#I wish there were more pictures of these separate occasions

[akixxsstuff]

Death Note Yandere L Lawliet x Wife Reader Smut

(The picture above was edited by me).

NSFW content // Angst // Click here part 2

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ Involves themes of kidnapping, stalking, cheating, non-consensual sexual behaviors, breeding, the usage of sex toys and bondage.

L's internal monologue:

Darling, if you measured good and evil deeds by current laws, I would be responsible for many crimes, however, nothing would be more unjust than not rescuing you from your loveless marriage. Yes, your husband is a courageous and hard-working task force member, but he's also a neglectful piece of shit towards you.

He doesn't even know your sleep schedule or how many cups of coffee you've ordered in the past three months, is he even aware that your birthday is in 70 hours, 16 minutes and 43 seconds? My love, you're just like a beautiful puzzle and every day my cameras and private investigators find more precious pieces.

Nothing is of greater importance than you Y/N, I love you so much. I feel like such a creep but I don't care, I have never cared, everything in life is a game including love, and I have never lost, why? Because I am fucking L.

Present Day, (your birthday):

You slowly open your heavy eyelids to find yourself in a well-furnished bedroom decorated with expensive decor and silk curtains and bedding. Your head was pounding and your limbs were weak, were you drunk? Did your friends bring you here to rest after you fainted during your birthday party?

You immediately panicked when you realised you were restrained to the bed across from a crouched, pale man with dark, piercing eyes. It was your husband's supervisor on the Kira investigation, Ryuzaki.

You were merely acquaintances since you only visited the headquarters to drive your husband home or to bring baked goods for your husband and his co-workers. He was odd and reserved however he always praised your cooking and never failed to impress you with his intelligence. You felt sympathy for him since your husband told you he was basically a lonely workaholic. Your husband even joked that maybe he had a crush on you since he gazed upon you like his cake and cases; with desire and fascination, (lolololololol).

You could only think of one logical explanation for why you were here with him.

"Ryuzaki! Do you suspect that I'm Kira!? Is that why I'm here?!" you cried, "No" L responded flatly. "Then what's happening? Where am I?" you whined, "I would rather you not know of your location, but rest assured you are perfectly safe" L replied calmly. "If this is some sort of joke it isn't funny, untie me now!" you snapped, "Yes, I fully suspected that you would be averse to this my darling". "Darling?! Ryuzaki I'm married! You brought me here didn't you!" you exclaimed, "Yes, since I wish to demonstrate why I'm a more suitable romantic partner for you Y/N". Scowling you said, "Well you've already messed up because kidnappers are not my type! My husband is a good man".

"During the past 6 months, your husband has cancelled 130 dates, has only engaged in sexual activity with you on 4 separate occasions and seemingly has not acknowledged your birthday. You deserve someone who is much more attentive and devoted like myself, surely you understand that I rescued you from a loveless marriage".

You were silent. That creep had been fucking stalking you.

He opened the bedside draw, obtaining a large, pink vibrator, "Perhaps this will help, consider it a birthday gift" L chuckled. He lifted your skirt and ripped into your underwear, "Don't you dare!" you snarled, "I'm going to demonstrate how satisfying sex can really be" L uttered while ogling in between your legs.

You choked as he began clumsily massaging in-between your thighs with the sex toy, experimenting with various speeds and intensities to discover what your cunt enjoyed the most. You clenched your teeth to contain your moans since you didn't want to give this sick pervert any validation, however being as perceptive as he was, you weren't able to fool him.

"Your pupils are dilated, your face is flushed and your vulva is already producing lubrication, all typical signs of arousal" L remarked bluntly. "W-what?" you stammered, "Trying to remain quiet is useless Y/N since I already know that your body is finding this device pleasurable. So please, let me hear those pretty little moans of yours, you were always so quiet during sex with your husband my love".

You struggled against your rope as L swirled the vibrator on the highest intensity level around your sensitive, swollen clit. But it was hopeless, you couldn't escape the waves of incredible pleasure that vibrated throughout your pussy. You were in an intoxicating daze and your body was hot and trembling; you were so touched starved that your body was already begging to cum. "Ryuzaki!" you screamed while you squirted all over the vibrator; feeling shocks of electrifying pleasure overwhelm your cunt while your legs jolted.

You gasped as you suddenly felt L smoothly slid his aching dick inside your quivering and dripping hole. He began rocking his hips back and forth, his eyes fixating on his cock which was now glistening from your sweet cum. Aha! Hah! Oh...hah..you feel so...so amazing" L whined, "Stop..aha...fucking me...you..hah..bastard!" you panted. "Aha..ugh..I won't be m-much longer, so there's no need to worry Y/N". You were praying that nobody would hear the creaking of the bed, L's whining or the squelching of precum.

You already could feel another orgasm stirring within you since his desperate thrusting never allowed your body to relax. His firm shaft gliding against your aching g-spot felt like shocks of thrilling ecstasy filling your loins, it was fucking addicting. "I-I am close t-to" L stuttered as his thrusting became erratic and rapid, "Already?! P-pull out!" you yelped. "Ngh! Aah! Aha!" L grunted as he spurted his thick, creamy cum deep inside your greedy, soaking pussy. "You idiot" you moaned as his lengthy, hard dick continued relentlessly slapping against your womb.

"I want y-you to hah! Climax a-again, now aha" L babbled while rubbing the vibrator against your needy clit. Your eyes locked, those once cold, dead eyes were now filled with passion and vulnerability, his gaze was practically saying, "I need you Y/N, I need your body, please surrender to me, don't hurt me". "I-I going too..ah..aha!" you groaned before another explosion of pleasure shot throughout your body. Your pussy clenched tighter around L's shaft as you cummed, squeezing another load of rich, hot cum from his throbbing erection. L tossed aside the vibrator, tore through your blouse and began sucking your nipples, leaving them slippery and hard. "I love you so much Y/N" L purred, "Kiss me then" you whispered shakily. You were disgusted with yourself but your husband hadn't fucked you with the same amount of lust and love for months.

Your hands broke free and in-tangled with L's dark, fluffy locks while you both sloppily kissed, "I'm s-sorry my love, I-m g-going to...aha again!" L choked. "Use me as your cum slut Ryuzaki" you begged, no longer caring that he wasn't using condoms and that you weren't taking birth control. "Say that again Y/N! And aha! Keep clenching around me like that, ngh!", "Use me Ryuzaki! I'm your cum slut, fill my pussy over and over again, do whatever you want to me". "G-good girl" L hissed while finally draining his balls of milky, sticky semen; fucking his own leaking cum back into your abused cunt to ensure your womb would be filled with every drop.

L slowly slipped out his dick and buttoned his jeans, you slapped his face and hastily untied your ankles. "You know that really hurt" L mumbled while rubbing his cheek. You rushed to the door and shook the locked door knob, "Open this door! Right now or I'll kill you!" you shrieked. "You found just as much pleasure as I did in that experience so why be so averse towards me? I love you so much Y/N, you look so beautiful" L praised. "Of course, you'd think that you pervert! I'm half naked and filled with you fucking cum" you snarled, "I'm a pervert?".

"Yes! And a monster! My husband is a great detective so he will find you and throw you in prison forever!" you snapped, "Only a monster can catch another monster, it's why I'm a far greater detective and why you'll be residing with me for a very long time" L replied monotonously while kissing your forehead. Whining you said, "I hate you", "I love you too" he whispered.

[madhatterbri]

Bet | D.P.

Summary: A She’s All That AU where Damian accepts a bet that he can make fem!reader, who is a jobber or someone stuck at catering into a women’s champion. Thanx :)

Author's Note: Starting the story off with her already a champion. Blame @theworldofotps for the ending.

More of my Damian Priest fics can be found here.

My masterlist can be found here.

Requested by Anon

Taglist: @theworldofotps @plentyoffandoms @brideofinfamy @mrsarcherofinfamy

Time froze the moment Samantha Irvin announced that Y/N was the new women's champion. She stared at the championship belt in amazement. Months ago, this was a distant dream. She couldn't believe her moment finally came. This moment was all thanks to Damian Priest.

Y/N rolled out of the ramp and towards Damian as he waited at the top. Tears streamed down her face as she high five a couple of fans while passing them. The archer of infamy had his arms wide open. In a moment, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

"Congratulations, I'm so proud of you, mi amor," he muttered in her head. They separated from the hug. The unlikely duo stared back at the ring. Damian grabbed one of her hands and raised it up high.

They disappeared behind the curtain after allowing her to soak in the cheers for a little while longer. The talent in the back congratulated her. She even took a picture with one of her bosses, HHH, to celebrate the occasion. Nothing could ruin this night.

"I'm going to get a shower and change. See you soon," she promised and kissed her boyfriend. Y/N disappeared into the locker room and went to the showers. The cold water felt divine on her sore muscles. Her thoughts wandered on the path that led her here.

WWE hired her as a jobber to put talent over. At first, she was just excited to be getting air time on TV. If wrestling didn't work out, maybe she could have an acting career. Loss after loss, she ate happily until someone noticed her.

Damian informed her that he saw something in her. A spark or passion to want to succeed. Y/N blew him off at first, but he was persistent. After a few weeks, she agreed to let him train her.

Any free time she had was spent with him. They ran together and worked out on the machines. He even helped her with her mic skills. HHH started to give her more chances to show her new skills. She managed to impress him.

As time passed, their relationship started to move from friendly coworkers to something more. After work outs, they would sneak back to his room. At first, it was to soak each other in with the new light that they now saw each other in. Hours were spent staring at the hotel ceiling and just talking about their life and dreams. One night after RAW, they really pushed the boundaries of their relationship.

He kissed her outside his hotel door. That night, there was no talking until they fell asleep. The heat of the moment caught up to them. By the next morning, they were officially a couple. Now, with both of them as champions, they were a power couple. Nothing could ruin this moment for her.

Y/N stopped the water and dressed quickly. She went to the place she left Damian, but he was not around. The men's champion had a match coming up. She wanted to wish him luck before he fought his challenger.

As she walked past others in the back, those that hadn't congratulated her yet did so. She turned a corner and saw Damian talking to JD McDonagh. A normal occurrence given that they were in the same faction together. The words that they spoke felt like a punch to her stomach.

"I thought you were crazy to accept that bet. She was a mess, and now she is champion. It should have been a shoo-in for me to win that money," JD sighed. He started to hand him the money.

"Yeah, man, look, can we keep it under wraps? I don't want her to find out is all," Damian's deep voice caused tears to prick her eyes. She wiped them away quickly and sniffled.

Their eyes widened in shock the moment they saw her. Y/N could swear the color left Damian's face. Hot tears fell down her cheeks. Her heart felt like the organ literally ripped in her chest.

"You never believed in me at all?" She asked. The championship belt on her shoulder weighed heavily on her. All the times they spent together now tainted. "Was sleeping with me part of the bet too?"

"Let's just talk this out. This was before I got to know you. Y/N, you are so talented," Damian complimented to try and save face. She shook her head. The arena felt like it was crashing down on her. She had to leave now.

"Y/N, wait!" Damian called behind her. She scurried away from the heartache. Tears blurred her vision. She didn't notice who could see her until a hand grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Hey, I thought we would see Damian's match together," Rhea offered. It was a pretty common occurrence now. They had become friendly towards the other since Y/N spent more time with Damian. Rhea caught a glimpse of the other's face. "What's wrong?"

"Is this just a bet, too? Was I just some little bet to everyone on Judgment Day?" Y/N demanded.

Rhea shook her head. "A bet? What bet? Darling, what's going on?"

The sound of Damian shouting her name caused Y/N to look back at him. "Why don't you ask him? I'm out of here,"

The crying woman left a stunned Rhea Ripley. The archer of infamy moved to pass Rhea, but Mami stopped him. Her grip on his arm was stronger than a vice. She didn't look like she was in a playing mood.

"What did you do?" Rhea demanded from Damian. He gulped and came clean to her about everything.

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

Diego Brando x Reader in:

He Asked me to Stay

And I Stole His Room

Content PLZ READ: Established relationship, Married only in the public eye (at first), implied cheating, suggestive content, under the influence of Scary Monsters so he has some Primal Urges iykyk, but ends fluffily in weird Diego Brando fashion, reader and Diego are kinda both jerks, violence and gore talk

MDNI

Not explicit smut but features suggestive scenes, implications and dialogue

Starts headcanon style and evolves into a fic

-Relationship Headcanons:

What a gold digger.

He’s cute. Handsome, wealthy…and sure you knew he only wanted you for your money and renowned family name, but once you mentioned you knew what he was up to, he’s blunt with you.

Yeah, he does just want you for what he can get from you. But he reminds you of what he can give you in return. He likes money, he likes having that status and living the extravagant life…so he won’t be stingy with you if he were your husband. You want expensive clothes and jewels and carriages and horses? He’ll give them to you. He likes being rich, and spoiling his partner and watching them flaunt that wealth makes him feel rich.

You’ll be living right next to the spotlight constantly on Dio. Diego had just come in first on some prestigious race? The crowd disperses around him just enough for you to get through and give him a congratulatory kiss. Then he’d hold you close as you posed for a picture for the press. You’d smile and go along with it, a hand on his chest, but you weren’t really a fan of being so close when he was all sweaty after a race. Still, if his one expectation of you was to make him look good in public, you could grin and bear it. Especially since you knew he’d hand you a thick stack of cash if you asked while he was in a good mood.

Your marriage is not the most romantic and passionate at first, given it was much more of a mutually beneficial thing than a mutual attraction and affection thing.

When you look at him, you do find him attractive. Surprisingly soft, handsome features, paired with his small but lean build, and his hair always felt nice in the rare moments where you got to touch it. If he had nothing else that appealed to you, he was undeniably easy on the eyes.

He doesn’t care if you see anyone on the side, as long as you’re not getting spotted by any prominent newspapers. Play with whatever people you want, he’ll even pay for your dates on occasion if he’s feeling generous.

He doesn’t care if you want to sleep in two separate beds either; the two of you only have to keep up appearances in public.

He is a man, though. Sometimes he wants his spouse in bed with him.

-transitioning into fic:

(Timeline wise I guess it’s take place after the race, au where he survived but hasn’t accomplished his goals entirely.

First time he’s been around reader under the influence of Scary Monsters)

-The first few times he implied he was longing for you were quite memorable. He doesn’t usually pay you much attention when he gets home. You go about your normal evening schedule, reading on the sofa, not even bothering to look up when you hear the front door opening.

To your surprise he doesn’t head straight to the bedroom like he normally does. He’s just standing in the living room, watching you, even after he’s unbuttoned his jacket and hung it up.

“What are you staring at?” you didn’t mean for it to come out so harshly. You’re not even used to talking to him in the first place, let alone in a kind manner.

You feel his admittedly pretty eyes look you up and down. You imagine most of Diego’s fans wish they were you right now. Otherwise you don’t think much of it, just assuming he’s feeling especially irritating today.

He tilts his head. You feel his gaze right on your thighs. “I just never noticed how attractive your legs are.”

You have to look up at your book at that.

“What? What’s gotten into you?” you huff, assuming this is another one of his strange jokes.

He sits down next to you, his hand on the back of the sofa, so his arm is right behind your head. He leans in real close. You weren’t unfamiliar with him being in your personal space, but this was totally different than the usual instances when you were close to him, so you instinctively scoot away from him.

“What’s gotten into YOU?” he counters, gently poking your shoulder. “Can’t I sit next to you? I’m your husband, so I don’t think it’s strange.”

“I suppose not,” you reply dismissively, forcing yourself to cease your shifting.

He doesn’t say anything else. His eyes are boring a hole into your side profile. You try to return to your reading, telling yourself Diego is just messing with you again for some reason.

He lets you read for just long enough that you start to think he’s going to be satisfied with observing you for a bit before he eventually wandered his way to his bed.

“DIO?!” you squeaked out when he suddenly buried his face into your neck. One hand goes to the back of your head, tugging your hair so your chin tilts up and he can have easier access to the flesh of your neck. His other hand shuts your book and tosses it aside, and then grips your thigh.

You’ve been in a public relationship with him for a while now. His presence, his touch…none of it was unfamiliar or uncomfortable to you. Just…confusing. Especially when he decided to randomly snuggle you. It was one thing to pose as a romantic, handsome couple for the public. But you have no idea what he thought he was up to right now.

You can hear that irritating and invasive sniffing he does, feel his nose pressed up against your neck. It’s odd but. He’s not hurting you or doing anything you especially hate so…you trail one hand up to his wrist, holding it softly to simulate something affectionate.

“Have you started using a new soap or something…?” he places a wet kiss where he can feel your pulse in your neck, giving you a test lick, and then loudly licking his lips. “You smell so good tonight.”

Why was your husband so WEIRD?! You just raise an eyebrow at him.

“No…no new soap.”

“Huh.” He somehow buries his face even deeper into your neck, sniffing and prodding your skin with his nose, apparently determined to smell every inch he could reach. “…guess I’ve just never noticed before.”

His face trails down your body, sniffing and nuzzling, all the way down to your thighs, where he rubs his cheek along them. “Soft…” he thinks out loud. He makes himself comfortable in your lap, curling up almost like a cat. He’s making a low rumbling sound in his throat that made you think of purring. You’re not entirely sure how to react, so you gently run your fingers through his pretty blond hair, like stroking a pet. He hums in approval of this, then abandons exploring your clothed thighs with his hands and decides his face is much more appropriate.

First just a couple of kisses, but he’s in a Mood tonight apparently.

You squeaked much more with surprise than pain when he gives your thigh a bite.

“DIO-”

“Mm? Did I hurt you?” he blinks up at you, not quite pulled out of whatever trance has overtaken him.

Well, no, the bite didn’t really hurt, but there was a bit more force behind it than just a playful nibble.

Well if he was going to be all bold tonight, you were going to do what you wanted to him, too.

“No, it didn’t hurt, but…” you cup his cheek in your hand. His skin is not as soft as usual…a bit dry and hard and surprisingly cold. “…Your teeth.”

He leans into your cheek, and as your fingers approach his mouth he parts his lips to give you access to his teeth. You have a feeling he’s going to use this opportunity to lick your fingers but you let your curiosity get the best of you.

You trace the tips of your index and middle finger along his top teeth, but only a quick glance is necessary to see a glinting set of fangs in his mouth.

“Diego?”

You hook your fingers around one of the fangs, the gesture much more intimate than you were intending, eliciting a particularly loud purr from him at your boldness.

“Were your teeth always so sharp…” you comment more than ask. He playfully nips at you in reply, flashing those teeth at you.

“No~” he remarks cryptically, a smug smirk on his face telling you he had no interest in elaborating. He rests his chin on his hand, still using your thighs as his bed.

You frown, poking him in the cheek, the skin still feeling strange. He was being especially odd tonight.

He shrugs.

“You know, the nights have been getting colder recently,” he seemingly changes the subject.

“Have they? I haven’t noticed.”

“They have, I’m sure of it!”

“Mm, it might just be you,” you reply, placing your palm on his forehead. His skin is definitely cold.

“It’s the night,” he insists, pouting a bit because he doesn’t like when you talk back.

“Ok…”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I do.”

“No you don’t. You’re just saying that.”

“….I haven’t noticed any cold nights,” you admit. You Really didn’t want to argue with him over something dumb.

He furrows his eyebrows a bit at you, but doesn’t seem too irritated.

“You’re warm,” he points out, intertwining his fingers with yours. You notice his nails are very sharp from the way he curls them into the back of your hand. You make a mental note to trim them for him later.

“Am I?”

“Yeah. Like a rock that’s been sitting out in the sun. It’s very nice, I want to lay on you.”

You can’t help a tiny huff of laughter from that ridiculous simile. He seems happy he got you to laugh.

“You’re sounding like a reptile right now,” you sigh, a small smile tugging at your lips. Something about his oddness could effortlessly drop your guard once he talked enough.

He’s getting sick of being subtle.

“You should be in my bed with me tonight.”

Your eyes widen for a second, but you did see where this was going. You find it a bit cute and you’re not really opposed…but you’re not going to make it that easy for him.

“If you’re cold, you could just get another blanket.”

He frowns in disinterest at the idea, pretending to think about it. “Well yeah, I guess. But don’t you get lonely cooped up in a different room from me every night?”

“No,” you smirk, poking the tip of his nose. “Do you?”

Teasing him flips a switch. The smile disappears from his face, his eyes darkening.

He sits up at an almost inhuman speed, straddling your lap, hands gripping the back of the sofa on either side of you. He’s short and slim, so he doesn’t really weigh much on your thighs, but the sheer weight of his gaze and the suddenness of his movement makes you shut up and pay attention.

He leans his face close to you, tilting his chin just enough to be as physically close as possible without your faces actually touching.

He moves slowly, deliberately, everything around you seeming to quiet down so that the only thing you hear is Diego’s breathing, and the sound of him swallowing as he angles his mouth closer and closer to your ear.

In contrast to how cold his skin is, his breath is hot against your ear.

“Maybe I do. Is it so wrong for me, as your husband, that I actually want you in my bed tonight? You smell so good and your body is so warm and even the sound of your breathing is cute.”

He moves one hand to your neck, poking with a sharp nail the exact spot he can feel your pulse.

“Your heart is beating faster,” he notes.

“We-well YEAH!!” you gasp. “Do you HEAR yourself? ANYONE would be embarrassed after hearing that!” You place a hand on his shoulder and push him slightly away, so you can escape the spotlight of his eyes that was making your already warm skin heat up further.

“Dio, what the HELL, this is-you’re…if this is another one of your weird jokes it’s not funny!”

He holds your chin with just enough force so he can pull your gaze back to his, but not enough to hurt you.

The almost primal intensity in those blue eyes doesn’t quite fade.

“That would be a cruel joke, don’t you think? I’ll even carry you to the bedroom if you want.”

He pulls your hand to his chest.

“Please.”

There’s a genuine hint of yearning in his face. You knew him well enough to know that when Dio really wanted something he’d do almost anything for it, even ask nicely.

You’re suddenly acutely aware of how warm your cheeks are, and how hard you’re breathing. You swallow.

“I’ll say it again if I have to.”

“No…no, I believe you…” your voice is a bit shaky. You quickly give him a few short nods, telling him you’re willing to sleep in his bedroom tonight.

He presses his lips against yours, finally. For the first time in private, after a year of a purely materially beneficial marriage, the two of you are actually expressing some affection outside of the public eye.

His lips are a bit dry and cold. But at the moment you don’t find yourself minding, slipping your arms along his shoulders, before tangling one of your hands in his blond hair. You grip a large chunk tightly, pushing the back of his head with your shut fingers, simultaneously deepening and extending the kiss.

He’s practiced in multitasking, using the opportunity to readjust, moving his feet firmly on the ground, slipping a hand down your thighs, cupping the area right above your knees, and then moving his other hand strategically to your back.

Applying pressure on your back pushes you up against him further, and the new position allows him to pick you up with ease.

You let out a cute little gasp of surprise at the movement, breaking the kiss, but unwilling to keep your mouth off of him for long.

As he carries you to the bedroom, your lips explore his face, kissing and nipping at his jaw and the corner of his mouth, not stealing his entire attention so he can concentrate just enough on walking.

Then you nuzzle the top of your head under his chin.

It all felt so…comfortable. Like you could fall asleep in his arms in this moment where he actually felt like a doting and devoted husband to you, instead of just some charismatic gold digger that wanted you for that sexy inheritance your rich daddy left for you. It’s making you realize how pent up you’ve been for some real affection, you can’t keep your hands or your mouth off of Diego after he’s finally shown you something resembling passion.

“Could you get the door for me?”

You didn’t realize you closed your eyes until his voice prompts you to open them.

You reach out and swing open the door handle of the master bedroom. He pushes the door with his back.

As your eyes explore the master bedroom, you’re reminded of how rarely you actually come in here. If you ever did go into “his parts” of the house, it was usually his office, which functioned more as a trophy room than anything…and you usually only went in there to curtly inform him supper was ready, or that he received mail.

He’s taken good care of the bedroom. Fancy sheets, silk pillows…your eyes wander from the bed to around the room. You don’t even remember when he went shopping for such expensive curtains for the windows. The furniture though…the large wardrobe and elegant game table with a golden chess set sitting atop it…you remember him commissioning those from a renowned craftsman. It was one of the rare moments he had let you in to his world, showing you some of the designs he was thinking, and asking your preferences. Though you were sure he was going to go with whichever one he personally liked best it was nice that he tried to include you in something for once.

“You really love feeling rich, Dio,” you note out loud. It’s faint now after such a long day, but he was always generous with his gaudy, expensive cologne. You can smell it clearly on his neck.

“I love BEING rich,” he corrects you, tossing you gently into the fluffy blankets of the bed. You lose sight of him as soon as you land because you sink so deeply into the pillows and sheets.

You squirm around in an attempt to see over the ocean of blankets, catching a glimpse of his bare back. He’s getting changed into his luxurious pajamas, never having any issue with removing his clothes in front of you.

Such confidence. Confidence that bordered on, and sometimes was plain arrogance…

Right in this moment you’re beginning to realize you like that about him. The small sparks of attraction you had initially felt for him before your quick courtship, you knew now it was because of that confidence and the way he carried himself.

And he had so many fans. They clung to his chest and kissed his cheeks or followed him around crying and screaming for his attention…he was a prize…

You were no better than Diego.

He saw you as a status symbol, and you saw him as a first place trophy waiting to be won by you.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when he sits on the bed beside you in his expensive silk pajamas, that low rumbling still in his throat and his demeanor more relaxed than usual.

“I’ve closed all the windows and yet it’s still so cold in here,” he points out, his eyes wandering from your face.

You’re beginning to think it’s not just an obvious ploy to get cozy with you, and he actually is cold.

“I’ll buy you some thicker pajamas tomorrow then,” you reply, stretching out and nuzzling your face against a large pillow, savoring the softness and the smell of Diego lingering on it.

He laughs, slipping his freezing hand under your shirt so he can access the warmth of your skin. Apparently he was serious about wanting to use you as a heat source tonight.

“COLD!” you giggle and squirm at his frozen fingertips on your stomach.

“I told you,” he replies as if you were just reacting to the temperature in the room.

He flips the blanket over the two of you, and then slides his other hand onto the skin of your torso, settling his cold hands comfortably on your back. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, purring contentedly.

“Goodness, if you were any closer you’d be literally under my skin,” you comment, rubbing his upper back. His shoulders were stiff from all that horseback riding.

“I WISH…” he replies with a loud yawn. “I’m sure you’re even warmer inside.”

“Oh…”You blush a bit at that comment, and he mumbles something about your skin heating up pleasantly.

Though, as usual, he makes it weird.

“If I could somehow get under your skin without killing you, your blood and organs and everything would still stay warm because your beating heart would keep everything working. Now that would be one pleasant sleep; I could use your lungs as a pillow.”

“Dio, what the hell are you talking about?” You know he’s just thinking out loud again and being weird on purpose but STILL, what a thing to say.

“There’s no way to do that without hurting you though so…forget it. This is nice too.”

He wraps a leg over your thigh, placing a few lazy kisses along your collarbone before resting his cheek against you with a soft sigh.

“You’re so strange,” you place a kiss on the top of his head. The only reply you get is his snoring.

He must’ve been quite comfortable to have fallen asleep so fast.

You figure you better hurry up and do the same before his snoring drives you crazy.

-

Author’s note: I think I captured his weirdness decently but I think I’m a little off on his actual attitude towards being rich and famous. Meh this is just a silly little fic and not an in-depth character analysis so I won’t let it bother me too much.

The title is a verse from Scary Monsters (and super creeps) by David Bowie

[ask-barbatos]

While the purity of Camellia Sinensis is a marvel in itself, the world of tea extends far beyond the simple leaf that is often called a True Tea. Let's talk about flavor-infused tea.

Infused tea

The practice of infusing tea with flavors dates back centuries, with evidence of flavored teas found in ancient Chinese and Indian cultures. Early methods of infusion involved adding herbs, spices, or flowers directly to the tea leaves during steeping. Over time, more sophisticated techniques were developed, such as extracting essential oils from aromatic plants and adding them to the tea.

Today, infused teas are typically created using one of two methods:

Direct Infusion: The most common method involves adding dried herbs, spices, or fruits directly to the tea leaves before steeping. This allows the flavors to infuse naturally into the tea, creating a harmonious blend.

Flavoring Oils: Essential oils extracted from aromatic plants can be added to the tea after steeping. This method allows for precise control over the intensity of the flavor and can be used to create subtle or bold infusions.

One of the most renowned flavor-infused teas is Earl Grey, a black tea infused with the fragrant oil of bergamot orange. The citrusy notes of bergamot dance harmoniously with the rich, full-bodied flavor of black tea, creating a truly exquisite beverage. Earl Grey is a versatile tea that can be enjoyed hot or iced, and it pairs well with a variety of foods.

Aside from Earl Grey, the world of flavor-infused teas is vast and varied. From the delicate floral notes of jasmine tea to the bold fruity flavors of berry teas, there is a flavor combination to suit every palate.

Pictured above: (top) Jasmine infused green tea from Fujian Tea Import & Export Co., (bottom) Blood Orange herbal tea from Harney & Sons Fine Teas. [Blend: Apple pieces, rose hips, hibiscus, beetroot, orange peel, orange flavor, marigold petals, safflower petals.]

Some of the other popular flavor-infused teas include:

Jasmine Tea: A green tea infused with jasmine flowers, offering a delicate floral aroma and a slightly sweet taste.

Chai Tea: A black tea spiced with cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, and ginger, creating a warm and comforting blend.

Fruit Teas: A variety of teas infused with fruit flavors, such as strawberry, raspberry, or peach, providing a sweet and tangy taste.

Fruit teas are excellent for cold-brewed iced tea. I will cover cold-brewing later, so please look forward to that.

When choosing a flavor-infused tea, consider your personal preferences and the occasion. A delicate floral tea might be perfect for a relaxing afternoon, while a bold and spicy chai tea could be a comforting choice on a cold day.

The choice of infusion depends on the desired flavor profile and the characteristics of the ingredients being used. For example, delicate floral flavors may be best achieved using direct infusion, while strong, bold flavors can be created using flavoring oils.

If you wish to create your own infused tea, that will have to be a separate post. For now, it is enough to be able to identify the tea you are brewing so that you can handle it appropriately.

Brewing infused teas requires a balance of technique and intuition. First, identify the ingredients. When brewing a cup of tea, it's good to know what temperature and length of time to steep your tea for.

A tea labeled "Peach" may be a white tea with peach flavoring, and it may be best to brew it at a temperature appropriate for white tea. Blends may consist of varying ingredients that require different temperatures, so some experimentation may be in order to find the best brewing temperature to get the most of each flavor.

Herbal tea

Beyond the True Tea, there lies a world of herbal teas, each offering a unique blend of flavors and health benefits. Herbal teas are made from a variety of plants, including herbs, spices, and fruits. They are often enjoyed for their medicinal properties, as well as their delicious taste.

As no part of an herbal tea contains the Camellia Sinensis plant, these teas are not considered "True Teas". That does not mean we cannot enjoy them, however.

For the most part, an herbal tea will not contain any caffeine, unlike the tea produced from the Camellia Sinensis plant. This makes them more suitable to enjoy in the evening or late hours.

Pictured above: (from top to bottom) Roses, honeysuckle, chrysanthemums, mint and lavender.

Some popular herbal teas include:

Chamomile Tea: Made from chamomile flowers, this tea is known for its calming and relaxing properties.

Peppermint Tea: Made from peppermint leaves, this tea is refreshing and aids digestion.

Ginger Tea: Made from ginger root, this tea is warming and can help soothe an upset stomach.

Hibiscus Tea: Made from hibiscus flowers, this tea has a tart, fruity flavor and is rich in antioxidants.

As with many blends, it is helpful to experiment a little with the temperature and steep time to get the most of your tea. Intuition will follow experience.

The ideal steeping temperature for infused teas and herbal teas can vary depending on the specific ingredients and desired flavor intensity. However, here are some general guidelines:

Delicate floral or fruity teas: 175-185°F (79-85°C)

Bold, spicy teas: 195-212°F (90-100°C)

Herbal teas: 175-212°F (79-100°C), depending on the specific herbs used

Serving suggestions: Cream is usually not served with fruit teas, as the acidity in some will cause the milk to curdle. Lemon slices are commonly served with Earl Grey, however, as with the fruit tea, lemon can also cause cream to curdle. Sugar or honey are appropriate for nearly any tea.

It's always a good idea to experiment with different temperatures to find the perfect brew for your taste. I hope this has been informational and helpful to my students who wish to become better acquainted with tea.

[lizmindpalace]

So you know that we had an eclipse in North America today and I saw a post about the brothers never actually observing an eclipse before and I had to write this.

-

"I don't get what's the fuss with this moon thing, the damn thing is there all day and night long every day, every year".

Lucifer's fingers rubbed his closed eyes as a sigh left his body, it was always the same thing when it came to his young brothers.

"We do not have a sun, idiot, that's what makes the trick", the yawny voice of the youngest of the seven uttered with a notable tone of annoyance, his eyes were closed but had they been opened, a roll in them would show how much irritant he found his older brother's words. 

"I find it romantic". Asmodeus sighed, "Satan told me all about human beliefs in legends and books. It's like a kiss between two lovers separated in time and distance, so they can only see each other once in a lifetime and share a love kiss".

Another sigh and a giggle followed that statement, however, the effect those words had left in the group made them stay quiet ever since they had been informed about the assignment regarding the 2024 solar eclipse up in the human world. Lucifer had been mesmerized for a while, but it was the first one to notice the thoughts going through his brothers' minds.

"No..."

"It should be a great occasion to visit the human world and get to see MC!"

Lucifer sighed once more, as he would usually do when they were around. 

"Yes!" The other five shouted. 

"And there will be food!"

"Wait, wait... hold on, you're not actually thinking on kissing MC? Are ya? Cus I'm not gonna allow it, no way under my watch".

"You're so predictable as always, loool". Leviathen mocked.

"Im not! I mean if someone had to do it, then it'd have to be the great Mammon, for I was her first ". 

"Can you please stop talking about being the first as suggesting intercourse and clarify it's all about a pact and you were the first just because you're the most stupid of us?" Satan rolled his eyes.

"Hey whadayamean by that? Show some respect to your older brother, besides..."

"Stop all of you" the eldest nagged at them. "This is no time to avoid your responsibilities, and certainly it's no time for interrupting MC's daily occupations, furthermore..."

The buzz of a phone interrupted his course of thought, his sharp gaze led him to Mammon, and his body, as it was an automatic response, he took the phone from his grasp despite his complaints, however, he was surprised to see, it had not solved the issue and all his brothers had stopped paying attention to him, as their attention had been drawn by the device in their hands. 

Another buzz coming from his pocket finally made him look at the screen of his phone:

 >>> It's crazy, I remember that back in primary school my science book said this year there would be a solar eclipse, and I was like "I'll be more than 20!, That's a long time from here". And the time is here, guys. I'm so excited.

The message had started a discussion with replies from his six brothers, that didn't lack enthusiasm.

>>> I know you cannot be here, yet, I got something for you. 

Lucifer pulled up the attached picture and he smiled as in her hand, there were seven pairs of funny glasses that were probably made of cardboard, and each one was in a different colour. His smile grew wider as he saw every pair had a handwritten word in it: their names.

>>> It's some kind of silly souvenir. I'll give them to you once we get to see each other again. I wish you were here.

A feeling of dread and nostalgia struck the eldest and a sigh escaped his lips again, although immediately afterwards he felt a persistent gaze on him.

"Lucifer", his brothers harmonised, and he stopped himself from rolling his eyes at them, just because he knew he could use his pleads to get a double benefit. 

"Only if you guarantee that you'll improve your grades". 

The six of them nodded in agreement, a tiny accomplice smile bloomed in their faces. That was the first benefit he acknowledged their little trip would bring as consequence. 

Only a few seconds after the door had been knocked at, it opened. A shocked expression followed by the brightest of smiles they had ever known welcomed them; a warm embrace was the cherry on top. That was definitely the second benefit he had foreseen. 

An unexpected third arose when they were reunited in the local park, all of them surrounding a bench under a tree; the blue sky suddenly was losing brightness, it was as it was getting cloudy, but no clouds were around, it felt different, it was an odd kind of darkness. The birds started flying towards their homes, and they went quiet, the sunlight was soon hidden by the moon. The pretty spring day had turned into night for a moment. Lucifer looked at his brothers, impressed by the phenomena, he also stared at his human and her excited smile. 

It was a brief spectacle, but it felt magical; a shiver ran down his spine as the solar ring was drowned in darkness, it sort of reminded him to when he had fallen out of grace but in a better sense, despite being so old, he had never lived such a show of the immensity of nature... everyone, including his six demon brothers, was admiring in awe at the sun being swallowed by the moon, while wearing their black glasses, while a person with a speaker explained the science behind it. 

When the sun shone again over their heads, the girl opened up their arms to hug them, a hug which all of them returned.

For some reason they were grateful to be alive in that precise point of time where all they had got to know each other, to spend time with one another, they were all glad to witness the event of the century together. 

[dc418writes]

Fool Me Once…

✨Pairing✨: Ari Levinsonxblackreader, Pete Brennerxblackreader

Summary🪄: who knew grudges could be so deadly?

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS!!, kidnapping/abduction, very slight torture, choking, brief violence (man-woman, man-man), gunshot wounds (slightly descriptive), mention of blood, language, death, implied nudity, mention of bullying

A/N🎤: hello🌸! This is my submission to @witchywithwhiskey ‘s Slasher Summer Writing Challenge! I hope yall like what I came up with, and that you please check out the other works submitted for this challenge as well☺️💕!

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were found via Pinterest*

Location: Lake House

Trope: Kidnapping

Quote: “I know how much you guys like games”

“You’re only gonna make things worse.”

If Ari had to guess, five minutes had passed of Pete yanking and toying with the shackle attaching his ankle to the brick wall. He swore if he could hit that small opening on the link just right, he’d be free.

“At least I’m tryin to do something rather than sit there with my thumb up my ass,” Pete retorts still yanking and jingling. “Don’t see you with any ideas.”

It was going on nearly a whole day of them being chained in the unknown basement. A cell-like barred gate keeping them enclosed from the other half of the space like animals at the zoo. The single light overhead dim, adding to the creepy appeal of the room.

“Because I’m still thinking of how to get out and not tip her off in the process,” Ari angrily responds.

Both men pause turning towards the basement door when the “her” in question begins to turn the knob. Two plates of food perfectly balanced on the tray in your hands as you descend the creaky steps smiling as bright as the sun both men wished so desperately to see again.

“Hi boys!” Pete already thought you were crazy, but from your bubbly mood acting as if this is just a get together among friends, he’d deem you certifiably insane. “I figured you were hungry so I brought sandwiches. Ham and cheese for you Pete and PB&J for Ari. I remembered you don’t eat pork.”

Sliding the tray through the small opening under the gate, both men suspiciously eye their plates - prettily set with sandwiches cut diagonally along with carrot and celery sticks - before Ari dares to bend down for his.

“Are you crazy?!,” Pete whispers. It’s no use though with you only a few feet away sitting crisscross on a wooden chair and able to hear everything being said.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything to it. Can’t get rid of you before the fun silly!”

“And what would that be exactly?,” Ari asks sounding as serious as a judge.

“I know how much you like games, so I was thinking Never Have I Ever. Simple, but fun right?! ”

“As fun as a root canal with no meds,” Pete mutters under his breath. You ignore his words eagerly holding up your hand while you try to think of a good one. Your eyes tightly closed in deep concentration. He’s surprised to see Ari slowly hold up his free hand immediately quirking his brow to which Ari just shrugs.

“Just play along,” he simply mouths.

“Oh! Never have I ever been stuck in an elevator.”

Rolling his eyes, Pete begrudgingly raises his hand to bend his thumb down leaving him with four fingers left. “Your turn Pete!”

He sighs, “Never have I ever abducted innocent people. Huh looks like that’s two for you sweetheart.”

For the first time since either man met you, - two separate occasions of chance meetings and a simple drink - a flash of..something darkens your brown eyes. “Alright then,” you begin, slowly bending your pinky and ring finger, “Never have I ever hurt someone.”

“This isn’t hurting someone?!,” Pete retorts motioning to the shackle he jingles around his ankle.

“More specifically, never have I played a cruel prank on someone and embarrassed them in front of the whole freshman class!” Pete might be confused at your outburst, but Ari remembers that day vividly. The shy hope that soon turned to sorrow realizing the love letter was fake. How foolish you felt. He admits he should’ve done more in those days after when classmates would tease you about it, but like any high school boy his concern was himself and his budding popularity.

Leave it to Pete to keep getting him into trouble all these years later.

“…Wha- What are you-?”

“You really still don’t remember..” your laugh isn’t a humorous one as you stand with arms crossed over your chest beginning to slowly pace back and forth. “I shouldn’t be surprised seeing as though you only cared about yourself then and clearly still do now.”

“Or maybe I have more important things to do than sit around harboring some dumb, juvenile grudge from high school. Actually have a successful job like a grown adult.”

“You made high school hell for me! If it wasn’t your snide comments anytime I’d answer a question in algebra, you were messing with me in the hall for no reason!” A lone tear falls down your heated cheek that you quickly wipe away. “Then you just had to make things worse with that letter pretending to be Ari. Claiming how he liked me and wanted to meet in the alcove after-,”

“Wait..” Leaning against the gate, his cerulean eyes partially squint as if he was finally seeing who you were. Maybe even realizing the error of his ways for once. “The alcove where-,”

“You sent both me and Ari under different guises. When I told him about the letter, he had no idea what I talking about and then enter you with half the freshman class.”

“Aww looks like someone was rejected by her crush,” young Pete laughed along with the rest of your peers that surrounded. “And would ya look at that, she even had a little present for you Levs!” You couldn’t care less about your floral picture - now crumpled and stained with dirt - running through the crowd just wanting to get away. Needing solace anywhere but there to cry as freely as you wanted feeling your heart shatter.

“Why, huh?,” you quietly ask. “What did I do that made you hate me so much?”

A sigh passes his pink lips raking his fingers through his almond strands no longer in that perfect comb over like that night you met him at the bar. His gaze sympathetic; opening his mouth once, but failing to immediately produce any words as if his throat was glued shut.

“N-Nothing, you did nothing okay? I was just a…a dumb kid doing stuff I thought was funny, but they weren’t. I’m sorry I did that all those years ago and…I’m sorry for not apologizing sooner.”

Admittedly, you weren’t expecting to ever get an apology from Pete. Egotistical and self centered, you wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t know what a genuine apology was. But hearing those words, you feel that decades long wound slowly begin to close.

“Forgive me?,” he asks holding out his larger hand between the bars of the metal gate. As expected, you’re apprehensive taking turns looking him in the eyes and at his outstretched hand. “I understand if you can’t or won’t, but I still want to try and make things right.”

Part of you doesn’t want to, but you know the righteous thing to do is to let that pain and bitterness go. For your mentality’s sake at least.

The moment your palm touches his, a squeak falls from your lips as you’re yanked in closer - nearly crashing against the bars of the gate - before Pete’s hands wrap around your neck squeezing as hard as he can.

“Let her go!,” Ari yells trying to pull the man back with his muscular arm around his neck, but he’s quick to headbutt his childhood friend causing him to stumble backwards. Ari’s nose pulsing from the impact as he checks for blood. “You’re gonna kill her!”

“Better her than us!,” he responds tightening his grip. You try to claw and punch at his hand, but every second your brain doesn’t get its needed oxygen, it’s hard to focus. Your eyes beginning to droop and movements slowing as Pete simply chuckles without remorse.

“At first, I wanted you in the looney bin. Now, I think it’s best I get rid of you. Just to make sure you don’t do this again, yea?”

A pop and sharp pain to his leg is what finally has Pete loosening his grip as he howls in pain and you fall to the wooden floor regaining consciousness. “What the fuck?!,” he shouts clutching at the gunshot wound to his calf turning to see his friend holding a black hand gun. “You had that the whole time?!”

“I told you to let go.”

“Let go? She’s the psycho that took us!”

“And you’re the conniving liar that’s stolen money from too many people to count. Including my family,” Ari states still keeping his gun trained on the bleeding man in front of him.

It didn’t take much convincing on Ari’s part to get his parents to invest in Pete’s business. They practically saw him as a second son, so of course they’d do anything they could to help.

Time went by and they never saw any money though.

“These things take time man, just..trust the process!,” Pete responded when Ari brought it up. So he did, until his father became ill. The hospital bills kept coming and coming giving him no choice but to go to Pete again.

Except this time he couldn’t be found. His phone no longer in service anytime he’d try to call. There were rumors he’d moved out of state; some even said out of the country. Either way, it was as if he’d disappeared leaving Ari and his mother struggling to pay for the funeral let alone the remaining hospital payments.

From the pale and clammy tint to his skin, Ari knows he needs a doctor. He can’t seem to care though daring to step on his injury making Pete scream.

“Where’s the money?”

“What money?!”

“Don’t play dumb!,” Ari practically growls stepping a bit harder on the hole in Pete’s leg.

“Ari stop!” At the hoarse voice, both men turn to look at you still on the group gripping your bruised throat. And the way his Adam’s apple bobs gazing at you with eyes full of concern, Pete shakes his head realizing what was in front of him all along.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he chuckles to himself. “Her?! Of all people!”

“Shut up,” Ari grits bringing his attention back to the bleeding man.

“Way I see it, you should be thanking me then. I practically brought you together, although I’d rather not take the credit for setting up my best friend with scary spice.”

In one swift movement, Ari has the gun pointed to Pete’s head. His lower leg still oozing crimson red as he winces from the removal of Ari’s boot covered foot.

“A-Ari just let him go,” you plead. “He needs help.”

“Not until he gives me what he owes.”

“Jesus you two really are perfect together..”

“You really wanna play around with this gun to your head?!,” Ari asks pressing the metal against Pete’s temple. “Money. Now!”

“The money’s been gone!,” Pete shouts back at him. “Businesses have expenses a-and then you grow and others come along-,”

“You never meant to give that money back,” Ari mutters.

After all this time he had a feeling. Basically hearing it confirmed though still has a pang of hurt and guilt expanding in his chest. His mother was near homeless - trying to do whatever she could to keep their house - and it was his fault for trusting his so called best friend.

“Look alright we can work something out!,” Pete bargains with that charismatic smile too many have fallen victim to. “I can try to find something for you around the office or-,”

“No need,” Ari responds lowering the gun to aim for Pete’s chest and pulling the trigger once. The loud pop making you scream as you cover your ears to stop the ringing.

“Oh nonono..,” you whisper to yourself watching more red pool from Pete’s lifeless body. “T-That wasn’t part of the plan!”

“I’ll take care of it. Just go upstairs.”

“Maybe he’s still alive? Y-Yea we could call 911 and get them to help! Just say it was an accident-,”

Amid your panicked rambling, you don’t notice Ari release himself from his shackle before unlocking the barred gate to get to you. His hands gripping your arms so you’d look at him and clearly hear his words.

“No! No 911 or anybody else alright? I’ll take care of it.” Although still afraid, you simply nod letting Ari tilt your head so he could look at your neck marked by Pete’s hands. If he wasn’t already dead he’d kill him for that alone. “It hurt?”

You gently shake your head. “N-No, just a little sore.”

“Good. Now I need you to go upstairs. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“But-,”

“Upstairs, now baby.” That quiet, demanding tone always has your body listening as if solely controlled by his voice. Your shaky legs turn towards the basement stairs leading to the main floor of the lake house not daring to let you look back when you hear dragging and muted thuds.

Numb is the best way to describe you striding to your shared bedroom, then the bathroom. Turning on the warm water of the shower head before shedding your clothes to let the droplets caress your skin. The only thing you can seem to think of is Ari pulling the trigger without a second thought and Pete’s eerily still form. His eyes solely gazing at Ari even after the light had left.

You figure you’ll always have that image plaguing your memories. Unable to truly, and happily, live in the present as your past involvement haunts you.

A cold hand to your shoulder has you jumping deeper under the water raining down overhead. You would’ve nearly fell had Ari not secured your body to his.

“Just me sweetheart. You’re alright.”

As he leans past you to grab the washcloth, you notice the red staining his hands. Those same hands that just killed and disposed of a dead body now so gently washing you with the shower gel he loved to smell on you.

His lips leave chaste pecks along your neck while the cloth runs along your chest, stomach, then your arms one by one. “I love you.”

At this moment, you struggle to say the same. The man behind you wasn’t the same man who reached out that random spring day wanting to make amends for his part in your pain along with genuinely wanting to catch up. He wasn’t the same man who made you fall in love with him all over again bringing back those feelings you thought you left in high school. The man who swore no one would get hurt in this perfect plan for revenge he created.

Nevertheless, turning to meet those soft, near-crystalline eyes, you can’t deny the patter of your heart. How it still yearned for his touch, his being, and sought him out for comfort. Your fingers gently scratch along his beard before leaning up to let your lips press along his.

“I love you too Ari,” you whisper.

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Time's Up

"1. Sabo and fem!reader has an arranged and timed marriage where they both don't have feelings for each other and they only have to be married for one or two years. Well... Actually just Sabo not having feeling for reader because she has been secretly crushing on him. The marriage could be between nobles, or between countries, etc. Even though he doesn't like her romantically, Sabo treats her nicely and she also is very supportive of her. She listens to all of his stories and takes interest in his hobbies. Sabo gradually falls in love with her and is actually hoping that the marriage will last. Reader doesn't know the change of his heart, she just thinks that Sabo treats her nice and is grateful of that. Then Sabo confesses on the day their contract ends. Massive fluffy ending where reader and Sabo shows their goofy love in public even though they are famous nobles. (I have this idea while reading some Korean manhwas lol)"

So this isn't in two parts because somehow, somehow, it was exactly 2000 words! I was writing it and wasn't really worried about length, and was super surprised when it was so perfectly numbered!

Warnings: hurt/comfort, light angst, happy ending, arranged marriage

Word Count: 2000

     Sitting on a wicker chair in the garden, you sighed, one leg pulled close to your chest. You’d had feelings for the young man for years, ones you’d even attempted acting on. It never ended with much more than a ‘hey, it was nice to see you’, but at least you were trying. When you’d heard that there would be an arranged marriage, you were ecstatic. A chance to marry him?! It was a dream come true! It might not be out of love, but maybe you could get there? Maybe by being married you could get him to fall for you? Learning that it would only be for two years ruined your hopes. How could you get him to fall for you in 2 years? Maybe if it were 5 years, but two? 

     Sure, you smiled for all the pictures, you smiled whenever you were out in public with him and you put on a good face with him but in all honesty, you were actually kind of distressed. Two years, that was all you had. You two didn’t even share a bed. He hadn’t wanted to force either of you to sleep in the same bed when your marriage was just a timed arranged one. So you had separate rooms, you did your own things. You still had meals together, you still greeted each other in the mornings and you tried to take an interest in his hobbies, but in the time you got alone, you let that all fade away. Your smile fell, your eyes watered and your heart ached. How were you going to get him to fall for you? Could you get him to fall for you? What if this was all just platonic for him? He was always nice to you, he supported everything you did, always gave you a cheery smile and if he noticed you were feeling down, he’d give you a comforting hug. Not that you let him see you down, not if you could avoid it. Was it healthy to hide away from him like you were doing? No. Would letting him know that you were upset bring you closer? Probably. But if you let him see just how distressed you were, he’d ask questions, he’d want to know what had you so upset so often and you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him.

     Leaning against the balcony railing, Sabo stared out into the garden. You didn’t know it, but from his balcony window, he had a perfect view of the center of the garden where you sat. You always went out there when you were feeling down. He wished he could do something for you, but it was hard enough to get you to admit you were feeling down on the occasions that he caught you normally. He hadn’t been too worried when the two of you had first gotten engaged. It was timed, meaning once the two years were up, you were both free to go your own ways. Now, it was starting to cause him some of his own distress. You were always so sweet, taking an interest in each tale he told you, asking about his interests. The blond wasn’t easily fooled either, he could see the genuine interest on your face. But the timer was ticking away and with each click of the clock hands, he felt the aching in his chest grow stronger. He had to find a way to make this marriage work, had to find a way to make it last. Running a hand through his hair, he took a deep breath. You were so kind to him, so nice, so what about the marriage made you so upset? Was it that you only saw him like a brother? A platonic love? Oh fuck, he hoped not. Perhaps you only saw him as a friend? Someone who held similar interests but didn’t love him in that way. 

     He’d always tried to be supportive of you, to treat you well. Even if he hadn’t felt that way about you in the beginning, he didn’t want to make your married life hell. But with each passing day, his feelings drifted from acquaintances… then to friends… love… he swore he was nearing obsession. He needed this marriage to work, the thought of you leaving him left him wanting to curl into a ball and sob. Both hands were in his hair now gripping his head. He had to figure out something. Why had he insisted on different bedrooms?! Married couples slept in the same bed even if they didn’t love each other, he should have shared a room with you! Besides, the bed was more than big enough for two people! Hearing the chime of the clock made him shake. Another hour gone. Another hour closer to the end of the contract. He had to make you fall for him no matter what! He had almost a year left, 11 months, he had to do whatever it took to make you love him and he had 11 months to do so.

     Walking down the street together, you were both lost in thought. A few months, a few months and this would be over. You’d both be gone from each other’s lives. You might get to be friends, close friends, but the marriage would be over, you’d both move on. Well he might move on, you weren’t entirely sure. You just wished he loved you.

     He hoped he didn’t look as downcast as he felt, he didn’t want anyone to ask questions as to why he looked so down while he was with the most beautiful girl of the millenia. Didn’t want people wondering what was wrong with you that had him looking so down when he had you with him. He only had a few more months before this was over, before you’d be gone from each other’s lives. The best he could get was close friends but you wouldn’t be married and the two of you would move on. That wasn’t entirely true. You’d probably move on, find a man you were head over heels with. He just wished you loved him. 

     He’d tried being even nicer to you lately, tried showing you more attention, tried being more affectionate, but each time, you’d head to the garden and stare out mindlessly while your mind swirled with despair. It was driving him insane. He hadn’t even been coming on strong, he’d been making sure to take it slow! Yet nothing he did helped, it only drove you out to the garden with increasing frequency to escape him! Did you really dislike him that much?! He had one last chance, his all or nothing. He hadn’t wanted to reach this point, he’d wanted for you both to gradually fall for each other, you’d spend more time with him, and one day you’d both realize that the contract had been up a long time ago. You’d both laugh at how you’d forgotten it before cuddling up to one another again.

     You only had a few more days. Just a few more days and your contract was up. He’d been more… touchy lately. Sweeter. Probably because he was happy the contract was ending. He could leave and go do whatever he wanted. It had you out in the garden more often. Where he couldn’t see you or your despair. Did he even realize how much his touch and affection hurt? You’d crushed on him for years, for him to act like this, it was absolutely tearing you apart!

     Standing in the main entryway, you stared at him. Your bags were packed upstairs, you knew where you’d be going once he told you it was over. He wasn’t the type to tell you to pack your shit and get out but you didn’t want to stay a second longer than you had to. In his hand was a folder, one that held the contract. You knew it did. You were going to head out, get everything checked out, and sign the divorce papers so you could go your separate ways. Sabo took a deep breath as he gave you a sad look.

     “Before we uh… before we go, can I say something?” he asked, watching as you nodded. It would probably be the last thing he said to you, “Thanks. Listen, I know these last two years have probably been really hard on you. You could be out doing whatever you wanted, dating whoever you liked, but uh, I just wanted to say that I really didn’t mind being married to you. I was a little skeptical at first, but you’re… you’re actually really amazing. I… I kinda wish the contract wasn’t up. I wish that… that this wasn’t a timed marriage. Sure it was arranged but I’ve actually fallen for you. Y/n… I know you don’t want to be trapped in an arranged marriage, but I want you to know that I love you. Even if we don’t ever see each other again, I don’t think I’ll ever forget you.”

     His words left you stunned. He�� he loved you? Was he joking? Did he actually love you? Tears began to stream down your cheeks, sending him into a panic as he dropped the documents, trying to wipe your tears away.

     “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I just didn’t want to end this without telling you. I didn’t mean to make you cry! I’m so sorry!” his voice was panicked as he held your face in his hands, trying desperately to wipe away your tears. 

     “You… you love me? I… are you serious?” you asked, your heart pounding. Sabo paused, giving you a sorrowful look.

     “Yeah. Yeah I am. Please, please don’t cry. I’m so sorry.” he said softly, still trying to wipe away your tears, though more slowly and gently. You let out a choked laugh, taking his face in your own hands as you kept laughing past the tears. Pulling him close, you kissed him with as much passion as you could even as tears kept falling.

     Sabo felt his heart skip a beat as you kissed him. His hands moving from your cheeks to around your waist, holding you tightly.

     “I love you too. So, so much.” you said once you parted, giving him a loving smile, “I never felt trapped in this marriage. I was terrified that it was going to end. Sabo, I love you more than anything. I never wanted the contract to be up, I still don’t. I don’t want to get a divorce. I love you.” you admitted, pulling him into another kiss. Another, then another until you were both left breathless.

     “Then we won’t. We won’t get a divorce. We can stay married. The timer was how long we had to stay together, not how long we want to stay together.” he said happily, pulling you close, “Come on. I want to take you out. Wherever you want! I want to take you out on a real date.” he said, taking your hand and pulling you towards the door. You just laughed as you both hurried outside. Neither of you cared that you were on foot, that you were just running down the street laughing. You didn’t care that others stared as he picked you up in the middle of the park and spun you around before pulling you into a kiss. And you didn’t care when it started pouring down rain, absolutely drenching the both of you as you continued to laugh and enjoy yourselves. Even when you walked into the fanciest restaurant in town, drenched head to toe and dripping on their fine carpet, you both just laughed. The maitre de forced to seat you despite how casually you were dressed or how wet you were, lest they lose your business for good. Not even the looks from those in the restaurant could ruin your good mood. Not when you were both in love with each other.

[total-killer-brainrot]

Father Please

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” You breathed out finally. Cheeks reddening at how desperate you already sounded. Voice pitched and needy. Through the thin separator you could see his outline. And perhaps a smile in the dim lighting. He stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue.

---

Bo lets you live out a fantasy of your's in the Ambrose church. Though it may be more than you can handle...

---

Wrote this in like 3 hours then immediately started rewatching house of wax... again...

---

All my fics are also on AO3

Not Beta Read. Rating: Explicit. Length: 1,632. Ship: Bo Sinclair x You. Fem!Reader. Tags: Church Sex, Confessional Sex, Sex Toys, Degradation, Masturbation, Begging, Punishment, FaceFucking, Gagging, Edgeplay, Vaginal Sex, Overstimulation, Dacryphilia, Creampie

---

You were practically fizzing with excitement. You could feel your heart in your throat as you entered the small box. The rustling and murmurs muffled slightly by the thick curtain as you drew it across from you. You had asked him to keep the audio player running, to imitate the idea of people filling the church outside.

It wasn’t very often that you asked Bo to try something new in the bedroom. And even less often that he agreed. Typically you were happy to go along with whatever little fucked up scenarios he wanted to play out, but you had had this image in your head ever since you spotted the dusty old confessional in the corner of the church. Unused for many years but still sturdy in one piece. You were surprised at how readily he had agreed. Planning most of it out for you.

You sat in silence for a moment. Fidgeting with the hem of your dress. A new one he had bought you just for the occasion. Pretty and feminine, perfect for playing a prim church girl. At the hem lifted over your knee and up your thigh you caught a glimpse of the thin cord strapped to your leg. Hyper aware of the small toy hidden in your panties. Tense as you waited for it to be switched on. Any second.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” You breathed out finally. Cheeks reddening at how desperate you already sounded. Voice pitched and needy. Through the thin separator you could see his outline. And perhaps a smile in the dim lighting. He stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue.

“I have been having… impure thoughts, Father…” Your thighs pressed together. The anticipation arousing you embarrassingly easily. Nervously chewing at your lower lip. A sudden buzz between your legs caught you by surprise, making you jump in your seat and gasp. The little toy only buzzed for a few seconds before being shut off. And the second the stimulation stopped you whined needily. Rolling your hips against the wooden seat below you, searching for any kind of friction. 

“Fuck… Father please…” 

His quiet laugh made you shudder. Loving that even though you couldn’t properly see him, he was enjoying this too. There was movement on the other side of the divide. A rustle of clothing. A soft sigh. You pictured him, head rested back against the wall of the confessional. Hair slicked back wonderfully. Hand wrapped around his cock. Slowly pleasing himself. Suddenly wishing the wall between you was gone so you could see it for yourself. His voice was much deeper when he spoke. Dripping with seduction that made your head spin.

“Continue your confession. It seems you’ve been a bad girl…” 

You bit your lip harder, nodding even though he couldn’t see. “Yes sir… Father.” You quickly corrected. “I’ve had… impure thoughts. I want to… touch myself… and be touched…” You trailed off into a long moan as the toy buzzed to life again. “Oh my… Father, I want to be fucked.” You trembled, squeezing your thighs around the vibrator. Nearly sobbing when it turned off again. 

“You know, it’s against God to be a needy whore…” He grunted, voice more strained now as he got off to your noises. You could just about see the outline of his moving form. 

“Bo please… turn it back on. Please.” You pleaded. Gripping the edge of the wooden seat. Keening happily as it was turned on once again. Then gasping as it ramped up in strength, far quicker than you could handle. You were on the edge in mere moments. Then ripped away from your orgasm as it shut off again. You cried in frustration, resting your head against the divide.

“That’s not my fucking name.” 

You paled as you realised you had misspoken. Quickly spitting out. “Father! I’m sorry! Please forgive me…” 

The low growl in his voice when he replied sent jolts of pleasure straight through you. 

“On your knees.” What else could you do but obey. Adjusting your position and kneeling at the edge of the confessional. Keeping your head down as the curtain was pulled back. You kept your eyes on his shoes. Hoping if you were good and submissive enough he would forget your misstep and allow you to finish. His sudden harsh grip on your hair was a sign that that was unlikely. 

He forced your gaze up so you could meet his eye. Lord he was stunning. Slicked hair a little messed up. He had probably been running his hand through it as he jerked off. Shirt untucked and dark pants undone. He looked good dressed as a priest. With another painful tug of your hair he pulled you close so the tip of his cock pressed against your lips. You didn’t even try to fight it. Wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking slow, teasing him. You knew you were pushing your luck, but when he smirked you practically melted. 

“Bad girl… You’re beyond saving.” You weren’t expecting him to thrust so suddenly. Hitting the back of your throat before you could adjust and making you gag. Eyes watering. You had put mascara on just for him. Knowing he loved watching it run down your cheeks when he made you cry. He groaned happily as he watched you choke on his cock. Slowly rocking his hips into your mouth to nudge the back of your throat again and again. You brought your hands up to press against his thighs, trying to push back so you could get a breath, but before you could even attempt it you saw his hand shift and the toy buzzed to life once again. Pressing against your clit just right in this position. 

You moaned in unison. Echoing around the large church. You could feel each level of the vibrator as he turned it up to the max. Making you shake and cry around his length. Just as your vision was turning spotty he shoved you back. You sucked in a desperate breath, too lost in pleasure to even register the edge of the seat hitting your back painfully. It would surely bruise something awful tomorrow. Though nothing you weren’t used to, living with Bo. 

“Turn around.” He grunted. No fanfare now. He was just as close as you were. 

It was a struggle to collect your thoughts, but you managed to shift your position once again, turning so your forearms rested against the seat before you. You felt him hike up your dress and the tip of his cock press against your entrance through your panties. He tugged them down fast, and you whimpered as the vibrator was ripped away from you once again. Quickly replaced by his length entering you in one full thrust. You both paused as you moaned. You were so slick and needy the stretch barely hurt. Just a very pleasurable full feeling. 

Bo started to move.

His large hand pressed down beneath your shoulder blades, pushing you down against the seat and making your back arch in just the way he liked it. He let out a breathless chuckle as he thrust back deep inside you. You missed the relentless stimulation on your clit, but you didn’t dare touch yourself, Bo was clearly already in a bit of a mood. Any excuse to be meaner to you should be greatly avoided. 

One particularly hard thrust pitched you forward and you moaned his name loudly. He grunted behind you as he felt you clench down.

“No amount of ‘hail Mary’s could fix a slut like you.” 

You jolted when you felt the little buzzing machine pressed against you once again. Held close by his fingers. Shaking beneath him and arching further as your orgasm rushed you faster than you could control it. “Father! Please fuck… I’m gonna-” You shuddered, unable to even make a noise as the strongest orgasm you had ever had hit you like a damn train. Sending your poor empty brain spinning away from reality. The pleasure continued to reach higher peaks until it was almost painful for you. And then it was painful. The unending buzz and his rough thrusts making you fully sob. 

“Bo- too much…” You could barely form the thoughts to get the words out. But he seemed to ignore them. Only laughing and continuing. If he removed the vibrator maybe you could handle it. But he continued to press it harder against you until you were properly crying. Dark tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Come on, baby. A good whore would take it.” He sounded much more strained. Holding himself back just to torture you more. Your limbs felt like rubber. Your brain total mush at this point. Finally, finally he came. Thrusts faltering as he pressed deep inside you. You couldn’t even enjoy the feeling of his warm cum filling you. Too busy shaking and sobbing as your clit ached. 

Bo was still for a beat, panting heavily before pulling out. He tugged your panties back up so the vibrator would stay in place once again, and so that his cum spilling out of you wouldn’t make a mess in his precious church. He patted ass gently, then gave a painful slap to your pussy as he stood. 

“See you back at the house.” 

Then he left. The fucker actually left. Leaving you writhing helplessly on the floor of the confessional as the vibrator drew a second finish out of you. You tried to call out after him, but it only came out as pitiful sobs and moans. Every time you tried to get at the vibrator, the jolts of pleasure would make your hands shake far too much to be useful. 

How much battery did this thing have again?

[strawberrystepmom]

Ah. Weeks and days and weeks. Thankfully I AM way better now; I’m pretty sure what I had is called strep in English? I may be wrong. Free of that, but now my stomach aches; frankly it’s a miracle I, alive with how many issues my body seems to have with being well! Nothing I can’t handle 💪🏽

As I’ve mentioned, it makes me so so very happy that you enjoy the art I make for you (here’s a little teaser of what I’ve been working on today- the midway is always ghastly to look at! Hahaah!) because you are beautiful, and wonderful, an deserve to be worshipped through art in my humble little opinion.

Funnily I never have favorite baking recipes because I NEVER manage to bake things right. Took me three or four separate occasions to get cookies right. The only things I’m good at baking is cakes and flan. Humbly, I believe I make the best flan in the whole world.

Whatever skills I have at cooking delicious meals were given to me in exchange of being a terrible baker, it seems. Dishonour.

I hope YOUR week is going fantastic! I saw your plans for Halloween and I hope you have so much fun! Here I am trying too hard to DIY mouth dye, since nowhere in this godforsaken country seems to sell some. I wish we had Spirit Halloween 😣 a tip for safely cutting the lil faces on your bell pepper is to trace out the shape with toothpicks, poking the holes to loosen up the area. That way you can just finish carving it out with a non-sharp knife.

Alongside the questionable WIP screenshot I’m adding the picture of some tights that’s immediately made me think of you, I think you’d look divine in them.

-Your consistent ✉️

So glad to hear you’re feeling better!!!! Strep is a nightmare, that’s what I was sick with a few weeks ago too! It lasted forever and I felt like crap even after it wasn’t infectious so I’m double glad you’re doing better now!!! And noooo stomach aches. I think they should be banned personally.

Wahhhh :(((( stop im just some woman but it makes me feel very special that you think so highly. thank you for always being so complimentary and nice, maybe eventually I’ll react like a normal person. for now I’ll react like the boo’s from Mario when someone looks at them LMAO

it’s so funny bc I’m not shy I just can’t take compliments ugfkkfkdkdkd it’s okay I have plenty of time to learn

omggggg flannnnnnn that sounds so good rn. tell me more! do you use a special recipe? family recipe maybe? is it your favorite dessert? tbh I don’t like baking so I have very few dessert recipes myself but I love to cook and cook pretty capably

gorgeous tights, I’m putting them into the google so I can find em as we speak. Also mdmdjdjdjdjdjd that’s MY eye???? Wahhhhhh

Have a great evening/night and happy soon to be Halloween here!!!!!!

[bobemajses]

I am half Sephardic & my ancestors came from the Balkan peninsula (not exactly Eastern Europe but South Eastern Europe), from Podgorica and Istanbul! I currently live in Istanbul.

I would like to say some things about the city that I live in. Here we had a large community of Jewish people. Mainly located in the European part of the city. But my family had been living in Yel Degirmeni (Anatolian side) – which is also a neighbourhood with great amount of Jewish population.

Nowadays the Jewish community have left the region although there's still a significant population in Turkey unlike other Balkan countries, most of them have migrated to Israel, USA, Spain etc.

If anyone would be interested, there's a book called Anyos munchos i buenos by Laurence Salzmann (Good Year And Many More, Turkey's Sephardim 1492-1992).

Very nice! The Jewish community of Istanbul and Turkey has such an interesting history and was earlier so diverse, being comprised of Sephardim, Ashkenazim, Romaniotes, Karaites and Georgian Jews (now Sephardim constitute 95%). In 1992 the community celebrated the 500th anniversary of its official existence in Turkey since the Spring of 1492, when a big wave of expelled Spanish Jews came to Istanbul under the reign of the sultan Beyazid II.

But Turkish Jewish history is actually much older than that. Early (Romaniote) Jewish settlements in Anatolia are mentioned by the historian Josephus Flavius (37-100) when he relates that Aristotle “met Jewish people with whom he had an exchange of views during his trip across Asia Minor.” Ancient synagogue ruins have been found in Sardis, near Izmir, dating from 220 B.C.E. The Rabbi Yitzchok Zarfati wrote in the Middle Ages a famous letter to his fellow Jews, saying, “I assure you, Turkey is a country of abundance where, if you wish, you will find rest.” Thus, a wave of Jews from Hungary came in 1360 and from France in 1394, as well as Jews from Bavaria, Georgia, Portugal, Sicily, Crimea and Salonika. In 1477, Jewish households in Istanbul numbered 1,647, or 11% of the total. Half a century later, that number had quadrupled. Most of the Sultan’s court physicians were Jews, including Hakim Yakoub, Joseph and Moshe Hamon, Daniel Fonseca, and Gabriel Buenauentura.

The Great Ashkenazi Synagogue is one Istanbul’s most famous Jewish landmarks. This synagogue which was built with the support of financial contributions made by Austro-Hungarian Jews was opened in a grand ceremony in the year 1900. The opening ceremony was marked by the attendance and  remarks of the ambassador of Austria-Hungary to the Ottoman Empire, representing the importance and significance of this synagogue for the upper echelons of Ashkenazi society in Istanbul at the time. Today, it remains resolute, standing proudly on Yüksekkaldırım street, seen and pictured on a daily basis by locals and tourists alike.

During World War II, Turkey under Ataturk was a safe passage for many Jews fleeing the Nazis. Several Turkish diplomats persevered in their efforts to save the Turkish Jews from the Holocaust and succeeded.

The present size of the Jewish community is estimated at 14,500. Since the 1980s and especially under Recep Tayyip Erdogan, Turkish Jews have been the victims of violent antisemitism on multiple occasions. Turkey, a country that once welcomed Jews worldwide, is losing its Jews to emigration and assimilation. In an ironic twist, there are many Turkish Jews that emigrate to the relative safety of Spain and Portugal, reversing the historical path taken centuries earlier.

And here are some pictures from the book you mentioned:

They are so incredibly beautiful, I will make a separate post about them (Tumblr only lets me add 10 pictures to a post ;()

[le-trash-prince]

OF Episode 8 Thoughts

I’m sorry but I cannot deal with Ray. I cannot. I CAN’T DEAL WITH HIM. I could complain about every single thing Ray did this episode but that would take a whole post and it would mostly be me just repeating myself.

Love seeing sad heartbroken Boston drinking alone at the bar while looking at the one picture he and Nick had together. 💖

Boston x Atom is the hookup I would not have predicted a day ago and yet here we are. I support you chasing tail, Atom, but also I wish you knew what you were getting into doing that right in front of Nick’s face and I hope you don’t get murdered.

Also it was HILARIOUS watching Nick try to have a normal conversation with Boston as if he didn’t grossly violate Boston’s privacy on multiple occasions. I love that little guy.

I’m so glad Sand went to the party to be a wingman to his roommate’s stalker situation instead of just “I think I would have a good time at this party” that everyone was afraid about from last week’s preview

I ship Sand x Sand’s Freddie Mercury bi soulmate more than SandRay at this point tho. Like they could have had something but RAY. And you know when the guy is immediately like “I’m not getting involved in this,” that he would have been solid. He would not have messed around. TALK ABOUT A MISSED OPPORTUNITY

I feel bad that Sand keeps trying to set boundaries and create distance between him and Ray and Ray keeps stomping all over those boundaries. Like Sand is trying, I can see that he’s trying, but it’s not enough. I may rant more about this later.

I really liked the scene of Mew at the bookshop, and I liked how his shirt felt like inverse colors of what he’d worn at the shop with Top. I may make a separate post for this if someone else hasn’t already done it.

It hurts seeing Mew revenge era turn into Mew self destruction era, but I guess that’s where revenge gets you 😔

Mew kissing Ray right in front of Top’s sad wet face was nasty as hell (positive)

Top “I don’t care if Mew ends up with me as long as he’s happy” he’s really switched places with Ray at this point

Top showed his simp side big time this episode. I feel his pain tho watching Mew go down this road 😔 But if I were Mew I’d be pissed off if I woke up to find my pants off and my ex cuddling me, and that single action may undo everything Top did to take care of Mew lmfao

I really enjoyed seeing Cheum snap, and I am SO interested in what she said about her and Boston being third wheels to Ray and Mew. We’ve seen them being less than mediocre friends to Ray, and the easy assumption there is that they’re tired of being babysitters. But has Ray’s crush on Mew been the only reason he’s hung around the group for all these years? Have Boston and Cheum spent years feeling like they didn’t really matter to him? I love this thread and I hope we get more of it.

I also really feel for Cheum being upset about her friend group falling to pieces. Like yes, it’s a shitty and imperfect group, but sometimes that’s all you have, and losing it can suck.

On the ep 9 Preview:

I haven’t had a chance to go through the tags yet but I hope other ppl caught on coz WHAT IF DADDY DAN IS THE DADDY IN BOSTON’S PHONE????

This is me asking for a BostonNickDan threesome please just SOMEONE have a threesome

[oflofticries]

( martin sensmeier , cis man , he/him ) — one day the sea will sing of KOVA WILDER, the thirty-six year old farmer from the town of cynefin. there will be verses about sarcastic quips made in a low tone, barely noticeable; dodging conversations one does not wish to have in the moment; nights spent gasping awake and mornings revealing your weary, shadowed eyes; missing those you should not be wanting or needing; hands stained and fingernails packed with the dirt of the earth, the same dirt you were raised upon  in the hums of their hymn, about a person who is trained in the magic of khemia. the land will know them as someone hard-working and steadfast, but perhaps, you’ll hear the old crones hiss that they are cynical and aloof. only the shadows of the ocean floor will bear witness to the truth. ╱ eliza, 33, she/her, cst.

i. basics FULL NAME: kova kaskae wilder. NICKNAMES: ko. AGE / D.O.B.: thirty-six / august 29th. GENDER / PRONOUNS: cis man / he & him. ORIENTATIONS: bisexual biromantic. MARITAL STATUS: separated. OCCUPATION: farmer. HOMETOWN: cynefin, clwyd-isle. RESIDENCE: the farm that has belonged to his father's side of the family for precisely five generations.

ii. physical EYE COLOR: brown. HAIR COLOR: black. HEIGHT: 6 ft even. DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: cropped hair, occasionally rocks a five o' clock shadow or a fuller beard depending on how he's feeling. strong jawline, sturdily built figure, eyes that cut at you in annoyance if you're being an asshole. you don't want to be on that side of this expression, trust me. FASHION STYLE: farmer chic. a lot of the clothing you would expect to see a working man don. white cotton shirts and simple pairs of slacks paired with boots, and the occasional pair of overalls if he's feeling particularly daring. kova has exactly one (1) nice outfit that he saves for special occasions but there haven't particularly been any as of late.

iii. psychological POSITIVE TRAITS: disciplined, resourceful, observant, decisive, appreciative. NEGATIVE TRAITS: impatient, reserved, quiet, sarcastic, hard-headed. ZODIAC: virgo. MBTI TYPE: istj. TEMPERAMENT: melancholic. EDUCATION: he studied at verum for a time before ultimately returning back to the family and his farm. SKILLS: planting, harvesting, wrangling animals - abilities you would find a farmer with. however, he's adept with his khemia, despite not receiving the full education from verum. besides that, he's good with sewing, enjoys horseback riding and fishing. he plays the violin shockingly well for a farm boy, probably thanks to his mother's attempts at bringing her socialite ways to the town. MAGIC: decomposition khemia.

iv. familial MOTHER: ahnah wilder (deceased.) FATHER: albert wilder (deceased.) SIBLINGS: none. CHILDREN: yura wilder, daughter. SIGNIFICANT OTHER: catherine wilder, wife (separated - he has no idea of her current location.)

v. summary tw: cheating, death a man who never feels as much as home as he does in the fields of the farm where he was born and raised, despite it having an array of difficult memories. he was never close with either one of his parents, more so the animals he took care of and the crops he tended to. they were older, weary, not in a place of having a child. but there he was, anyway. the wilder name became well known in the town for a number of reasons, not all of them good - particularly when his mother was caught with another man. and then another. and then a third. the blowups in the wilder family home weren't as intense as they should have been. instead, it seemed that kova was the only one truly upset about the happenings, while his father remained silent on the matter. his khemia sparked and it offered him a chance to study, get away from the pain of his dysfunctional family. of course, verum wasn't exactly what he pictured and he didn't enjoy it as much as he desperately wanted to. in the end, he went back home after only three years of study despite the potential to leave everything he knew for good. the reason? his mother falling ill, needing a caretaker while his father worked the fields, or vice versa. they shared the duties up until her death. he never did ask his father why he put up with the cheating and the lies. no, kova would learn for himself after he settled down with a lady, got hitched and brought her to the place he was so very proud of, that he fixed up himself over the years when his father became too old to do much. of course, it wouldn't happen until they had another person in the mix, a little girl with big, bright eyes and dark, shiny hair. his heart hurt for her more than his own when catherine became fed up with the life and the struggling, first dumping the truth on him of her affair and then leaving for parts unknown. like father, like son. isn't that the way it goes? vi. headcanons i. he doesn't believe he's a good father or can give his daughter really anything that she needs, mostly because he has no idea how to raise a little girl on his own. ii. he finds it hard to really get close to anyone, mostly because of the rumors that went around town and the whispers that followed thanks to his mother's actions. kova himself wasn't exactly talkative before this, taking after his father mostly, with a fairly large portion of his mother's... sass coming out in his own sarcasm. iii. he's fallen in love exactly once and it was not with his wife, though he hoped their union would bring some sort of deeper love between them instead of just filling the loneliness the both of them had without each other. they cared for each other, trusted each other. but it wasn't the once in a lifetime love that he'd overheard women talk about. funny that she'd end up leaving him, right? iv. he loves his khemia. absolutely adores it. part of him hopes that his daughter's magic will spark up, though he's scared for when it does because it means she'll leave him, though she won't be going very far at least. v. once he makes a decision, it's nearly impossible to change his mind. others have tried and failed. good luck if you wish to change that streak. vii. wanted connections family members of his wife who either hate him or know he's doing his Best - or extended connections of his own family / verum folks who studied when he did that he keeps in loose contact with / people he's known his whole life in cynefin, even if they aren't friends / folks who work on the farm when he needs the extra hands / anything!!!

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

I also saw you being shamed for posting about who some of Evan’s fans are because “it invades his and their privacy.” Literally all those people except for Brian and Jesse are in the public eye. Jesse you could argue he is because he is a musician and went on tour recently. It’s not a secret who Evan’s friends are like there’s many pictures of him with them, he’s tagged them in his own Instagram posts when he had it and they’ve tagged and posted him. Brian has had his Instagram private for years but some fans follow him and Jesse will go public for some time and then go private a lot it’s not a new thing. And some fans follow him too. Like I just don’t understand it’s not a secret and it’s not invasive to talk about who his friends are. And also their social media was never even shared like she said it was.

you are correct, none of it is private in the sense that people know who these folks are because they are friend's of evan who have openly shared posts tagging him on social media, back when he had accounts lol i have photos with brian ogle that i only found because their friend group posted and tagged him and evan. they weren't like, some mysterious people who we magically figured out were friends with evan. he has tons of friends we don't know because they did the opposite and never publicly tied themselves to evan.

none of these friendships are brand new information and none of them were broken to the public on my blog, or any tumblr blog to my knowledge.

she can talk all day about invasions of privacy and what evan would want/wouldn't want, blah blah blah... but ultimately, she ran a hate blog and discord that served no purpose outside of scornfully indexing and critiquing the every move of his girlfriend of 2 years, while they were together. you would be absolutely out of your mind if you were to think he would not have disdain for her due to that. so i cannot take her seriously when she acts holier than thou about respecting evan's wishes.

even when it comes to posting other private content, the source of the problem she is identifying is her. she did not find the airbnb, or the amazon profile, or anything else, really. she was in a separate discord server with a group of girls even more mentally unstable than she is, and she took their finds and spread them amongst her friend group on her server and expected them to keep it within that circle. not out of respect, but because she liked holding things over peoples' heads and bragging about what she had that others didn't. if she really cared, she would not have done that because an invasion of privacy is an invasion of privacy, regardless. if she had an actual moral qualm then she would have simply left the other discord server when she realized they were all stalking evan and also had really weird delusional beliefs about him and his relationships. but she will never address that situation honestly because if she did, it would open an absolutely insane can of worms and a rabbit hole that few would believe, including me, except i have now spoken to numerous women who separately and on different occasions told me the same wackadoodle, fever dream shit.

[haggishlyhagging]

I have no desire, and never have had, to fight against the specific doctrines of Mormonism, and I realize that patriarchy is fundamental to the social structure of the entire world, of every major church and government. I am as content to allow Mormons to believe what they wish as I am to allow Buddhists, Catholics, and Moslems such freedom. I was, and am, in political opposition only, and if the politics impinge upon the church's belief structure, that is not my doing. The leaders who have chosen to lead the church deeply into politics and in so doing have melded church and state—they are answerable for that.

Another ironic twist is that I was totally wrong when I avowed that the church belongs to the members as much as to the leaders. This simply is not true. But I can't express how thoroughly I once believed it was, which is one of the reasons I fought so long and hard against my excommunication. Didn't my love and service count for anything? I couldn't bear that it didn't. It seemed to negate my whole life—that I had, with my entire heart, loved and served seemed written off as if it meant nothing, had never been. I felt as if, in separating me from my history, the men of the church were destroying part of me.

But I learned the bitter lesson that, despite having given thousands of dollars and hours to its maintenance, any member can be ousted from the church at any time for any reason. The church belongs to its hierarchy, which is men in power. Those outside the hierarchy, and especially women, are at best only renters and at worst squatters in religious territory.

This truth is graphically expressed on occasion, as when one looks at a picture of the leaders of the church and sees row upon row of exclusively male faces. This is true on a local level, too. A year or so ago, the leaders in my ward decided it was time to build the long-awaited addition to our meetinghouse and invited the press to the groundbreaking. I was shamed by the picture that appeared in the paper, showing five or six men goofing around with a shovel. A reporter friend of mine, seeing the picture, called me and asked, "Aren't there any women in your church?" "Not that matter a lot," I answered. The picture told the whole story. Though half—or more—of the church population is female, the church belongs to the men; women are there only on sufferance. If we will be supportive and quiet and work hard and obey and never rock the boat, we can attend the meetings of the Old Boys' Club. But we can never belong.

By August 1978 when I testified before the subcommittee, the church had only succeeded in making me a feminist. And although the pain of being a woman in a church which was fighting women's rights was deepening every day, threatening to invade my whole life, I still thought I could be a good Mormon and a good feminist at the same time. It took many months, many instances of church leaders behaving in unethical ways, repeated beatings of my unbelieving head against the solid rock of chauvinism, and an excommunication, to teach me the impossibility of that combination. I learned that either one is true to oneself as a woman and to other women out of the direct experience of being female, or one is loyal to patriarchy's idea of what a woman is, which comes out of men's direct experience of being male and benefiting from the devotion and unpaid labor of women.

But women cannot serve two masters at once who are urgently beaming antithetical orders, though I know many who are trying to do just that—compromising, adjusting, rationalizing, excusing, apologizing for the men and for men's system. I understand perfectly why they do this, having done it myself for years. But it is psychologically unhealthful and in the long run spiritually disastrous for both sexes. Either we believe in patriarchy—the rule of men over women—or we believe in equality. We cannot believe in both at once. Neither can we with impunity choose not to choose which one we believe in. To remain in indecision, and perhaps thus to have our cake and eat it too, erodes great chunks of our identity, along with great chunks of our integrity.

I know whereof I speak. For the seventeen years preceding my feminist awakening in 1978, during which I was consciously and otherwise excusing the inequities of patriarchy, I was living a sort of half life, in half light, a grayish, half-awake limbo of neither clouds nor sunlight, a gray, same numbness. Because I was not allowing myself to feel the pain of oppression, and was in fact actively denying it, I was unable to feel emotions on the other side of the continuum either. When I cut off the pain, I cut off the joy. As Mormons know, there must be opposition in all things.

-Sonia Johnson, From Housewife to Heretic

[archesa]

I want to ask you a lot, but it's hard for me to come up with questions, so I took ready-made ones. question about Anwen Evergreen and Trahearne

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

Ohhh interesting question!

If they had never met...

Anwen would have kept working at the Priory because this life suited her well – knowledge to seek and adventures to live. She would probably have embraced her passion for botany then, and eventually come to wonder if life could grow back where death had reigned supreme for so long, so her eyes would have turned to Orr sooner or later... 🌱(their meeting was fated, no matter what 😅)

(thousands of kudos to @el-is-away for this beautiful piece!!)

Trahearne would have stayed as he was before the founding of the Pact, a brilliant mind, but ever doubting himself and frozen by fear of failing his wyld hunt and guilt for delaying it so long.

They would have grown on their own terms on their separate paths but they really are catalysts in each other's life, so it's hard to fathom how far they would have gone without one another. Perhaps Trahearne would have eventually attempted to cleabse Orr but without the Pact efforts to weaken Zhaïtan, he would not have been able to reach the Source, and would have exhausted himself on ephemeral purification, his will alone would not have sufficed against the Dragon. And Anwen would never have known the strength that is hers, the willpower and stellar inspiration she can shine on others if not for Trahearne's trust and grounding presence. She's the sun that shines on him and he's the earth she takes root in.

As for their family, there is much to say!!

Anwen has been oblivious for long to her own feelings... her brother and her parents were not.

When a few weeks after nearly losing her life on Claw Island and retaking the fort with the combined aid of the three Orders in what was to become the most powerful army of Tyria, all she seemed to have on her mind and want to talk about was a certain sylvari firstborn, a scholar kind as sunset and twice as bright, it did not take a bright mind long for them to realise her heart was spoken for.

(Pictured above: Faren realising his sister is in love for the first time ever... and she doesn't even know it.)

Her brother showed an unfathomable amount of restraint not to tease her on how visibly and irremediably smitten she was, but he took great delight in seeing his sister's slow but certain fall for the Pact Marshal. (He found an unexpected but perfect gossip partner in Meryw, who is almost as oblivious as Anwen on the matter of the heart, but had a lot of fun watching her eldest brother and her battle sister dance around each other 😆)

Anwen's parents wished only the best for their daughter and they devised a few occasions over the years to meet the Marshal – formal and informal invitations to balls and private parties and dinners – but the affairs of the Pact kept him in Fort Trinity and mundane events were the furthest from his current (and ever) priorities so he always politely declined.

Trahearne was actually quite anxious to meet them after Maguuma (especially as he and Anwen already lived together) – he felt broken and guilty for the devastation of the Pact and the wound he had inflicted on Anwen – but the Faren were more than willing to give them some privacy and just delighted to finally meet him when he felt ready.

As for Trahearne's side of the family, the Pale Tree approved of Anwen as Trahearne's friend and companion. Them becoming lovers was not much of a shock, and she took solace in knowing her first son had found happiness and support with Anwen.

It took a lot of courage for Trahearne to dare return to the Grove after Maguuma. He felt unwanted there long before he became Mordremoth's Champion. He managed to overcome his kin's scorn and slander to visit his Mother a few times (to accompany Anwen restore Caladbolg, and years later to ask the Pale Mother's blessing, to marry Anwen).

Caithe was dealing with her own heartbreak and the aftermath of Mordremoth's death but she was relieved that Anwen's love for her brother had saved him and would help him heal. She wished them both happiness and peace.

[rainbowsalt0412]

Osamu Dazai’s Entrance Exam - Chapter 2

11th

Returning home late, I face my inkstone in silence.

Though this is a day I will never forget, I will not inscribe it in my notebook.

No matter how difficult the trial, no matter how great my disgrace, I must laugh. But for now, there is only silence.

I read the paper at my desk at the office. The news has been chaotic all morning. Sensational reports flood the television and Internet.

MISSING YOKOHAMA VISITORS FOUND DEAD

DID A PRIVATE DETECTIVE AGENCY’S MEDDLING LEAD TO THE VICTIMS’ DEATHS?

And then there are the images—the white gas, the suffering victims, and me, grabbing on to the cage. It’s only a matter of time before the pictures make the front page of the newspaper. The agency’s phone has been ringing off the hook all morning with no end in sight. So far, they’ve all been complaints, but it won’t be long before the victims’ families begin to call us to threaten legal action. To make matters worse, we still have no leads as to where the remaining seven missing persons are.

Who took the pictures the moment the victims were killed, and why make them public?

The phone on my desk gives a teeth-grinding trill. I reach for the receiver, but Dazai promptly snatches it up and puts it back in its cradle. The ringing stops.

“Looks like this is exactly what the enemy wanted, huh?” Dazai says cheerfully. He’s carrying a photo in his hand. “If it’s any consolation, this is a really good picture of you.”

I silently try to take it from him, but he nimbly lifts his arm into the air before I can.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? You look awful.” 

“…No. There’s work to be done.”

“Wow. You’re not gonna take a day off even after all this? You know, someone threw a rock at me on two separate occasions while I was trying to come into the office today.”

I look outside. A few protesters have been standing in front of the agency, causing a ruckus since morning. There will undoubtedly be even more tomorrow.

“‘Take a day off’? Have you lost your mind? We have a mission of utmost priority: Find the criminal behind this.”

“Well… Yeah. You’re right,” Dazai agrees with a blank look on his face. “Where’s Miss Sasaki?”

“She’s in the infirmary getting examined by Dr. Yosano. Sounds like she’s gonna be okay.”

“Let’s pay her a little visit.”

I get out of my chair. Miss Sasaki is the only known victim to have had contact with the murderer and lived to tell the tale. We can probably figure out who the perpetrator is if we can learn how they’re kidnapping everyone.

I casually look down at the picture before following Dazai into the infirmary. You can clearly see my face in the pictures along with Miss Sasaki’s and the victims’, but the most of Dazai you can see is the tail of his overcoat. How was he able to avoid the secret photos?

***

“I’m sorry… I really wish I could help you, but…” Miss Sasaki helplessly gazes at the floor.

“I’ve always been prone to illness, and I’m anemic, which causes me to faint every now and then. I was feeling especially ill the day I was abducted… I passed out at the train station, probably from the anemia.”

In that case, I guess she wouldn’t have any idea how she was abducted.

However…

“Then that would mean someone abducted you in the midst of the confusion after you passed out.”

Kidnapping someone in the middle of a place as crowded as Yokohama Station would be impossible. Carrying an unconscious woman would draw even more attention. Either there are multiple kidnappers or someone’s using a very clever trick…

“Let me just say…thank you so much for saving me yesterday. I… I don’t have any friends or family to turn to, so…”

Miss Sasaki hangs her head low in silence. She doesn’t say another word after that. With her naturally delicate features coupled together with the porcelain skin, she reminds me of a marionette doll whose strings have been cut. Actually, her own experience isn’t too much different. As if her thread of life had been cut, she was almost killed by an unidentified serial killer for who knows why, and her life could still very well be in danger.

“You even allowed me to stay at your home last night…”

……Hmm?

“Hold on. Where did you stay last night?” 

“My place,” Dazai nonchalantly replies.

…………

…………

Are things like this the norm nowadays?

“Thank you so much, Mr. Dazai. You… You were very…kind to me last night…”

Miss Sasaki flushes bashfully for some reason.

“What’s wrong, Kunikida? You’ve got a really weird look on your face.” 

“Dazai… Don’t you think that’s taking things a little too fast?”

“I… I was the one who asked him to let me stay over. I basically forced him.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I simply did what any gentleman would. Besides, I’m used to getting asked for things from people I’ve just met,” he replies with a smile.

…………

I have no interest in frivolous love affairs. Two people must have mutual respect for each other when building a relationship. If you ask me, an unplanned single night of fleeting passion is unforgivable and shameless. So—therefore—for this reason alone, it doesn’t matter how popular a fool like Dazai may be, because I am not the least bit jealous or frustrated.

Not the least bit jealous!

***

“What a beautiful, misfortunate woman,” Dazai says with a smirk. We’ve returned to the office to prepare for our next investigation.

“So that’s your type?”

“I like all types of women. They’re the bearers of all human life, a source of mystery. But I do like the fact that Miss Sasaki would probably kill herself with me if I asked.”

“Go marry a cicada or something, then.”

Relations between the sexes must be pure and strong. The only feminine company I intend to keep will be with my ideal spouse, where we complement and lift each other up, and I will be with her until the day I draw my last breath. That is my ideal. It’s also written in my notebook. “What about you, Kunikida? What do you think of Miss Sasaki?” 

“She’s a victim and a witness to the case. That’s all.”

“I’m asking only because I can’t even begin to imagine, but…what’s your ideal woman like?”

“You’re free to read about it.”

I open my notebook to the page titled ‘Spouse’ and show him. All my future plans are written here.

“What is this, an encyclopedia?!”

His expression slowly hardens as he skims over the page. “…Whoa. Oh no, no, no… This is just… Wow. I’m…” 

“The hell kind of reaction is that? Is it weird?”

“No, not at all. I think all guys can relate to the ideals…of each section.” 

“Right? What’s wrong with having standards?”

“Exactly. I agree with you one hundred percent, Kunikida. A word of advice, though: Never show this to a woman. It’d really turn them off. I mean, even I’m struggling to keep myself from yelling ‘A girl like this doesn’t exist!’”

Is it really that far-fetched?

“Okay, I get it. Now let’s get to work and find that kidnapper. By the way, have you found out anything else?”

“There’s one thing I noticed.” 

“What’s that?”

“If you truly wish to pursue your ideal woman, then we’re going to have to do something about those boring glasses first.”

Dazai swiftly swipes the glasses off my face, then puts them on. They look awful on him.

“Enough! Give those back!”

So long as my work isn’t hindered, then nothing else matters. Besides, simply wearing nice glasses isn’t going to magically improve my life. And Dazai looks even more comical with them on… Even more ridiculous than usual for some odd reason.

“……Glasses?”

Glasses. The photos of the victims. Their faces. The monitoring equipment. The hotel they stayed in—

“Something the matter, Kunikida?”

The missing people all left the hotel of their own accord, and they all stayed in Yokohama alone. So that means the security footage of everyone entering and leaving the hotel is…

“Come on, Dazai. We’re leaving.”

I snatch my glasses and put them back on.

“I figured out who the kidnapper is.”

***

The ocean breeze soars past the Port of Yokohama. Dazai and I stand on the levee at the mouth by the shore. I gaze into the sky. The sun is already high, peeking through the sea of clouds and shining onto us. I do not feel as fine as the weather, however. A familiar taxi stops before me.

“Detective Kunikida! Please get in.”

A familiar cabdriver waves me over, and we waste no time climbing in. “I apologize for the sudden call.”

“Oh, don’t be. I would go through fire and water for you and the agency, Detective! So are you in a hurry to get somewhere? Don’t you worry! The speed limit means nothing to me!”

“It should. Anyway, do you remember the missing-persons case we spoke of last evening? Well, I figured out who the kidnapper is.”

“What?! I saw the news about the abandoned hospital. I feel so sorry for those poor victims… So we’re going to arrest the kidnapper, yes? Roger that! We have to hurry, though, or he’ll get away. So where is this perpetrator?”

“Right here.” 

“Excuse me?”

“You’re the kidnapper, and inside this taxi is where the kidnappings have been taking place.”

“Uh… I don’t think I’m following you, Detective. What are you saying?” 

“I thought, ‘Who would be able to kidnap someone in this city without anyone noticing? Where in Yokohama would a victim be comfortable alone with a complete stranger?’ The answer is here. You used sleeping gas on the victims, then kidnapped them. While wearing a gas mask yourself, of course.”

“Wait… No, no, no. Hold on. I’m pretty sure the investigation indicated that the victims all left of their own accord, by themselves, and mysteriously disappeared. I heard there were no records of them ever getting into any vehicle or going inside any building. If all the victims got into this taxi, then wouldn’t there be a record of a phone call or of them hailing a cab?”

“Yes, there would be. And that’s why there is no doubt in my mind that every victim got into this taxi. Of course, the city police weren’t able to find any records no matter how hard they looked. Why? Because they were looking at the wrong date. The victims didn’t get in this taxi on the day they went missing.”

“What… What are you trying to say?”

“Okay, Kunikida, we’re not going to get anywhere trying to answer each and every one of his questions. Let me explain exactly what happened,” Dazai chimes in. “Driver, you were searching for certain customers during your daily work shift. The conditions for a target were simple: They had to be in Yokohama alone and heading to their hotel, they had to be wearing something that partially covered their face such as a hat, glasses, or sunglasses, and they had to be around the same height as you. You have a small frame, which is why women would be viable candidates as long as they met those few requirements. All of this would make it appear as if you had no relation to the victim, and you could disrupt the investigation.”

“I… I’m afraid I don’t follow. I—”

“Yes, yes. Let me finish first, okay? You’re a taxi driver who operates in the area. Those requirements may be strict, but you’d be able to find someone who matched them in two, three days tops. Then, when just the right person happened to show up, you used sleeping gas on them just like Kunikida mentioned. After that, you went to a secret hideout, held the victims prisoner there, and stole their clothes and belongings. That’s why the victims at the abandoned hospital were in their underwear. Now this is where you really begin to shine.” Dazai claps his hands giddily before continuing. “Next, you dressed in the victim’s clothing and disguised yourself as them. After that, it’s just as you told us last night. All you have to do is put on a little makeup, stuff your cheeks and clothing a bit, and you’re someone else. Of course, you must have religiously practiced and chosen only people you were confident you could pull off, though. Plus, you weren’t trying to deceive people, only video footage. You went to the hotel the victims planned to stay at and purposely made sure the security cameras saw you.”

I think back to the footage I viewed during the investigation. In hindsight, there was an unnaturally high rate of people with their face covered—six in glasses and two in sunglasses. The remaining three had either a hat or long hair, leaving only a portion of their face exposed to the security cameras. This was possible only because he selected victims wearing specific clothing that would be easy to emulate.

“The rest is simple. You leave the victims’ belongings in the hotel room and check out the next morning in broad daylight. By leaving a record of what appears to be the victim entering, checking in, and exiting the hotel, the police would stubbornly focus on investigating what happened to the victim after they left. Naturally, they didn’t find anything, though, since you undoubtedly know Yokohama inside and out. At the very least, you knew where you would be recorded and where you could escape to avoid any security cameras. That’s why the more we investigated, the more it appeared as if the victims intentionally spirited themselves away while making sure there would be no records of it.”

“This is absurd. This hypothetical, purely speculative situation you’re proposing is—is nothing without…without evidence. That’s right—you’ve got no evidence to support your claim.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. You would have been more than able to conduct Miss Sasaki’s kidnapping on your own as well,” I continue explaining from where Dazai left off. “Abducting Miss Sasaki after she passed out at the station must have been your easiest job yet. I’ll bet you felt like the luckiest man alive. People usually call an ambulance if they see somebody suddenly faint, but it takes time for the ambulances to arrive from the hospital. But there’s always a taxi waiting in front of the station for passengers, and luckily for Miss Sasaki, a Good Samaritan happened to be present to save her. This well-intentioned individual wanted to get her to the hospital as quickly as possible, so he decided to have a taxi take her. That’s when you took her away, bold as brass, except you didn’t take her to the hospital like you were supposed to.”

“I…”

The driver sounds as if he wants to say something, but he doesn’t speak another word. I can’t see his expression clearly from where we’re sitting, either. I shift my gaze to the interior of the car, where I find a few small white particles in one of the crevices. I pinch what I can with my fingertips.

“If you’re going to turn yourself in, you should probably do it quickly. It won’t be long until we have evidence. I’m sure you cleaned the inside of this car, but there’s still some residue from the gas. A lab analysis will confirm it in no time.”

“I… I have no idea where that came from. It must have been from one of my customers. That doesn’t count as evidence.”

The driver barely manages to stammer out the words. Nevertheless, he admitted his guilt the moment he started making excuses.

“Evidence isn’t even necessary to prove you’re the only one who could have done it.” I begin to lay out the basis of the argument. “The only way to use the trick Dazai mentioned would be to get the victims into a taxi, and you had two of the victims in your vehicle, which is no different from admitting you gave rides to the other nine.”

“That isn’t physical evidence, Detective Kunikida,” the driver plainly states while avoiding eye contact. “Everything you’ve presented has been circumstantial evidence. It’s not as if you found a weapon in my house or have video evidence of me committing a crime. Sure, you could file charges, but I wouldn’t be convicted.”

It’s my turn to fall silent. He’s right. We would need physical evidence to connect him to the victims: blood, fingerprints, video recordings, a confession with information only the criminal would know…

We don’t have the necessary hard evidence. In fact, our case could be dismissed due to a lack of probable cause as things stand now. From the way the driver’s talking, it sounds like he made sure to dispose of all the physical evidence. He’s cleverer than I thought. What’s my next move?

But what he says next completely disproves my assumptions.

“Detective Kunikida… Let’s make a deal. If you accept my conditions, I will turn myself in.”

“What?”

“I would like the Armed Detective Agency to protect me and guarantee my safety in return for my confession. I request only seventy-two hours of your time until I receive witness protection following the prosecutorial investigation.”

“A witness protection deal? What are you talking about?”

“There’s no time… I’m going to be killed. They’re going to kill me.”

“Wait. I’m not following. Tell me step-by-step what’s going on. Who’s going to kill you? And for what?!”

“I wish I never did business with that lot… I should have never tried to get into the organ-trafficking business alone! And now I’ve made them angry! This is bad… This is really bad. I can’t get in touch with any of the buyers, either. They’ve cut me loose! But why? They were never supposed to find out… But they’re already onto me. And they’re getting closer…”

“I see. So that’s what’s going on here.” Dazai places a hand on his chin and nods.

“Dazai, what’s going on?! What is he rambling about?!”

“It’s exactly how it sounds. He was selling the victims to an organ- trafficking syndicate, but the month’s supply rose too high relative to demand. Naturally, this led to a drop in prices, throwing the market into confusion. Imagine a private one-man business suddenly entering a supply market more or less controlled by a large corporation. How would the large corporation feel?”

“They would get mad, I guess?”

“It would be healthy competition if these were normal, legal companies. But these organ-trafficking businesses are run by underground groups who profit off blood and violence. Causing trouble on their turf would only anger—”

The next moment, the car is suddenly hit, then hit again so hard its wheels leave the ground. A high-pitched echo follows. The taxi’s right side lifts into the air as the windows shatter along with the sound of gunshots.

“We’re under fire! Get down!” I yell out.

The car rocks back and forth as if being pummeled with a hammer, and shards of glass rain down inside.

“It’s them! H-help, help me… I don’t wanna die!” 

“Hey! Wait!”

The driver opens the car door before bolting in the opposite direction of the gunfire.

“Kunikida, we have to catch him before the enemy does, or we’ll never know what really happened! We can’t let him escape or turn up dead in a grove somewhere!” Dazai shouts, keeping his head down. That’s easier said than done, though! “Okay, I’ll go after the driver! You distract the enemies!” 

“Dazai, wait! It’s too dangerous to go alone!”

Dazai darts out of the car without even listening to my warning. I can’t allow a rookie to go off on his own during his first shoot-out. We don’t have any other options, though. I curse to myself while getting a look at the enemy. Three men stand dressed in black suits and black sunglasses, equipped with submachine guns smuggled in from abroad via the black market. Judging from their attire, their skills, and their ruthless willingness to suddenly turn the place into a war zone, it’s clear who they are…

“Damn it! This couldn’t be any worse… It’s the Port Mafia!”

The Port Mafia is an underground organization that uses the Port of Yokohama as their base of operations. They’re the cruelest, most coldhearted criminal syndicate in the city, willing to follow any orders from their boss and crush all who oppose them. The three men here are from that organization. The longer this goes on, the more they have the advantage.

“The Matchless Poet: Stun Grenade!”

I record the word in my notebook before tearing it out. The sheet of paper twists into a grenade the size of my fist. Aiming at the group, I hurl the grenade out the broken window. Stun grenades are nonlethal sonic weapons used to temporarily disorient an enemy’s senses. It blows up right in front of them, emitting a light so bright and creating an explosion so thunderous that it could give a sick man a heart attack. They fall to their knees while covering their temples, perhaps completely taken by surprise at being countered with a flashbang. I use this momentary distraction to leap out of the taxi and charge the enemies. I elbow the man closest to me in the neck, knocking him to the ground. I keep my elbow out and charge the next criminal, following up with a high kick to the face. The last armed man tries to hit me with his gun, but I swerve to the side, evading the strike. As he staggers off-balance, I grab his wrist and twist while pulling inside. Then I throw him into the air with a four- corner throw. The Mafia member goes flying and lands cranium first, immediately losing consciousness.

“Good grief.”

After making sure they’re all out, I walk back to the taxi.

I really hope Dazai’s all right…

Just then, I suddenly sense an ever-increasing thirst for blood coming from behind. Something flies past my side before I can even turn around. The black torrent runs through right where I was just standing, hitting the taxi and cutting right through it, too. As the vehicle completely splits in half, springs and shafts take to the air, scattering every which way. Without even a moment to let my surprise sink in, I kick off the ground to evade. The nearby sign and handrails are finely sliced into pieces. After rolling across the ground and looking back, I see a small-framed man clad in black in the distance.

“Cough, cough…”

That must be the source of the bloodlust.

“Cough… I came thinking this was going to be an easy side job. I wasn’t expecting to run into someone skilled enough to neutralize three men in the blink of an eye. I’m impressed. Now let’s see how you fare against Rashomon.”

With no weapon in hand, the young man simply walks toward me with his back hunched, occasionally coughing. However, the malice oozing from his body soon transforms into a silent but furious storm.

A man short of stature dressed in a black overcoat, with the skill to control a black torrent—the Port Mafia’s Hellhound.

“You… You’re Ryuunosuke Akutagawa from the Port Mafia, aren’t you?”

“The one and only. I was sent here by the boss to dispose of the fool who trespassed on our turf. Where is he?”

“He’s not here. He ran away with his tail tucked between his legs.”

I point in the direction the driver ran, but my eyes remain locked on Akutagawa. I don’t look away—not even for a second. This man is the worst of the worst. Even the toughest criminals run away in tears when they hear Akutagawa’s despicable name. The Black-Fanged Hellhound, the Skill User of Destruction and Disaster, the Apostle of Calamity and Despair: There are too many aliases to count. This is my first time actually meeting him, but judging by what he did to the taxi, he’s even more dangerous than the rumors made him out to be.

So what’s my next move? It’s simple. His target is the kidnapper, and there’s no reason for me to risk my life to protect a kidnapper against someone this dangerous. All I need to do is back off.

“He’s a witness. I cannot allow you to kill him until he tells us where the other missing people are. If you want to go after him, you’re going to have to get past me first.”

“You’re willing to risk your life for a murderer? Just as I expected.” 

Damn it. I can’t believe how stupid I can be. But as a member of the Armed Detective Agency, I cannot allow our witness to be helplessly killed by this scumbag.

Do what must be done. I mentally recite the phrase from my notebook. Akutagawa’s black overcoat wriggles. It’s as if a thousand specters gathered and meshed, taking form. It’s no longer a coat; part of it transforms into a claw, while another part begins to take the shape of a piercing fang.

“Ryuunosuke Akutagawa, the Port Mafia’s attack dog.” 

“Doppo Kunikida, Armed Detective Agency.”

Akutagawa launches a shadowy blade in one explosive motion. It disperses into a black rain, heading right in my direction. I jump to the side. A few dark blades pierce my shirt while the others stab the wall behind me, leaving numerous holes. I jot down a word in my notebook and tear out the sheet before he can draw his blade to attack. The piece of paper instantly transforms into a wire gun. Squeezing the trigger, I shoot the hook…but moments before the iron-penetrating hook reaches him, it’s deflected by an invisible wall.

“What…?!”

I saw no signs of him moving to defend. Is this another one of his skills? Before I can even reel in my airborne hook, part of Akutagawa’s coat transforms into a shadowy beast. With a roar, it swings its head. It’s quick!

I twist away to dodge, but its fangs tear into my left shoulder. Blood spurts out of the wound, but I don’t have time to stop the bleeding. I step back while evading the beast’s relentless fangs. I have no chance to counter, let alone even get near the thing!

“Is running away the only thing you know how to do? You’re putting me to sleep,” he scoffs, still standing upright. A cold bead of sweat runs down my cheek. He’s strong.

Akutagawa speedily shoots his lethal shadowy blade at me from only a few feet away, giving me no chance to do anything other than dodge. To make matters worse, any projectile I throw at him is easily knocked aside. Even if I do hit him, he’s being protected by that mysterious force field. He has no openings.

I dodge the flurry of attacks until I land on a paved road, where a sudden unidentifiable chill eerily shoots down my spine.

A blade thrusts up from the pavement before shooting back into the air like a fountain of spears.

He was getting me to focus on the aerial attacks while he used another blade to pierce the ground! I try to turn my body and jump away, but the ground is uneven, and I’m too late. The pitch-black blade penetrates my side and exits through my back.

“Gah…!”

My vision blurs from the excruciating pain, and I helplessly fall to my knees. This isn’t good. The next attack is coming. If I stop moving for even a second, I’m dead…but there’s nothing I can do. The black fabric of Rashomon wraps around my neck, lifting me off the ground. It bends like a serpent’s neck, then catapults me into the nearby wall.

“Pathetic. I guess I shouldn’t have expected much from a detective agency that works for chump change. Don’t worry. It’ll all be over when I snap your head off.”

The black fabric tightens around my neck. I start to see red.

“There’s always someone—someone who wants…to get in the way of my work!”

As Akutagawa’s skill strangles me, I shoot my wire gun. My target isn’t Akutagawa, though. The airborne iron wire’s hook directly hits the water pipe running up the building next to him, showering him with water.

“What…?!”

He raises his arm to block, but the high-pressure stream fully drenches him and the ground around him.

“Fool. Do you really think a little water is going to scare me?”

I raise another sheet of paper in my left hand into the air with something else I wrote down while making the wire gun.

“The Matchless Poet: Stun Gun!”

I instantly turn on the handheld high-voltage stun gun before tossing it into the puddle of water. A flash of light shoots out, and sparks fly.

“Nnng—gaaah?!”

Using the water as a conductor, the submerged stun gun emits beams of violet and white light. A purple flash of lightning jolts through Akutagawa’s wet body like a boa constrictor wrapping around its prey. The flash shines as bright as the sun before eventually disappearing along with the hiss of steam and the crack of the ground splitting under it. Rashomon’s grip around my neck loosens, and I land on the pavement below. As I cradle my injured neck and side, I glare at Akutagawa. He’s on his knees as steam and white smoke rise from his body.

“Heh-heh… Ah-ha-ha-ha!”

Akutagawa’s shoulders shake as he laughs. He can still move after taking a shock like that?

“Looks like I was wrong about the Armed Detective Agency. Heh. This is wonderful. Truly wonderful.”

“…Come at me if you want to keep going. I still have plenty more paper left.” I force myself to my feet, then get back into stance with the wire gun.

“By all means, I would love the opportunity to see whether you have what it takes to kill me, but it seems we have guests.”

I follow Akutagawa’s gaze and see the city police approach with their sirens blazing. Somebody must have reported the gunshots.

“A pathetic traitor won’t be able to hide for long before we hunt him down. I will withdraw for today. We’ll continue this soon.” He coughs and turns his back to me. He leaves just like that, with the same nonchalance as if he was going home after a walk. Honestly speaking, continuing to fight and withdrawing probably aren’t too different from his point of view.

“I’d rather you not come back…”

I fall to my knees while watching him walk away. Akutagawa from the Port Mafia is just as— No, he’s even fiercer than the rumors say. No thanks on the rematch. For now, I just want to go home and sleep like the dead.

***

Unfortunately, this is no time for a nap. After a short break, I return to the agency to report what happened. In the company’s infirmary, I have my stomach wound temporarily patched up, then head to the office. That’s where I find Dazai sipping on some tea as if he was relaxing after a hard day’s work.

“Dazai, you caught the taxi driver, right?”

“Of course. I tied him right up and handed him off to the police. He was actually thrilled that the Mafia wouldn’t be able to assassinate him anymore.” I’m relieved. It appears Dazai isn’t as stupid as I originally thought. I was almost worried that he knew it was the Mafia attacking us and used chasing the kidnapper as an excuse to escape. Nevertheless, everything ended up working out, so I guess it was just a groundless fear.

“It looks like the taxi driver will be charged for the series of kidnappings. Case closed.”

I worked my fingers to the bone on this case, and in return, I get paid nothing. The military police will toss us a letter of thanks and a small gift as an expression of their gratitude, and that will be the end of it. Good grief.

“I don’t feel like working anymore. Let’s get today’s tasks over with and go out for a drink.”

“Your treat?” Dazai asks, beaming with joy.

“You’re a real piece of work. I’ll pay, but you better work your ass off tomorrow.”

I return to my desk and take care of my remaining duties. I skim through some documents that are being passed around, then make a few business calls. After that, I start recording the case’s details until inadvertently glancing at my work computer and noticing I got an e-mail. Paying little attention, I begin to follow the sentences with my eyes. After finishing the e- mail, I start over from the beginning.

“Dazai.”

The moment I call for him is the moment I realize I’ve been holding my breath.

“We’ll have to take a rain check on those drinks. We’ve got work to do.” “Whaaat? But I was all ready to drink. There’s a hole in my stomach shaped exactly like a cup of sake.”

“We got a job offer…from the anonymous client who lured us into the abandoned hospital.”

My throat is dry, and my tongue is stuck in place. The next words don’t want to come out.

“It’s a request to defuse a bomb. If we don’t find and defuse it by sundown tomorrow, over one hundred people will die.”

***