss on the cheek, second on the lipsss

1. It was another one of those late nights, when pen scratching paper was all that could be heard, and coffee was all that could be smelled. It was another one of those nights when he'd try really hard not to doze off. It was yet another night when he invited you in his study, to keep him company.

He'd reassure you that there's no meaning behind letting you in. That it's a friendly gesture to tease you.

That "It's for the exchange program."

"This document needs your signature"

"You need to fill in a report."

And it is completely normal to brush his fingers by "accident" on your thighs while you are beside him, doing what you had to do. But when you leave the room, the way he'd pull you asside by your waist, and whisper in your ear lewd nothings sent shivers down your spine and told you something else.

And you weren't dumb. You knew what he wanted.

He wanted you to come to him... To rile you up. To piss you off. To say everything in his face, then confess to him.

Were you really going to give it to him?

No.

Because you want to see him do what he wants to do to you. Just imagine him saying the truth, telling you the way he feels about you. Him confessing to you.

Should he know, you also had pride. You were the human exchange student who changed everyone's life. Whose role was the most important one in the Devildom. The exchange program depended on you.

Why should you get vulnerable when you knew your worth?

Love makes you weak.

Too bad you can't feel one without the other.

But you don't wanna feel that.

Because you're unique. Lucky you. You pulled the devil itself. And you were gonna take advantage of that. Not in the bad way. But just the way you liked.

Let me explain...

You see, love is like the hunger for a unique woman. And if this woman knows how not to give a man too much to satisfy him, but on the contrary, always leaves him hungry, then that's the secret that keeps love fresh and young.

Also:

Hell with a smart woman is better than paradise with a stupid one.

Hell has been more beautiful since your arrival.

Along with you, there came those glances. The glances that gave you hope. False or not, that wouldn't be a mystery.

Sure, you knew those. They became a habit. Bad or not, you loved it. And Lucifer loved the way you looked at him as well. Stealing glances from across the room was your way of showing interest. Whether it's sexual, romantic, or just pure curiosity, you felt the same.

Well,

who knew you were so addicting.

And somehow, as time went by, you felt hunger towards him. Towards Lucifer. And pushing all of his buttons, a spark rose. A spark that felt oddly bittersweet. Combining both sadism and masochism into a bitter yet sweet crime scene.

There was no way you'd let it go. You wanted to see if you actually felt what you thought you felt towards him. You wanted to know if what you felt was real. If that spark was meant to burn.

And that was one of many reasons why you were in front of his study. You wanted confirmation. Maybe affirmation.

They say confidence is key, while confidence kept leaving and entering you; but, once you have sign, you'll know exactly what you both want. Because... Were you really in love with Lucifer? Was he really in love with you?

You were gonna find out.

No matter the circumstances.

Actually, a good night's rest was waiting for a long time. Your thoughts barely let you sleep. Overthinking kept you awake. And that's another reason why you wanted an answer, or a sign, an action, a gesture, anything.

And there you are.

Knocking on his door, you felt agitated.

Were you going to explode?

To pass out?

Have a heart attack?

All of the above?

Weirdly, no one made you feel like this. And that's yet another reason.

Turning the handle, you entered. Classical music wasn't swaying in the back like it used to do. Coffee was barely there to begin with. Barely any documents were on Lucifer's desk.

Something must be wrong.

Because Lucifer is sleeping.

A once in a lifetime occasion. Nahhhh girl.

There's no way you're gonna miss on that. That's your chance! Do something!-

Your thoughts where interrupted by a slight sound of shifting. Looking at him, he shifted just enough for you to see his face.

Hair, disheveled. Shirt, wrinkled. Tie, loose. Gloves, off. Sleep mode, on.

What a baby he is.

And you still thought he looked good in this state. Cute, even. Hot, almost.

The sight wouldn't be highlighted enough in a picture. But the memory would.

Thank the Celestial Realm for giving you sleeping Lucifer. You felt great now.

Wayyyy to great.

Ya know what

Fuck it.

He's asleep.

Light-sleeper or not, here it goes.

Grabbing the blanket from around your shoulders, you wrapped the warm and fuzzy fabric over his stiff ones.

Brushing the few grey strands of hair from his forehead, you pressed your lips to his cold cheek.

The sudden yet anticipated feeling of his skin made your heart explode. You are both hot and cold. The fireworks inside your stomach sent electric shots through your veins. And your heart had a hard time pumping blood in and out and reviving you, to feel alive again for the 100th time.

Quickly taking your leave, you whispered to his sleeping figure before closing the door:

"Goodnight, Lucifer".

And then you knew.

You love Lucifer.

Does he love you too?

A/n

Omgggg. Finally :'). I lacked creativity towards the end, but it's here. Yayyyy

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bronx-bomber87 · 9 months

Text

Good Morning! Super excited for these next set of eps to review.

We’ve reached the iconic and pivotal DOD eps. I’m nervously excited to review these. I want to do them justice. They are momentous for not just Chenford but the entire series. Rosalind Dyer is one of my fav recurring baddies. I loved Annie from Castle as well. Was psyched she would be joining The Rookie. This was a rare one where I got to use all the gifs I wanted to. Yay. Kid in a Chenford candy store haha Thank you to all the wonderful gif makers out there. You are the real MVP's. Let’s get this started :)

2x10 The Dark Side

We start with Lucy and the guys out for a post work drink. Armstrong is there as well. They’re talking about Jackson dating a celebrity. Asking how that is? Lucy says they’re happy if he’s happy. Nick calls her bluff and says ‘Liar.’ LMAO Lucy cracks and says men suck ha They sure can. That the single men in LA suck. That whenever they find out she’s a cop they freak out. (To touch on not dating a cop bit. It is only a mistake when it’s not Tim. Let’s be real.) Especially while she's still a rookie just not a good idea (cough Nolan cough) He was never a good decision though....not even a little bit. I'll die on that hill haha

Armstrong joins the convo and comes in with some solid advice. ‘Those aren’t men they’re boys. Real men are not afraid of a strong woman.’ Your real man just isn’t ready yet my dear. Nor are you. I really love this scene though. I enjoyed Nick a lot as a character. Poor Lucy she goes on her 'Sister Officer Lucy Chen' rant ha Classic. Oh the irony of this convo. In S5 she definitely isn't in a nunnery anymore heh. That is quite awhile away from this point though. Have to note how pretty she looks in this scene. Her outfit is simple but she looks stunning.

Lucy leaves the table to get another round. That’s when Lucy runs into Caleb….really unfortunate that’s his name. That’s my BIL's name haha He seems normal enough with his flirting with Lucy. Both of them being ignored for another drink by the bartender. He's making her laugh and appearing nice and kind. Ugh run Lucy run…Their moment gets interrupted by Lucy noticing a guy stealing tips. She walks away from the convo and apologizes. End ups arresting the thief. The way she takes him down is bad ass I have to say. (Tim would be proud) Says 'Surprise I’m a cop’ haha

Roll call comes around and they find out about Rosalind Dyer. A rare unicorn in their world. A female serial killer. She’s agreed to show them the 3 bodies that were never found. In exchange she gets life with no parole instead of the death penalty. Everyone’s day is now centered around this. Tim and Lucy discuss her past murders. Lucy telling Tim she was in college when they found the first victims.

That it was all anyone could talk about, wondering how a woman could be so barbaric? Tim shares his own story about it. How he worked a scene for the 4th victim. That he was advised not to look at the body. How he wish he hadn’t… The hindsight of watching this scene unfold right before they run into Caleb. It’s bone chilling to think about. Their convo being framed around this before he shows up.

Caleb shows up and Tim is immediately suspicious and does not like this guy. His face has me rolling the entire time. Gives Caleb a hard time about the word 'Perp'. His facial expressions I can not LOL Now part of this reaction is his cop gut. I truly believe that. Not trusting whoever this guy is for Lucy. His default is suspicion. The fierce protector coming out to play in this scene.

I think the rest of his reaction is him just not liking this guy being interested in Lucy. Jealously thy name is Timothy Bradford. Its seeping out of him and he can't stop himself. He's completely forgotten he's dating one of her closest friends in this moment. Written all over his face how territorial he’s being right now. I always love me some protective/jealous Tim. This scene and honestly this entire episode is full of that.

Lucy’s face is screaming ‘chill out’ the entire interaction. She's basically scolding him with her eyes above. They have a mini silent conversation with their eyes before the scene continues. If that isn't the most married look they've had so far. I love it so much. He definitely looks reprimanded in that second gif above. Tim is as transparent as person can be in this scene. Not even trying to hide it a little bit. Caleb has shown up and Tim's guard and protective nature are out in full force. Doesn't like this guy just showing up and sniffing around at all.

Caleb is clearly nervous around Tim (as he should be..) It's too funny he keeps trying regardless to talk to Lucy. Tim deftly snags the paper out of the air. She didn't have a chance of grabbing it. Caleb has to sense how much Tim doesn't want him here. He could not be less welcoming of this man. Tim reads the paper and he asks if Caleb has a last name LOL He says Wright. The irony of that last name...

I doubt our boy even knows why he’s reacting this way to Caleb. Only that he is and very strongly at that. All his feelings when it comes to Lucy are muddled and confusing for him. Yet he acts on them anyway. From the moment this guy showed up the green eyed monster was present. Tim continues to grill him. He asks what he does for a living? Says if it’s a screenwriter he’s going in a cell. He really hates screenwriters haha A theme through out the show for him.

Eric’s facial expressions during this entire scene truly is perfection. Look at the way he looks at Caleb as he leaves. If looks could kill he would be a dead man. Also you can see the mask on Caleb drop when he turns away from them (shudder). The immense distrust written all over Tim's rigid body language. You'd have to be blind not to see it. Both of their faces above are a summary of the entire scene. Lucy is happy to have caught the eye of a 'decent' guy. Tim doesn't trust this guy as far as he can throw him.

Tim doesn’t even think he’s done anything wrong till he turns around and sees her face. Kudos to Melissa for the great reaction. He says 'What?' All innocent like he didn't just drag that guy through the mud. Treat him like a criminal they deal with on the daily. She is so affronted and honestly confused as hell with his reaction. Her face basically saying 'What the hell was that?'

From the moment Caleb shows up to the moment he leaves Tim is NOT pleased with his presence. Lucy is truly confused as to why he is acting this way. She can’t put together why he was trying to kill that entire interaction. We all know Lucy included (deep down) this was jealously thorough and through. But she chalks it up to him being stressed about how crazy everything is right now. Sure that’s it Lucy…She demands the paper back with just her face and outreached hand. Tim is shocked she wants the number of this doofus. He relents and unwillingly hands it back to her. Almost rolling his eyes as he does so.

They’re driving in a caravan to the first burial site. Lucy is looking at Calebs online profile in the car. Tim snaps at her to focus. That this is going to be most dangerous day she’s ever going to spend on the job. Oh the weight of that comment when you know these eps….They both have no idea how true that’s going to be. Might seem like he’s mad when really he’s protecting her by getting her to focus. It’s his way of doing it. I also think it's a little frustration bleeding over from the whole Caleb thing. Not that he's going to put that together right now. Hell doesn't even realize how territorial and jealous he just was.

We rejoin Tim and Lucy once they arrive at the first spot. They're talking about Rosalind during this 'Hike' to find the remaining bodies. Tim asks if she’s less scary in the light of day? Lucy tells him no…but mentions how smart she must be. To have gotten away with this for so long undetected. Lucy smartly mentions there’s a play here they’re not seeing.

Tim tells her it’s just to jerk them around. Oh my love it is far more than that. Lucy is so sharp to observe this hike has to be more than just her deal. She is proven right when they find a fresher body in one of the grave sites with the old one. It’s obvious she has a partner on the outside they just don’t know who…

Lucy is looking at Caleb’s “profile” again. Watching a video of him with a puppy. Jealous/Protective Tim makes his next appearance. Could not be more obvious if he tried. Not a fan of her being enamored by this guy. He makes a snide remark saying I bet that’s not even his puppy. It’s scary how spot on he was with Caleb the entire time. It’s mainly from jealously and being protective of her, but it’s frightening how dead on his cop gut was. He turned out to right about everything with him.

Lucy naturally gives him push back and says she just wants to enjoy a cute puppy. That it’s been an awful day. Can't she just do that? Jealous Tim won't agree with her. So he is a little shit and says 'This your first decomp right? ' Watching her face go from happy to grossed out LOL Oh Tim. He knows how bad this smell is going to be for her and is enjoying it haha The way she follows after him is too funny. Melissa is also amazing at expressing so much as well.

The eerie part of this scene is it’s them being the ones to discover the DOD tattoo… There are so many forewarnings in this episode for her. For them. Literally smacking us in the face with them. That could’ve been her if things had gone wrong... Ugh my heart. They find out the newer victim was suffocated…What an awful way to die. I’m asthmatic and it gives me a pre-asthma attack just thinking about it.

A light hearted part of this scene is once again the lack of personal space. Ah personal space. They don't know her and never will. We're all ok with this notion. Nolan ends up getting Rosalind to lead them to the second site. They find a new body in it with a DOD Tattoo. The freshest one yet. They realize it’s every three months. That 12/09/19 is the the next DOD. John notes it’s 12/08 they have a day to find the next victim.

Tim and Lucy join Armstrong at the jail to search Rosalind cell once again. Trying to find some connection. A way her and this person have been communicating. Nick asks where her books are and they say they sent them back. He asks for every book she's read in the last 6 months.

They’re searching all the books and of course Lucy is the one to crack the code. I love it. Finds something in the binding. Its a coded piece of paper. She figures out the cypher fairly quickly. You know Tim loves how damn smart she is. He’s impressed. She figures out a name from the code. My girl. Bryan Coleman. Funny that doesn’t sound like Caleb Wright….

Harper and Nolan end up saving the next girl. They find out he’s been using the old abandoned zoo as his staging ground. What kills me is them saving her condemns Lucy. They stopped him from scratching that sick itch. Grey tells them all to go home and rest. Lucy spins around and tells Tim she’s just going to go home and crash.

Tim tells her that’s a mistake and gives her the advice that will haunt him in the next episode. Hell for quite awhile if I’m being honest. He will carry this moment with him for a long time. Says after a hardcore assignment she needs to blow off some steam. Find a way to decompress. If she doesn’t she’ll never get any sleep.

Lucy is super cute asking if he's really telling her to go get a drink instead? He tells her yes. Preferably a strong one even with another human being. We all know who that human being is going to be….Side note I adore the fact that he always opens the door for her. Doesn't even realize he's doing that. Just does it out of habit. Her real man standing right in front of her but it is far too early for that hehe

Literally makes me sick to watch her scene with Caleb. My skin crawls knowing where it’s headed. He took advantage of Lucy with her guard down. Her cop eyes we're retired for the night. Just trying to decompress. We go back to the station where Grey tells John and Nick they found a body at the old zoo. Bryan Coleman. Which can only mean one thing as we go back to Lucy. That Caleb is the apprentice….

She goes from giggly and relaxed to sheer terror in a matter of moments. He drugged her and Lucy is slowly realizing the situation she is now in. He also snags her phone before she can use it. Sadly she is over powered easily due the drug he gave her. Then sticks her in the trunk of his car. The ep ends there.

It’s a crazy stressful two-parter. So damn good though. I remember when this first premiered how hard it was to wait for the next episode. I’m pre emotional just thinking about analyzing the next episode. Can’t wait to do it though.

~~~~

Side Notes-Non Chenford

Wopez good scenes not many but really good. Wes clearing not handling his post traumatic stress well. Mixing his prescription with alcohol. Angela coming home asking if he was trying to kill himself. He says I don’t know… Not a great answer bud.

The whole Rosalind SL. It’s so dark but so good. Getting a deeper look into Nick and seeing some chinks in his armor. What he sacrificed to catch her. It’s very good. I enjoyed his character a lot and getting more depth with him as well.

Thank you as always to those that like/comment/reblog these reviews. It’s means the world to me. I love doing these and they take time to assemble. But they’re so worth doing to enjoy this rewatch together. I’m also enjoying the hell out of analyzing these eps and our beloved couple. I’ll see you all in 2x11 :)

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takobaki · 4 months

Text

𓆩♡𓆪 Snowy innocence 𓆩♡𓆪 // PT: 3

彡Like a kid in a candy shop彡

˗ˏˋSams shop´ˎ˗

A/N: So this one has a bit of Alkni's backstory or well the events leading up to her being transported to NRC lol, also Ik what imp means just in case lmao

Fun fact Alkni's name is pronounced Alk-e even though that isn't the actual way to say the name

Word count:

WARNING:

Other parts here

"Welcome to Mister S's Mystery Shop! My friends on the other side tell me you came here looking for something. Ee hee hee!" Sam said as he waved to the the Octavinelle students, a warm and welcoming smile on his face "Oh- Whose that little imp!" Same asked as he pointed to Alkni, who only buried her face into Floyds neck, trembling slightly

"That's what we're hoping you would tell us" Azul said as he grabbed Alkni, setting her on the ground. "Do you think you could get your friends on the other side to help us find out" He continued while gently rubbing the 5 year old girls head. Sam let out a hum as he nodded, before turning to Alkni with a smile "Of course I can, my store will meet anyone's needs! Now little imp, what's your name" Sam asked as he slightly bent down to look at the little girl, before turning around to grab her a octopus shaped lollipop

Alkni happily took the candy from him, quickly popping it in her mouth as Sam let out a quiet chuckle. "A...Alk...n..i" The 5 year old girl spoke as she grabbed Azul's pant leg, still slightly weary of Sam

"How are we supposed to even feed that- that- kid if we cant even feed ourselves!?" Yelled the woman, venom lacing her tone as she slammed her fists against the creaky wooden table "Just throw her out again. She'll probably find some way to eat and maybe someone will take her so we don't have to deal with her" The light haired male said as he leaned back, his head resting against the wall as he picked at his teeth. Alkni flinched hard as she peeked through the door leading into the room they were talking in, as tears grew in her eyes. Quickly wiping her tears with her scarred fist, she quietly went to find even the smallest bits of food so she wouldn't have to go hungry for as long as she currently has

Sitting on the cold ground, the little hugged her knees close to her chest as she listened to the people happily chatting with one and another, completely obvious to the child left all alone again. Pushing herself up with the help of the wall, she peeked over the corner of her hiding place, hoping to find maybe a food vendor or a new shop that might've opened. Taking a step out, she reluctantly walked over to the bakery since there where no such things that she had hoped for, while silently begging that the owner would maybe allow her to get something this one time Peeking in through the large windows, she saw that there seemed to be a new person working there, making her eyes light up in hope. Yet all that hope went down the drain as she felt a hand grip her arm tightly. "What did I tell you about trying to steal from my shop. How many times do I need to kick you out for you to understand that you. aren't. getting, Anything" The owner hissed, his tone full of venom as he glared at the small girl, making her winch as turned her head away. The man clearly didn't know of her situation as if he did, he may have been nicer- or not. Dragging her harshly through the streets, he turned a corner, appearing in a rather messy alleyway, pieces of glass and cardboard littering the floor, as he tossed her down harshly onto the dirty floor, causing pieces of glass to cut her skin. "If you ever come back again to my shop, I wont hesitate to call the police on you like I should've done awhile ago" The man hissed before walking away Alkni attempted to push herself up, her hands trembling as they got nicked on the small shards of glass, making her let out quiet yelps. As the extremely small childs stomach let out a rumble, she sat against the wall of a building, tears filling her eyes as she let out a quiet sob while she wrapped her arms around her stomach in a attempt to quiet the rumbling. After sitting there for longer then she thought, she felt drops of rain hit against her pale skin, making her flinch as she snapped out of her zombie like trance. Alkni let out a quiet yawn as she looked up to the sky as the rain rewet her dried tears Gathering pieces of cardboard she attempted to form them into the shape of a bed, just wanting to go to sleep and wake up from the nightmare she was forced to live in, even if it was impossible

Alkni was sat on the counter, swinging her legs back and forth as she slowly chewed on her lollipop that Sam had given her. Sam stared at the little girl, as he thought about what his friends from the other side had told him about her, and what she had gone through. Walking over to her, he bent down to meet her eye to eye, as he gave her a warm smile in a attempt to comfort her.

"Do you see anything that you would like little imp, " Sam asked Alkni with a warm smile as he gently rubbed her head "I'm sure you will be able to find something you like!" He continued as he gestured around the store.

Alkni looked at him surprised for a moment as if she was asking as if he was serious, making the shop owner let out a chuckle as he nodded "Whatever you want" Sam confirmed as he picked her up, before setting her on the floor

As Alkni was looking through the store, albeit wearily, Sam went over to the three Octavinelle students, using the fact that she was focused on something else to explain to the three boys about what had happened to her

As Sam was finishing up speaking with Azul, Jade, and Floyd, he felt a small tug at his pants leg, and upon looking down, he saw Alkni holding a bread shaped stuffed animal, Alkni thinking that it was actual food instead of a toy. "You want that little imp? Well then its all yours" Sam exclaimed with a warm smile as he gently ruffed her messy dusty black hair.

Standing up, Sam looked towards the students again, his gaze slightly darker then usual. "Be careful with them" Sam spoke to them as he crossed his arms ocer his chest, before looking down at Alkni with a warm smile, only to see her trying to eat the bread shaped stuffed animal, making him cover his mouth in a attempt to cover a chuckle

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

Note

Pls do a wanda x reader where instead of her falling for vision, it was r and Westview and all was with r then at the end of MoM, America instead of portalling to the universe with the other wanda and the kids, she portals to a universe where r and wanda we're together but wanda died, so when wanda walks though the portal and r sees wanda, they're kinda reunited ig? Sorry if this was long or complicated lmao I just love this woman sm

I’m on it!!! I will do this justice cuz MoM has only made me love Wanda even more.

A/n: these two songs inspired me for this fic and I will not elaborate on how they do but they just do.

Wanda wanted you back. She wanted you back so badly she created the Westview hex for you! Her magic temporarily gave you back to her. She was finally at peace with herself when she got to awoke to your slumbering face besides hers within the confines of your shared bed; Your warmth comforted Wanda even in her most sleepless of nights and she could never forget the taste of the spiced lavender tea you’d always have before bed upon your tongue nor the sweet popcorn upon your lips whenever you kissed during a movie night after tucking Tommy and Billy into their safe, warm beds. Even now as she hunted down both Stephen and America Chavez she could still vaguely taste you upon her variants lips as you bid each other sweet dreams.

In another life Wanda got to kiss you, hold you, protect you, raise kids with you. All the while she was left to suffer on the outside, looking in through the window into a life that could’ve been hers had things gone a little differently. Happiness seemed to avoid her whenever it could and whenever she did experience true happiness it was only temporary and would ultimately end in misery and death. The Darkhold had corrupted her beyond reasoning, it had sent her on this excruciating journey to track down America Chavez, a kid with a ability she wanted, no, needed to unlock the door that hide you from her. Praying on her losses to its benefits as it saw fit as the prolonged usage of dark magic had drained more then its fair share of her life force. It almost took away her sanity, her humanity and made her become delusional to an extent that the grief and suffering Wanda originally felt after being forced to end your life for the greater good only served as the catalyst of her impending descent.

Why did Wanda have to sacrifice her happiness, the love of her life so everyone else could keep theirs? It wasn’t fair. When was it her time to be happy, genuinely happy? Why did she have to be the one to sacrifice everything and to suffer immensely afterwards on her own?! Why wasn’t she aloud to be selfish for once without the accusations of villainy being placed unfairly upon her shoulders?! This is what she kept telling herself as she tried to reach you across the multiverse through any and every means within her disposal in order to retain her life with you and her children once more. Yet a setback came in the form of the Darkhold being destroyed by some determined sorcerer she once thought was killed in the attack of Karmar-Taj whom died shortly afterwards driving a knife through the dammed book; leaving Wanda desperately scrambling for an alternative solution to her issue; even going so far as to torture Wong by hurting other half-dead sorcerers for him to spill that the Darkhold had only been a mere copy of the actual transcriptions that laid embedded within the stone walls of Wundagore mountain.

Wanda, at this point, was willing to do anything and everything in her power to get what she was rightfully deserved, no matter who she had to carelessly hurt in the process; sure she should’ve been at least happy that in other realities she got her happy ending with you, Billy and Tommy. Yet it wasn’t enough for Wanda, she wanted to be the Wanda that got the happy ending even if it meant stealing you away from another Wanda. She couldn’t help the feeling of jealously, the feeling of bitterness within her soul whenever she saw a multitude of her variants getting to sleep beside you every night and be embraced and embracing your sugar and marshmallow scented warmth lovingly through her chaos magic. Wanda knew that if you were in her position you would just just as, if not more, ruthless and aggressive in your endeavours in reaching her to get closure. She knew it, she just knew you would, her soul knew you would for she believed your souls were crafted by the same hands and we’re sent to find one another no matter where you were in the multiverse. Your souls and magic were one in the same to Wanda that she firmly believed that you were soulmates, even in your past lives and that you were meant for each other no matter what because at the end of the day you were made to be hers and she was made to be yours. Forever.

So once you died the magical link that came into full effect as a byproduct of spending every waking moment and being sent on several missions paired together was painfully severed, Wanda felt as though she died right then and there beside you and ever since the Scarlet Which had taken her place. When America Chavez told Wanda that even though she wasn’t going to allow her to take her power, as an alternative she decided to take her to what she wanted instead; Wanda only scoffed in disbelief, not wanting to give her the benefit of the doubt in case it was some form of trick to get her to become complacent that when she was about to do the unthinkable as a result of being pushed to the edge one to many times, the star shaped portal before her lead into a familiar layout within a familiar house. The picture frames where littered across the walls, the sofa was protected behind the coffee table that was littered with tissue as a person who sat upon it was cradling a picture frame against their chest as they cried into the tissue tightly gripped in their hand. Unaware of the starshaped portal and the two people standing within it looking at you solemnly.

Wanda soon realised that this person was in fact you and audibly gasped, her hand immediately letting go of America Chavez’s neck as she made her way into the living room to sit across from you. Watching with a broken heart as you cried, collapsing to your knees; it perfectly paralleled how she was like when she found that you had bought a plot of land within Westview just for her and you to grow old in with the abbreviation of a scarlet heart when her powers took over from the emotional distraught that threatened to drown her over and over again. You were hurting and badly from how tightly you grasped the picture frame. “Wanda,” your meek voice croaked, broken, “why’d you leave you. You said we’d be together forever. I MADE WESTVIEW FOR US AND YET YOU STILL LEAVE ME!” Flares of (f/c) magic emitted from your form, altering the house into one of a gothic structure to represent you inner most thoughts and feelings before it glitched back to the sitcom-esque home from before. “Why were you the one to die, it’s unfair my beloved. All I wanted was to be with you until our last breath and yet fate,” you said the word with such venom that Wanda could feel the fear others felt when faced on the receiving end of her wrath, “took you away from me unfairly and yet everyone else got to keep those they love. WHY ME?! WHY AM I LEFT TO SUFFER A BROKEN HEART IN YOUR ABSENCE?! Huh….why me….I didn’t do nothing wrong..” Wanda had heard enough as tears brimmed her eyes and her soul pained in tandem with your own as she reached across the coffee table to catch a tear falling from your cheek before holding it so you were forced to look into her eyes.

You gasped upon looking at her, dropping the picture frame in the process that thankfully it landed with a thud instead of the sound of glass smashing, “Wanda?” You scrambled to your feet as you felt her other hand reach to your other cheek, her thumbs rubbing against your skin. Your eyes flicker towards America Chavez who only looked at your sympathetically before closing the star shaped portal behind her, leaving you and this woman who shared the same likeness to your late wife within your house dressed like a witch. “I’m not your Wanda.” She admitted sadly as she watched your eyes flicker across her features as though you had materialised her through thought, “I’m aware,” you said after a beat of silence, “yet I don’t have the heart to send you back to your reality, your still my Wanda no matter what because you always said that our souls were made by the same hands; Made to find one another in any and very lifetime we are born. I was made to follow you and you were made to follow me, through heartbreak and the good times. We’re made for each other.” Wanda felt the tears stream down her face at your words as she leaned into the hands that came in contact with her cheeks to wipe away her tears with gentle touches as though you’d break her.

“Fate hasn’t been the kindest to you has it?” You asked as Wanda only collapsed into your arms where she could smell your marshmallow and sugar scent clinging to your skin, “I lost you and everything I’ve done up until now has all been for you.” Wanda admitted as she buried her face deeper into your neck as she felt you let out a sigh of relief, “the countless people I’ve killed to get to you had been wasteful but if it meant I get to be in your arms as I am now I’d kill countless more for you my love.” You didn’t care what this Wanda has done in her reality, you should but you didn’t have the heart to cast her away when fate had taken pity on you and given you a Wanda just as broken as you were at your loss. “I don’t care what you did Wanda, fate has finally given me what I wanted and I have no plans in letting you go back there without me, multiverse be dammed by our actions for I’d rather ruin the multiverse with you then be cursed to live without you ever again.” Wanda didn’t waste any time in kissing you and upon your tongue she could taste the spiced lavender tea and upon your plush lips she could taste the sweetness of popcorn. She finally got what she always wanted. A happy ending.

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retrievablememories · 8 months

Text

only have eyes 42 | yeri, taeyong (m)

pairings: vampire yeri x fem black reader, vampire taeyong x fem black reader summary: it’s surprisingly easy to be seduced by two benevolent strangers who fill in the empty spaces of your life—especially when you have no clue of their true nature. genre: romance, vampire!au, 1800s!au word count: 4.3k warnings: mentions of traditional gender roles/pressures to get married. blood consumption. kissing. biting. sexual tension. no full smut but suggestive content so MDNI. virgin!reader i guess? taeyong’s kind of a simp. voyeurism/eavesdropping. more creep behavior from taeyong. did i unintentionally write sugar mommy!yeri? well. undercurrents of manipulation/deceit. yeri and taeyong are fake cousins. gonna very tentatively put infidelity here just in case, although yeri and taeyong are both in on everything that’s happening between them and y/n, so… a/n: this is a sequel of sorts to “steal you,” set a few years after the initial events, with a different MC…as the previous one is dead. i unintentionally retconned some things in the original fic while writing this, but whatever!

note that precise historical accuracy wasn't the aim here, since these are only vignettes/scenarios and not a full story (yet?)

there’s a lot of background context that’s not (explicitly) mentioned here, so i'm thinking of writing a larger fic for this? we'll see...this is really just self-indulgent bisexual thoughts lmao 🙃

Days spent running the dress shop with your mother and youngest sister are often hectic and occasionally slow, but rarely are they fun. At least not for you. The kind customers make up for the rude and impatient ones, but there is only so much smiling you can do when your mother’s friends and acquaintances keep stopping in to ask you Have you found a suitor yet? or I can still arrange a meeting for you with my son, if you’d like!

Both your sisters had already found husbands. Your middle sister married at 20, and you hardly see her anymore since she went to live with her husband’s family. The youngest married at 19, but her husband still allows her to keep working at the shop because of how much she enjoys it—and because all money she earns goes directly to him, of course.

With you being 24 and having already rejected more than one proposal from men you hardly knew, everyone has been breathlessly expecting you to follow suit. You try in vain to ignore their expectations. You aren’t sure you’ve ever felt any romantic love for another person before—not the way your sisters or others describe it—and though the mounting pressure vexes you, you are mostly okay with that reality. You can’t miss what you’ve never had.

Until, one day, a particular woman walks into the shop.

You haven’t seen her in the shop before, or anywhere else around the city, and you are certain she would’ve remained in your memory if you had.

Years from now, when you think back to how this inscrutable woman altered your life’s path, you’ll remember this first day so clearly—all because it was raining. It was not the type of bone-soaking downpour you’ve always hated, but a gentler shower.

A man accompanies the woman, carrying a delicate pink and white umbrella above her head as he opens the door for her. When she steps inside, some water droplets roll off the umbrella and onto her pinned-up black hair, making her shiver when they reach her neck and slide into her collar. That small motion makes you smile in amusement before you can stop yourself, and at the same time, you catch her eye. She takes your expression as a welcoming smile and returns the gesture.

With her smooth skin, perfectly curved Cupid’s bow, and captivating eyes, she is remarkably beautiful.

You do not know who the man is, just assuming him to be a servant by the way he is holding her things and attending to her, but you find your eyes also lingering on him, despite yourself. He has a nice side-profile reminiscent of one you’d see in a painting, with a sloping nose, a handsomely formed bone structure, and plump lips. The second thing you notice is that his clothes are of a higher-quality than many of the servants you see daily; maybe he isn’t one at all. You’d gotten so into the habit of making (usually correct) assumptions about the shop’s patrons.

“Good morning. Fine weather today, isn’t it?” you say with a laugh.

The man gives an answering chuckle. “If you like nearly being washed into the gutter, maybe.”

“You’re endlessly dramatic,” the woman comments, raising a gloved hand to check for any more water droplets in her hair. Even her small movements are graceful in a way that comes naturally.

“...So, how may I assist you?” you ask, giving them both your attention while trying to avoid seeming like you’re staring.

“My lovely cousin Yerim here—” The man pinches the woman’s chin, and she sweeps his hand away in shocked annoyance “—is incredibly indecisive and has made me take her to every dressmaker on this side of London, so I do hope you have something here that catches her eye.”

“It’s not been every dressmaker,” Yerim clarifies, rolling her eyes with a small grin. “But your dresses in the window seemed exceptionally pretty, so I was curious.”

“Oh, of course. There are more fabrics like those, if you’ll follow me.”

You and Yerim look over the rows of available fabrics, and you give some recommendations on patterns and colors you think would fit her. She listens diligently as you talk, as if she couldn’t be more interested in anything else. A bit flustered by the attention, you end up keeping your eyes on the fabrics more than on her face.

As you’re explaining a particular material, she grasps the edge of the fabric you’re holding, brushing her lacy-gloved thumb across it until the digit bumps into the side of your hand. She giggles discreetly and only moves her hand away—causing the lace to slide across your skin—after it’s already lingered for what’s considered a little longer than normal.

You struggle not to pause in your speech as your mind stalls on that moment, giving her an apologetic smile when you stammer anyway. You don’t yet understand why you’re reacting like this, but the meaning will become clear to you in due time.

“You’re certain Taeyong won’t mind being left behind?”

He’d been accompanying the two of you on your walk through the park, which is scarcely filled with people at this time of day. Everyone else is at work, which you normally would’ve been too. Except for Yerim—who had enough money that your impromptu free day could be easily pulled off, and who’d nearly begged you to come out with her by offering to pay for two days’ worth of your earnings. It was a difficult overture to reject, and your mother had surprisingly few complaints about it. Not when part of the money was also going into her own purse.

Now, it’s just you and Yerim walking along the path together, as Taeyong had become preoccupied with ogling at a family of geese sunbathing in a field. You think it’s a bit eccentric how he always gets lost in excitement over stray animals and pets and the like, but that’s just how he is. You aren’t actually concerned about him being left behind, but more so because he’ll complain to Yerim about her “stealing you away” for the rest of your outing if you let him.

Yerim’s deeply rose-pink lips draw up in a smirk, and she rolls her eyes. “He’ll be quite fine by himself. Believe me, he survived well long before me.”

“You two seem to get along quite well. Most cousins I know have a world of problems between them. Families are so aggravatingly complex.”

Yerim gazes ahead down the path, as if she’s suddenly lost in her thoughts. Sunlight peeks through the lace trimming of herhatand creates shadowy patterns on her face. She often wears one of her pretty hats or even uses an umbrella when she steps out during the day, claiming her skin burns easily. “We both want the same things, so it makes it easier to relate to each other.”

“Well, now that’s intriguing. What similar things do you both want?”

Yerim looks at you, turning her body toward you with the motion, and you feel like you’ve suddenly got the sun bearing down on you in all its fullness. She slips her hat off, as if doing so will help her see better, and grasps the brim of it in her gloved hands.

“Life,” she replies, and though she doesn’t explain further, it feels like the type of answer with a world of meaning behind it.

“Life,” you repeat, and you try not to sound incredulous or mocking. “I would think you’d already experienced any spoils of life you could dream of and then some.”

“There’s always more.” Yerim says it with the subtle intensity of someone who harbors a constant hunger just beneath the surface, a yearning that even you can pick up on. It makes your skin become hot, and you internally chastise yourself because you’re sure she doesn’t intend it how you’re assuming. “Don’t you want more, too?”

“I suppose so,” you answer.

“Do you?” Yerim asks again, like she wants you to expand upon your response.

“The dress shop is fine,” you say, though that doesn’t feel truthful, “but it…would be nice to travel the world.” You speak the first desire that comes to mind, which makes it seem more real now that you’ve acknowledged it aloud.

“Hmm, wouldn’t that be nice? You could do just that.” Yerim comes to a stop in the middle of the pathway, and you do too, looking back at her to see why she’s paused. Yet again, she doesn’t give any hint about how doing just that could be possible in your current circumstances.

She twirls the large, lacy hatin her hand and holds it up in front of both of you, so that if anyone were coming from the other direction—say, another park visitor, or Taeyong—they wouldn’t see your faces. “But, even more importantly, there’s something I want to show you. Close your eyes.”

Her voice is measured and secretive. Her eyes are mischievous. The air thickens between you in the few seconds that you stare at each other within the concealment her hat provides, and it surprises you how quickly you come to the conclusion of what this something must be.

“Here?” you murmur.

Yerim nods, her face betraying no apprehension, only sweet anticipation. “Close your eyes?” she asks again. And so you do, your lips twitching into a small smile before you try to assume a straight face.

While you’re looking at the backs of your eyelids, you hear her heeled boots shuffling in the dirt and feel her presence growing closer. There’s a pause, an exhalation like she’s laughing without sound, then the press of those rose-pink lips upon yours.

This lovely woman who’s always in your shop, with a face you can hardly look away from and an ever-present magnetic aura, has her mouth over your own, her free hand grasping your waist earnestly. Her mouth is gentle and warm, and that familiar rose petal scent envelopes you.

It’s the first time you’ve kissed each other, but it feels like you’ve already done this multiple times before. The nerves you expected to feel are not there—there is only the soft familiarity, the fragrance of her perfume, and the warmth of her hand on your waist.

It’s a short kiss, which you try not to feel disappointed about. Yerim understands your desire and finds it amusing. She offers you a knowing smile, but she won’t give you any more unless you ask for it, and right now, your pride is still too stubborn to allow that. You’re still unsure why this lavishly moneyed woman is wanting to spend so much time with you, or what the mysterious things she says mean, or if there could be something else to all of this. What something else is, though, you have not a clue.

It wasn’t your intention to spend the night at Yerim’s home. But after you finish an exhausting day of tending to customers and working on complex sewing projects, she brings you to her house for the first time to have dinner. And you get so caught up in eating and touring every nook and cranny of the place—which really wasn’t as large as you expected it to be—and even playing a game of cards with her and Taeyong, that she insists it’s too late at night for you to go back home. Surely, you could wait until morning for them to return you to your own residence before work?

Before you know it, you are lying next to Yerim in her bed during the dark and early hours of the morning, gazing at the rest of the room through the wispy fabric draped around her canopy bed. You could’ve slept in a guest room of your choosing, but somehow, you’d been talked right into her bed. And it did not take much convincing for you to acquiesce.

“Are you happy?” Yerim asks. She hasn’t bothered to climb under the covers, and neither have you. She lies down with her arms folded across her stomach, knees bent, and toes curling absentmindedly into the comforter. This position makes her nightgown pool around her waist, exposing the length of her legs under the opposing candlelight and moonglow. You try not to stare. You don’t know how she has this much energy at night, as her body has hardly stopped moving since you began getting ready for bed.

“Yes, actually…I had a lovely time this evening, despite the earlier exhaustion.”

Yerim smiles. “I mean in general. Do you fancy working at the dress shop? You told me it was ‘fine,’ but you always seem so…unlively when I come in—in that split second before you notice my presence…”

“What do you get out of being that observant?” you ask, somewhat jokingly.

“It means I know everything.” She says it with some air of seriousness, as if she were truly granted omniscient powers you weren’t aware of. You only blink in response. “Now, why do you look that way?”

“Maybe I am just…stressed.”

Yerim turns onto her stomach and props her head up on her arms, using her pillow as a support, and your own stomach involuntarily tumbles with her gaze fixed on you. “What distresses you?”

Glancing up at the patterned ceiling, you close your eyes for a long moment and let the ensuing darkness surround you. It’s somewhat comforting. “My mother is anticipating that I should find a proper husband soon. We make money from the shop and live fairly comfortably that way, but she insists I must have a man to take care of me, like my sisters.” You sigh deeply as you continue with, “And bear children, of course.”

Yerim laughs like you’ve told a joke she can’t believe, and you are startled, as nothing you’ve said is particularly amusing.

“Shall we find you a proper husband who will support you handsomely, then?” she suggests through a giggle.

Your brows draw together, and you turn your head to look at her and those errant eyes. “Who?” You begin to regret mentioning this at all, wondering if she’ll actually use her social standing to contribute to the effort of marrying you off to some wealthy stranger. Surely, this will not be the culmination of your friendship…

Yerim moves so that she’s on her hands and knees now, and she doesn’t stop shifting until she’s hovering over you. You watch with eyes growing wide as her arms cage you on either side of your body, her legs sliding between yours. “Me. I will be the proper husband who supports you handsomely.”

Finally, a hesitant yet amused grin disrupts the prior confusion on your face. “Really? And who will approve of that?”

“That hardly matters. We’ll need no one’s approval.”

Her hair falls over her shoulders and dangles in front of you, and you part it like a curtain to brush away the shadows obscuring her face. Her visage is half-shadow and half-candlelight, reminiscent of an oil painting. The glitter of her eyes and the glint of her teeth as she smiles are sharp, as if you could be physically cut by these flashes of light, and your chest stirs with something like unease for a moment. You don’t know why.

Your voice is quiet when you say, “You won’t find any opposition from me, then.”

“In that case, close your eyes again.”

“Why? Perhaps I don’t want to lose this view.”

Yerim draws her index finger across your lower lip. “I’ll give you a gift—one like that day in the park.”

Your heart stutters at the thought. “Do what you will,” you murmur, letting your eyelids slip down.

The same hand that was on your mouth takes your chin in a loose grip, and you make a small noise when she lowers her body flush against yours.

Her kiss is no longer soft or brief. Her lips press against yours as if she means to meld every part of your beings together, her tongue slotting itself into your mouth, and you accept the proposition.

You kiss until your lips hurt, though that’s more likely from the way she keeps biting your bottom lip until she draws blood—and then she kisses you even more feverishly as if she’s invigorated from the bloodshed, the primal quality of it. It makes your lip sting, but you realize you like the sensation.

Her body continually shifts against yours during your embrace, and by the time she separates from your mouth to give your neck a wild, messy lick, your underwear has grown damp and your legs knock clumsily into hers. Dizzy with lust you’ve never encountered before, you find you’re unable to do anything but lie prone and let her do what she wishes to you.

Meanwhile, Taeyong stands outside of the door as still as a statue, listening to the now-familiar sound of your blood rushing and your heart pulsing—the unique rhythm of every human’s blood that defines their very existence. No two bodies are ever quite the same. The sweet music of your blood is punctuated by your small murmurs and moans, and he doesn’t need to press his ear to the door to hear clearly, but the absurdly human desire to do so is still there, if only to get closer…

He knows that Yerim must realize he’s out there, listening in like a pervert, and he does not care.

You’re sitting at Yerim’s kitchen table sewing a rip in a scarf of yours when you prick your finger on the needle. You drop your materials from the shock of the sudden injury and hold your finger, watching blood bead up on the pad of it as it throbs with pain. Taeyong is away from the kitchen counter and by your side before you even register it, and you are slightly startled by him sliding into the seat next to you.

“What?” you ask.

“Can I see it?”

“Is there any gauze?” you ask, showing him your finger.

Taeyong carefully grasps your wrist with both hands. “For this little wound? It’ll stop bleeding in minutes.” There’s a certain urgency to his movements and his tone that makes you curious. “All it needs is this.”

Taeyong presses his lips to your finger as if to soothe it. You’ve licked your own cuts after the many times you’ve been pricked while sewing, but to have someone else do it, and in such a manner, was…strange. The action enflames your body; it seems oddly more satisfying than it should be to him, as if he gets some kind of bizarre gratification from it. He inhales deeply and doesn’t move his mouth; he just keeps it pressed against the cut until he finally moves your finger away, the sphere of your blood broken and smeared across his lips. He drags his tongue across his lower lip to rid it of the blood smear, and your body twitches; you want to look away. You feel like you’re witnessing something obscene and private you aren’t meant to see.

You don’t say anything as he takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes the rest of the blood away from your finger before quickly tucking the cloth back into its place. You wonder if he’ll wash it; it’ll be ruined by your blood otherwise.

Unbeknownst to you, he will take this handkerchief out in the privacy of his room later that night and press his face into it, breathing in the faint scent of your blood and imagining the faded taste of it on his lips.

“Are you well?” he asks.

“...It still hurts. I didn’t think a silly kiss would help,” you answer, and chuckle quietly to try to defuse the nerve-wracking atmosphere of that earlier moment.

“Fine, hold on a minute.”

Taeyong finds gauze in another room and comes back to wrap a small piece of it around your finger, protecting your cut from the outside world. Afterwards, you’re about to slip your hand out of his when his grip tightens, and you pause.

“What’s troubling you?” you ask, already knowing something is amiss from the furrow in his eyebrows and the tension in his body that wasn’t there before.

Taeyong drops his head, pressing his forehead to your wrist, and you think he might sob or collapse for no apparent reason. Alarmed, you’re about to speak again when you realize this isn’t the case; he lifts his head so that you can see him lower his lips to your hand again. He kisses the back of your hand in a way that’s markedly different from his previous touch; this one is more sensual, intentional in its purpose to rouse a response from you. His mouth trails a path down to your uninjured ring finger, and you observe silently as he bites the tip of it softly.

“I’m jealous of you and Yerim…” The confession comes out in a sigh, like it’s a sound his body needs to release rather than a thought-out sentence.

“Jealous…” It’s not a question, as you already had an idea of this in the back of your mind, but you don’t know why he’s chosen now to mention it.

“I’d also like to know just how soft your lips feel, or what they taste like…” Taeyong keeps kissing the tips of your fingers and your knuckles slowly, almost like he’s pretending your hand is your mouth with how engrossed he is in this task. You find this shameless display simultaneously embarrassing and appealing in some deep part of yourself; it’s the way he prostrates himself before you, flays open his hidden desires to you. “I’d like you to touch my body the same way you touch hers…I’d like to make you moan desperately the same way she does, late at night when you believe me to be asleep.”

Your only answer is a rough exhalation. Your dress feels uncomfortably hot; you wonder how he knows of those things. Does he stand outside the door? Listen at the wall? You didn’t realize the walls were that thin around here, and you think maybe you should be more put-off by his unabashed eavesdropping.

“What do you say to that?” he asks, lifting his head to look at you.

“I say it’s rather pathetic,” you answer, meaning it wholeheartedly—and for some reason, the pitiable state of his desire makes it more alluring to you. There’s a thoughtful pause between the two of you. You make no move to reject him when he leans closer, staring at your lips. One of his hands releases yours and touches your throat instead, his fingertips splaying to rest above your pulse.

“Then allow me to make myself appear even more pathetic in your eyes for just a moment.” Taeyong’s so close that his lips almost brush yours when he speaks. Your mouths connect only for a second before the front door opens. That brief touch of his lips to yours is all you receive.

The separation between you widens to its original innocuous breadth as Taeyong sits back in his seat. He is placing your hand back into your lap when Yerim walks into the kitchen a few moments later, and she abruptly stops in the doorway. You think she must be upset because she has somehow figured out what transpired. In actuality, she is cross because of the lingering smell of your blood in the air, which your human senses can’t pick up.

“Yerim…” you say, your throat feeling choked. You two hadn’t spoken seriously about a relationship, especially not with the dilemma of your mother still hunting for a husband for you and the fact that you’d both be shunned, but you realize that kissing your lover’s cousin is probably not the way to go about things.

Yerim walks over to the two of you and greets you as she normally would. “Y/N,” she says calmly, stroking a finger against your cheek; there’s always some part of her body touching yours whenever you meet. The same hand lands tightly on Taeyong’s shoulder afterwards, and the smile she gives him is close-mouthed and unnatural. He looks up at her with a face that isn’t guilty, but more curious and slightly irritated. “You haven’t been hurt badly, have you?” she asks, glancing at the gauze on your finger.

“Oh…no. It was just a pinprick,” you say, tentatively picking your sewing materials up off the table. Yerim’s tension rescinds when she notices the sewing needle, though her gaze towards Taeyong stays suspicious. “I…think I’ll just go and put this away for now.”

The two wait until you leave the room to speak in barely audible tones.

“Remember our arrangement,” Yerim whispers, unable to keep the disgust out of her voice.

“You’re eager to lambast me for bloodshed I didn’t even cause, yet you drew her blood on her first night here. Who exactly has forgotten themselves?”

Yerim’s tone is perfectly matter-of-fact when she responds with, “I have more self-control than you—as all the unsuspecting human women of London you’ve ravaged are well-aware of your lack.” She levels Taeyong with a deadpan look. “She wasn’t in any danger with me that night.”

“You’re fond of drawing this dance out beyond reason, and then you have the audacity to be surprised when one’s patience wears thin.”

“Then maybe I’ll return to finding prey on my own if you’re so worn thin. Do recall that you’re the one who asked me to help you sweep up all your mess from the beginning, so I’d speak more carefully if I were in your place.”

“Just unbelievable,” Taeyong mutters as Yerim brushes past him without a second glance. His fingers twitch over the pocket where the blood-smeared handkerchief rests, but he dismisses the urge to pull it out now.

Self-control, he thinks. You have no monopoly on self-control.

#yeri imagines #yeri fic #red velvet scenarios #yeri scenarios #red velvet fic #red velvet imagines #taeyong fic #taeyong imagines #taeyong scenarios #nct imagines #nct fic #nct scenarios #red velvet smut #black reader #taeyong x reader #yeri x reader

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moonshotsx · 1 year

Text

once upon a... nightmare? (sashnarcia princess au)

blame those finale red carpet outfits lmao the villains x princess vibes were too strong to resist

Marcia sighed as she stared outside the window.

Another day had passed, another day closer to the one she was meant to marry a prince she didn't love, let alone know.

She had less than a few days away from the grand wedding, there was no escape in sight.

If there only was something she could do to get out of the situation her father had put her into, she'd give everything she'd got to get away.

Her thoughts were interrupted by red smoke filling the center of her room, followed by a muffled thud.

She got up and froze in place against the wall as two figures emerged from the fog.

Witches?

"Ah, shit, this doesn't look like the throne room".

The taller of the two broke the silence, a brunette with a scar on her eyebrow.

"How could you manage to get the wrong room, again, darling? Didn't you say you were sure of its location?"

The older one sported a fashionable hat that Marcia has seen worn by other women at court, but she had to admit it looked much better on the mysterious woman.

"You're not far off, it's one floor blow from here," Marcia let out before she could stop herself."

"See! I wasn't that off... wait! Who the hell are you?".

"You break into my father's castle and didn't bother to look up who I was?" Marcia tilted her head, "I'm the princess".

She wasn't offended, rather confused. She was sure everyone in the realm knew of her.

"My, my," the older woman walked up to her, for some reason, Marcia couldn't help but feel drawn to her, "We came in looking for treasure but dare I say we struck gold with this one".

She should be yelling for the guards to come save her.

And yet, the more she thought over the situation, the more she felt like this could be her chance to run away for good.

Away from a life she never wanted.

"Sash, is this really a good idea? One thing is stealing the king's treasure, another is to kidnap his daughter".

"If she comes with us voluntarily it's not kidnapping, now is it?" Sasha replied as she reached for Marcia's face.

With a softness she wouldn't expect from a dark witch, Sasha lifted her chin. There was no way she could escape those hypnotizing eyes.

"What's your name, princess?"

"M-Marcia, ma'am".

"Hm, so polite. I like that," Sasha smiled, "I'm Sasha and this is my... Anetra," she tilted her head over to the brunette, the latter sported a straight face void of emotions.

"Don't worry, she looks mean, but doesn't mean harm".

"How can you say you mean no harm if you came here with the intent to steal?"

"I'm sure your daddy wouldn't notice if a few cups of gold went missing, just saying," Anetra huffed with a pout, crossing her arms over her chest.

"If I were to come with you..." Marcia started, "Can you promise not to give me back under any condition? No matter the bounty".

Sasha seemed taken back by the request, "May I ask why such request?"

"I'm set to marry a prince from a far away land in a few days, I haven't even met him yet," she started to explain before she could feel her eyes swelling up with tears at the mere thought of it.

"Hush, dear," the witch said gently, "We can take you far away from here, and you won't have to worry about it anymore".

Marcia could only nod, her eyes meeting Anetra's briefly as she looked over Sasha's shoulder.

The brunette's face had changed to a more empathetic one.

"What day is the wedding set for?"

"Sunday".

Sasha looked back at Anetra, the latter nodded before the three of them were startled by a knock on the bedroom door.

"Your Highness, is everything alright?" Marcia's lady-in-waiting asked from the other side of the door, "The guards said they heard a thud?"

"Y-Yes! Nothing the matter, I just bumped into my bed, you know how clumsy I get," the princess was able to quickly recover, seemingly believable enough to be left alone soon after.

After a few moments of silence, Anetra spoke up.

"It's too risky to take you with us tonight, the guards are already alert," she reasoned before Marcia grabbed onto her sleeve.

"No, please, you can't leave me here," she begged, panic rising through her chest.

"Princess, look at me," Sasha said in a calm yet stern tone, "She's right, it's too dangerous tonight".

A lone tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek.

"However, we'll be back Saturday night to get you, it's a promise".

Marcia nodded.

"I'll be ready".

#fic prompt #sashnarcia #princess au

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narrators-journal · 10 months

Note

Oh hi! I'm the one that requested a Chrollo x Fem!reader who's a singer singing the song criminal (by lady Gaga) so the reader sings the song criminal

"He is a bad boy with a tainted heart and even I know this ain't smart, but Mama I'm in love with a criminal"

But I also want her to sing another line the:

"he is a villain by the devil's law, he is a killer just for fun, fun, fun,fun, that mans a snitch and unpredictable, he's got no conscious he got none, none, none"

I thought these lyrics would describe Chrollo, but even though the reader has not found out Chrollo is her soulmate yet, Lmao, let's just say Chrollo went inside the building to steal or something along with the phantom troupe and there seems to be a concert, which turns out to be his own soulmates concert🤭

You didn't specify any particular au, so I went with one I've seen bouncing around on Pinterest from, like, Tumblr lol. I hope this is an entertaining read! It was a good lil break from the editing for me and p fun to write. Even if I am very rusty with hxh still. 😅😅

Also, I once answered an ask and said Chrollo is unlabelled and not picky, so I decided to shake things up by him going on a date with a dude here. I mean no ill harm with that, just thought it'd be a fun nod to that headcanon. Chrollo's sexuality is crime, nothing more lololol

Chrollo Lucifer did a lot of things for the spiders. From sleeping with someone to get his people a foot in the door of prime targets, to amoral killing. So, taking a man on a date to a concert was nothing new or challenging. Was it a date he particularly enjoyed? No, the dark-haired criminal was far more interested in reading than the squealing and screaming of fans over some vapid singer. Was this art collector his soulmate? No, Chrollo still saw the world as if he lived in some old noir murder movie, so he truly held no worth to him beyond the well-guarded goods his home held hostage.

Yet, there the ebony-haired thief stood. Swaying mindlessly to the opening act, pretneding to be interested in experiencing this man's favorite artist with him, internally counting down until he could politely suggest his date take him home to hook up.

However, the evening that Chrollo was almost certain would be highlighted by nothing except drunk, sloppy sex and a good heist was abruptly thrown into a centerfuge when that main attraction belted out her first note. "He is a hustler, he's no good at all~"

And the world imploded into color.

Of all the ways Chrollo lucifer had thought he'd run into his soulmate, on a heist was the most likely, yet the one he least desired. If he had it his way, he'd meet his destined beloved on one of his off days, when he was left to his books and thoughts. Yet, there was no denying it. With each word sang from the siren on stage, his world grew more vibrant and colorful. "He is a bad boy with a tainted heart, and even I know this aint smart~" She sang, flinging an arm over her eyes to match the drama of her words as she continued. And while, yes, Chrollo still didn't exactly enjoy the hysterics of the crowd or the shrill whistle of the music over the speakers, the sheer novelty of the clashing outfits and seeing things in such a new way washed that inhibition away.

Before he knew it, the thief was weaving through the crowd to get closer, as if magnetically pulled to the woman on stage. Naturally, followed by his date, but the man was pushed to the back burner for now. The only thing on the leader of the spiders' mind was getting closer to his soulmate and drinking in each and every one of the colors on her body. And, as if to reward that impulsive decision, the singer looked directly at him with a coy, almost knowing look when she sang, "He is a villain by the devil's law~ He is a killer just for fun, fun, fun, fun.~" Swishing her carefully-colored clothes with each flick of her hips to the words. "That man's a snick and unpredictable~ He's got no conscious he's got none, none, none, none.~"

It was such a brief interaction. One Chrollo was almost certain held no weight for the singer, as she was just as quick to flash a smile to the next eager man to move closer to her, but for Chrollo, her words were almost a message.

Chrollo'd complete his mission. He'd seduce this art collector, get into his house, rob him blind, and maybe kill him. But after that. After that, he would be certain to turn his entire attention to tracking down his soulmate. Those colors were just too nice to give up after just a simple taste.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #Chrollo Lucifer #Chrollo Lucifer x reader #fem!Reader #Chrollo Lucifer x Fem!reader #ask #soulmate au

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babeydollx · 2 years

Note

could you make a smutty fic about rafe cameron based off the song teachers pet by melanie martinez??

Teacher's Pet

Warnings: cursing, smut, unprotected sex, a little angsty, more Professor!Rafe, cheating

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Female Reader

Summary: you didn't know that having an innocent little crush on your university professor would lead to something bigger.

Word Count: 700+

a/n: based off the song "Teacher's Pet" by Melanie Martinez. Lyrics are in bolded italic text. I might make a longer part but idk yet lmao.

Rafe Cameron Masterlist | OBX Masterlist | Navigation

Caught the teacher giving his eyes to a student.

Thought, "He pretty cute" and she bit her lip back to him.

As you were writing your essay, you looked up to catch your teacher, Professor Cameron looking at you from his desk. He was eyeing you and he didn't even care that you knew it. Quite frankly, he wanted you to know that he was.

He was gorgeous. His jawline was perfect, he has beautiful eyes, his body was like a chiseled Greek god. He was the total package. I mean who wouldn't want a man who was that handsome, right? As he studied you, you bit your lip also studying him, earning a smirk from him.

Chewing on her nails and her pens while she's dreaming of him and he's fucking in sin.

Anytime he was up in front of the class you couldn't help but let your fantasies about him run wild. You wondered how big he was, how good he was in bed, what type of kinks he had, how soft his lips were.

You gently bit the end of your pen as he was speaking in front of the class. You couldn't even focus on what he was saying. All you could think about was him and his perfect body. His gaze shifted over to you.

He smirked when he saw the way you were daydreaming and biting your pen while watching him teach. He loved the affect he had on you.

She said, "It's for all the right reasons baby, don't care 'bout grades, just call me your lady."

You squealed and giggled when Rafe hoisted you up onto his desk. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer to you. The two of you made out passionately until he pulled away.

"So, what do you want out of this, huh? Better grades?" He asked with a smirk as he began to kiss your neck.

"I don't give a fuck about marks, I just want to be yours." You said breathlessly. "Make me yours Rafe." You said.

If I pass this quiz, will you give me your babies?

Don't call me crazy.

"This is your reward for doing so good on that test." Rafe said with a smirk as he plowed into you causing you to moan out and making your eyes roll. You have never felt so full in your life. It felt like he was splitting you in half.

You moaned out loudly as Rafe fucked you from behind. He loved to see your bent over his desk for him. Your eyes rolled as you felt your orgasm approaching. He continued to slam into you, going faster and harder with every thrust.

"Fuck baby, I'm gonna cum." He groaned out.

"Cum inside of me, please! Please fucking fill me up!" You moaned out.

"Yeah? You want me to fill your pretty little pussy up? Make you all swelled up with my kid?" He asked with a smirk before groaning out.

"Fuck yes! Please!" You moaned out.

"Fuck, your a crazy bitch." He said with a smirk.

You love me but you won't come save me.

You got a wife and kids, you see them daily.

Don't know why you even need me.

You were out at the store and you smiled when you saw Rafe in there too. He was with another woman and some children. You still decided to go over there and see him. He glanced over to you but, then walked the opposite way, ignoring you.

You stood there and didn't know if you should just leave it alone or go after him. You decided to go after him. When you finally caught up to him, you smiled at him.

"Hey, Mr. Cameron." You said with a smile and went to hug him but, instead he just stuck his hand out for a hand shake. You looked at him confused but shook his hand anyways.

"Who is this?" The woman asked.

"Oh, this is just a student I teach." He said with a nod. A student? Didn't you mean more to him than that? Didn't he love you?

a/n: I hope y'all liked this fic!

Taglist: @maybankforlife @smokingbeersdrinkingweed @rafesrings @gillybear17 @kaelibaby @milkiane @vintageobx @dudenhaaa27 @rafecameronswhore @luversgirl

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thegreymoon · 2 months

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Judge Dee's Mystery

Baby looking good even when disguised as a common labourer 😋

I feel like this is going to be yet another episode that will devolve into just my thirsting and posting screencaps of his gorgeous face.

***

Yep.

***

I can't decide what her deal is. Does she have a crush on Di Renjie?

She is certainly going out of her way to make him like her and think well of her. I haven't figured out yet whether she is supposed to be a love interest or a comedic nuisance.

***

GIRL, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

DON'T STEAL FROM THE ROYAL FUCKING PALACE!

***

Simply stupid gorgeous man 😭

***

LMAO, that's the end of any work for today, I guess 🤣🤣

He was ready to get it up for a corpse, he stands no chance with a scantily-clad woman who is still very much alive.

He's so dumb, I swear 🤣🤣

***

His face 🖤

***

LMAO, writing is not going well, I see 🤣🤣

She's holding that brush like she wants to stab the paper to death.

***

Love 🖤

***

So nice!

***

When will I have the time to get my pencils out 😭

I hate that I must work for a living sfm 😭😭

***

So beautiful 💚

I, too, would visit a brothel if it was in such a nice location.

***

Especially if I had the chance of running into him 😋

#judge dee's mystery #jdm spoilers #jdm ep03

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meredoubt · 5 months

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Another decade of therapy just got added to Dirge's bills after Auntie Ethel! Oh boy!

Like he's a dreadful, morally pupating little man, right. Repugnant. A whole villain. When I logged off last night, it was after his Drow ass blustered at a goblin child who caught him stealing that, and I quote, "nothing is yours." Like, sir? I'm playing it, I get it, but role-playing means I'm picking the option that sounds closest to him, and sometimes it's just so damn mean. His takeaway from any moral uncomfortableness there would be that next time he just needs to not get caught, clearly. It is his fault he's feeling something, so he needs to get better, skillwise. No growing!!! Change will be under extreme duress!

Anyway. Auntie Ethel just did some damage.

So when he met her, she was very caring, right, and he was so startled (much like Astarion flirting, lmao) that he just let it happen. Psychopath goes very deer in headlights.

It was...nice, to let this old woman fuss over him. To tell her about his homicidal tendencies while she puttered around making potions. And she invited him to tea, and calls him Petal, and it's just been a very stressful few days for our little amnesiac murderous bard. He liked the attention. He's very fond of her, and he doesn't know what to do with it. This grown man probably starts daydreaming of going to live with Auntie Ethel or something, her petting his hair, maybe killing her when she's getting too old and feeling pain, because he loves her, whatever. You know. Normal thoughts.

So imagine his surprise when, down the disgustingly idyllic road to her teahouse, he sees it transform into a foreboding swamp (he likes that better, and is tickled by the redcaps, thats just charming and funny). This only serves to make him like her more, but then...she lies, right to his face. He doesn't care about Mayrina's brothers, he barely perceives them. But he doesn't like catching her lying to him. He doesn't like being tricked. So he calls her out archly, and she teleports off in a huff. And he stalks to her house.

He does half apologize, and she accepts, and they have their tea. Keep in mind, this freak drank out of the well, he knows what water she'd be using.

And, this is what sets what happens next: she reveals that she knows about the tadpoles. Offers to take his eye. He's startled, but considers it. If anyone could, maybe her, he could let her get that close.

But he pauses. He needs his eyes. His senses are what allowed him to catch her in the first place. So, a little sadly, he declines. They have a nice lunch.

Just deranged, the two, but they part friendly.

But again, now he's in full suspicion. It bothers him. So he sneaks down to see Mayrina. Because he's curious. And he tries to tell her to run away, because he doesn't want to actively help her escape Ethel. He's trying to have his cake and eat it, too, because Wyll's there, damn him. Ravengard's got his bard head all twisted up and making him think stupid thoughts about stories. His friends are ruining him.

So, obviously Ethel catches him. A fight breaks out. And he's panicking, because of course he doesn't want to kill her yet. He's not ready. Everything's getting mucked up. Damn it all!

Anand then this new mother figure scathingly hits him with, "Kneel, boy. Just like the matriarchs taught you to."

!!!

Like, we're in full psychological crisis mode. He hates this and doesn't want to be here. He doesn't remember any matriarchs but she clearly kept his background in mind when she was manipulating him. He's like, on the verge of full on grown man crying and it makes him so angry. He's livid.

He almost turns down her bargain, he wants her dead so badly, but he blinks through it furiously and thinks. She's right, she'll assuredly be back. And for once, he'd rather leave someone alive to remember what he took. So he threatens and roars and takes it all: the girl, Ethel's hair, everything not nailed down. He gives Mayrina her corpse husband not because he cares, but because he wants Ethel to have nothing. He would drink the corpse well dry if he could. Dirge smiles, wishes his auntie well with two sharp eyes.

Ethel seethes, bleading from her wounded head. And says she'll see him soon.

He lunges for the hag, right as she teleports away, intent on taking an eye. He wonders if she knows. He's certain she does.

She knows him.

#dirge of the dark urge #baldur's gate 3 #i know that this is just the quest written out but i had to get out the context!!! it was sitting there in my head lmao

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royalberryriku · 7 months

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Unfortunately, I am thinking again and am reminded again how heterosexual TERF women continually steal shit from lesbians and try to erase butches because they hate them so goddamn much. ESPECIALLY he/him butches and queer women and non binary dykes. Hell, even bisexual women, non binary people and he/him folks who are dykes in some way or another.

In fact, as a bisexual bigender trans man dyke, this'd be me. For real, we were here before you all decided to be offended by lesbians who dare to even use a strap because that scares you! Or call themselves men! And no not "because of safety reasons" but because we've always done it and still do it regardless. Because it's part of who some of us are. We have loved tits, pussy, straps (plastic or bio) way before you all decided to use lesbian to mean "we hate men". It's the "we fucking love women and wanna kiss women" club. It's not hard, lesbian means we kissy kissy women in a way the hettys don't like.

Because they think only gender roles abiding men can kiss gender roles abiding women and anything that's different is a sin or yucky, that's what offends them! That's why when lesbians are a femme that looks very feminine and womanly and such OR a butch that looks like a man people get pissed. That's why a woman with a beard makes people pissed. That's why a man who has breasts who kisses women makes people pissed. Because it denies all the gender roles that are defied here. It doesn't matter if a woman has a pussy or a dick, because it's already against the damn rules if she kisses girls and no one's gonna care when they call her a sinner like the rest of us.

They don't care that I'm a dude who looks cis, because I act too feminine, yet dress masculine and androgynous, and I have breasts and a pussy and like people with breast and a pussy as well to boot plus I like men and that's all against the bloody rules so I'm a freak of nature them who they want to legislate against. Hell, even in the community (esp among people who refuse to learn what older queers have lived through or anything about our history) being non binary to the point you aren't able to fit cleanly in any single clean label makes you really easy to hate. It doesn't matter that my love of women and my love of men makes me hated as a man who loves men and a woman-like person who likes women, because god forbid I call myself a dyke because my gender relates deeply to being a he/him butch. And the thing is, we've always been around since always but people get pissed when things aren't neat, tidy and easy to digest for their convenience and personal ease. When our existence is actually broad and vague, that makes people puzzled and scared, despite us all being fluid as people. It's our species whole thing to not be consistent or always the same or easy to understand. We're complex. But I digress...

There's just so much to this I could delve into but the biggest thing here is that regardless of what TERFs think, so much of it is borrowed from queers. So much is just stolen shit they rebranded and repurposed but made for hets. So much of feminism was built from queers, hell, from gay men. So much of feminism was built from lesbians and bisexuals and trans people. So much of the terms that TERFs use and the rights they have were built off our backs and now we're the fucking enemy? Lmao okay. Who do you think helped you all fight against abusive cis men? Not cis men saying you all need to join up with their anti trans groups that for sure. It was the gay men who look down on and lesbians you all call predatory and the drag queens who pushed to normalise the idea that femininity isn't just for women but men and, for you all, that it doesn't define a woman. Who stood by you all this entire time? And now we're all expendable, us queers.

And hey, we don't want you in feminist circles either since you've all proven yourselves to be sexist as hell. But I'm still pissed that so much of queer culture and our efforts have been used, borrowed, taken for granted and repeated as if it came from you all when a lot of it came from us. Like, sweetie, no. You all really think heterosexual women built feminism without us? You all think when you say "all men are gross perverts to women" you're not realising you're forgetting the gay men who aren't fucking attracted to women and have been treated like shit for being attracted to men? You think banning drag queens are some sort of thanks to all the times they've pushed against the idea that dresses must only be worn by women and pants can only be worn by men? Are you all fucking kidding me?

Everything about TERFs are borrowed and stolen, but hey, can't be surprised. It's the same for all bigots, they're never original aren't they?

#sort of a vent #personal #politics and such #writing #tw TERFs #tw transphobia #cw lots and lots of swearing #vent #thoughts about being non binary and visibly gay in every way #ngl it's kind of a miracle I haven't been beaten yet for existing since I really am visibly... yeah #like the way i hold myself is very very much unorthodox in how i entirely exist #I'm so freaking queer regardless of how I dress because I don't act according to gender roles at all and it's very obvious #The way I dress sort of lessons it because I dress in a way that may put me in slightly less danger #and by that I mean not wearing a dress like I want to #but even then I'm also androgynous so the opposite is alao true with dressing masc #It just slightly works better because I wear a binder #pretty sure if i didn't wear a binder I would have been stalked at this point #I can get away with looking cis when I put in effort to Blend In™ when I leave the house #but like #bro #“I can put effort into making myself look different so I'm not killed by strangers” isn't exactly the best bar to set #And of anyone reads this and is like “oh but you chose this” then #society being sexist isn't a good thing #and being attacked for not confirming to gender roles is alao Very Bad Actually #I wouldn't be taking the side of that and if this you then congrats you're the problem #aka the one making it hard for actual feminists to adress the above issue

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thelemoncoffee · 2 years

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🎲 it starts with kokichi already being well known and has planned the biggest heist yet, when the detective agency like, hears abt this from the letter. they decided that perhaps a new detective should be in charge of this case since Shuichi is still somewhat of a rookie, a good one that's been close to capturing Kokichi but alas, what people wanted were results of him actually being captured.

Shuichi cant have this, not only because it'd basically feel like all that progress he did amounted to nothing– but he also feels something fishy is going on as he looks more into the kind of stuff Kokichi is stealing to get a pattern (they were all stuff that were "donated" to be displayed, aka a la british Museum style, Kokichi plans a heist to return ancient heirlooms and beloved artifacts etc.)

ofc, Shuichi doesn't make this epiphany yet but he was getting there— until the detective agency sent in Kirigiri, nothing against the woman btw she's just doing her job but it's revealed later on that she thought the switching of the detectives heading a case just when a big one showed up was stupid.

it all leads up to Kokichi hearing abt it, making a fuss just as Kirigiri arrives and a chase ensues, only to which Shuichi is the only one who's able to keep up since he knows the other's routes well.

lmao the trope of A & B being handcuffed together happens. they lost the key on the way and they could either– go back to the police station OR go to Kokichi's hide out.

it's a funny argument until Shuichi agrees since it could mean learning more about Kokichi– and he does! he learns a whole lot!

and that Kokichi was a fucking magical girl/j

okay not really but the reason his magic tricks work? while most of it yes, they're parlor tricks, the way he disappears is by literally going into another fucking realm what the FUCK Kokichi???? why are you showing him this???? it's so cool, they're bonding but why-?

apparently, Kokichi loved the cat and mouse chase, he was so excited for the game to reach the highest high and Kirigiri was a roadblock and that he wanted to work together even, they could make a spectacle of Shuichi capturing him!

Shuichi doesn't understand, he was stealing just to feel the thrill of it??? he wants him to work with an infamous criminal?! ni! their relationship wasn't fun and games, it was a detective chasing down a thief!

conflict, drama, they get the handcuffs off but it also means that when Kokichi runs, Shuichi loses him in unfamiliar territory which leadss up to Shuichi doing detective work and finding his base of operations and figuring out the reason Kokichi is a thief in the first place.

also probably a DICE moment wheree they're the one who left clues, they're the ones helping make Kokichi's tricks go smoothly behind the scenes and saw that the detective needs to realize an important detail their leaderr forgot to leave out!!

and now, for the kicker, one of the DICE members come in panicked, Kokichi is cornered, he did the heist without DICE watching over him and it's clear some of the men being brought in aren't afraid to start shooting (they're working for corrupt officials-) Shuichi has to G o.

and he does, he comes in out of nowhere, literally, Kirigiri halting the gunmen and they cant shoot otherwise their cover will be blown, Kokichi's surprised Shuichi came for him, Shuichi does NOT want Kokichi to like fall okay.

"Shumai, trust me-" "What do you mean trust you?!" "Come on, look I know I lied but trust me on this." and then. for a beat. Shuichi does.

they fall. the bright lights on the helicopters following them and Kokichi laughs.

"FOR MY NEXT TRICK, WE'RE GOING BYE BYE!" and they fucking disappear bc Shuichi forgot, oh yeah, Kokichi has fucking ties to magic.

he's left at a nearby rooftop of a building, unable to comprehend what just happened, Kirigiri comes in checking to make sure he was okay, interviews him on what happened, and thanks him for saving Kokichi bc it turns out, the reason she accepted was so that no corrupt detective could come in and she wanted to investigate herself if something shady was going on.

anyways, tired as hell, Detective Saihara goes home, only to find black dice on his table, looking outside to see a familiar silhouette—

they turn around but what meets him are bright yellow and violet eyes, not the amethyst he'd see behind the mask. Shuichi runs out anyway—

"nishishi, rather weird to just run out your house to greet someone, stranger."

"ha. ha. i'm pretty sure we met already."

"oh really? what's my name then?"

"uh-" "thought so, name's Kichi." "...Shumai."

"that's a nice name, whoever gave you that has excellent naming sense!" *snort*

"wanna... wanna go get some coffee?" "pfft, okay, but i choose the place." "oh yeah? it better be worth it." "trust me shumai! it's Magical."

omg that is delightful! i love the magic thing, makes me wonder why i never thought to add magic myself to any phantom thief aus

#ask kai

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etchofsqetch · 2 months

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So I got this app idea and a bunch of notes. It’s social media.. (I know lame right?) but really it’s a dating app but obviously I have something unique or I wouldn’t be here posting this at one am when I should be masturbating like it’s a fucking requirement.. anyways..

I need help creating this app, not because I don’t know what I’m doing, not because I’m stupid; because I honestly value other people and I want to write a love story. I want to work with people and I want to work on a team doing something that really shows our value together.

I’ve heard it said that sports such as football sets the standard for displaying merit. The better you do, the more you are respected and revered. I don’t want to be known as a drug dealer, I want to be known as something closer to who I really am. I think that business is the real test of merit in todays economy. Success is measured in value by that dollar sign, and it takes a lot to build and show that value, while still keeping up with and paying taxes.. lmao!

So I’ve been using plenty of dating apps, and trying them out for real. I’m bi, and trans, so I’ve been able to use them all while still being honest and remaining true to myself #fuckhaters but I’ve been looking at how the apps themselves are made and keeping track of features I like and things I don’t like about the more popular ones. I’ve been banned from using HER I think four maybe five times, (and that’s the one I really like..) I could never stop using Grindr, (too much sqetchy fun if you ask me) and I hate Tinder with a passion, (who knew so many guys would be attracted to me sexually while all the girls swipe left..) needless to say, I’ve learned a lot about myself and what others think of me. It’s nice to know and not have to guess. It doesn’t mean that every woman who walks into the store and sees me thinks “omg, I swiped left on him..” it doesn’t mean I’m one thing or another, my preferences have always been the same, and there’s no “undecided” box to check; although, there should be a box to tick that says “still figuring it out” because that’s closer to the truth than anything.

You must have experienced this much pain to use this app..

So in making this new app I’m being stubborn; because I know I have a great idea and I’ve even shared some of it. I’m honestly surprised it hasn’t been made yet; but the closest thing I’ve found is telegram; but it’s missing the dating aspect and isn’t geared towards making money off of it’s users. I’m not greedy; but, I am hungry and I find it hard to afford rent and food some weeks living in the city. I’m not adverse to putting pornography of myself online either; but I’m not about the hustle that never hits or the grind that never quits, I have a day job and it’s bullshit having to go to work every day and deal with constant hate. So I’m digging my heels in because I don’t want to go to work and I don’t want to deal with life anymore. I can make the app on my own; but, in doing so would completely defeat the purpose for me, and if that’s the case then I should definitely end it. Because I’d rather cut my balls off than go to prison for the rest of my life for something I didn’t do, and that’s why I moved to California. To prove that. To not only myself; but everyone else.

I need help with the graphic design. I need help with ways to create income from an app that anyone should be able to use for free. Simple stuff like that.. I know there are some very creative people on here; but, where’s the community? I mean, am I missing something? Unwritten rules for an old newcomer? Did I not steal enough time online when I was twelve? Anyways.. I wish I had my badge still, then they’d really have a reason to be scared..

The joke’s on them though, I was never trying to win, I was never even playing.. and I’ve wanted to cut my balls off since I was four years old..

#hackers #software development #app ideas #trans pride #bratty switch #fuck haters

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