#You've bewitched me body and soul

[baku-usagi]

I shared it as a link BUT HERE IT IS AS A VIDEO SO YOU GUYS CAN ENJOY

I paid so you don't have to! (worth every penny.)

Tim put his heart and soul into this and I wish I could give him the fattest hug. Please do what you will with this video! Make art and things 🥺🥺🥺

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Editing original post to include a transcription for anyone else with audio processing, as I noticed a few tags! Sorry guys should have stuck this in here from the jump but here it is now!

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

@artist-issues has been chipping away at me for months to get into media like this this and nicely insisted I try it out so I will be liveblogging reading Clemence Housman’s The Were-Wolf for the first time for her amusement 🫡 On this thread will be my reactions and predictions and stuff.

The book is in my possesion and I'll start to really read it later today, but just from the first few paragraphs I like the description and you get the sense that there's quite a lot of capable people there, which will be interesting since its a werewolf story. Does that mean that there'll be mass hysteria from whatever situation the monster causes? Will they band together well with their community and skills to take em down? Or will they all get pit against each other? Will Rol, who I'm guessing is a central character, get lost in the chaos? Guess I'll just have to see.

[potatoesandsunshine]

taryn should be allowed to kill whoever she wants with (and this is crucial) no consequences

[the-faceless-bride]

More Ideas for KNY (demon slayer) different characters ♡ (SOME NSFW CONTENT FOR SANEMI AND MUZAN AND MENTIONS OF GORE IN SANEMI AND LIGHT NSFW IN GYOMEI)

<- Part 1

Imagine being dangerously in love.

Imagine being a demon, obsessed with the brash, and blood thirst Wind Hashira. the first time ever being in battle with him is what leads you down a path of want and lust for the cruel hashira.

Imagine going out of your way to always be where he is, always catching his attention and being attacked by him. He believes you're mocking him, following him just to show off that he hasn't been able to kill you. But that isn't true at all. When you fight, you never actively try and gut him, only blocking your neck and leaving the rest of your limbs exposed to be lashed in this masochism tango.

Imagine struggling to hide your enjoyment and ecstacy each time his sword ripped, teard, and scar your body. He had to have known how me made you feel. He must. The darkness of your cheeks must've been a giveaway. Right? His eyes bewitching you in how intense he glares into your soul. It sets a fire under your cold skin, a burning desire.

Imagine one time when you and Sanemi are fighting. Other slayers show up. But they don't instantly jump into the fight. 1. from looking at the fight, you hadn't landed a single strike and seemed to be a greater deal slower than the hashira, and 2. Tanjiro made an odd comment. "Huh, it's like she's avoiding striking him on purpose."

Imagine how Shinobu decided the fight was long enough and tried to sneak in and end the fight. Only for a switch to set off and catch her off guard and spin at the speed of light, leaving a large gash across her body from her left founder to her hip. And Sanemi instantly tried to help her. Only to be stopped by your own weapon pressed so close to his neck that even swallowing made his Adamsapple scrape against a sharp blade. "Don't you dare. Your attention is meant for me. Are you seriously letting her attempt to get between us work?" And that made Sanemi pause... "us? Wha-" -- "don't play dumb darling. We're soulmates, Sanemi~" you whisper to him. "What the fuck."

Imagine how now you make him feel so conflicted, how he hates you for what you are but loves you for how you make him feel... in his home in his spare time as the sun rises, his windows covered and locked tight as he has you on your knees, leaning forward and his chest pressed to your back. Your head locked between his bicep as his other hand held his sword under you. It nicks you each time he thrusts. If he pushed you forward anymore, his blade would surely cut your chest and stomach open. "I HATE YOU, YOU FILTHY DEMON. I DONT WANT YOU. CURSE YOU FOR DEMONIC TEMPTATION." You softy cry at the harsh words from your love, "I don't care if you don't want me... I'm yours right now..."

Sanemi Shinazugawa × Demon reader Trope: Yandere Lovesick/I hate you so much I love you.

Imagine being with Muzan his entire life... your family were servants to his family. And from a young age, you were assigned to be Muzans personal maid or companion as you were too young to really do any work than cleaning up his room. But since you can remember, you've always been with Muzan.

Imagine being the one he confides with most. His fears, his wishes, and despite his coldness. His shouldering eyes seemed to be less scorching when it came to you. His one and only friend. Even if you didn't have much of a choice in the companionship. It was you who sat in on his doctor's visits about his deteriorating health. When he got the news of how it would be a miracle for him to even make it to his mid 20s...

Imagine how one night after a particularly scary coughing fit, he simply places his head to your mid section as you blush his hair and pull it back into a braid. He softy thanks you as he tilts his head to look up at you, "Of course, I'm always happy to take care of you." But that isn't want he wants. He wanted to take care of you. Not you to him. And without thinking, he pulls you down to him.

Imagine His heat is pounding in his chest. You lay across him as his long and slim fingers tease you between your legs. You try and stay quiet, your face twisted with pleasure and guilt. You felt like you were taking advantage of the sick man who would never find love or feel the love of another in such a romantic and intimate way. You thought maybe that this was him just grasping for a moment where he didn't feel so useless being bedridden. But it was so much more. If this was the last thing he did, pleasing the only one who he cared for most. The one he wished he could've married... he would be happy to die. This surely isn't good for his heart, but he couldn't care less. You hovering yourself above him. As he tried weakly to pull you in to rest your whole weight. This was how he wanted to spend his last days, weeks, and months. However long he had left. He wanted it to be with you.

Imagine as days go by, and he feels more and more guilty. He starts to feel as though you let him do these things because you feel obligated as his personal maid to do so. Nights in the dark ask he fingers you, giving and receiving oral pleasure. But you still won't give him everything. You refuse to fully lay with him. Sometimes, he feels like it's because you don't really love him. Not like he does you. Or maybe you find him... pathetic... he can't actually make love to you. You'd be doing all the work. He doesn't want that, and it seems you don't either... eventually, his thoughts become too much, and he decides to let you go...

Imagine you were relieved of all your maid duties, not just to Muzan but to the family as a whole. You were heartbroken. And the heartbreak only worsened at the news of Muzan and his families and your families deaths. You'd cried more times than you'd ever had before in your life. And you were so very confused when you'd found a Man who looked exactly like Muzan sitting in your bed a few nights later. "Hello dear. I'm home." He invented to truly give you what you wanted, and he was eager to give it too you.

Muzan Kibutsuji × reader Trope: Unrequited/reunited love/soulmates

Imagine being Master Kagaya's faithful slayer, you'd always admired him. You and your Master had created a strong bond. Stronger than others. Moments like this reminded you that you were special. You sat on your knees as you just like you had the first time. Your head pressed to his chest and he dragged his fingers over your head.

Imagine trying not to tear up as you remember the first time you'd kneeled for him. You'd been reckless and impatient leading to a fellow slayer getting extremely hurt. You kneeled before him as you sat in the room alone waiting for him to speak. Doing your best to not make any noise as you silently cry. You'd failed him. Your beloved Master. But he didn't yell. He didn't make you feel like you were a problem. He merely hummed before knealing with you, one hand on atop your head and the other cupping your cheek feeling the wet stream of tears and wiped it away. "It's alright. You didn't mean for this to happen. I know you didn't. I know you're a good girl." And your breath hitched. He noticed. And from then on he gave you positive affrimations which encouraged you to do better. For him.

Imagine how as you sat there listening to his words letting yourself flow away and melt into your master. He thought it was innocent. He was simply your master helping you, if it wasn't him maybe you'd find these soft words from Gyomei or maybe even Kyojuro... but he was wrong. So wrong. It was him. Only him. You'd put yourself on the line so much more than you should've. All to hear those soft praises. His wife must not like you... you do take up more and more of his time as days go on...

Imagine how he softly calls to you. Late that night, he'd heard your footsteps. He sat with you talking. About anything that day. Soft and short conversations. Quiet but not uncomfortable. "You're my favorite you know." He sighed, before he let out a small chuckle "don't tell the others." You know he was teasing. But your heart told you other wise.

Imagine being hurt. In battle you were hurt. But even in your pain you still made your way to your master... your beautiful Kagaya... the married man, the family man, that you had fallen in love with. "My dear, you still come and see me while you're in such pain?" He seemed shocked. But you aren't sure why, you'd walk on hot coles and crawled on your hands and belly to kneel for him. You'd do anything for your master. And you could only hope as his favorite... you wouldn't let him down. Finally you lifted your head from his chest, pulling his hands from your hands, leaving a kiss to his knuckles. One day. One day you'll have him.

Kagaya Ubuyashiki × Slayer reader Trope: unrequited love/lovesick/slow burn

Special Part two of Forbidden love with Gyomei × demon

Imagine how the rest of the slayers flock around Gyomei, asking him so many questions. And he couldn't even answer them all. Too consumed by his disbelief that the person he'd fallen in love with so deeply, had turned out to be a demon.

Imagine how he layed in bed lonely and... missing you. He began to long of your cold touch, your voice, your laugh that was so contagious to him. He missed you. He'd fallen for you. Demon or not. He laid in his bed trying and failing to get even a wink of sleep. But just as he had almost fallen asleep he was awoken by a sound. 'Tap tap' was the sound, 'tap tap' on his window. "Gyomei... my love..."

Imagine how he practically leaped from his bed. Demon or not you had carved yourself a spot in his heart. Slamming open the window and pulling you inside, his hands instantly feeling over your cheeks, your nose, your neck. Kissing the knuckles of your cold hands.

Imagine being the one that made Gyomei for a moment stay from his faiths. Gyomei devoted his life to his beliefs, that includes waiting. Waited all his life for the one. Saving himself and waiting. But you both were in a unique circumstances... so from that point on Gyomei promised himself to you. You would stay with him in his home and he would always come back to you. That night he would kiss you, love you, lay you under him while he whispered for you to be his.

[lewishcmilton]

dreams unwind....love's a state of mind....

[vaguely-concerned]

the things it adds to both of the characters involved that lucanis used to have a thing for viago could not have been more tailor made to be for me. literally the ideal thing to come out of this game for me personally and specifically and spiritually. I mean I'm teia x viago trash until the day I die and nothing will ever change this (and with the best will in the world and even the power of lucanis' big beautiful soulful eyes, that would never have worked out even if viago DID somehow understand he was being propositioned. which I'm not convinced he did. the mutual 'so. snakes are pretty cool huh. and. knives. also' awkward energy without someone of teia's charisma and people skills involved to mitigate it... it would have been dire), but on so many levels I find it so incredibly charming for what it says about them both that the (one-sided) attraction was there once.

what's more, it means the man about whom this legendary paragraph was written:

Viago was not a typical Antivan. He liked facts—checklists, numbers, precise measurements. Heart palpitations, clammy hands, tight pants—Viago did not like these things. In fact, he would go so far as to say he hated them. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood.

has got some of the hottest coolest deadliest people in thedas down so catastrophically bad it's got them acting unwise. teia had to wait a UST-drenched decade for him to be ready to take his fucking gloves off for her. and she did!! the tetchiest most neurotic least approachable little vetinari knockoff of a man you ever saw has game for days and days and lives rent free in heads for years. in eight little talons viago consistently feels so inadequate up against dante and it's like. man I'm shaking you by the lapels you have what he'll never have. the ability to bewitch body and soul with your terrible personality and long thin legs. do not waste the gift you've been given go get her she's waiting!!!

(lucanis is really good at reading people, so I wonder if maybe he saw through all of that to some of the steadiness and incredible capacity for warmth and tenderness in specific interpersonal relationships you see viago have with teia when he finally opens up enough, and maybe that was part of it. either way it's so perfect that both he and teia have regarded viago with this affectionate intrigued amusement. lucanis still seems pretty fond of him in a 'viago continues to be exactly himself no matter what else happens or goes wrong. comforting universal constant' sort of way, he brings him up quite a lot in party banter.)

you've seen lucanis' game in this day and age, arguably or at least hopefully older and wiser -- can you imagine how catastrophically bad it must have been back when he presumably handed viago, most paranoid man in thedas all years running, a knife like this expressed everything it needed to. people give him so much shit for the cake moment being his big romantic lock-in, but considering where we started that is GROWTH and I for one am so proud of him fhsdkjaf.

also I wonder at what point vis-a-vis that whole Situation teia and viago met for the first time, leading us to ask... just how much was it a matter of lucanis simply being ignored out of a lack of interest on viago's part (tbf, not entirely unlikely). how much was it lucanis truly not managing to make himself understood. (all but certainly. literally how would one understand that. I think it says some sweet things about rook and lucanis' dynamic that they -- somehow -- DO pick up what he's putting down in a similar scenario presumably b/c they know him pretty well by then haha.) how much was it viago interpreting the romantic move as a death threat from one of the most dangerous people alive and freaking out. (1000% and indubitably.) and how much was it andarateia steal-your-girl cantori turning up and thus setting off whatever spectacular, volatile, awesome-in-the-original-sense chemical reaction between the substances of her and viago's souls that goes on to this day and makes everything else kind of a side note at best. a gentle mix of several of these things, perhaps. ...god I love all these characters so much

[bbybluemochi]

“You've bewitched me, body and soul”

[drgnflyteabox]

something to remember you by

pairing: soap x fem reader summary: your boyfriend wants some memorabilia of you to take on his deployments. only, he wants his superior officer to take the photos. w.c: 3.7k tags/warnings: dubcon, cucking, mild degradation, oral (m + f, rough), hair pulling, un-negotiated kink, dom!soap, clothed man naked reader, teasing scent kink (m + f), one (1) pussy slap, crying, squirting, unprotected sex, some anxiety, reassurance mid-fuck, overstimulation, some aftercare, abrupt but open ending, reader has some internal shame around sex/kink, reader doesn't rlly like her bf

At first, it’s nothing. Dirty talk, suggestive texts, passing comments while he’s on his second deployment with a hand around his cock and you pretending to be into it.

"Think about it, babe," he’s panting, but it’s less sexy when you can tell he’s deepening his voice on purpose like Christian Bale Batman. "Don’t you wanna give me something to remember you by? While I’m out here fighting for you?"

Corny. So fucking corny. Your feet are kicked up on your coffee table, fuzzy-socked, face schlopped with a cooling gel mask. Quarter past 8 o’clock, and he’s trying to sell you on letting one of his army buddies fuck you and take pictures of you. The absurdity makes you almost laugh.

"…babe?" Oh, shit.

"Yeah honey, I’m here." You’d kind of feel bad, if it weren’t for the ick factor. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, he was fine, it was just that since he’d joined the army he’d inched closer and closer to picking up a mic and dictating which body counts were okay to women over podcasts. That, and he’s gotten hornier. Kinkier.

Which is fine, really. Only you don't consider yourself adventurous. Sex is like a chore, something to put you to sleep, to relax the muscles. Relationships are quid pro quo - I suck your dick, you make my parents think I’m succeeding in life, deal?

Not to mention, you've never even considered stepping outside of the idea that sex is between committed couples only, sequestered away and hidden in the closet like old clothes.

"So, are you picturing it?" Schlap schlap schlap. He must’ve added lotion. "You can say no obviously, ughnnn, but I know this guy really well. I'd, ahhh fuck, sit in the other room."

"Thanks for being so considerate," you sound dry, but you’re honestly intrigued. Life has been monotonous since graduation, the transition from study to office… rough.

You aren’t adventurous. But you’re so fucking bored.

"Can I see him first?" On the TV in front of you, muted, Matthew Macfayden confesses his love tearfully in the rain. You want to be bewitched, body and soul. To feel something.

"So you’ll do it? Oh, fuck-" Not what I said, you think. His voice goes high, reedy, trembling with his orgasm. "See how fucking hot this makes me? I’ll send a pic, give me a sec."

It’s a group photo. He’s dressed in his uniform, head shaved, standing next to a group of a dozen or so men. Outlined, at the far corner with a group of guys big enough to dwarf a good third of the rest, is a man with building biceps and a smarmy grin and a confident, wide-legged pose. Hips jutted out. Fuck, he’s hot. You can see his bulge through his pants, through the picture, under a heavy tac vest.

"Get in, get in!" the apartment is clean for once. At least, clean without you getting sick of his clutter and playing maid. Did he do it himself to impress his friend? That makes you snort, but he doesn’t catch it, too preoccupied with his phone.

"Um, woah-" you start, taken aback. It looks like a porn set. There’s a plastic sheet on the ground in front of the couch. "I thought this was supposed to be casual?"

"It is, babe," he’s brushing you off, same as he did the few days leading up to this. You’d gone through some minor confidence and judgment crises, anxiety building like a balloon about to pop. All of which he’d brushed off.

It’s all fun and games, babe. Plus he’s done this before, he’s like a pro, showed me some videos - that was something you hadn't agreed to, just some pictures for him to take on deployments.

Still, trepidation makes you sweat, makes your thighs stick to the brown leather couch when you sit and try to sip water. Your socks crinkle the sheet.

You don’t turn when he arrives, still too nervous, knees stuck together and hands slipping on the glass from condensation when they start talking behind you. There’s too many what ifs - all reasons you’d used to avoid hookups in college, all reasons you wanted to break through your shell now.

Plus, you’re sick of hearing "did you finish?"

"This must be her," says an accented voice, gruff and maybe amused, "ye feelin' shy?"

No. You’re just nervous. Exposed. One of the only conditions you'd pushed was no cuck chair, but now you weren't sure how to feel to be left alone with him soon. This man is so big, so imposing.

"Hi," you say smartly. He looks just like his photo, only bigger. Bulging muscles and the same wide stance when he comes to stand in front of you. It’s only because you can’t stand sitting face-to-face with his crotch that you stand and hold your hand out to shake.

"And polite!" Loud. He introduces himself as Johnny, which makes your boyfriend's eyebrows raise. "So cute." he takes the liberty of bypassing your hand and grabbing your waist.

Oh fuck, he runs hot. His hands burn, even through your shirt. You feel self-conscious, plain, looking up at his probing blue eyes. They’re so intense, captivating, distracting you from the feeling of him getting closer and closer, till your tits are pressed to his.

"Hey-"

The moment breaks. Your boyfriend is looking at you both, unreadable expression on his face. Is he regretting this? Feeling emasculated, maybe? Hard to feel much sympathy when you’re the one about to get fucked.

And it was his idea.

"I’m gonna go to the bedroom," his eyes squint, flitting between the both of you before he scurries away, pants tented.

"Now that that's outta the way," Johnny grunts. "C'mere." And sits down with a grunt, pulling you to him.

You try to pivot, to sit next to him, but he's strong and coordinated so you wind up in his lap, back touching the arm of the couch and your legs slung over his, bum on one thigh.

"That's more like it, no?" there's that wolfish grin again, so close. One hand rests on your knee, possessively, while the other wraps around your shoulders and plays with your shirt. "Why don't we introduce ourselves?"

The hand on your knee moves to your face, gripping your cheeks in a grip hard enough to push your lips out into an embarrassing pout. You struggle a little, pulling at his wrist, but he doesn't budge.

He pulls his phone out, aiming the camera at your face, recording a video through a text-app. You can that it's a groupchat, assured by your boyfriend before that it was totally private, babe. This is jut between us.

"Now say hello," he puts his stubbly cheek next to yours, rubbing like a cat. "And introduce yourself."

"H'llo," you struggle through it, muffled by his grip. Your name is almost unintelligible, and your jaw starts to ache a little.

"Say, can I please suck your cock, sir?"

Your stomach tightens, right down to your pussy, which gushes a little into your panties.

"Cn'I please suck your cock, sir?" he's so fucking forward, just jumping in headfirst. The loss of control, your being told what to do, makes your clit jump. Sex has never been like this - you've never been so acquiescing.

"Of course you can, bonnie!" you're almost tossed to the floor, no gentleness as he pulls you toward him by the hair so quickly it almost makes you dizzy. He scoots to the edge of the couch, leaning back against it, and uses that strong arm to rub your face on his bulge. "Get me hard."

He puts his phone on the arm of the couch.

You flounder, hands finding his knees and trying to pull back. He doesn't let you.

"Use your mouth, kiss me," his hand finds a firmer hold on your hair as you start mouthing against him, tasting denim, smelling his musk, letting it get to your head and make you dizzy. "That's right, kitten."

His cock starts to chub under his clothes, and you almost wish you could feel it in your mouth. Oral isn't your favourite, but the way your pussy clenches around nothing and drips into your panties is making you think maybe you were wrong about yourself.

"Up, up," your face is rubbed a little raw by the time you sit up, looking at him. Waiting for instruction. "Everything off, except your panties."

You obey, stripping your shirt and bra and then your shorts. Your nipples tighten in the cool air of the apartment, goosebumps dancing along your arms and your belly. Self-consciousness almost has you reaching to cover yourself, until Johnny grabs you by the shoulders and twists you just enough that you're back to facing his phone.

"Look at these," he grunts in your ear, fingers finding your nipples. Pulling them, pinching them. It's not for you, it's for the camera. You feel like an object, an accessory, secondary to getting the shot of the rough pads of his fingers teasing you into whimpers.

You've never been more turned on.

"Nice, eh?" he pulls them up and out, which hurts, but draws a line of pure electricity from your nipples to your clit. "Whatd'ye think, L.T?" the name doesn't register. Army stuff, you assume.

You're turned back around sharply again to face his actual cock. He's pulled it from his fly, thick and leaking, while you were getting undressed. It's unfair, really, nice and long and curved.

"Ask me again," a statement. A command, phone discarded.

"Please can I suck your cock, sir?" the words make your cheeks burn, your body quiver, your clit jump.

"Ye can," laughter this time, worsening your embarrassment. His hand finds your hair again, pulling you down when you're too slow to touch your lips to the head of his dick. "I'm gonnae fuck your face, alright?"

Without waiting, he lifts his hips up and thrust into your mouth. It's not as deep as it can go, but you almost gag, unprepared. The next thrust is deeper, quicker. He's letting you build up to it, letting your hands rest on his knees for balance.

Your nose touches his pubic hair, inhaling the scent of him. Any attempt at hollowing your cheeks, sucking, licking, is futile. He's so quick that the best you can do is hang on for the ride, keeping your teeth in check.

Drool builds and spills past your lips, making wet sounds compete with his frankly pornographic moaning. He's a man possessed, using you while you squeeze your eyes against overwhelmed tears.

Finally he yanks you off of him by the hair, holding you up while you splutter from the unexpected change. Your hands go to your face, trying to wipe.

"None o'that, now," he bats them away, giving you a shake when you keep trying. "Leave it." like you're a bad dog.

Strings of spit connect your swollen lips to his cock, thin and gooey, that fall to your bare chest when he sits up.

You're turned, stood up and then guided to the couch to sit. Johnny slaps your thighs to get you to open them, lifting your feet for you so that your heels rest on the edge of the couch cushions.

"Awe, look how wet she is," he holds your legs, exposing your wet panties to him and to his phone, where he takes a few pictures. Again, you wonder about the appeal of this for your boyfriend. It's hot for you. Degrading, but hot. Or maybe more hot because of the degradation.

"Oh god," you say out of shock. You've never been so fucking wet in your life, and god forbid he sees how swollen with arousal you are underneath.

"Naw, just me," Johnny says, rubbing his knuckles over your pussy through the fabric. "She all wet and frustrated?"

You don't answer, hands keeping you sat up, chest heaving. You're still a little dizzy.

Johnny licks over your panties, mouthing over them not unlike what you did for him only a few minutes before. It's nothing, really, but you're so worked up that it startles a long, drawn-out moan from you.

He continues like this, never actually making contact with where you need it, with your skin. Every one in a while he turns his head to the side and grins, taking a picture or a videoclip while you tip your head back and resist begging him to just get on with it.

His nose presses on your mound, where he drags it down to your hole and sniffs.

That's what breaks your resolve.

"Please," you whine. Your voice is rough from taking his cock in your throat.

"Please what?" he opens his mouth and puts his teeth on you, not biting, just letting you feel them. Gnawing gently.

"Please do it," you look down at him, and even though he's on his knees you know you aren't the one in control. "Please lick my cunt."

A laugh, mean and condescending. Your eyes close in shame, pussy burning for attention.

"This cunt right here?" he pulls the gusset aside, whistling. "This desperate little cunt?"

"Yes, please," you curl your toes into the couch.

Something shifts in his eyes, some unrecognizable flash. It feels like danger, like you're in over your head. Johnny takes two fingers and rubs them over your clit, slowly at first, and then quickly when he feels how slippery you are.

Somewhere, a volcano erupts and it isn't comparable to the heat or the feeling of your clit finally getting attention. It zings through you, making you squeeze your muscles, taught and trembling.

The pads of his fingers are a rough sensation on your swollen skin, the worlds best vibrator, ribbed for your pleasure. All he does is rub, up and down over your clit, quickly and until your face starts to scrunch together in orgasm, trembling hard.

Then he pulls back and slaps you so hard on your pussy you scream.

You almost come from it, shocked, legs kicking out, skin burning and clit pulsing with desperation, back bowing. You keep making sound after, a long and drawn out aaaaaahhhhh while he grins like the cat that got the cream. Takes another picture, the click of the camera loud in the face of your disappointment.

The intensity of it almost brings you to tears, looking at him with betrayal and vulnerability in your face. You feel weak all of a sudden, cored, devoured, pulled apart as soft as slow cooked meat.

Your panties fall back over your skin, a minor comfort against the sting.

"Poor girl," Johnny says with false sympathy. "Let me make it up to ye."

Then you're up again, pulled and pressed against Johnny's chest until he pulls your underwear down and rearranges you to sit on his lap over his spread legs, yours dangling on either side.

"Gonna bounce ye on my cock, alright?" you nod. "Sit on it."

You lift your hips, using his knees for balance, and he guides the head of his cock to your hole. Stops you from sitting back right away with a hand on your hip, squeezing the soft flesh there, and holding you there.

"They're kissing," he laughs. You feel it, your cunt mouthing at him like a conscious being, separate from you. "Ye think they want tae meet each other?"

"Can I?" you don't fight to keep the whine out of your voice. You want to come, you want this aching and this emptiness to end.

"Can ye what?"

"Sit on your cock, please."

"Well, since ye asked so nicely," and then he notches himself properly again, and forces you down with two hands on your waist. You shout, arching, head thrown back. "Bounce on it now, kitten. Show me how badly ye want to come."

And oh god, you do. You rock forward, shaking at the feeling of him, no technique to guide you just pure intuition, brain and cunt and body as one. Distantly, the sound of the camera registers, but it only makes you move faster.

He spreads your cheeks, exposing where you're connected, putting the camera close to the wet clench of your cunt around his cock and - oh, he's filming it. There's no click, just the wet sounds of you riding him.

"Thas'right," he murmurs lowly, maybe for show. "You wanna come?"

"Yes!" you lean back, then, sweat slicked back sticking to his shirt, forgetting where you are and why you're here. Everything narrows down to your pussy, but you feel compelled to keep your hands off your clit even though you know it would make you come quickly.

You want to listen to him, to wait for permission. The thought is searing heat through your core.

Fingers find your face, slipping into your mouth. Your lips wrap around them, sucking like you would've his cock.

His other hand lifts his phone in front of you both, snapping shots of your unfocused eyes, your tits pushed into the air, his smarmy expression. He hooks his fingers then into your cheek, pulling back like a fishhook.

"Good girl," his lips against your ear, stubble scratching the hot skin of your neck. "I'm gonna fuck you for real now, alright?"

You nod, desperately. He pushes you up and off of him, face down in the cushion. He's still clothed, for gods sake, jeans rubbing against the backs of your thighs when he drags your ass back toward him.

The mushroom head of his cock finds your cunt again, pushing in, driving you nuts. You're moaning helplessly, letting him take your boneless arms to hold them behind you.

He fucks you like a man possessed, in a short strokes, barely leaving the hot clutch of your pussy. The sounds, if they were bad before, are worse now, wet and humiliating.

Every thrust feels like he's slowly inflating a balloon inside you, like something pulling taut, like pressure about to burst.

"Fuck, wait!" you shout and turn your head. The pressure is insane, mixed up with a building orgasm, twined together. He hasn't even touched your clit, and yet you're on the precipice.

Johnny leans down, lips on your ear. He slows, but doesn't stop.

"What is it, bonnie?"

"I have to pee," you'd have mumbled it before, but the feeling is so strong you can't help but whimper and cry. "Please let me up."

"Ye aren't gonna pee," he laughs. "Trust me, just trust me." Then keeps pistoning into you.

You feel like jello, like mush, the only solid part of you is about to burst and somehow it makes you feel real anxiety, dampening your enjoyment.

"Johnny-" you whimper, emotion clogging your voice. You feel vulnerable, held down and bared.

In need of reassurance.

"You're alright," he leans back down and nuzzles your wet cheek. "Ye can let go, kitten, I've got ye."

You gasp, pulsing hard around him, the feeling back again, before you gush around his cock, a spray so intense you cry as it forces him out of you.

"Good. Fucking. Girl!" he slaps your ass once, twice, on both cheeks. Rubs your flank like a horse and then plunges back into you when you finish dripping down your legs.

This is purely selfish, him fucking you hard now, jackrabbiting his hips into yours. You hear the phone again, just barely, as your ears ring.

You're raw from coming without any touch to your clit, a weird limbo between being on-edge and oversensitive.

"Gonna give me another," he's growling now, getting impossibly faster. You actually really cry when he reaches around to twist your clit, thrashing under him, not sure if you want to leap off the couch or crawl right back into him. "Come for me!" he shouts, pulling up the hood of your clit to really get at you, rubbing rough circles around your beleaguered little nub.

The second orgasm melts your brain out of your ears, so long and drawn out that you're still shivering with the aftershocks as he pulls out of you and paints your back with his release.

You pant, arm one arm dangling over the edge of the couch while you the other covers your eyes.

Johnny rubs a hand on your thigh, light and gentle, patting your bum as he stands. You move your arm just enough to squint at him.

His jeans are soaked.

You laugh, uninhibited, delirious. He laughs with you.

"All you, darlin'!" he takes another shot of you, pulls your legs apart and takes a picture of your wet, sore hole.

"Is she good?" ah, your boyfriend. He has his own wet spot on the front of his pants.

"She's good," Johnny confirms. "Ye need to take care of her now, right?"

Something in his voice changes. A different kind of authority to the one he used on you, one reserved for soldiers. For men beneath him. At that thought, your pussy makes a valiant effort to clench.

"Yeah, yeah," you hear. Your boyfriend has his phone out, his cheeks flushed with excitement. "These are great man, thanks."

You start to sit up, still shaking, but not wanting to have him see you that way.

"Man, you weren't kidding!" he goes on. Johnny frowns and steps forward to clap him hard on the back and grab his nape.

"Run a bath, do it now. Ye got granola bars?"

"Uh, yeah. Hold on."

You're touched by his concern, and wind up soaking in warm bubbles after he leaves. You wonder about the photos, about what you look like. If your boyfriend is satisfied, if Johnny is.

If you were good.

Feels like you were, but somethings changed. Johnny found a soft spot knife-deep inside you and dug himself in, made you fly and made sure you were brought back to earth after, tenderized and then wrapped in comfort.

Beneath the water, you touch your pussy. Not to masturbate, just to feel the soft sore flesh, to remember the feeling of fullness.

Maybe, after his deployment, your boyfriend will want more pictures.

Fresh material.

Beneath the water, your finger curls into yourself and you sigh, satisfied.

[lesbianpepsi]

Enid: You've got no idea how smart Wends thinks I am.

Yoko: Why? And how?

Enid: She knows nothing about media, nothing. So If I wanna say something romantic or smart I quote a famous line and she has no idea!

Yoko: Bullshit. No way that works.

Enid: Name any movie or show and I bet I can say a quote and Wednesday won't know it.

Yoko: Alrighty then, Pride and Prejudice, everyone knows the famous lines from that.

Enid: Deal.

Enid: Wednesday!

Wednesday, walking over: Yes?

Enid: You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.

Wednesday: Oh my, I love you too, Enid.

Enid, grinning: Just wanted to say that, i'm off to get some cookies now.

Yoko turning to Wednesday: You know don't you?

Wednesday: Of course I do, but it keeps her amused.

[calisources]

𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒, 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences were taken from difference media about age gap and age difference relationships, all acceptable relationships within consenting adults with age differences. Please do not use for teenagers or taboo relationships. These have some foul language or suggestive undertones so please beware. You can change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.

I bet it doesn’t feel like this with that boy of yours, does it?

You’ll never know when I’m going to drag you into the darkness, pumping my cock into one of your tight holes. And you’ll take every inch like a good little girl.

What a tiny life we’d live if we fashioned ourselves to the comforts of others.

I think I'm a little old for that, love.

No, not old. But you're, you know, a man.

Tell me that you've never had anyone else. I want you to pretend.

You show me things I've forgotten.

Sometimes I think you must have seen it all before. That I can't show you anything new.

I like you as you are, he said. Even if you're going to wear me out.

I’m rough with your body sometimes, but I’ll always be gentle with your soul. She bruises far more easily.

This prince is a few years younger than you, and does not have much experience.

I must have forgotten how young you would be, Princess. Has there ever been a sovereign of such tender age?

Who is to say what love is or what it wants to be, the shape it takes, or how quickly it comes on? Love has always made a fool of time.

I don’t feel old. As a matter of fact, sitting here with you makes me feel older, not younger. Nothing is rubbing off.

Mr. Rochester was about forty, and this governess not twenty; and you see, when gentlemen of his age fall in love with girls, they are often like as if they were bewitched.

He's old enough to be your father.

Tonks deserves somebody young and whole.

But she wants you. And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so.

Age is no barrier. It's a limitation you put on your mind.

Age considers; youth ventures.

Age, like distance lends a double charm. 

I'm a strong believer that a good relationship can work, whatever the situation. 

Love knows no boundaries, not even the ones defined by age.

Don’t let society’s judgment define your love. Follow your heart, despite the age difference.

Most people would be upset they get an old man as their husband.  

Do not worry about your age, Ser. The lady pays attention not to age but prowess.

I will not let time choose my lovers for me. I trust my own judgement. 

You should look to more prosperous gardens, Your Grace.

I was sixteen years old when you were born.

No doubt you were much my superior in judgement at that period of our lives; but does not the lapse of one-and-twenty years bring our understandings a good deal nearer?

Come, my dear Emma, let us be friends, and say no more about it. 

I have seldom seen a face or figure more pleasing to me than hers. But I am a partial old friend.

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

We spend more time discussing this matter than being together as a couple. And I believe you are doing it on purpose.

You think my attention is as fickle that I would look elsewhere.

Perhaps it would be you who looks elsewhere. A handsome older man must have youthful maidens at his disposal.

If we were closer in age, it would've been fine.

I have loved you since the moment I helped you with your zipper. 

Would it make you feel better if I call you Daddy while you fuck me?

You’ll be a silver fox before 40 at this rate.

Well, it’s definitely your fault. You stress me out. You’re making my hair turn white.

It’s easy to cast opinions when your heart isn’t the one invested.

I hope you love me, because I love you like crazy, and I'm going to want you the rest of my life.

You already know the truth. And I will be by your side, but I am not good for you.

I am tired of others getting to choose who is good for me. You do that quite often, frequently. 

You'll keep your name. You'll keep your will. You'll have your own servants to attend you— you will have everything you ask for.

Don't ask me to let you do. Do you understand? Do not ask me.

It might be best for us, for myself, if I found myself useful elsewhere.

I wish you could just slow down so I could catch up to you.

Stamina is not an issue. But rather what others will whisper.

When are you going to get over this? All I did was touch your leg.

Why would it matter if someone saw you saying hello to me?

But it’s nice to be around you. Like I haven’t lost a decade of my life.

I been in love with you since I was six, fool. 

I will always belong to you, but I’m afraid there will be others after me. I’m not a young man/woman.

A kiss ... a muse. It is a question, an unlocked door. It is ... elation ... and anguish.

You have treated me better than any young man my age. Why should I go for either of them? 

Young men are eager lovers. I prefer my lovers to take their time. I’m sure with men is the same.

You make me feel really safe. i’m not used to that.

You gave an old man purpose again. And that is more than I can ask of you.

I was a child then, with a crush and a dream. As I grew, dreams changed but you remain the one in my dreams.

I have thought about kissing you a lot. What would that make me?

I have more in common with you than men my age.

Do not pretend to think what I think.

More recently, there are rumors she prefers her lovers to be younger. Truth to be told, I don’t blame her.

I will teach you in time, but for now restrain me and have your way with me. I don’t want to think, I just want to feel.

We have never done anything to be ashamed of. You’ve never done anything to be ashamed of.

Personally, I think the difference keeps us interesting in another another. 

You can teach me all you wish, and I can learn. I know I can.

There is always a wild side to an innocent face.

You are being too forward right now, my lady. Be careful.

There would be other loves. Even great loves. But she was right, only one remained perfect.

Maybe there are some people you marry and people you love.

Just so you know, you're a natural lover. Your body expresses beautifully what's in your heart.

I have never felt so alive... as when I am in your arms.

A 5 to 7 relationship is a relationship outside of marriage.

You're older than I am, you're wiser I'm sure and you've seen much more of the world.

[xoxoaugust]

bewitched

In which: Reo begins to feel different, excited after meeting you. You weren't anything special or different, but there was something about the way you carried yourself that drew him to you. He found himself entranced, even speechless in your presence. You bewitched him. wc: 1.9k

(Just a quick note, reader likes matcha and listening to music. Sorry if its too specific, I needed something to work with)

Now playing...

Bewitched by Laufey

Reo Mikage never wanted anything, he already had everything he wanted. Nothing excited him anymore, at least since Nagi.

He walks out of the locker rooms after practice, walking down the hallway and up to the front courtyard, rubbing his hands in response to the biting cold before walking up to where his car was waiting for him. Lost in thought, he bumps into someone.

"OH! I'm so sorry are you alright!?"

He stopped, has he met you before?

You stood there in front of him, bundled up in the school uniform.

"I'm alright! Are you okay? I'm the one who ran into you". he says with the signature toothy smile.

"I'm okay! I wasn't watching where I was going anyways". You laughed.

He felt a warm feeling in his face, and his stomach. He laughed with you before saying bye to you. He thought you were the cutest thing ever.

"It was nice to meet you! I'll see you around!" You said before running to your bus stop. He waved in your direction before realizing he never asked for your name.

Yeah, see you around

Reo Mikage didn't get excited anymore, or at least he thought he didn't. Ever since your interaction he's felt...different. He didn't realize that he would eagerly wait for you outside your classes, not even to talk just to smile, wave and pass by. If he had you in his class, he'd stare at the back of your head. He would walk different routes just to see your face. For the past two weeks, he has collected the following information about you.

You were a scholarship student

You liked loved matcha

You always have an earbud in

You were kind, very kind

You used the public transportation

He felt a bit weird writing this down, he had it saved in his notes app and locked with a password.

"Reo what are you doing?"

Saying his soul jumped out of his body is an understatement.

"Nagi! Don't scare me like that!" he exclaimed, while profusely sweating.

"Why are you stalking the scholarship student?"

Reo paled.

"Who? There's a scholarship student? Never heard of her"

Nice save!

"How did you know she was a girl?" Nagi questioned with a straight face.

If Reo could dig a hole in the ground and die in it, he would.

"I can explain I swear..."

The private academy you attended was posh, extra.

Having a cafe, three gyms, a food court and dozens of courtyards, there isn't a word other than extra to describe it.

You loved it though. Walking around the hallways with an airpod in your ear, you stop by what had to be your favorite place. The cafe.

You walked in, greeted your friend (and barista) Rumi.

She was around 21 years old, interning for the school just for fun, she likes the 'ambience' of the place. She graduated from the school around three years ago, and just like you, was a scholarship student. She just understood you like no one else at the school did.

"Hi Rumi! How have you been?"

"Hi [name]! I've been pretty okay, y'know same old." She clicks a few buttons before looking back up to you.

"¥1339.66"

You blinked twice before smiling.

"I didn't even order yet."

Rumi looks at you unamused.

"I already know what you're going to order, the last year you've been here, you've ordered the same thing, a medium hot matcha latte with frothed milk and one order of six macarons." She deadpans.

You smile at her and laugh under your breath before handing her your rewards card.

You take the receipt from Rumi and start to walk towards your usual table. The one by the window with the bulletin board right in your view. You liked looking at that bulletin board, it carried the memories of the past and current students. It held value.

As you walk toward the table, you can't help but notice that its already taken

Usually when you see someone sitting there, you just move to another table nearby. But this specific person, piqued your interest.

"Hi Nagi! I didn't know you were going to be here." You said cheerfully.

Nagi looked up at you and just said, "Hi [name]" in the same mellow tone.

Reo has never been so confused in his entire life. Did Nagi know you? Were you and Nagi dating? Why are you guys so comfortable with each other.

You looked at the other boy, in reality you only walked up there for him.

"I know you! I met you earlier in the courtyards! You're Reo right? I always see you on the way to my classes."

If heaven is a feeling, Reo was feeling it. You knew his name, obviously you did, everyone did, but you called him by his name. Not the one he's known by. Not Mikage.

You called him Reo.

"Oh hi! Yeah I remember you, I meant to ask your name that day, [name] right?"

He's acting cool, but in reality, the sweat pooling in his hands are probably leaving marks on his pants. Especially since he was just talking to Nagi, about you.

He's acting cool, and you can see right through it.

"[name] you should sit with us". Nagi mumbled.

You gave an appreciative look and mouthed thank you to him before you smiled and sat down.

"If you don't mind me asking, how do you know each other?" Reo interjected.

Nagi glanced at you before replying.

"We live in the same complex, we live next to each other, she brings me food."

You rolled your eyes.

"Because you eat like a toddler, I don't know how you haven't died of malnutrition yet." You commented, with a clear humorous undertone.

Reo could tell you guys were decently close, Nagi doesn't keep contact with someone unless he thinks they're not a hassle. He knows that your relationship with Nagi is anything but romantic, or rather he was counting on it not being romantic.

You looked at him, curious eyes lingering on him, his hair, his demeanor. He looked like a typical rich kid, but there was something about him that you couldn't quite place. He didn't seem like the usual 'high and mighty' type. He was genuine.

"Reo what classes do we have together?" you asked him, hoping he knew off the top of his head. Hoping he's also thinking about you.

Instantaneously, Reo responded.

"Oh, we have Chemistry, English, Music theory, and Econ." he smiled.

God he smiled.

To say you weren't internally giggling and kicking your feet would be a lie.

"We should sit together! It would be nice to work with a friendly face."

Reo felt his face turn hot, he hasn't even spoken to you that long, so why do you have this effect on him?

"Yeah of course! We have Econ after study hall, so I can move up to your desk." He beamed. You stared at one another for a bit, not because you're creepy, but because looking away didn't feel right.

"Can I take a macaron?"

Nagi interrupting at the worst time.

He took the macaron off your plate and ate it in one bite, expression not changing at all.

You and Reo looked at each other with the same look, before you burst out laughing.

...

After the bell for end of study hall rang, you and Reo walked to Econ together. Talking so casually, like you've known each other for years.

Reo could get used to this.

The following three weeks consisted of you and Reo, walking together, talking for hours, facetiming, and study dates sessions. You looked forward to his bright purple eyes pulling you away at any given moment, the laughs you shared, the smiles he gave you, you wanted to take it and store it for safekeeping. He wanted to listen to your laugh forever, the only music he would ever want to listen to.

He was utterly mesmerized by you.

And you were utterly mesmerized with him.

But, you were starting to give up hope, did he not want to be with you? Are you just friends?

And he was internally dying, what if you said no? what if he was reading this all wrong?

He learned how to make matcha for you, so many failed attempts he doesn't even really know what it tastes like anymore.

15 attempts.

Thats how many times he's tried to ask you out, but he ends up chickening out, or he can't find the right timing.

The sharpie ink on the matcha cup smeared, or the pickup line was lame or he just kept stumbling over his words.

It was Friday afternoon, you were on the bus going home. Earbuds in, dnd on and zoned out. You didn't realize it was raining until the bus made its final stop to your building. You ran straight out the bus and under the shade in front of the lobby as fast as you could, still wet but it was worth a shot. You go up to the third floor, and unlock your door. No one was home, so you decided to take a nap. All was well until you hear knocking on your door, getting more frantic as time progresses. You shot up, who would be knocking at your door? At 9 PM? You grab a rolling pin from the kitchen and approach the door. You opened the door and...

Reo?

What was he doing here? And why is he out of breath? And he's dripping water.

"Reo is something wron-"

"Wait, please listen before I chicken out again."

You went silent, what could this be about?

"Okay uhm, so how do I say this..."

He pauses.

"I can't stop thinking about you, everything I do everything guides my thoughts back to you. It's like you've casted a spell on me. Im in trance when i'm with you, i'm in a trance when i think about you. I don't know what to do..."

You froze.

Finally.

You couldn't help but smile, something in your chest bubbled with that warm melted feeling.

You paused before finally saying.

"If you don't know what to do...let me give you an idea."

You kissed him, short and sweet with a smile on your face, waiting for him to do anything.

He pulled you into a warm embrace, the water from his hair and shirt bleeding into yours. You two stood like that for a bit, before you pull away and look up at him.

He's looking right back down, eyes flickering at the features on your face.

Standing under the light he looked ethereal, stunning, you couldn't believe what you were seeing.

He stared into your eyes deeply one more time before going down for a deep kiss.

Gentle.

Thats how to describe it.

He held you as if you were fragile, as if you would crumble right before him.

When you pull apart he looks into your eyes, finally asking you.

"Will you be mine?"

Reo Mikage never wanted anything, except you.

xoxo, august

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

-MASTERLIST-

Color Key

Red: NSFW

Blue: angst/ hurt no comfort

Pink: fluff/comfort

Green: horror/goth/unsettling

Orange: headcanon/analysis

Professor!Leon x Reader (NFSW)

- Professor, I didn’t cheat.

- Professor, I didn’t cheat pt.2

Older!Leon x Reader (NSFW)

- My baby, my baby… (angst)

- My baby, my baby… pt. 2

Yan!Leon X Reader (NSFW)

- American Psycho Killer

- American Psycho Killer: The Sequel

Prince!Leon X Reader Trilogy (NSFW)

- You've bewitched me

- You've bewitched me, body and soul

- You’ve bewitched me, I never wish to be parted from you

Mafia!Boss!Leon X Reader Trilogy (NSFW)

- Cupid doesn’t gamble

- Cupid doesn’t gamble II

- Cupid doesn’t gamble III

NSFW Leon x Reader

SFW Leon x Reader

OG series

- Insurgency index

Leon Headcanons

RE: Incorrect Quotes

- RE Meme Quotes

- RE as Bojack Quotes

My short analytical essays on RE

- Leon Psychoanalysis

- Color Theory vs. RE

- Villain Analysis

- Did Leon change or did he stay the same?

- Leon’s intelligence

- My interpretation on Aeon

[sho3to]

lover, you should've come over, 'cause it's not too late. | g. weasley

burning in the corner is the only one who dreams he had you with him. george weasley never wanted to be in love. but that day—that one special day from his first year that he'll forever hold dear - is when he caught a glimpse of your bewitching eyes and those stray ethereal curls he dreamt so much of touching. to hold you was to go to heaven—or so he said.

lonely is the room, the bed is made, the open window lets the rain in. each passing moment with you was eternal—those moments when he touched you, when he felt like he wasn't a half of a whole; like he was his own person, only associated with you.

sometimes a man gets carried away when he feels like he should be having his fun, much too blind to see the damage he's done. there was this fight between the two of you, right before the great war. you knew there would be consequences in participating in it, whilst he was ever the griffindor—always fearless and courageous. he could remember your sad words of goodbye that night; when you held him so tightly whispering words of sugariness althought you made it very clear that you were on different sides. be brave, griffindor. be strong as the walls you've built around your heart.

his body turns, and yearns for a sleep that won't ever come. he could never live that way again. his old, carefree ways spent with his dear departed brother, fred—all gone. and the worse of all, you weren't there. you'll never be there again. all the sadness and destruction that happened in his life was all because he chose to stray away from you; from the everlasting sweetness you had provided his life. all gone, all gone.

sometimes a man must awake to find that, really he has no one. as he spent a whole year alone, with weasley's wizarding wheezes closed and his time spent all on trying to move on—he couldn't. he sees and hears and reads your name everywhere, may it be on the daily prophet where he reads that your family has moved on, or in his mother's mouth when she casually mentions that you have visited the burrow when he wasn't around. he hears your voice at his sister's pre-recorded messages from you, which contained all the sweet, kind words he wanted to hear. you were everywhere.

oh, love, well, he's waited for you. those months he spent with angelina—his brother's past girlfriend were only temporary soltitude; whilst his mind's peace when he was around you lasted forevermore. he couldn't help but compare your smile with her's, and how his words for angelina never seemed genuine. he felt like angelina, too, was looking for something she could never get back. and like two kindred souls, they decided being lonely together was better than mourning fred alone. it was too fast to be healthy for the both of them, and they knew that very well. so when things took a turn and they fighted, fighted, and fighted—he remembered you and how you fought, fought, and fought. all his fault.

sweet lover, you should've come over. him and angelina eventually separated, and his feet found itself on your door. he knocked, three times—your lucky number. and as soon as you opened the door, he begged, begged and begged.

"i know—i know that i am not worthy of standing at your door, but my love— let me; let me fall in love with you once more; not one single moment did i stop— so that i can truly prove to you that i am."

[seneon]

MELANCHOLY ──── vampire! touya × fem! reader.

about. you drown in a melancholic pool, waiting for his awaken. vampire! au, set in 1930s, a few decades after bewitched ( part one ) very quick angst to romantic fluff. there's some gore tw all around. wc of 1K.

notes. proofread by @angeliicheartt i heart you

in the thirtieth year of the ninety century, there were countless reports of the lives and blood of the citizens rapidly decreasing. in other words, they were all found dead—body malnourished, skin rotting, gaze locked up to the sky that had seen everything played out before their last breath.

there was one thing they all had in common. two small bites on their neck. or anywhere around their body in general, starting from the head and down to the very tippy toes.

just like that, their soul has been sucked out. it was the work of vampires, vicious bloodsucking creatures who walked the same ground as a human would. except, they only walk during the night.

sunlight burned their skin. the day and brightness made them cry out in pain. their eyes will start to disintegrate at the sight of the brightest of colours.

what would humanity ever do when they found out there was one single vampire that roamed around the streets like any average woman? dressed and disguised as a bookseller in the day, teeth growing out to be a vampire during the dead of night.

to the citizens, you are the young, vintage bookseller who sold the greatest books in all of town. a woman who never ever seems to age, as some rumours have risen over time from the gossiping mouth of the older widows who knew you for decades yet still seemingly younger than them.

even with all these blood consumed in the dead of night, none of them could fulfill the solitude you've been having to embrace lately. the emptiness consumes you whole, just like all the blood of the innocent you have sucked out for your source of living.

when dusk arrived, you slowly walked your way back home where the walls are higher than any ceilings and the windows are dimmer than any reflections.

as always, the first thing you will always do is open the coffin of your slumbering husband and kiss his forehead, or anywhere at all, as a greeting to tell him that you have arrived home.

you sat beside his coffin, eyes gazing at touya's lips which were laid out in one straight line along with his eyes which were sealed shut.

oh, how you've missed those turquoise eyes that brought so much joy to your loneliness. those eyes which only looked your way like you are the only that exists in this world. the eyes that told the moon millions of stories about you.

your fingers moved to gently rest on the cold skin of touya, not before your knuckles caressed and brushed his cheeks ever so lightly. a partial piece of his bone that has been turned into a ring coiled around your ring finger, the cold piece glimmering under the moonlit night.

you might not let it roll out the tip of your tongue, but your soul screams for touya to awaken.

it has been so long since he fell into a deep slumber. of course you knew of this deep slumber, it's something that touya does every few centuries for decades in order to replenish his power.

in this case, he slumbers because he has given you quite the amount of his blood and the unexplained ability to still walk around the day even if your canine teeth have grown longer and sharper.

and it was a personal punishment for him for turning an innocent human girl into something that he is. touya wanted to carve a hole in his chest to offer her his heart just so she could live for an eternity with him in this hell. how selfish.

in the background solemnly and softly played the record of antonio vivaldi's four seasons’ summer. it's a piece you've been indulging in lately, besides the other three seasons.

“ya know? the moon begs me to know when you will open your eyes again. she tells me that she wants to hear more of your stories,” you spoke softly, your fingers never ceasing their movements to gently caress. “i don't think she's very fond of me…”

“i miss you, touya,” you leaned closer to his face where your hair fell over his face and your nose almost touched his own. “please just... wake up. i’m so lonely.”

your forehead pressed against touya's, nose now touching his as your lips caved in to press them against touya's soft and cold ones.

those same lips that used to mold against yours so perfectly. those lips that used to lick and drink your blood like there was no other. those same old cold lips and dying lips that has you addicted with one press against your skin. you never forget the part where it speaks of honey-sweet words that always twists and turns your inside.

in melancholia, it was quickly driven away when you felt fingers weaving themselves into the back of your head, pushing your head further into the kiss as you felt touya's lips moving against yours.

you let out a little gasp as he deepened the kiss before moments later then you pulled away to stare at him with widened eyes.

there it is.

his turquoise eyes that somehow knew how to bring you joy no matter the occasion. the corner of touya's lips slowly cracked into a smile before he slowly sat up from his coffin, tilting his head to the side.

“morning.”

you wasted no second to throw yourself onto him, embracing his awakened body as you once again pressed your lips onto his. your lips have been waiting for this moment, craving for a longing kiss.

touya chuckled before one of his arms slithered around your waist to pull you closer, his free hands moving to cup your cheek. his kisses burned with passion, as if they've been longing for you just as much as you've longed for him.

a few moments later both of you pulled away and he rested his forehead on yours, his pretty turquoise eyes that you missed so damn much staring right into yours.

“i heard you calling out to me, darling. there's so much melancholy in your voice that it broke me on the inside. hurts so much that i couldn't wait for my power to fully restore before i woke up to be graced by your truly wonderful lips.”

like a child, you wailed at the awakening of your slumbering vampire husband for the next few hours into the night and in his arms while he holds you close and tight, telling you promises that he'd never do anything of that sort again.

your little bone that wrapped around touya's ring finger occasionally grazed your cheeks to wipe your salty tears away as he chuckled at your distress.

tonight isn't so melancholic and lonely anymore.

TAGS ★ @saewako @hyoismbbg @rueclfer @sweetheartsaku @lunatiqez @sepptember @loveriotss @bbluefllame @noirflms @anqelically @haunted4kent

© SENEON 2024 ♱ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[dark-and-kawaii]

༺ 𝒜 𝒟𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 ༻

Raphael’s arms were crossed as he leaned against a tree, a surge of unfamiliar emotions welling up within him as he watched his bewitching little mouse, Tav, twirl gracefully in the delicate snowfall.

No Warnings - Raphael softness - Dancing In The Snow

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a soft, exquisite glow over the winter landscape. The air was crisp and still, with the scent of snow lingering in every breath. The ground blanketed by a layer of pristine white, untouched by any footsteps but for the path that you had created.

Raphael’s arms were crossed as he leaned against a tree, mesmerized as he watched his bewitching little mouse, Tav, twirl gracefully in the delicate light snowfall. A mischievous smirk played across his lips as he began to approach you, his voice filled with a hint of playful concern.

"Careful, little mouse. You might catch a cold," the devil teased, his eyes wandering across your body as he placed a hand on his chin before he continued, "How terrible it would be to have you confined in my bed."

You, undeterred by Raphael’s deluded concern, simply smirked and extended your arm towards him, beckoning him to join you. Your eyes were filled with a mixture of confidence and yearning, “Join me, won’t you?”

Laughter filled his chest, “Well, darling, I must say that the privilege of dancing with me doesn't come cheap. But since you've asked so nicely,”

Raphael had a soft spot for you, this you knew, however you still couldn’t help but to worry about the consequences of indulging in this blasphemous act. Even if it was a simple dance it was never that easy with him, this you also knew.

Accepting your invitation, his hand intertwined with yours, ”How could I refuse.” A fiery wall surrounded Raphael's human disguise revealing his much larger devilish physique, his elegance and power revealed. He unfurled his scarlet wings, enveloping them around the two of you to shield you both from the falling snow, creating a sanctuary amidst the winter wonderland.

With each swirl and turn, the snow whispered beneath both your feet like a secret shared only between the two of you as the night continued. It had felt as if you were both floating above the frozen ground, Raphael’s movements light and effortless.

As time went on winters kiss attempted to chill both your body and Raphael’s wings, but you were both unaffected- warmed by the fire casted from within Raphael’s soul.

It didn’t take long for the silence of the night to be broken, “My dearest, Tav. As quaint as this is, it’s much too cold for my taste.” He pulled away from you, giving you a small bow, “Let us continue this elsewhere. Come” With a snap of his fingers you found yourself once again in his House of Hope and in the arms of your devil.

[lonelychicago]

IM SO SOFT. EMILY HENRY YOU'VE BEWITCHED ME HEART BODY AND SOUL