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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 days ago

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House Calls.

Summary: Aaliyah has an elusive charm that can be alluring to some and frustrating to others. Professor Terry is compelled to have her. On one fateful evening at his college buddies bachelor party, he runs into Aaliyah. An interaction he hadn’t imagined would ever happen.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, based off of Players Club, Nasty Talk, Professor!Student. ANGST.

Part three

1999:

Walking into a hair salon was an interesting experience. Pulling into an overly stuffed parking lot in futile anticipation of being in and out “in a decent time.” opening the salon door and walking into a room overflowing with peering eyes full of a mixture of both curiosity and judgment that covers you from your head to the bottom of your favorite shoes. Slinking down into chairs that go from stuffed and comfortable to hard as steel while waiting for the appointment that was due more than an hour ago. Out bursts of group laughter, “girllll, no she didn’t!” and “say what now?!” coupled with the familiar smell of hair sheen spray and neutralizing shampoo that seeps through the fog of sporadic steam that fills the air from the super-wattage, neck-burning hair dyers, steamers and marcel ‘top of your ear frying’ irons, reminds you that this is going to be long day.

Aaliyah Noelle Davenport sat in an unoccupied salon chair within a popular salon in Baton Rouge called Gina’s. Gina’s had been around for over ten years. The pages of her coloring book she was currently scribbling in with old crayons kept her busy so she wouldn’t go snooping around like last time. She burned her fingers touching a curling iron heater.

“He’s back home…coming to pick Aaliyah up in a few…”

Aaliyah’s mother, Rochelle, was currently doing a roller set on a client. She worked the rollers around thick strands of hair with her long, curved, golden nails. Rochelle was a hard working woman. She did hair and worked night shifts at a local motel to pay the bills. Anything to make up for Aaliyah’s father being in prison for six years.

She was the epitome of 90s fine: Rochelle embodied a beauty that was both timeless and undefinable, leaving a permanent imprint on anyone that crossed her path. Her unique blend of elegance, confidence, and charisma inspired and resonated with Aaliyah. That kind of fine isn’t just about looks — it’s about attitude, style, and an effortless grace.

“Make the money, don’t let it make you. Money can't make you anything…only your actions can make you something. Money can buy you things that make life easier but one thing it can’t buy is happiness…”

“Girl, stop acting like you ain’t happy he back home...”

One of her mother’s friends and fellow stylist, Donna, was flipping through one of many hair catalogs the shop owned.

“The less he know the better,” Rochelle added the final touches before she walked her client over to the hooded dryers, “It was one time, that’s it…”

“Rochelle, if you don’t calm your fucking nerves. He won’t ever find the fuck out if you don’t hush!”

“Okay, okay…shit–that’s him coming up right now. Aaliyah?”

“Mhm?” Aaliyah mumbled from her seat while coloring in a teddy bear.

“Your father is here…come on and get ya stuff. He’s gonna take you back to the house while I finish up. C’mon, little girl!”

Aaliyah frowned and pouted her lip while packing away her crayons and coloring book.

“Fix that face. You got homework to do…”

She climbed down from her seat and slipped her Barbie book bag over her shoulders. A candy painted Donk with shiny rims slowed to a stop outside of the salon and Aaliyah’s eyes lit up when she recognized her father’s low–cut ceasar with the deep waves. He shut his door and strolled over to the entrance of the salon with swagger.

Roland Davenport AKA Pressure. He was a smooth cat from Baton Rouge with a nefarious past and a deep love for his daughter. Aaliyah was his entire world.

“Is that my little girl! What’s up, Princess!”

He scooped up his six year old and spun her around. Aaliyah giggled joyfully while clinging onto her father’s crisp white tee. His skin was the deepest brown and blemish free. He flashed his pearly whites at her before giving her a kiss to the forehead. Roland put Aaliyah down and then he made his way over to Rochelle.

Aaliyah watched her parents hug each other affectionately. Their lips connected with a gluttonous passion. Roland’s hands roamed down to cuff Rochelle’s dump trunk and she squeezed his bulging biceps in return.

“Stop! Stop…I’m with a client…”

“How long ya gonna be, baby? I was thinking ‘bout taking my favorite girls out to eat.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rochelle grinned flirtatiously, “Where to?”

“It’s a surprise…”

Aaliyah’s parents talked for a few more minutes before her dad led her out of the salon hand in hand. She skipped along the way. Roland opened the back door and took her back pack so that she could buckle in.

“Daddy, I wanna sit up front.” Aaliyah protested with her sweet little voice, “Please?”

“Liyah. You can’t sit up here today. Maybe next time, okay?”

Aaliyah hung her head before fastening her seatbelt. Roland made his way to the drivers side and climbed in.

“How was school today?” Roland questioned, staring back at his daughter through the rear view mirror.

“Good.” Aaliyah flashed a grin with no two front teeth.

“That’s not what ya momma told me…”

Her smile disintegrated.

Aaliyah fiddled with her pleated, khaki uniform skirt. She avoided her father’s gaze, afraid he’d appear angry and she would be in big trouble.

“Look at me, Liyah…”

She did as she was told, staring up at her father.

“I’m not mad. You had every right to defend yourself. ‘Dem lil’ boys won’t mess with you again after what ya did…”

Aaliyah had been dealing with constant bullying from two little boys in her first grade class. They would pull her long plats, kick the back of her chair, call her names, and other cruel things that always resulted in her crying in the bathroom.

“Now if these lil’ niggas wanna have kids of their own someday, they better leave my daughter alone or I’m putting foot in ass…”

Roland made a silly face at Aaliyah and she couldn’t help but to smile and laugh.

“How ‘bout we make a pit stop to grab a snowball?”

“YAY!!!” Aaliyah cheered, her little arms up in the air like she’d just had a victory lap.

Roland cranked the radio, Sho Nuff by 8ball & MJG blasting through the speakers. Aaliyah could feel the seat beneath her vibrate. She watched her father rap the lyrics, a sudden gush of humid air flooding the car when he let the windows down. Roland extended his arm from the window to greet people he knew, the Chevrolet Impala Donk slow gliding through the hood.

They pulled up to a snowball stand that was situated next to a bowling alley and roller-skate rink. Rolland turned his music down before looking back at Aaliyah over the headrest of his seat.

“Which flavor?”

“Georgia Peach!”

“Aight, munchkin. I’ll be back…”

Roland climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him. Aaliyah peered out of the open window, her eyes following her father’s retreating frame. What she hadn’t noticed, however, was the way an all black Escalade crept up, all four doors opening in unison.

Everything went in slow motion.

Repeated muzzle flashes sparked the air like it was the Fourth of July.

RAT–rat-rat-rat-rat!!!

Her scream pierced the air.

——

Those memories flooded Aaliyah’s mind that Wednesday morning. She’d woken up in good spirits, ready for her Ethics and Psychology class and a lunch date with a special someone. After showering, Aaliyah slipped on a pair of light grey leggings that molded into her hips, thighs, and booty. She paired it with a fitted, white T-shirt and low top Vans. Glasses on, messy hair pinned back with a claw clip, she threw on a denim jacket and collected her school bag near the front door.

Before she could even leave, a hard, booming knock on the storm door of her Shotgun House caused her forehead to wrinkle with surprise. She paused for a second before walking up to the door. Aaliyah brought one dark brown eye to the peephole.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Aaliyah flinched.

“Aaliyah! Open the door! I know you’re here!”

It was her junkie mother.

She didn’t look like herself.

Acne, dull skin, and self-inflicted wounds from picking at her face. Needle marks and collapsed veins from shooting up.

Rochelle was unrecognizable.

One look at her, and all the trauma from her youth flooded her mind. After her father was shot down, Rochelle went into a deep state of depression. She lost her job at the salon, and the pay checks from her motel job didn’t keep the bills paid. Rochelle had no choice but to seek help from a man. Any man that was willing. She sent Aaliyah away at the age of ten for a few years to live with her estranged grandmother, Ruby. Ruby was a strict, Christian woman with no tolerance for misbehavior or rebellion. She lived in a different Parrish in rural Louisiana, closer to Shelby Springs.

Aaliyah was made to do yard and farm work. She had Bible studies on weekends and couldn’t hang with many children because their parents weren’t ‘Godly Folk’. The only thing Aaliyah really enjoyed was horseback riding whenever her grandmother would visit a church friend. When Aaliyah was nearing fourteen, she started sneaking out to see an older boy. Word got around and Ruby lashed out on Aaliyah.

“I didn’t have sex with him! We were just kissing!”

Aaliyah wailed, hands raised to brace herself from her grandmother’s blows.

“You’re just like your mother! Can’t keep your legs closed! Don’t lie to me, Aaliyah! I know you slept with that boy!” Ruby shouted.

She couldn’t stay there any longer. Aaliyah called her mother that same night, begging her to come get her. Rochelle drove an hour out and when Ruby opened her door, Rochelle shoved past her mother.

“You put your hands on my child?! You evil bitch!”

Aaliyah watched from the top of the stairs with her packed bags. Rochelle and Ruby were in the middle of a screaming match.

“You asked for my help, remember?! She lives under my roof, she abides by my rules!” Ruby argued.

“But did I ask you to beat on my child?! Just the same ol’ shit with you! I can’t even rely on you to be there for my daughter—”

“OH! Now look who’s talking. You couldn’t even get your shit together after Roland died to be a mother. Which man is it now paying the bills, Rochelle?! Look at all this,” Ruby pointed to Rochelle’s jewelry and designer, “Don’t look like you struggling to me.”

Rochelle remained silent, scornful eyes glaring at Ruby.

“Aaliyah! Let’s go…”

She hadn’t seen her mother in almost four years. Rochelle looked…fancy.

“Sully is in the car…He drove me here…I missed you, Liyah…”

Ruby watched with folded arms. She locked eyes with Aaliyah, a look of guilt flashing across her face for just a second. They left without a backwards glance.

Aaliyah was very careful around Sully. He was a drug dealer, bringing home money and gifts to spoil Aaliyah. She became used to the revolving door of other criminals entering her home. She was just happy to with her mother again. Aaliyah focused on her studies and poured herself into cheerleading and hip hop majorette.

Eventually, things started to go downhill. Rochelle was introduced to harder drugs, Sully owed people money and he had gambling debts. Things in their home started to disappear, bills were piling up, and Sully turned violent. It took for Ruby and Aaliyah to fight back for Sully to finally leave. It opened the same wound of her father’s death, Rochelle unable to stay strong. Rochelle’s addiction became worse, so bad to the point that she would steal from her own daughter.

Aaliyah couldn’t handle it. As soon as she graduated high school, she got her own place and left her mother behind. It broke her heart, but in order for her to evolve, she needed to break free. Aaliyah hated working at Hooters, and when she turned twenty–six, she started stripping at Crazy Horse.

“Make the money, don’t let it make you…”

Aaliyah opened the front door, but the storm door remained locked. Aaliyah stared down at her mother. Rochelle looked desperate and more frail than the last time she showed up. She’d relapsed again.

“Hey, baby…”

Rochelle pressed her hands against the door.

“Can you help me? I need some cash—”

“I gave you five hundred dollars when I last saw you, momma. I see you back on that shit again…”

Rochelle hung her head in shame.

“I’m trying, Aaliyah. You don’t understand how hard it is.”

“You’ve tried for over twenty years now. I’m tired of helping you and all you do is use me. Weren’t you staying with Mama Ruby?”

She definitely wasn’t staying with Aaliyah.

“I can’t stay wit’ you?”

“Hell no.” Aaliyah quipped.

“I’m your fucking mother!”

“Did you forget what happened the last time you lived with me?! You stole shit from my house! I don’t trust you!”

Aaliyah didn’t need this. She had to go to school.

“Please…please, Li��Li. I’m hungry…I’m broke…pleaseeee…”

Aaliyah stared her mother down with a venomous glance. There will always be a soft spot for Rochelle, but the repeated hurt was exhausting. Seeing her mother like this broke her heart. She just couldn’t stop using.

“Okay…”

Aaliyah opened her storm door. Rochelle slipped inside quickly. Aaliyah kept a watchful eye on her mother while she admired Aaliyah’s cozy home.

“C’mon…”

They entered Aaliyah’s kitchen. Rochelle climbed onto a bar stool, peering around with a nervous look. Aaliyah opened her fridge, bringing out leftover catfish and grits she’d prepared last night for dinner.

“That piece right there…yeah…”

Aaliyah rolled her eyes.

She gave her mother the thickest piece of catfish and a good portion of cheesy grits. While the food heated, Aaliyah reclined her plush bottom against the counter. She stared her mother down, unable to shake the pain that fought to bubble to the surface.

“How’s school?” Rochelle questioned, unable to avoid picking at her skin.

Aaliyah tampered down her resentment and cleared her throat to speak.

“Good. I’ll be graduating in June.”

“That’s good, baby. Real good…June…How many tickets you gettin’?”

“Uhm,” Aaliyah checked on the catfish, “Not really sure yet.”

“Still dancing?”

Aaliyah rubbed her arms.

“No.”

The smell of the crispy fish wafted her mother’s nose. Aaliyah opened the oven to retrieve it. The grits on the stove top were nice and smooth now. After plating the food, Aaliyah wrapped it with aluminum foil and slid it across the kitchen island to her mother. She opened her pantry to grab a plastic fork and knife, securing it with some paper towels before holding it out towards her mother.

“I can’t sit here and eat?”

“You know you can’t…”

“Aaliyah—”

“Look, I have class. I’m gon’ miss it if you don’t take this shit and leave—”

“LOOK,” Rochelle stood, “I’m sorry you hate me so much. I’m sorry about all that shit, but I’m still your mother, Li–Li.”

“Oh? Last time I remember you being a mother was when I was six years old. Anything after that don’t count.” Aaliyah fired back.

Rochelle parted her cracked lips to speak, but her words stilled in her throat. Her tears flowed down her face and she wiped them away with the back of her dingy sleeve. Aaliyah stood before her with a rigid expression.

“Okay, I’ll leave…”

Rochelle grabbed her plate of food and Aaliyah stepped out of the way for her to walk in front of her. Tears prickled her eyes but she hastily pulled herself together. Aaliyah followed her mother towards the front door. She opened it, unable to reach her mother’s gaze.

“I love you, Li–Li…”

A solemn tear cascaded down Aaliyah’s face.

“…think you could look out for me?”

Aaliyah released a sigh before reaching into her bag. She plucked out whatever cash she had– one hundred and fifty dollars– handing it over to her mother.

Rochelle accepted it shamefully.

“Thank you, Li–Li. Take care of yourself…”

——

Professor Richmond carried his brown leather briefcase with him into the lecture hall. There were already students present the more he approached his desk in his brown dress shoes. His oceanic eyes swept the rows of students, his gaze zeroed into a vacant desk. Bringing his Apple Watch up, he was right on schedule. She would be arriving late today it seems.

Terry couldn’t go the remainder of his weekend into the early weekday without Aaliyah crossing his mind. She invaded and consumed him without her physical presence. He was two grand broker and overjoyed. He’d spend more on her in a millisecond. That shapely body is a walking sin. He found himself daydreaming of how it would feel to press his muscles into the softness of her curves. How would the curl of his biceps feel around her thighs? The ridges of his abdomen beneath her hands as she explored?

“I hope you all read up on Darwin and The Moral Sense. We’re jumping straight into discussion…”

Terry removed his navy blue suit jacket, then he rolled up the sleeves to his white, button down shirt that he wore tucked into matching navy blue slacks. He used a red Expo marker to write: Chapter Three of The Descent of Man. After capping the marker, he turned his attention to the class. With his pointer finger, he pushed his glasses back from the bridge of his nose.

“The keystone significance of morality in human distinctness is clearly asserted by Darwin in the first sentence…and the quote says….”

Terry snapped his fingers before pointing at a student within the second row with their hand raised. A white male with wooly, dark brown hair and a hooked nose.

“I fully subscribe to the judgment of those writers who maintain that of all the differences between man and the lower animals—”

“The moral sense of conscience is by far the most important, correct, James. But why is that?”

He cast his penetrating eyes across his students before flicking his gaze at the door. Another student bravely raised their hand and Terry motioned for them to speak. He continued to lecture shortly after that.

“We know from his notebooks that Darwin was reading the contemporary philosophical literature about moral behavior in 1837…”

As he continued, pacing in front of his desk, hands in the pockets of his slacks, the absence of Aaliyah weighed heavy on him. Minutes ticked away and soon enough, class was dismissed. Terry spoke with a student after class about the grade he’d given them for the midterm paper before packing away his things and leaving.

He made it back to his makeshift office space, shut the door and shuffled inside, careful not to knock his briefcase into stacks of decades old textbooks and files. With his thumb and pointer finger, he flicked on his table lamp, a yellow glow igniting the space. The swivel chair situated at his rectangular, wooden desk creaked slight as he settled down. Terry cracked his wrists, a habit of his when he felt too wound up.

iPhone in hand, he found Aaliyah’s contact.

“Here,” Terry handed Aaliyah his phone, “Put your number in.”

Aaliyah stared up at Terry through her curled lashes with a smile that enticed him into a further aroused state. She held out her small hand and made a come hither motion. Terry felt his phone slip from his fingertips and watched her with a sharp gaze and a slight smirk. She typed away, and he caught her eye before she saved it.

Terry texted her phone later that evening and Aaliyah replied with a kiss emoji.

Terry: Goodnight, Beautiful ❤️

Aaliyah: Nite Professor 😘

He texted her on Sunday, not saying much, just a simple greeting. He didn’t want to come off too strong, although he was fiendish for her attention.

Terry: Hi, Aaliyah. Hope you slept well ❤️ Any plans for today?

Aaliyah: Hi 😏 slept well thanks for asking. how was your sleep? & I’m currently out to brunch with friends.

Terry: You’re welcome. had a great rest. Brunch is fun. I’m sure you look great 😌

Aaliyah: I do 😉

Terry: SO BEAUTIFUL 😍

Aaliyah: Thank you ❤️ can’t wait to see you on Wednesday.

Terry: I’m looking forward to it ❤️

Terry sent Aaliyah a new text.

Terry: Hey, is everything okay?

It wasn’t like her to miss class. Terry unfastened the first few buttons of his shirt. He stood to stretch his sore legs from his workout earlier, easing his way over to the only window in his office. Terry looked out the window. The sky was tar-black and the large clouds seemed as if they were moving towards him. He heard a tapping on the window and then it became a pitter-patter. People ran for cover outside and umbrellas were opened as the clouds spat out their beads of water. Puddles began plinking as the rainfall became heavier. The roofs of the cars danced with spray and he could hear the murmuring of the rain through the window. It sounded like the buzzing of angry bees.

Buzz Buzz

Terry back tracked to his desk, reaching over and grabbing his phone.

Aaliyah: I’m sorry I missed class, Terry. Everything isn’t okay actually. I wasn’t feeling it. Can I call you?

Terry: Yes

He answered immediately.

Terry took a seat, “Hello?”

“Hi…”

Her voice sent chills down his spine.

Terry sensed her sadness.

“Want to talk about it?”

“…Can we still meet for lunch?”

“We can. It’s raining pretty bad out. Sure you’ll be okay driving?”

“I’ll be fine, I’m standing on my back porch right now…looks like it’s slowing down.��

“Okay. Uh…I was thinking Noir. It’s a nice jazz inspired restaurant and it’s a great vibe for cozy and intimate dining. Do you need me to pick you up?”

“No, that’s okay. I can meet you there. I know Noir.”

“Okay, drive safely, love.” Terry said.

“I will, you too. See you there.”

——

Noir didn’t have many patrons that afternoon, and Terry wasn’t complaining. He scooted himself into a booth, the dim light hanging above him so dull as if a shade had been cast upon it. His wet dress shoes squeaked slightly as he made himself comfortable. Terry ordered two filtered waters with lemon and hot water to soak the silverware. His legs swung back and forth beneath the booth table anxiously. Eyes that appeared turquoise glanced towards the entrance and he made out the silhouette of Aaliyah Davenport entering.

She must’ve gotten caught in the rain. She was dressed casually, a large Louis Vuitton tote bag over her right shoulder and a denim jacket flung over her left arm. She paused, eyes searching for Terry. He leaned further out of the booth and waved her down. Aaliyah fixed her gaze on him and a small smile graced her beautiful lips. Terry watched her saunter over, and the further she approached, the more her smile brightened.

Terry stood, fixing his pants since they had ridden up on his thighs and bulged around his crotch. Aaliyah slowed down to a stop before him, an awkward pause with nervous glances between them. Ultimately, Terry opened his arms and Aaliyah giggled before wrapping her arms around him. Terry caught a whiff of her hair; coconut and hibiscus. Mmm…he could feel the slight dampness of her curls through his dress shirt.

Her T-shirt beneath his fingertips was slightly wet from the rain droplets. Aaliyah broke away from him and gave him one last look before settling into the booth. Terry followed, situated across from her. He loved how natural and beautiful she looked. Her curls were slightly heat damaged at the ends, giving it personality. She wasn’t wearing her glasses today, Terry able to enjoy those pretty brown eyes again. Her hoop earrings swung as she swept hair from her eyes.

“I ordered us some water for now if that’s okay.” Terry mentioned.

“That’s ‘awrite with me, Professor.”

She has such a cute voice. Honeyed.

“I hope I didn’t miss anything crucial. I’m sorry.” Aaliyah apologized.

“Don’t be. We discussed chapter three…have you read it?”

“I have. No assignments?” Aaliyah replied.

“No—Aaliyah, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t care to talk about class. He wanted to know what was bothering her. She looked so saddened. It didn’t sit right with him.

“Uh…it’s a lot. I don’t wanna pour my shit out on you.”

“I’m willing to listen, if you’ll let me. No pressure…”

Aaliyah tilted her head and considered his words. Their water arrived and the waiter was ready to take their orders. Aaliyah hadn’t even looked over the menu.

“Give us another minute, please? Thanks…”

Aaliyah started flipping through the menu. The conical body of the saxophone in the background soothing.

Terry decided to order them an appetizer. Mini crab bites. He wasn’t too sure what to order for lunch.

“Do you like crab bites?” Terry asked.

“I do. That sounds good,” Aaliyah peered up at him with a timid smile, “I was thinking of getting a salmon ceasar salad.”

“Tasty,” Terry stroked his goatee, “I’ll probably do a shrimp Po’Boy.”

Their waiter circled back and Terry ordered everything. Alone again, they sipped their water and caught each other’s eye. Aaliyah pushed the wedge of lemon in her glass down further with her straw. She released a sigh before leaning against the table.

“My momma showed up today. Right when I was leaving for school.”

“Ya’ momma? I take it you’re not happy about that…”

Aaliyah’s eyes glistened. Terry wanted to reach out and stroke her soft cheek.

“My mom is a drug addict. Been an addict since I was sixteen.”

Terry allowed what she revealed to him to settle into his mind. He gave her a slow nod, and his eyes fixated on her deeper.

Aaliyah continued with a shaky voice, “After my father was killed, she became depressed and she blamed herself for the longest time. I was there when it happened…saw the whole thing,” Aaliyah rubbed her arms, “He hadn’t even been out of prison for a year and he was shot…”

Terry watched her straighten her back and sniffle, trying her best to calm herself down.

“My momma’s been in and out of rehab. I’ve help her, my grandmomma helped her…she stole from me, disappointed me every single time…” Aaliyah stared down at her hands, “And all she can think to do is show up on my doorstep with her hands out. That broke me.”

Terry twisted his full lips and his eyes fell to her hands. He watched the way her fingers fiddled. With an impulse so strong, he covered her hands with his much larger ones, stroking them with his thumbs. Aaliyah watched the way his hands worked to sooth her. Like he was massaging the stress out of her. Aaliyah exhaled, and then she locked eyes with Terry.

“I love her so much…”

“I know you do, I can see it…I can feel it.” Terry spoke softly.

He released her hands so she could thumb away a tear.

“I’m so sorry, Aaliyah. Sorry about your father. Sorry about your mom…”

“Thank you, Terry. I really appreciate it. I know this is supposed to be a nice lunch. I feel like I’m ruining it with my fuckin’ bullshit.”

“There’s nothing ruined, love. I’m happy you felt comfortable enough to open up to me about it. I just don’t like seeing you like this…your mom isn’t willing to get help?”

“That’s the thing,” Aaliyah took a sip of her water to help get rid of the lump in her throat, “She’s been in and out of rehab plenty of times. It’s this guy she keeps running back to. I don’t really remember his name…all I know is that he’s a dealer. She’s always had a thing for criminals.”

“Your grandmother, what’s up with that?—am I asking too many questions?”

“No, no,” Aaliyah shook her head, “My grandma is…her and my mom have always had a strained relationship. She’s attempted to help, but it never works out. There’s a lot of unresolved issues and my mom just can’t stick around long enough to deal wit’ it, ya know?”

“I get it. What was your father like?”

Aliyah frowned slightly, “He was so funny. Had so much swagger to ‘em. Loved cars. He got himself mixed up in some shit. He was doing a favor for a friend that turned out to be a robbery and it landed him in prison.”

She had this faraway look in her eyes, as if she were recalling the nostalgic feeling of being with her dad.

“…I saw him…die…and…” Aaliyah exhaled, “Took me a while to shake it…”

“Damn,” Terry hung his head, “Aaliyah, that’s heavy…”

Terry squeezed her hands and sought out her gaze. Aaliyah looked across at him and a single tear cascaded down her cheek. Terry released her hand and lifted from his seat, scooting in next to her. He snatched up a few napkins and dabbed her face gently.

“It’s okay…it’s okay, Aaliyah…so sorry…”

One hand rubbed her shoulder while she bawled up the used napkin in her hand. With one last sniffle, Aaliyah turned her brown eyes that reminded him of cognac through a glass and just then, she leaned in and those lips he’d desired to feel grazed his cheek with a feather–like touch before molding into his skin with a pressure so soothing his eyelash’s fluttered in satisfaction.

“Thanks for listening,” Aaliyah whispered in his ear.

Terry turned his head at an angle towards her. He gave her a searing, sideways glance.

“You’re welcome. Anytime…”

“Crab bites…”

Startled, Terry leaped up from his seat and returned to his side of the booth. Aaliyah thanked the waiter and they put in their orders. Terry and Aaliyah shared the appetizer. After chewing, Aaliyah licked her lips before speaking.

“Tell me a little more about Terry Richmond.”

Terry gave Aaliyah an attractive half–smirk.

“Ask me and you shall receive.”

“Why teaching? Is that something you’ve always had a passion for?”

“That’s a really good question. Uh…yes. I was an instructor when I spent time in the Marines. I trained Marines for combat and firearms. Each day was new and exciting. I’ve always had this…desire to share knowledge, inspire others, and make a positive impact. Although my pops wanted me to continue into the Marines, I fell in love with Psychology. So…I got my PhD a year ago, and here I am.”

Aaliyah sat her face into her hands with her elbows propped up on the table, listening to him like he was retelling a fairytale story. Her eyes sparkled with joy at listening to him drone on about moving to North Carolina with his parents after Katrina, enlisted into the Marines, finished his undergrad, living there up until the age of twenty–seven before he moved back to Louisiana to attend LSU. Both of his parents are still together and living in North Carolina. Their food arrived and they tucked in, talking in between bites.

Terry was happy that Aaliyah is in better spirits. She smiled and giggled and it warmed his heart. She thanked him for cheering her up. Terry was honored. The topic veered to hobbies and interests. Aaliyah shared that she used to be a majorette dancer.

“Fishing? Living outdoors? Wow. I grew up doing farm work and riding horses but nothing that deep,” Aaliyah responded with a giggle.

“I can take you sometime…show you what it’s like.”

Terry cocked his head to the side and stared at Aaliyah. She held onto his gaze, the tip of her tongue peeking through her teeth. Terry wanted to wrap his full lips around her tongue and suck on it.

“So…is it a date then? Taking me fishing and camping, Professor?” Aaliyah teased.

“I’ll take you anywhere,” Terry slurped down some water.

“Anywhere?” Aaliyah dragged out with her cutesy voice and lips twinged with a sultry smile.

“Anywhere…anything for you.”

“I like the sound of that,” Aaliyah smiled, “You’ve earned the privilege to spoil me.”

They laughed in unison.

“How did I earn it, exactly?” Terry quirked a brow up and narrowed his eyes playfully.

“Giving me two thousand dollars cash was enough to let me know,” Aaliyah replied bluntly.

Terry chucked. He licked his lips, eyes scanning the space before he lowered his voice an octave, “You liked that, huh?”

“More than you’ll ever know…”

“Let me know, girl…”

Aaliyah tucked her chin and giggled.

“Let me know…” Terry persisted.

“I didn’t like it I love it. I’m a princess and I should be treated accordingly.”

Terry’s eyelids lowered slightly. He leaned in on his arms, eyes roaming her body before staring into her eyes again. He felt a sensation so deep within his ripped core. Something akin to butterflies. Aaliyah excited him. That mouth on her…he loved it.

“The minute I laid my eyes on you at that bachelor party…you were gettin’ all my money…”

“Good, that’s what I wanted,” Aaliyah nibbled on her straw with a teasing smile.

Terry licked his lips. He stared at her through his spectacles while his fingers drummed against the table slowly. Aaliyah sat her glass down and leaned back against the booth.

Staring.

They were practically eye–fucking each other.

Beneath that table, Aaliyah took it upon herself to run her pointed, left foot up Terry’s right leg. She did it achingly slow. It traveled up and up until she stopped with her foot propped up against his seat between his legs. Terry did one lazy sweep of his eyes over her foot and his teeth latched onto his bottom lip.

”Aaliyah…”

“Huh?”

Terry was going to lose it. Lose all his control. He was itching to walk her to the back of the restaurant, push her into a bathroom stall, and beat that fat pussy up with her chest against the door and his large hands keeping her pinned in place and stable on that dick.

“If I could tell you how beautiful you are…how gorgeous you are a million times I would. The moment I laid eyes on you at the beginning of the semester…I couldn’t ignore it. The feeling. I just knew that I had to have you…”

Aaliyah sat transfixed by his words. Lips slightly parted, eyes misty. He loved that look on her face. He wanted her to look at him like that in a kneeled position with his dick hanging in her face waiting to be tended to.

The thoughts in his mind…

“Wow,” Aaliyah chuckled breathlessly, “You want me that bad, huh? Wow…”

She acted as if a man never pined for her so deep like Terry. His unspoken energy even spoke volumes.

He. Needed. Aaliyah.

Professor or not.

“You don’t even know…”

“Mm,” Aaliyah shut her eyes and nibbled on her bottom lip. Her eyes opened slowly, “Terry…you gotta stop.”

They chuckled, Aaliyah’s thighs clenching beneath the table and Terry’s thighs swinging back and forth.

“Why stop?” Terry whispered.

Aaliyah kisses her teeth, “‘Cause…”

Her cute voice was enough to make the tip of his dick respond. He could feel himself leaking.

Thank God the waiter returned with the check. Terry paid the tab, and Aaliyah looked at him, not quite ready to go. Terry didn’t want to, but he had an evening course starting within the next hour or so and he needed to head back to campus.

Fuck that class. Look what’s in front of of you, nigga…

“You ready?” Terry questioned reluctantly.

——

They hadn’t even made it out of Noir for two seconds before it started again. They quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. Up to now, the sky had been postcard-perfect, but it was changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade was beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of clouds were forming, blotting out the old-gold colour of the sun.

Aaliyah got the first splatter of rain when she was halfway across the parking lot. She took shelter under her Jean jacket, hoping that she could see out past the shower. Terry’s brawny bicep pulled her closer while he covered himself with his own jacket. Droplets of moisture began to drip from the leaves. They were sprinkling onto the concrete like a gardener’s hose. Then the rainfall became more intense. A wall of rain moved over the oak trees and the drops were drumming against the tops of cars. So much rain was falling that the sound blurred into one long, whirring noise. It reminded her of the rotor blades on a helicopter.

Terry’s truck was closer. He rushed to fling the door opened, helping Aaliyah inside before sprinting to his side and climbing in. He slammed the door shut before tossing his drenched suit jacket onto the back seat. The humidity caused the car windows to fog as it poured. Eventually, the noise lessened and the drops faded into a musical chime. They sought out each other’s gaze and laughed.

Aaliyah threw her head back and sighed with contempt. This was a great lunch date. She was so happy she came. After bawling her eyes out about her mother, she needed some fun. Terry was more than just his looks. He was so refreshing. Such a gentleman. Hard working. So deeply fascinated with her. And it was more than just a lustful gaze. A gaze Aaliyah was more than used to. No. This man wanted her.

Aaliyah turned her cheek against the headrest to watch him. Terry felt her eyes and he gave her his undivided attention.

“I want to see you again, as soon as possible, Aaliyah.”

The urgency in his voice let her know he was a man about action.

“I’ll let you know what my days are looking like…okay?”

Terry hummed. The sound vibrated her core. He was impatient.

“Why not check on that now? Friday for an hour and thirty minute class ain’t enough.”

The bite in his voice sounded so much different from his professional tone. Aaliyah was stunned.

“Okay,” She pulled out her phone from her bag, “I have plans Saturday with friends…”

“Friday night?”

“Nothing.” Aaliyah replied.

“Then how about Friday? I’ll take you to dinner.”

“I have to study, Terry.” Aaliyah said, a playful glint in her eyes.

Aaliyah clocked the way Terry’s chest rose and fell with each deep breath. She imagined what he looked like beneath his business attire. Her imagining could only conjure up enough for her to fantasize about. She needed to see the real thing. Up close. Touch on him and memorize the planes and valleys of muscle threatening to bring the freak out of her. He looked like he could bench press and squat three times her size and Aaliyah wanted to test that theory. In many positions.

“I’ll help you study.”

“Isn’t that cheating?!” Aaliyah replied.

“It’s called tutoring, baby girl.”

Baby girl? Oh fucking hell…

Aaliyah became acutely aware of her nipples hardening. So did Terry. His eyes were glued to her breasts sitting up and jutted out.

Terry reached down beside him and his seat reclined back. Aaliyah’s heart skipped a beat. He gave her a pointed look. Aliyah’s eyes fell to his inviting lap…and a rather mountainous bulge…

It was as if the blood coursing through his body carried downward and pooled into his…

The veins in his arms…she could see them clearer now. His large hands resting against his thighs…that man spread…she felt a buzzing in her ears. The silent dominance in his posture…

Aaliyah lifted from her seat in a frenzy, Terry scooped her up with one powerful arm around her waistline and Aaliyah climbed over his lap. She sat herself snugly over his thick bulge that protruded from the crotch of his navy blue slacks like an eruption was waiting to happen. Her fat pussy sat on that protrusion and her breath hitched.

“Professor…”

Terry’s large hands double–cuffed her thick ass and he forced his grip upward, arching her back. Those thick, long fingers sank into the plump flesh as he groped her. One hand above her, pressed against the roof of the car, Aaliyah allowed the feeling of him squeezing and jiggling her cakes to consume her.

His glasses had fogged up. Their mingled, uneven breaths along with the sound of the leather seats filled the space between them. Aaliyah felt his hands smooth around to the junction between her thighs and booty and he applied force, making her ass move on its own—left cheek, right cheek— peering down over her shoulder while she was pressed against him. Aaliyah had her feet folded over his knees.

“Ughhh….”

A deep grunt followed by his arms wrapping around her waist tight. Biceps cutting into her back. The new position had Aaliyah sitting over his print harder. They sat like that for a few minutes, Terry’s nose was pressed against her neck, inhaling cool air and exhaling heated air that caused goosebumps to spread.

His arms loosened and Aaliyah tilted her head down to meet his eyes. She removed Terry’s glasses, resting them inside of his cup holder. The interior of his car smelled like blackberry clove and leather. He smelled like sandalwood. Those eyes. She got lost in them before tearing her gaze away to stare at his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Terry asked softly.

Aaliyah closed the space between them and one of Terry’s hands tangled into her wet coils while his other hand sat above her ass. They gave each other an open–mouthed kiss filled with a feverish need for each other. Wet smacking noises sent signals of arousal. Eyes closed, heads swiveling, equally tasty and soft lips molding into each other’s. Aaliyah allowed her hands to run beneath his dress shirt and white better, coming into contact with warm skin stretched over an impressive physique.

“Unh…”

She found herself moaning.

A single finger of Terry’s traced the waistline of her leggings. The sensation caused her body to shiver. Aaliyah sat up, leaning back against his steering wheel. Terry locked eyes with her while his fingers brushed from her waist down to her pussy. The heat radiating from there could have added to the fog on the windows .

“You deserve so much…you’re so fuckin’ sexy…”

Aaliyah adjusted herself to tilt her body against his so that Terry could put his hand down her leggings.

“Damn…it’s like that, baby?”

“Uh-huh…”

Terry’s hand cupped her fat pussy through her thong. Aaliyah clung to his shoulders while holding his gaze. Terry’s tongue—thick and pink—poked out and Aaliyah accepted the invitation of touching tongues with him. His fingers moved her panties to the side. He grunted into Aaliyah’s mouth.

“Damn…damn…”

His fingers rubbed up and down. Aaliyah spread her thighs further.

“There you go…nasty girl… spreading your legs like that…want me to touch all over this pussy…I like that…”

His words. She whimpered when his fingers started doing that up and down motion between her swollen labia and over her stiff clit. Aaliyah couldn’t believe how wet her pussy is. Creamy viscous spread all over her.

“Unh…Terry…”

“This what you think about? You think about me expressing how much I want you with my fingers in your pussy?…”

Two fingers sank deep. Aaliyah’s mouth dropped open. Terry’s brows furrowed and his eyes would flicker from her face to his hand moving up and down in her leggings.

“Aaliyah…this lil’ pussy tight, girl…I can’t believe I’m fingering you right now…”

He looked like he couldn’t believe it. Jade eyes intense.

“It’s s–s–so, wet…”

His words stuttered out in disbelief.

“My pussy like you just as much as I do, Professor…”

Aaliyah chewed on her bottom lip and her head lulled back. She started bouncing on his fingers. Damn, she missed this. She missed being fingered the proper way. She ain’t have dick in almost a year. The last man to have her was a mistake and not even worth mentioning. All she could focus on was keeping her legs spread and that pussy open.

“Good girl…you follow directions well…I like that,” Terry dragged his teeth along his bottom lip, “Look at me, Aaliyah…”

She did as she was told.

“I played your little game. Now what?”

He was toying with her.

This man…this was another side to him she was more than excited to see.

“Now you make me cum��make me cum, Professor.”

Terry chuckled, “Make this pussy cum?”

His fingers were knuckle deep.

“Send me home in a puddle, Terry…”

“Mmm…that sweet, little voice gon’ get you in trouble…keep moaning…uh-huh…mhmmmm…”

Aaliyah clamped down on his fingers. She lowered her head over his headrest and rode out her orgasm. So intense. It hit her like a freight train. Terry pressed deeper, stroking a spot that had Aaliyah crying. Terry gently withdrew his fingers. Aaliyah’s breaths slowed down, but her body was still recovering from the after shocks.

His hand resurfaced just as the sun peered over the storm clouds. The aroma of her pussy and the cum clinging to his fingers flooded her nose in the best way. Terry held his manicured fingers up. Aaliyah locked her gaze on creamy–white goodness all over his fingers and dripping down to his wrist.

Terry played with it. Rubbing his fingertips together. Spreading his fingers to see how slimy it looked. Aaliyah watched him suck each finger while his eyes never left her face.

“I taste good?” Aaliyah asked with a smile.

“Fuckin’ amazing, baby…”

Terry licked his lips and Aaliyah leaned in to steal a kiss. They kissed for some time before Terry broke away. He released a growl of frustration.

“I gotta head back to campus…I have an exam for my next class…”

Aaliyah pecked his lips before climbing off his lap and into her seat. Terry had his lip pouted while fixing himself. Aaliyah giggled, her eyes dropping down to his neglected erection. He caught her watching, grabbing her wrist and sitting her hand over his bulge.

It…was…thick…

“It’s so big…”

Aaliyah explored, squeezing and stroking…Terry swiped his bottom lip with his tongue and closed his eyes for a second to gather himself. Aaliyah removed her hand and Terry looked over at her like he didn’t want her to stop. Ever. She didn’t want to go, but Terry needed to get back to Campus. The last thing she’d ever want to do is sabotage his career.

“I don’t want to leave, but it’s okay…I’ll see you Friday, right?” Terry questioned, grabbing Aaliyah’s hand and kissing the back of it over and over.

“Yes. I’ll be there…”

Terry made a come hither motion and Aaliyah obeyed, slipping him some final tongue before they parted ways. Terry put his glasses back on, giving Aaliyah one final look of longing. She knew she had to be the one to leave him behind because if she didn’t, he would have skipped the class and spent the rest of the day proving to her just how much he needed her.

“Bye, Professor.”

Aaliyah opened the car door. She hopped down from his truck, grabbing her jean jacket. She blew Terry a kiss before shutting his door and heading towards her Jeep.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of her pussy on his tongue and her scent on his fingers while he lectured.

——

Aaliyah 🌹: Studying for an exam tomorrow. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I had a really great time today 😏 just might touch myself thinking about it. Sweet Dreams, Professor. Xoxoxo 👄

Terry moved towards his living room, an NBA game on in the background. He was shirtless with black joggers on and a durag over his short curls. A single gold cross chain sat in the middle of his pecs. The heels of his socked feet sat into the throw rug beneath him. He had grilled salmon, broccoli, and dirty rice for dinner.

Aaliyah.

That woman awakened something primal in him. Although his eyes bounced back and forth across the screen, his mind wandered to the way his taste buds craved more pussy. He had such a good time getting to know her. The way her lips felt like the softest cushion against his lips. The soft, little whimpers she made drove him crazy. He dragged a hand down his face.

He studiously ignored the monster in his joggers.

Could’ve been full of something else if you had just taken what was in front of you.

The game did nothing to calm down his body. He flipped through the channels looking for something, anything to distract himself from the length of his dick pulsing against his thigh. Terry shifted his hips on the couch, the fight to ignore it impossible.

“Send me home in a puddle, Terry.”

Terry could still hardly believe that he had Aaliyah in his lap, lips against hers, fingers deep in her pussy, and in public. The morbid excitement from earlier returned to him in tenfold, echoing in the throb of his manhood. He stared forward at the movements on his television unseeingly, fighting his mind as it tried to conjure up an image of himself between Aaliyah’s legs. Her pretty pussy gleaming at him naughtily making his mouth water. He wanted to be the only one to taste her for as long as he lived. To bury his face in between her buttery–smooth thighs to kiss, lick and tongue fuck her until she was a whimpering, quivering mess. His name a constant chant on her lips as she feebly tried to push him away after her orgasm. He wouldn’t stop. Not until all she wanted was him.

“Terry…Terry…right there, Terry…”

“Shit,” he grunted as he lifted his hips off the couch slightly, pulling his joggers down to his thighs, his engorged dick springing free, curving up to look at him. The purpling head waved in the air at him in greeting and invitation. Terry scrubbed a hand over his face at the sight, exasperated at his excitement for a girl he’d never seen naked and his inability to turn this shit off. Sleep wasn’t going to come easily to him if he didn’t take care of big boy first.

Terry’s eyes tracked a drop of precum as it dribbled over his head and down his pulsating shaft, collecting at his heavy balls. His dick was quite literally demanding attention, the veins overly pronoucned along the sides beating in time with his heart, and he was hard pressed not to give in. He hadn’t touched himself in a few days, work had kept him busy and the thoughts of Aaliyah after the bachelor party had given him a reason to. He quickly contemplated walking back to his room and using his fleshlight to get the job done before he decided against it. He was too needy to move now.

Tentative fingers ran over the velvety tip, collecting the beads of moisture there and spreading them around slowly. He closed his blue–gray eyes and pushed his head back into the sofa cushion with a flex of his hips. A harsh ‘fuck’ escaped his clenched teeth at the sensitivity. This was going to be quick, rough and lacking any of the finesse he usually showcased in any moment of sexual gratification. Even if that moment was just with him.

Terry’s dominant hand wrapped lightly around himself, trying to mimic how his Aaliyah would touch him, his other dragging over his exposed abdomen. His hand pulled down roughly, electing a low groan from him, as a fantasy bloomed in his mind. He could see her behind his lids that had fallen closed. Kneeling in front of him, between his parted thighs, bright eyes glued to his expression as she bit her lip in concentration. Watching him with that sassy look she got any time she wanted things her way.

Terry spread his knees as far as his joggers would allow, his hand twisting and pulling himself, gaining momentum with every tight pass of the head. Thumb coming up to swiped over the moist slit. Half curses spewed out of him as his pace quickens, his free hand coming down to fondle his sack. Rolling it between his fingers. The sensation doing nothing to abate his impending release.

“Fuccccckkk…..” his voice hitched and raised, battling with the enthusiastic wet sounds of his hand pumping.

His fantasy girl looked between him and his twitching dick, her hand moving as fast as he was. She licked her parted lips and leaned towards his thick pipe. Her warm breath only heightened his pleasure as she whispered to him lowly.

“Cum for me, Professor…”

And he did just that. His heels dug into the plush rug beneath him, using it for leverage as he fucked up into his hand, the coil in his belly growing tighter until it snapped. A croak of Aaliyah’s name bouncing off his walls. Thick spurts of warm cum landing haphazardly across his upper body didn’t deter him as he continued to drag his fist over his oozing dick until the motion became too much for his overly sensitive body. Legs shuddering with each pass.

Terry let go with a deep sigh, taut body relaxing slowly until he was sitting naturally in his seat. Terry glanced down at the evidence of his ecstasy littered across his chest, stomach and hand.

He huffed an annoyed laugh at how quickly his orgasm had taken him. And how hard his dick still was as it bobbed in front of him, his stamina was working against him this time around. With a disbelieving shake of his head, he gripped the base, pulling his hand with a slow rotation of his wrist upwards. His release making the perfect slick for round two.

“F–fuuck, babyyy…” Terry hissed at the feeling. He let go, palming the head a few seconds to stave off the mounting pressure. He would not come that quickly again.

Terry took his time, languidly pulling at his dick, unrushed. Rubbing his free hand up and down his stomach, tweaking his nipple quickly before sliding back down. He repeated this process as his hand gradually picked up speed.

The short nails on Terry’s left hand bit deliciously into his skin as he raked them down his chest and stomach. The sharp pain was closely followed by a wave of hazy pleasure causing his hips to buck faster into his hand. He abandoned all notion of slow, the tightening in his balls and urge to reach completion pushing fast and hard to the forefront of his mind. The juxtaposition of two intense sensations never failed to throw him over the edge.

Terry threw his head back, neck straining as he clenched his jaw. A constant string of yes, fuck, yes screaming in his head as his abdominal muscles flexed and clenched. His hand is almost a blur with how quickly he’s moving.

Twist

Grip

Plunge

Slap

Squeeze

Fucking Aaliyah did this to him. Those eyes, that smile, her voice, that goddamn body…

Flashes of her twerking in a split, making that ass clap, looking back at it, licking her lips with that tongue ring, talking her shit, how sweet her pussy tasted, how snug her walls were around his fingers.

He wished it was her. Her delicate hand working him. Her brown eyes drooping with arousal. Her heavenly voice encouraging him to go ahead. Let go. He could almost smell her. Almost taste her.

Her pussy was so fucking sweet. He couldn’t wait to suck on her pussy. He wanted to bury his nose into it and draw in a deep breath that almost burned his lungs. He wanted to make her unravel beneath his tortuous tongue and lips. Over and over and over—

He erupted at the thought, breathing hard and keening through his messy release. The second nut even more than the first. Still, he continued to stroke, torturing himself, milking himself like he wanted her to.

Terry was out of breath by the end of it. Body spent and tingling.

So much for not cumming quickly.

He sat there for a long time, waiting for the hollow feeling to retreat from his bones, his cum cooling on his skin. He needed to take another shower.

But what he really needed was her.

Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @helloncrocs @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter @dashhoney25

#aaron pierre x black!oc #aaron pierre #rebel ridge #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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kaisserin · 5 months ago

Text

Show me your nails

This is your first time visiting a beauty salon with Sebastian's money. Warning: age difference (student reader), Ferrari! seb, sugar daddy, beauty industry, jerking off to a man, 18+

You rarely visited any fashionable beauty salons. Or rather, never. All your concern for appearance was reduced to a pair of masks in the morning and before going to bed. You preferred to do your nails at a friend's place. The student scholarship did not allow her to look like a model from fashion week. But everything changed when Sebastian came into your life. Of course, you were embarrassed to ask him for a couple hundred extra euros. You didn't want him to think that you were with him because of his financial condition. Your shyness made the four-time champion smile every time. - Y/n, honey, why do I need a seven-digit number on the card if I can't spend it on the girl I love? So it is this time. You and Sebastian were going to another event hosted by Ferrari. And since this should be your first appearance as a racer's girlfriend, you should look the part. You refused for a long time before Sebastian literally put a wad of euros in your pocket and told you to spend every penny on yourself. You have no choice but to obey this man. Sometimes his persistence got on your nerves and in his desire to spend money on you, he turned into a pain in the ass. No wonder that by the evening you barely recognized yourself in the mirror: shining makeup, styled hair where not a single hair gets out of the hairstyle and of course manicure: scarlet nails with a small white "five" on the ring finger and index fingers painted in the color of the German flag, his flag. Sebastian couldn't help but look at you. Almost all the way to Maranello, he tirelessly kissed your hand, which seemed so small in his large palm, calloused from gloves and steering wheel. Suddenly, he braked a little more sharply at the traffic light. You swayed in the passenger seat and leaned forward slightly. You put your hand forward and by chance it clearly falls on the groin of the Ferrari racer. Sebastian looks down. Your delicate palm with those lovely red nails on his black trousers. He feels like he's starting to tense up under your palm. You've noticed it too, and you can't help but grin. - Sebastian? -Yes, honey? You lightly rubbed the fabric of his trousers, which got a guttural growl. - Sweetheart, we're halfway to the event, I can't just show up there with a boner. - That's right, you can't. You reached for the belt buckle, then for the zipper and his organ is already in your hands. His organ was almost completely ready for action. Your fingers are wrapped around the trunk. The darkness in the cabin made the color of the penis almost burgundy and more alluring. You swiped your finger up and down several times, making Sebastian literally growl with excitement. The red nails slid over the velvety skin, the thumb froze on the oozing head. Your movements were speeding up and slowing down. Sebastian has already started to enter you on his own, wanting to get the necessary release. Sebastian has already pushed into your hand on his own, wanting to get a discharge. Already in the parking lot in Maranello, he poured out, staining your fingers with his seed. He quickly cleaned himself of his tracks, but you didn't miss the chance to lick your index finger, as if there were still traces of your prank. An hour later, you were already beaming at the event as a couple. Sebastian possessively forced you to wrap your hand around his forearm and dozens of cameras captured the moment where your delicate hand with red nails was wrapped around a black jacket sleeve. And no one guessed what this hand with red nails was capable of.

#sebastian vettel #f1 x reader #sebastian vettel x y/n #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel smut #f1 smut

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holdinbacksecrets · 10 months ago

Text

shadow, my shadow, my shadow

seungcheol: his name in your phone is cherries. no one gets it. it confuses all your friends. people don’t take the time to dissect what’s right in front of them. instead, they hope the answer will drop, release from its stem all on its own. here it is: he stains your skin; he fills your belly with laughter, with love, and it’s deep, an alluring maroon. the only color you ask for at the nail salon. the only color painted across your lips on a friday night. the only color saturating the sky in your dreams

jeonghan: he’s always just a telephone call away. he’s always just a handful of dialed digits away. he’s always close enough to touch before slipping away. he’s never close enough to believe. he’s a really fucking good dream, but it falters as soon as you wake up. he’s an almost. he’s an if only i had better luck

soonyoung: his embrace is overwhelming. it used to burn your skin. it used to keep you up for a night or two. it used to make you shake and press your hands against his chest, whispering too close, you’re too close to me. so you started to lay out in the sun and welcome the warmth. you started to visit tucked away cafes and drink delicious beverages. you started to welcome the love without argument, and his embrace became divine comfort, soft serenity, warm weather

wonwoo: your ceiling is beautiful. you’ve watched it for hours like a science project or a call to worship. sun rays display themselves so beautifully across it, covering crevices, blanketing stark white in something ethereal. you called in sick to work and haven’t looked at your phone since. you’ll stay just like this until nightfall and an embrace turns you away from the canvas high. he pulls you into him, whispers your name against your skin. you wonder if he says it as a reminder

seokmin: he’s beautiful. his constellated moles create your favorite sky—stars close enough to touch, and you’ve always wanted to touch stars. you drew fishing poles for three years as a kid, imagining a bucket filled with stars knocking your leg on the journey home. it sat beside number one on your christmas list, hoping santa clause would make a dream come true. he let it simmer, kept you waiting for a decade, kept you waiting long enough for the desire to slip, kept you waiting for so long that the real thing surpassed the imaginary

mingyu: he baked cookies for your birthday because you don’t like cake, and there’s something about the texture of frosting you can’t quite get behind—can’t trust the silky smooth. he brought home the milk that comes in a glass bottle. it’s delicious and thick and warms your heart with sweet nostalgia. you open his gifts first because he asked you to, and you find a beautiful goblet that’s the color of summer peaches. he fills it to the rim with glass-bottle milk. he fills his goblet too and presses a candle into the stack of cookies. the wish arrives as soon as you close your eyes

chan: he stands behind you in the kitchen, rests his chin on your shoulder while the sun rises. you’re early risers too. never were before. then this love unraveled in your living room, and you crave more of the day

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen blurbs #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seungcheol scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #seokmin scenarios #mingyu scenarios #chan scenarios

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minispidey · 1 year ago

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01: Barbie and the Giftshopist.

Steven Grant x f!bimbo!reader. series masterlist. next part.

01. This Barbie is his new neighbor!

warnings: uses y/n once, get ready for kinda cringey bimbor!reader. over-use of the word like. extremely feminine reader. reference to elle woods. NOT BETA READ.

"Yeah, but like, I totes believe her. I mean she's totes being framed. I wanna help her." as Steven got off of the lift, he sees multiple boxes out in the hallway and hears a woman's voice talking to someone.

You walk out of the flat in front of his to push in the rest of your things. You were wearing something someone moving in shouldn't be wearing: a pink lace top, flared pink pants and cute high heels. You had a purse and everything.

"I need an alibi from her. Like, she can't just like go to jail for something she didn't do. That's a crime itself." you held your phone in between your shoulder and ear "I'm totally bugging. Where's a good manipedi here?"

"Uh, I think there's a salon across from the baker around the corner?" Steven spoke up from behind you.

You turn to face him, blinking twice "I'll call you back. I'll see you at the office." you end your call and smiled at him "Thanks so much. My nails have suffered too much this past week. Oh, we're neighbors!"

"It seems like we are."

"I'm Y/N. It's so nice to meet you." you two shake hands "I'm like, really struggling with these boxes. And I know I'd be like super desperate, but I am, but can you help me, please?" you smiled brightly, even batting your long eyelashes.

"Oh, uh, yes, absolutely." he said, taking a couple of the boxes from the hallway.

You kept kicking some of the boxes in with your pink high heels, clearly impatient and trying to push them all in. Steven halts your actions by picking them up and setting them down inside.

"You gotta uh, carry the boxes inside. They get stuck when you just push them." entering your flat, he placed more boxes down. He could see your walls were already painted a different color: pink. Steven was surprised to see such a bold choice of color, but he could already tell by your outfit what kind of woman you were.

A woman with great fashion-sense.

You were beautiful. Something about you was just so alluring, so hypnotic. He couldn't even believe a beautiful woman like you was talking to him, let alone letting him enter your flat. But he did notice you were a bit of a ditz.

"Do you need any help with anything else?" Steven asked, turning around as he spoke. His ears were slightly red because of the way you looked at him.

"That's all. Thanks so much." you smiled "I just moved here, and like, still adjusting."

"It's not a problem at all. If you need anything, don't be shy. I'm just in front."

"That's so nice of you! Totes, I'd definitely need some help. Oh shoot, I never got your name."

"It's fine. I-It's Steven."

"It's so nice to meet you, Steven."

His eyes shifted to the racks filled with clothes. Pink, to be exact. You were extremely feminine. He spots furs and his brows furrow a bit "Er... uh..."

"They're faux fur. Can't tell the difference anymore." you giggled, wheeling them to a corner with the rest of your clothes.

"Oh. Well, they're very nice." Steven smiled "Are you a model?"

"Gosh, that's such a compliment. No one's ever said that before. But no, just love clothes. How about you? Wait wait! Let me guess..."

Steven found it adorable as you squint your eyes, thinking of what his job is.

"Are you like... a sculptor? No, a painter! Am I close?"

"I work at a gift-shop, actually. A giftshopist." he smiled.

"No way. You have really pretty hands, you could be like a hand model. Or like I said, a painter."

Steven blushed like a mad man "Thank you. No one's ever complimented my hands."

"You're pretty handsome, you know? It's like... gosh you have a nice nose too." the way you complimented him was as if he was a sculpture.

Steven's heart almost stopped when you casually mentioned how handsome he was. You were incredibly blunt about it for someone he had just met.

"Thank you." he said, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. Something about you saying it that make his body feel all warm. It's such a strange and unusual feeling for him.

"No, but like seriously. You are so handsome. It's like driving me a bit cray, you get it, right? Gosh, I sound like a total creep."

Hearing the same thing two times in a row sent him into quite a little flutter. He had never been one to be flirted with and the combination of how direct you were, plus how much you were repeating yourself certainly made him feel something.

"No, it's fine. No, you don't sound like creep, it's totally fine." he looks back up at you "I'm just... I'm not used to... it."

"Used to what? Being called handsome?"

"Yeah." Steven chuckled, the sound escaping his mouth in such a high pitched and nervous way that it sounded almost like a squeak "And uh, being flirted with..."

Your phone suddenly rings, making you two jump up. You take your phone out, looking at the caller ID "So sorry. I gotta take this."

"Oh, no worries." he clears his throat, taking the opportunity to collect his thoughts and calm his racing heart and mind.

"I, uh, I should go now." he says "I'll see you around, luv."

"I'll see you around, Steven." you gave him a smile before answering your phone, pacing back and fourth across your flat.

As Steven enters his flat, his heart calms down but his cheeks were still red. His eyes shifted towards a mirror, a clearly judging Marc staring right back at him.

"So. You like her?"

"Oh come on, Marc. I just met her."

That evening, Steven heard a knock outside his door. His ears were perked up as he approached the door, opening it to find you in your cute animal print night dress and holding a casserole dish "Okay, so like, I got called in to the office earlier and I never got to properly thank you."

"It's not big deal, luv." he blushed "They're just boxes."

"And really heavy ones. You are like, super strong. Plus I finally got my manipedi." you giggled "I made lasagna in the office but I got leftovers, do you wanna split?"

"Uh... actually I'm vegan."

"Oh gosh, I'm like so sorry. That explains the fur thing!"

"Yeah." he nods "It's alright, luv. I don't wear a big ol sign saying I'm vegan."

"Well... I was just hoping we could hangout because you seem like a really nice guy. I mostly bond with food."

"It's alright, uh..." Steven looks behind him, looking if his place was presentable "If you want, you can eat it here while we chat? Maybe a cup of tea? I've stepped inside your flat, might as well welcome you into mine."

"Really? That's so nice of you! I swear, when I get my stove and oven I'll make you something vegan."

"You really don't have to. I assure you, it's alright."

"Don't worry! I can cook."

Ever since that day, Steven is ecstatic to wake up everyday and greet you in the morning as you both went off to work.

Your clothes were always consistent with the pinks and whites, but you always looked professional as you head off to work.

Steven began to guess what your profession was. You said you weren't a model, perhaps a designer? A professor?

He snapped out of his thoughts when you placed a plate of fried tofu with some sauce over it and spring onions.

"Stevie, do you know where I could like, donate books? Mine are sooo expensive but someone might want to use them." you asked as you cleaned up your countertop.

"Yeah, why?"

"Okay so like, Jean, he's like a newbie, he totally bugged me. Brags that he loves to donate his stuff. He once donated a canoe. He says like he was a hoarder back then. I thought to myself, am I hoarding?" you spin, facing Steven "I totally am! I have books I won't need anymore and I don't have bookshelves anyways."

"I have spots in my bookcase. Maybe I could take them off your hands?" Steven looks up at you with a smile "I don't mind. They have sentimental value?"

"Very. Plus, they were soooo expensive I swear. I could've bought like fifteen more pairs of heels if I hadn't bought them. Or maybe just a pair of Choos."

"What kind of books are they exactly?"

"Law."

"Law?"

"Law." you clear your throat, lifting your arm and bending your wrist in a dramatic way "I'm a lawyer, obvi."

Steven was slightly taken aback by the news. He certainly wouldn't have guessed that right "You're a-a lawyer? Oh, wow, that's super impressive. Wait, how are you dressed the way you are if you're a lawyer? Don't they make you wear suits and stuff?"

"Duhh, I wear pink ones! You see me wear them to work every morning." you smiled "I have a lot."

Steven's truly never met a woman like you.

"You're incredible..."

#moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #bimbo!reader #x bimbo reader

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blueparadis · 2 years ago

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a concept:

tattoo artist kaeya having a thing for u, his regular client rosaria's cute little roommate, who is the exact opposite of her. he feels bad for touching himself to the thoughts of u but he can't help himself bc he likes u so much

❝ INKED SECRETS ❞ + KAEYA ALBERICH !

+. CWs —» tattoo artist au + modern au, f!reader, fluff, light angst with comfort, some canon elements, love at first sight, mention of cigarette smoking, bad relationships, hookups, stranger to lovers, smut ( fantasies, m-mastarbation ) ; word count — 2k.

+. NOTES —» thanks to my beloved yoru ( @anantaru) for helping me and beta reading this otherwise i would've opened the gates of kaeya-brainrot; also, thank you for being patient. This ask was almost a month old and I know this was supposed to be short but the thing is kaeya is the one who had me invested in genshin impact. However, surprisingly I've never thought of writing about him so thank you for your muse. I loved writing this so fucking much. Thank you. Tattoo artist kaeya shall live forever in my mind. If you wanna check more of my writings, click here.

Kaeya Alberich. The name of the mystery man who would always be the talk of the topic for Rosaria. He was more familiar to you than your roommate ever was. You two shared a room yet you could never read Rosaria but she was thorough with you; maybe that is why you two clicked. Every one of your friends considered it a mystery how a sunflower like you would ever survive in the company of a moon. Everyone including Kaeya. He had his own proportion of confusion every time Rosaria talked about you.

Kaeya knew how you looked, talked, and liked to eat ice cream in winter. Not only that, your favorite colors, bits and pieces of your small dreams were known to him. And all because Rosaria wouldn’t stop with the constant blabbering about you whenever he directly hung out with her, emphasizing the fact that you were nothing but an angel in disguise. Kaeya had to endure all of it, every bit of you that Rosaria seemed to find alluring. At moments like this, one could say that they exchanged personas since Kaeya was a guy of smiles and chitter-chatter while Rosaria was quite the opposite.

True, the friendship between Kaeya and Rosaria was another talk of Mondstadt’s inhabitants, but they both did not seem to react as people expected, as people thought they should. You would, barely, call them lovers. While Kaeya enjoyed different takes of his customers about Rosaria, she, on the other hand, brushed those petty rumors off, with just a glance keeping her stoic persona.

But, among all these happenings, Rosaria had the front-row seat of the chaos that was about to unfold. She had her beauty salon just above Kaeya’s tattoo parlor. They have been working together for at least five years. Rosaria had her shop on rental and the five-storied complex was owned by none other than Kaeya Alberich himself.

Anyone who wanted to go to her parlor had to cross Kaeya’s floor; hence, no one slipped past the grip of his galactic eyes. He knew the regulars of her shop and had an immense influence on them. He believed it was his charms while Rosaria begged to differ.

But she was just being professional, clearing non-financial tabs that she owed to him, for bringing the immense influx of customers to her salon. Sometimes, it worked both ways, but whenever they fought, the elders of the locality had more spice to flavor the rumors that had just started sedimenting.

January, the prime of winter, of snow and the freezing cold, Kaeya laid his first glance at you. Warm and alluring: you were every bit of beauty that Rosaria spoke of, in fact, now that he had finally seen you in person, he thinks Rosaria fell short of speaking of your angelic aura.

“Hello, I have a parcel for Rosaria, could you please deliver it to her? I would have done it myself if I wasn’t in such a hurry.”, you kept the package on my desk, “Thank you very much, Mister . . .”, you looked at his batch that reads Kaeya Alberich, “. . . Thank you so much, Mister Kaeya Alberich.” And before Kaeya could say anything back, you fled out of his sight like a bird.

He watched you get into a cab holding the package in his hand, barely registering what you asked him to do. His mind had drifted far off to all those times when Rosaria was talking about you. He checked his watch and smiled to himself. Oops! Rosaria’s smoke break was ruined since he joined in with the package you had left for her, with many questions.

For a tattoo artist, Kaeya seemed the least bit invested in its antics, yet he had a steady influx of customers, mostly because he is very professional and dedicated to his livelihood. He pays special attention to his regular customers, sadly, you weren’t one of them, not yet.

Still, he would stand and smoke at the corner of the entrance so that he could watch you go like the wind to meet your roommate with a package in hand. He would notice the color of your dress, the matching nails, shoes, and every little detail thinking how flawlessly sexy you looked.

But he abruptly stopped the second he had bruised his fingers with the cigarette burn. Fortunately, it was his left hand but with his line of work, he needed both.

Today, during the lunch break when Rosaria told him that y/n wanted to have a tattoo, his blood rushed to his cheeks and ears. He did not think you’d be interested in tattoos or piercings. He definitely did not see the next blow coming. “Yep. sure.”, he supplied, coughing back the lump in his throat. Of all the parlors you could choose you had to choose his. What in the lord’s fuck was going on?

The day came faster, faster than he had anticipated. Needless to say, it did not go like he thought it would. It was safe to say he was more nervous than you were. “Are you sure about this?”, “Ya’know it’s gonna hurt, right?”, “Should I use some anesthetic on the area?” His questions wouldn’t stop and you were trying your best to stay as patient as possible It is true, part of him was nervous but another wanted to spend and enjoy some time with you.

“And done!”, Kaeya playfully mused as he wiped over the work of ink, careful enough not to accidentally graze his fingers over your inner thigh but of course, he did want to.“y/n” he spoke, his tone low but clear enough for you to hear, “so, how many tattoos do you have now?” Kaeya shifted in his chair as he intently watched you normalize your heightened breathing

“Didn’t you keep count?”,

“nine”, he said, letting out a breathless laugh. “which means you dumped your ninth partner.” and he was not wrong. Of all the regular customers he had, you were his favorite because you had an amusing story to tell whenever you had visited his parlor. He would listen to you the moment he was finished with his handiwork.

But this one in particular, was quite a different story. You never told nor was he allowed to ask about the guy you dumped, ever. Part of him wanted to console you, and tell you that good things take time but another part of him was too afraid to lose you, realizing it was unprofessional of him to offer any form of painkiller against a situation like that. Because on any other occasion, his usual customers weren’t as chatty as you were.

He never thought of a case where it might be the opposite. With that, he thought that you, of all people, being dumped by someone was utterly ridiculous, because who wouldn't want to date someone like you? He knows he would, after all, and if he could, he would make sure the ninth tattoo is to be the last tattoo on your body.

“What about you?”, you asked, swinging your legs in the air while sitting on the bed. “For a tattoo artist, you are awfully blank.”

“It’s somewhere. . .”, he started, “wait I’ll rather show you . . .”. and when you, in a sliding second, unexpectedly flashed him, his hands immediately found their way crawling at the hem of his turtle-neck.

“Wait. wait. Wait. stop. Just stop.” kaeya panicked as you partly opened your eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest while your eyebrows jumped and stayed intact for seconds. Pin-drop silence and then both of you simultaneously laughed. Some might think it’s corny, and maybe you did as well but it doesn’t matter, what matters is that you were smiling right now.

That’s good. That’s really good.

Kaeya checked his watch as you left his place to run upstairs, checking to see if Rosaria was done with her chores; after all, she was almost approaching the closing hour of her shop so she should’ve been done by the time you had arrived at her place. Fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes before you and Rosaria would come out of the elevator to go home; maybe he could if he’d finally stop thinking about it in such an unhealthy calculative manner.

Yet, well, there was just one problem. His ears felt hot, his mind was restless and he couldn't focus on a single task. Generally, it took ten minutes to close his shop and he does it every day, all alone so if not his mind, his muscle memory should be functioning properly. But all he desired to do was to touch himself and relieve himself from the agony of months boiling in his core.

June, the prime time of summer and ice cream. Kaeya slides his right arm under his vest while grazing his lower belly, eagerly thinking of the last time, but eventually, his arm ends up slipping into his pants, his fingers clamping around his length, and finally, a soft groan escapes from his mouth. The tip of his tongue kisses the corner of his lips as he takes out his cock which was coated with warm white fluid, at the tip pre-cum.

For a moment, he is surprised, and then he suddenly is not. There is a crescent formed along his lips as he taps the tip of his cock, smearing the reddened end with its pre. “Oh fuck. This feels so much better.”, he groans, mumbling to himself, thinking why he didn’t do this way sooner.

He palms his member, a little harder, this time trying to imagine how it would feel to be sheathed by your gummy walls. He started to pump his cock as his pants slipped, now clustered at the bottom of the chair while his legs were trying to give as much space as possible by spreading them further apart.

With half-lidded eyes, he checks if you had locked the door before leaving or not. You did not and the thought of you walking onto him turned him so bad that he thought he might cum right away.

The moment he closes his eyes he could see you, your calloused fingers around his cock and now he is pumping his cock rashly, the hem of his vest being buried in between his teeth, muffled moans escaping his mouth as the squelching noises had gotten louder and louder.

His other hand gradually made its way towards his nipples, pinching and circling around them thinking of your lips instead. “Oh fuck.”, he hisses as his toes curl, his hips bucked up with a force as he thinks of how euphoric it would be to have your soft lips wrapped around his cock, to have your puffy lips on his, to have your boobs tightly pressed against his bare chest, pronounced nipples grazing against each other while Kaeya’s cock is hitting your sweet spot with precision, blessing his ears with the prettiest desperate moans from you.

He squeezes his eyes shut as his hands move up and down his swollen cock, hitting his girth with calculated thrusts. He paces up as he feels his orgasm approaching, huffing and panting, not caring how vocal he has become until the coil at the core of his flat belly snaps, making him dizzy, his hand movements sloppy, and his inner thighs gradually closing, relishing in the high he had just experienced.

Kaeya’s chest rises up and down frantically as he finally opens his eyes, watching the spurs of milky white fluid all over the floor and his study desk. A heavy sigh leaves his body as his breathing normalizes. “Fuck . . .”, he mumbles throwing back his head before closing his eyes and thinking of you, again. He takes a few deep breaths to relax before cleaning the mess.

Yet, when he suddenly heard the footsteps, his heart sank. He regrets touching himself while thinking of you, he regrets not saving himself for you, he regrets chasing love so fast, so insanely that he almost lost his hope for finding the one.

“Hey Kae-ya, you done?”, you asked, opening the door, “Rosa is gonna be late today. So, I’ll stay and help her. I’m going out to buy some food, you wanna come with me?” You let your exhausted body lean against the door frame while Kaeya remained silent.

It just made him crazy how blatantly you ignored him, his magnetic affection for you, and the truth was, he cannot even blame you for that. He has always enjoyed this feeling, to like you in secrecy. The more you are unaware of his emotions, the greater chance he has to be around you. Kaeya does not ask for much, just a few more days till he musters up enough courage to finally ask you out.

—

@tokyometronetwork

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str4ngr · 10 months ago

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these r kinda bad bc i didn't really think, j rambled. not beta read. poll

medic! reader x simon 'ghost' riley

The military was the last place you expected to end up after med school. well, you weren't a soldier, at the very least, but being an on-field medic was not any better. Skill, something you were consistently congratulated for, was what had you transferred to a base in Great Britain. Ghost, a strange call sign, not the weirdest or funniest, but alluring. It was a name you became quite familiar with, wether it be fortunate or not is up for debate, behind the curtain of your med bay.

florist! reader x john 'soap' mactavish

Happy or not, the new apartment Johnny bought was more than a little bland. In desperation to not face the wrath of his very-eccentric mothers hand-made decoration, he took a stroll in the sub-urban downtown, passing each over-priced salon and until he reached your gorgeous corner shop. Delicate, intricate, beautiful, a single figure dancing between each brilliant array of flowers, beyond the labeled glass window. A bouquet was never ugly, especially if it was accompanied by you.

informant! reader x keegan p. russ

The noise of your fingers clicking against the keyboard was not helping with the utter stress Keegan was under. Even with the anxiety pumping in his blood, his cerulean eyes fascinated with the way you screens pop and ring with data. Leaning his weight on the back of your chair, silence between your mouths as he focused on your focus. You giggled, he jumped, you spun your chair, he barely caught himself as he stared at your overjoyed face, staring between your bright face and the uncodable numbers on your screen. You said something, not that he was particularly paying attention to anything but your smile. He hoped this mission wouldn't end.

reader x biker! kunigami rensuke

Hanging around in a bar, sipping on a cocktail that was far too sour, your face probably looking the same. Girls night turned into a search for a one night stand as you play with your hair, mixing your drink lazily. Someone bumped into your stool, you almost toppled over, eyes wide as you silently try to grab at the table, not wanting to fall. Of course, the table, although you were just leaning into it, slipped out of your hands, and you braced for the filthy floor. There was no contact, a large arm holding your waist as your bodies collided, orange eyes meeting yours, the rest of his face covered by a helmet. You may not have actually fell, but you fell.

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theesirenteller · 1 year ago

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𝔓𝔞𝔴𝔫𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔭 𝔅𝔩𝔲𝔢𝔰.

"I'm here to get my hair braided."

It wasn't every day that a tall, dark, and handsome beach bum-biker hybrid came strolling into Emerald's closet-sized braiding shop. But, she wasn't complaining. Not at all, not even in the slightest.

"Okay, Well come on in then." A shy smile spreads across Emerald's lips as she steps aside the threshold, "I'm Emerald."

"Dwayne."

Ducking his head down Dwayne made his way inside. His broad shoulders and arms scrunched inwards as he slithered through the door. His gloomy-raven hair fell over his shoulders and eyes as he did so. It didn't take many steps to be fully inside the shop. It was new to the boardwalk. Located near Max's video store. And a little bit bigger than a walk-in closet. Painted baby blue with handmade seashell drapes that were in between Christmas string lights down the walls. A single leather salon chair sat a few feet away from the door, facing it. Perhaps to give clients a good view of the beach and boardwalk. The leather of the chair was worn down with ripples and scratches along the sides. Neon-colored bins stacked in the corner filled with various beads, feathers, seashells, and a plethora of other accessories that were fun to attach to braids. A sparkly sea urchin green makeup pouch sat on top of the bins alongside an unopened can of cherry cola.

"So Dwayne, what would you like? all of your hair braided or just a certain section?" Emerald inquired as he took a seat. Instantly the scent of burned incense and murky beach water with a lingering hint of cinnamon hit her nostrils. A metallic after scent lingered. When she had gotten a better look at him; his rugged style of baggy, faded black jeans and patchwork leather jacket gave off a smokey allure that reminded her of a stormy night in the woods

At first, he was silent. The silence lasted no longer than Not a creepy type of silence but more so introverted.' A quiet thinker' was what Emerald gathered.

His fingers snapped and his pointer finger narrowed towards the sign outside. "The merman special. Just the back of my hair." His hands bunched up the top portion of his hair creating a messy half up half down style. Emerald couldn't help but notice the layers of chunky metal rings across the majority of his fingers.

"Okay! It'll look great on you." She blurted out. Her cheeks instantly warmed as words slipped from her lips, "I mean um you've got really pretty hair so it'll be beautiful."

The pregnant silence that followed caused her to swallow down any more embarrassing remarks. She quickly grasped a large pink clap clip and sectioned off the top part of his hair away from the rest. Her fingertips brushed along his knuckles. A soft gasp escaped her pouty lips. His flesh was ice cold. Deadly cold. Sickly cold. Dwayne's shoulders tensed. his posture straightening causing Emerald to quickly remove her hand.

She kept her comments to herself for the remainder of their time together. She used a wide-toothed pitchfork-shaped comb to untangle his locks. Ever so often she'd raise a brow when bits of sand, pebbles, and dark red flesh-like scabs would fall out. Perhaps he hunted and got animal guts in his hair? The braider wasn't sure and didn't bother to ask. Eventually, she'd smoothed out his hair with a spritz of rosewater and a wooden brush. Emerald was known for being heavy-handed yet Dwayne didn't seem to mind. He kept quiet and didn't move an inch. Completely unfazed she couldn't even hear him breathe.

Emerald braided small-sized fishtail braids at the nap of his neck. Hooking small-sized turquoise beads to some of the braids. and others she'd simply attach seashells or peacock feathers to larger-sized braids. There was a comforting silence that overlayed the atmosphere. The roaring of the waves crashing and the laughter of children running along the boardwalk was the perfect background music.

Time passed by quickly and it wasn't long before Emerald was drenching the once-clipped portion of his hair in rose water. Her heartbeat sped up as she stood at his side brushing through his hair. Vibrantly, she could hear her heart beating. The feeling was unfamiliar to her. The urge to gaze into his eyes and not look elsewhere was strong. Feeling a forceful tug within her stomach and chest made her mouth grow dry.

"You shouldn't close so late." his rich and husky voice broke her out of the trance she once was in.

"Huh? What'd ya say?"

"I said you shouldn't close so late. The Broadwalk isn't safe at night. late night all kinds of things can happen." Dwayne repeated. His eyes were a deep shade of expresso brown. His brows were thick and bushy.

"You're right." she agreed while sweeping her brush through his long bangs, "I like the night though…there's something about it that's so beautiful and peaceful. Also, some type of thrill I think…knowing that danger just lurks in the shadows."

"And sometimes reveals itself."

Their gaze synced in union with one another. Drinking each other in. Although it felt more like he was drinking her in. Taking in her every thought, desire, and fear. Intrigue lingered in her eyes. An unspoken attraction that made her pupils dilate. She saw something primal in him. It was unmistakable to miss. Something that Emerald couldn't seem to look away from. His almost unbearable beauty created a lingering allure in her mind. Unintentional they both leaned in closer. Nearly chest to chest. A low deep-buried low growl buzzed in her ear. and perhaps she had been staring a little too long because his eyes were starting to change from brown to a bright golden color.

The events that followed happened so suddenly that Emerald couldn't be sure it was real. Suddenly arms were tightly in his iron-clad grip. With zero effort she was picked up off the floor and slammed against a nearby wall. Dwayne's lips peeled back and his fang-shaped teeth were displayed.

Emerald grew choked up on air as she froze up at the sight. Her hands began to tremble rapidly. The moment she blinked he was gone. As if he hadn't ever existed. The whole shop rattled loudly as the front door slammed shut behind him. Fear stricken, Emerald stood there frozen not even feeling her feet hitting the floor.

She couldn't help but question if that was even real.

𝕰 𝖒 𝖊 𝖗 𝖆 𝖑 𝖉

#theesirenteller fanfic #theesirentellerstories #dwayne the lost boys #dwayne tllb x ofc #Dwayne; pawnshopblues

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lsleofthelost · 3 months ago

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once again, im here with set pictures, info from the set designer, Mark Hofeling, and my own commentary on it. this time, i wanna share stuff on Isle of the Lost from Descendants 2.

post about Isle of the Lost in part one

post about Maleficent's castle

Ursula's Fish and Chips Shoppe:

About Ursula's place: "Like all the imprisoned villains on the Isle of the Lost, Ursula has had to find a way to make ends meet. Thus her Fish and Chips Shoppe is right at the tide line of the prison island. I wanted the feel of a faded old carnival attraction, still alluring despite its decay."

"Uma (China Anne McClain) and her pirate gang, including her trusted lieutenants Harry Hook (Thomas Doherty) and Gil (Dylan Playfair) rally to take back what is theirs in Uma's mother's dingy tidal pool of a Fish and Chips Shoppe."

"A detail of the menu board and specials in Ursula's Fish and Chips Shoppe."

i think this gives us info on the money on the Isle. there are two units, m and n, and there are a 100n in 1m. i think the prices are comprable to us dollars back like 30-40 years ago? which further supports my theory that the Isle is stuck in the past, in the time of their imprisonment. the menu itself has some genuine regular items, like fish cakes, dumplings, but most of them are isle specials, like pond scum, shell smell, and gulf goo. which i think is hilarious considering Ursula and Uma still just serve them whatever.

"A detail of Uma's coral throne."

Isle of the Lost:

"A view of Low Tide Lane on the Isle of the Lost. Having been an isolated prison island for decades now, the idea was that every slat and board is on its 9th or 10th life, and every object not screwed down had changed grubby hands hundreds of times."

they kept the dirty candy colour palette! and i love how they truly kept to the 'everything is used and stolen 10 times over' philosophy.

this is the Bazaar, which is another market on the Isle. there is one in the main square and then this is the one closer to the docks, we can see Mal riding through it in D2. here, we once again see the money measurement. and i think it's intereting to see that crab and potatoes are priced higher than other things. i also like the 'satisfaction no guaranteed' sign.

Curl Up and Dye:

"Drizella's Curl Up and Dye on the Isle of the Lost is where Mal and Evie load up on chemicals for their showdown with Uma's pirate gang. So more than a hair salon as absurd as the rest of the Isle, it also had to be a repository for all kinds of chemistry and alchemy. The idea here was that out of every 100 of young Dizzy's experimental, chemical beauty concoctions, 99 blow up."

"The ever-unpredictable dye distillery."

"A detail of the dry chemistry set up."

i like that the base for this is a rough finish, like a construction before any renovation. and then its just neon splashes and broken mirrors from Dizzy's experiments. also i like the note that it's more chem lab than a salon.

Rotten four's hideout:

"The VK's hideout was always a place of respite from their raging and overbearing parents. It's where the VK's purloined all the best stuff on the Isle, and where Mal perfected her street art. "

this is Mal's room! which confirms for me that she doesn't live with her mother, at least not full time.

im kinda sad that we didn't get a view of the side with all those board games (kitchen, i think?) but even just these pictures are full of interesting details! as far as i saw only Mal's and Jay's 'Long Live Evil' tags are on the walls, i think it's because it was theirs first. i like the thorns that are circling the walls, like Maleficent's thorns around Sleeping Beauty's castle. they have some kind of an old school sound system, too! which i can i assume they use when throwing parties. and there are bikes, probably repaired 10 times over, but prised nonetheless. also, i thought that the green lamp in Mal's room is a hookah lol

Uma's ship:

"Uma and her pirate gang rule the rotting docks and rocky edge of the Isle of the Lost."

"Uma's HQ is this ruined pirate ship. After all the Disney Villains were relocated to the Isle of the Lost, all the ships that brought them were scuttled and they were all locked behind an enchanted barrier. So this is one of many wrecks in these waters, including the sails of the ship, rammed into her side. We found real tall-ship riggers for this work, and they used 10,000 feet of rope in the process."

i love that they really rigged that ship! i think it's a detail that shows that Uma's pirates are real professionals.

"This photo shows the "rickety" and treacherous landscape of the rotten docksides. This became the setting of a 20 person melee to rescue King Ben and escape the Isle and Uma's vengeful clutches."

we can see Uma's 'We ride with the tide' tag in the bg, signifying that this is her territory.

there are a lot of cool details but what i'm focusing on here are the old school washing machines, again showing us how the Isle is frozen in time. im assuming theyre on the docks because this is where the water is.

i am looking to make another post with details from D3, here's hoping i'll get to it sooner than i did this follow up

#laila.txt #isle of the lost #there are also cool views of Auradon on the website but im such an Isle fan lol

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fafnir19 · 11 months ago

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Doll-boy

The Okavango Delta shimmered under the scorching African sun, as Eva and her gay friend, Leander, embarked on their expedition through the untamed wilderness. With Leander's striking blue eyes and tousled blond locks, and Eva's fiery determination, they made an enchanting pair.

Despite their captivating allure, Leander's ongoing quest for a boyfriend left him feeling despondent. "I wish a man would finally be interested in me," Leander sighed. "You just have to make a little more effort, you're actually a pretty handsome guy!" Eva encouraged with a playful grin. However, Leander seemed more inclined to wallow in his misery than take the initiative in finding a partner. In a remote village along the Okavango, Eva and Leander brightened the children's day by distributing toys, sharing joy wherever they ventured.

It was during this charitable act that Eva encountered the village witch. Sharing her concern for Leander's lack of confidence, Eva confided in the enigmatic woman. Offering a wry smile, the witch suggested a voodoo doll to imbue Leander with a touch of mischief. "With the right ingredients, I can craft a doll to bring out the best in him," she mused, tapping her lips with a long, gnarled finger. Fueled by a mischievous glint in her eyes, Eva eagerly agreed. "This could be just the thing to boost Leander's confidence!" With a lock of Leander's hair and a Ken Doll initially meant for the village's children, the witch crafted a doll with mischievous intent.

Back home, Eva surreptitiously placed the doll in a toy gym, hoping to facilitate Leander's transformation unwittingly. Little did he know, the voodoo doll had begun working its magic on him. Leander found himself irresistibly drawn to the gym, with each visit refining his physique until he mirrored the Ken doll.

"Hey, Eva, have you noticed anything different about me lately?" Leander inquired, a furrow creasing his brow as he peered at his reflection in the mirror. "Hmm, now that you mention it, your physique does seem more defined," Eva observed, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips. As time passed, Leander's grooming habits evolved, due to regular trips of the voodoo doll to the toy beauty salon. It ignited Leander's penchant for regular waxing and visits to the barber and it further transforms his appearance. "I've never felt more confident and fresh," Leander remarked, running a hand through his flawlessly styled hair. Unbeknownst to Leander, Eva continued to make subtle alterations to the doll, each change manifesting in ways he couldn't comprehend. Mirroring the doll's evolving style, he transitioned from casual attire to sophisticated tailored suits, emanating an aura of refined elegance. Eva watched from a distance with quiet amusement.

However, deep down Leander was affected by these changes. “It's like I'm becoming someone I'm not,” Leander confessed to Eva one evening with a hint of uncertainty. “I don't know if it's really me or the influence of some strange force that I can't grasp.” As the elegant tailored suits replaced his casual clothes, Leander's inner turmoil became palpable. "I feel like I'm losing touch with myself," he admitted, eyes clouded with uncertainty as he stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the lapels of his new suit. “I don’t recognize the person looking at me.” Eva listened intently, her heart filled with concern for her friend's inner struggle. She knew that while the external transformation was remarkable, the emotional toll it took on Leander was a high price. She tried to reassure him: “Inside you are still the same person, no matter how your appearance changes. I will always be there for you no matter what.” Despite Eva's comforting words, Leander's unease remained, gnawing at his core as he dealt with the whirlwind of changes that was rapidly transforming his life.

As he adjusted to his newfound size, Leander felt a growing disconnect between the person he was becoming and the person he had always been, a tug of war between embracing the appeal of sophistication and being true to himself. And In the midst of this inner conflict, his heart tugged at him and resonated with the quiet longing for authenticity amidst the glamour.

As an additional touch, Eva adorned the doll in silk underwear, a devious addition that seemed to excite Leander with each wear. "I can't explain it, but I feel so seductive and confident in these silk boxers - and so overwhelmingly horny," Leander confessed, grappling with the growing desires he felt. He tried to avoid donning the silk boxers but he couldn't resist the power that forced him to wear it. Initially his constant horniness was a torture, but gradually it became a part of his newfound persona, exuding charm, elegance and an aura of desire at every turn.

Eva discovered that she had unintentionally fallen in love with the Leander she had crafted, captivated by the unintended allure she had imbued him with. Despite her growing feelings, she couldn't deny the sinister nature of her actions.

As time passed, Leander's enchantment grew, his newfound charm and sophistication captivating those around him. Meanwhile, Eva found herself drawn to the very persona she had unwittingly created. Unable to resist any longer, she longed for a single date with gay Leander, even though she knew her actions were deceitful. Taking some of her own hair and affixing it onto a Barbie doll, Eva placed it along with the voodoo doll at a table with candles in her dollhouse. Shortly after, Leander extended an invitation for a date. The evening arrived, and Leander took Eva to a charming bistro. The ambience was warm and inviting, with soft candlelight casting a flattering glow over the couple.

As they delved into conversation, a wave of warmth washed over Eva, her conflicted feelings stirring beneath the surface. Their witty banter and shared laughter filled the air, punctuated by affectionate glances and lingering touches. In that moment, Eva realized the depth of her feelings for Leander, knowing that toying with his love and orientation was wrong. As they parted ways, the energy between them hung in the air, charged with unspoken words and unacknowledged desires. Over the next few weeks, Eva found it difficult to see Leander in the city's gay clubs because she was so in love with him.

One day, John, Eva's brother, paid her a visit, accompanied by his daughter, Emily. As Eva engaged in conversation with John, Emily roamed freely around the apartment, her curious gaze settling on the voodoo doll and the Barbie doll adorned with Eva's hair. With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, Emily couldn't resist incorporating the dolls into her games, unaware of the repercussions her actions would invoke. First, she dressed the voodoo doll in soccer attire, believing it to be a suitable choice for a boy, before steering it towards tender moments with the Barbie, mirroring the affectionate interactions she had observed between her parents. She then playfully maneuvered the voodoo doll in a toy convertible, setting off a sequence of unforeseen events.

One fateful day, Leander found himself engaging in a conversation about soccer, a subject he had previously detested. Surprisingly, he agreed to join in a game of soccer with some acquaintances, igniting an unanticipated passion for the sport. Perplexed by his newfound enjoyment, he pondered why he had dismissed the activity in the past.

As the day unfolded, Leander visited Eva to unwind. They settled onto her couch, drawn together by the familiarity of their routine. In a fleeting moment of unspoken tension, their eyes met, igniting a dormant passion that surged between them. The magnetic attraction led to an intimate and electrifying kiss, an unexplored territory that set off an unexpected chain of events. "I've never felt like this before," Leander confessed, his voice tinged with a newfound desire, their shared encounter eliciting a cascade of uninhibited passion. The room echoed with ecstatic pleas and fervent moans as Leander climaxed.

In that unforgettable moment, the bond between Leander and the voodoo doll fractured, captivating in fiery tendrils of iridescent sparkles. The once-gay Leander was now straight as an arrow, a transformation kindled by the unseen influence of the voodoo doll and Emily's innocent actions.

Embracing his newfound heterosexuality, Leander delved into a world of allure and grandiosity, captivating all those around him. His once unwavering attraction to men had transformed into a powerful desire for the company of women, leaving him awestruck and curious. "I never thought I'd feel this way about women," Leander admitted to a confidante, his voice filled with a combination of wonder and yearning. "It's like a whole new world has opened up to me, and I'm the prince in this world!" His presence exuded an air of snobbish sophistication and he became the epitome of shallow vanity.

Eva found herself hopelessly infatuated with the man she had shaped, yet realized that she had become an outsider in his newfound world. Leander's gaze no longer held warmth or closeness when it met Eva's, his once-kindhearted nature eclipsed by a veneer of aloofness and disdain. "Hmm, I think it's time for a change in my social circle, Eva is just too common and boring," Leander remarked, his voice laced with an air of superiority that pierced Eva's heart. With a heavy heart, she acknowledged that she was no longer part of Leander's stratosphere. With her heart in tatters, she made the painful decision to step away. Meanwhile, Leander found himself irresistibly drawn to the enigmatic women he encountered, his newfound ardor for their company marking a profound shift in his perspective. As he immerse himself in his new life, he realized that he had become the object of affection and envy, basking in the adulation and allure he had longed for.

This story was inspired by an idea of @objectifiedhimbo

#personality change #musclegrowth #gay to straight #unconscious #mind control #voodoo

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random-brushstrokes · 2 years ago

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Eugène Emmanuel Amaury Duval - Madame de Loynes (1862)

When Amaury-Duval painted her portrait, the Comtesse de Loynes was still just Jeanne de Tourbey. The daughter of working-class parents from Reims, she took advantage of her beauty and wit to conquer Paris and, through her lover Prince Napoleon, to open one of the most brilliant Second Empire literary salons. This was keenly attended by writers and critics such as Charles Sainte-Beuve, Hippolyte Taine, Alexandre Dumas, and also Gustave Flaubert, who admired her "panther-like graces and devilish wit". To do justice to such charms, Amaury-Duval called upon all the expertise he'd gleaned from portraits by his master Ingres; set in a jewel case of buttercup silk cushions, the brilliant black taffeta gown —extended by the deep purple drape and the jet-black hair— lend the downy face the opaline brightness of moonlight. The hypnotic gaze from the shaded gray eyes, framed by earrings in the neo-Greek style, celebrates the gift of this "admirable listener". But, comparable to the gaze of the Comtesse de Castiglione in her photographic self-portraits, this stage effect also introduces the intoxicating allure of the female sphinx, the enigmatic femme fatale, which enjoyed great success with the symbolists at the end of the century. The critic Emile Cantrel observed that, "There is a world and a half-world in those eyes". (source)

#Eugène Emmanuel Amaury Duval #french art #portrait #1860s

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sicutpuella · 1 year ago

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Desiderium [Tom Riddle x Original Character]

Chapter 1: nuit de février

In the outskirts of Provence, France, on a February evening in the year 1951, an air of enchantment permeated the countryside. Nestled amidst the rolling hills, a grand chateau stood as a beacon of refinement and grandeur. Adorned in exquisite finery, every detail meticulously attended to, the sprawling estate emanated an aura of timeless elegance. As dusk descended upon the land, casting a golden hue upon the snow-covered landscape, the chateau's lights shimmered with a radiance that rivaled the celestial stars above. Their warm glow cascaded through the windows, casting a spell of enchantment upon all who beheld the spectacle.

The atmosphere was filled with anticipation as carriages, resplendent in their regal splendor, made their stately procession towards the chateau's entrance. Each arrival added to the symphony of murmured conversations and tinkling laughter that echoed through the frosty air. The gardens, too, had not been spared from the touch of whimsical enchantment. The carefully manicured flora, bedecked with delicate frost and a dusting of snow, created a magical tableau. Twinkling lights were carefully woven amidst the branches of ancient trees, casting a soft, ethereal glow that danced in harmony with the falling snowflakes.

Within the chateau's walls, guests mingled amidst opulent salons adorned with gilded tapestries and magnificent chandeliers. Laughter, tinged with the echoes of clinking glasses, filled the air as conversations flowed like a melodic symphony of shared stories and whispered secrets.

In this grand setting, the evening unfolded with a grace befitting the majesty of the surroundings. The guests, their attire a tapestry of refined elegance, moved through the chateau's halls with an air of sophistication and charm. The soft notes of a grand piano accompanied their every step, lending an ethereal soundtrack to the festivities.

As the night wore on, the allure of the chateau's splendor captivated all who beheld it. The snowflakes continued their gentle descent, weaving a veil of enchantment over the landscape. The grandeur of the scene, the delicate interplay of light and snow, whispered of timeless beauty and the promise of unforgettable memories.

And so, in this idyllic setting on that fateful February evening, the grand chateau stood as a testament to the power of elegance and refinement. Its magnificence, embellished by the softly falling snow and the twinkle of a thousand lights, created an ethereal world where dreams and reality intertwined, casting a spell upon all who had the privilege to partake in its grandeur.

From the depths of a carriage emerged a vision of elegance and poise. As the door swung open, a woman alighted with grace, her every movement imbued with an innate sense of refinement. Cascading down her back, her crimson tresses were styled with meticulous care, their lustrous waves framing a countenance of ethereal beauty.

Clad in a gown of regal allure, she wore a shade of dark royal blue that enveloped her form with a beguiling charm. The neckline of her evening attire ascended gracefully, drawing attention to her slender, swan-like neck that held an air of elegance and grace. The absence of sleeves allowed her long and graceful arms to be exposed, captivating the onlookers with their sheer loveliness. A white-fur cover-up adorned her shoulders, adding a touch of luxurious warmth to the ensemble. Her attire, though modest, possessed a subtle sensuality that hinted at the allure lying just beneath the surface. The back of her gown, tastefully revealed, offered a glimpse of her radiant skin, evoking a sense of both mystery and desire. The delicate balance struck between modesty and allure painted her as a woman of refined taste and captivating beauty.

The woman's features were a testament to her natural loveliness. Her makeup, light and delicately applied, enhanced rather than masked her inherent grace. Her electric blue eyes, the very windows to her soul, shimmered with a blend of nervousness and charm, captivating all who had the privilege of meeting her gaze. Her every expression, every flutter of her lashes, conveyed a delicate vulnerability that only served to enhance her appeal.

Amidst the grandeur and opulence that surrounded her, she stood, radiating a captivating aura that drew admiring glances from all who beheld her presence. Though there lingered a hint of nervousness, a touch of awkwardness in her demeanor, it only served to accentuate her natural beauty, making her all the more endearing.

As the noble and revered Domitius Rosier caught sight of his daughter entering the grand halls, his eyes alight with unmistakable delight. His commanding presence, tall and dignified, matched her own in stature, for she stood only a few inches shorter than her esteemed father. A man of striking countenance, his features exuded an undeniable allure. His light-blonde hair, touched with traces of silver, framed a visage that had weathered the passing years with grace, further enhancing his handsomeness and charm. With an ethereal bone structure and an air of regality, he stood as a testament to the timeless appeal of his lineage.

"Ah, Claudia, my beloved daughter!" Domitius voice carried a note of sheer elation as he greeted her. His eyes, mirroring the mesmerizing electric blue hue of her own, twinkled with paternal pride and unbridled joy. Eagerly, he closed the distance between them, his arms outstretched in anticipation of their long-awaited reunion.

"Father! How I've longed for this moment!" Claudia's voice, filled with warmth and affection, rang out as she embraced him tenderly. The bond between them was undeniable, a testament to the profound love they shared as father and daughter. In that embrace, time seemed to stand still, and the grand chateau faded into the background, leaving only the cherished connection between them.

Their reunion was a symphony of love and joy, their voices intertwining in laughter and heartfelt conversation. As they moved gracefully through the opulent halls of the chateau, their shared happiness permeated the air, casting a radiant glow upon all who witnessed their familial bond. The grand chateau, with its resplendent décor and majestic ambiance, became the backdrop to a cherished moment between a father and his daughter. Amidst the flickering candlelight and the whispers of enchantment, their love and connection shone brightly, a beacon of warmth and tenderness in a world filled with fleeting moments.

“At least, you weren’t late!” Domitius gently teases his daughter.

"I am honored to be present for this joyous occasion, Father," Claudia replied, her voice filled with a mixture of excitement and anticipation. She glanced around the room, taking in the sight of the esteemed guests and the palpable aura of importance that surrounded them. Tonight was not just any ordinary wedding; it was a gathering of influential figures, where political allegiances were forged and strengthened.

Domitius chuckled softly, his voice tinged with amusement. "Ah, my dear Claudia, punctuality is indeed a virtue that runs deep in our bloodline. I am glad you have inherited that trait from me." His eyes sparkled with affection as he placed a hand on her arm, guiding her through the bustling crowd. "But it is not just punctuality that makes this evening special. It is the union of two great families, the intertwining of destinies, and the forging of alliances that will shape the course of our future."

As they strolled along the gilded corridors, their steps echoing softly against the marbled floor, Claudia listened intently to her father's words. His wisdom and guidance had always been a beacon in her life, grounding her amidst the tumultuous storms that came with their esteemed name.

"Father, I cannot help but feel a mixture of excitement and… dread," Claudia confessed, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

Domitius’ gaze softened, and he placed a hand on her cheek, a gesture filled with paternal reassurance. "My dear Claudia, you have always been a source of pride for me. Your strength and intelligence shine brightly, and I have no doubt that you will carry our family's legacy with honor. But remember, my child, that even in the face of great responsibilities, you must never lose sight of your own happiness and fulfillment. Your heart should guide you as much as your intellect."

Claudia nodded, absorbing her father's words of wisdom. She understood the delicate balance between duty and personal desires, and she vowed to find harmony within herself. The burden of their name may be weighty, but she refused to let it overshadow her own dreams and aspirations.

"Thank you, Father," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude. "Your guidance and unwavering support mean the world to me."

Domitius smiled warmly, his eyes shimmering with love. "You are my greatest joy, Claudia. Remember that, always."

Among the sea of esteemed guests, Claudia Rosier stood tall and regal, her crimson gown accentuating her elegant stature. Her eyes shimmered with a mixture of excitement and curiosity as she observed the gathering. This was not merely a social affair; it was a convergence of power and influence, where alliances were forged and secrets exchanged beneath the guise of polite conversation.

As she made her way through the grand hall, Claudia's gaze alighted upon the familiar faces of Ministry members, seasoned politicians, and influential figures of pureblood society. The room seemed to come alive with the whispered conversations and laughter of those who held the keys to power. It was a world she had been born into, a world where connections and lineage held great sway.

Her eyes briefly met those of Armand Malfoy, a figure of great importance within the pureblood circles. The intensity in his gaze spoke volumes, a silent acknowledgment of their shared heritage and the intricate web of blood ties that bound their families together. Claudia couldn't help but wonder about the complexities that lay beneath the surface, the unspoken alliances and unbreakable loyalties that governed their world.

Amidst the sea of influential guests, Claudia's attention was caught by the presence of rich old purebloods. They exude an air of privilege and entitlement, their names etched into the annals of pureblood history. Their wrinkled faces and weathered hands spoke of a lifetime spent in pursuit of power and wealth, their very presence a testament to the enduring legacy of their bloodlines.

As she gracefully moved through the crowd, Claudia engaged in polite conversation with acquaintances and family friends. She spoke with eloquence and confidence, her intelligence and charm evident in every word she uttered. Yet, beneath her composed facade, there was a flicker of restlessness, a longing to make her mark on a world that often felt suffocating in its traditions and expectations.

She observed her father, conversing effortlessly with influential figures. His commanding presence and charisma commanded respect, his words holding weight and authority. Claudia couldn't help but feel a swell of pride, knowing that she was his daughter, a reflection of his legacy and the aspirations he had instilled within

As they moved through the grand hall, the whispered conversations and admiring glances followed in their wake. Claudia's crimson tresses, her regal bearing, and the air of sophistication that enveloped her drew the attention of many. Yet, beneath the surface, she was aware of the expectations placed upon her, the burden of her family's legacy. It was a world where appearances were everything, and Claudia knew she had to navigate the treacherous waters with finesse and tact.

As Domitius led her further into the heart of the festivities, Claudia steeled herself for the challenges that lay ahead. She knew that within this grand gathering, there were alliances to be forged, secrets to be discovered, and ambitions to be pursued. The evening promised more than just a celebration of love; it was an arena where power, influence, and destiny converged.

As they approached the heart of the gathering, Claudia's eyes alighted upon the bride and groom.

In the grand ballroom of the opulent estate, the wedding of Allectus Rosier and Lucretia Black was a spectacle that had been meticulously orchestrated. It was a union not solely born out of love, but a strategic alliance between two prominent pureblood families. The Rosiers and the Blacks, both esteemed and powerful, sought to strengthen their ties and preserve their ancient lineage.

In the opulent ballroom, Allectus Rosier stood amidst the gathering, his presence commanding attention. The flickering candlelight accentuated the chiseled features of his face, casting shadows that only heightened the allure of his masculine beauty. His deep-set, electric blue eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint, inviting those who dared to meet his gaze into a world of mystery and intrigue.

As he moved with a grace and confidence that bespoke his noble lineage, Allectus drew the attention of all in his path. His impeccable sense of style, showcased through his tailored attire, bespoke a man who understood the power of appearance and how it could captivate the minds and hearts of those around him. With every step he took, the whispers of admiration followed, like the gentle rustle of silk against marble.

Beside him, Lucretia, resplendent in her wedding gown, exuded an ethereal grace that complemented Allectus's commanding presence. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, cascading like a waterfall of obsidian, and her dark eyes held a hint of mystery. While her beauty was undeniable, it was the underlying knowledge that this union was forged for the preservation of bloodlines that cast a veil of complexity over her delicate features.

The guests marveled at the sight before them, marveling at the union of two individuals whose physical beauty seemed divinely ordained. But hidden beneath the façade of this arranged marriage, were the intricacies of their familial obligations and societal expectations. It was a delicate dance, where duty and desire intertwined, and the future of two great houses hung in the balance.

As the ceremony progressed, the solemn vows were exchanged, sealing the union of Allectus Rosier and Lucretia Black.

The grandeur of the reception hall was ablaze with the glittering chandeliers and the lively chatter of the esteemed guests. Claudia, beaming with pride for her brother's successful nuptials, made her way through the crowd to congratulate him. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she playfully teased Allectus, her beloved sibling.

"Congratulations, dear brother! You managed to look decent tonight, finally," Claudia jested, her voice laced with affectionate banter. She held her brother's arm and leaned in closer, a conspiratorial glint in her eyes. "And Lucretia, my dear sister-in-law, you look absolutely splendid. I hope you have a stash of potions to counteract any potential headaches from dealing with him," she teased, a playful smile adorning her lips.

As Claudia exchanged pleasantries with her family, a familiar voice cut through the air. Turning her head swiftly, she beheld her cousin, Abraxas Malfoy, his presence commanded attention, his poise and demeanor oozing with aristocratic elegance.

The soft glow of the chandeliers played upon Abraxas' bright white-blond hair, each strand meticulously arranged to perfection. Not a strand dared to be out of place, for it knew its role in accentuating his otherworldly features. His sharp, piercing gaze, like the blade of a silver rapier, met Claudia's eyes with an unwavering intensity.

With a smile that danced upon her lips, Claudia stepped forward to greet her cousin. The warmth in her eyes was mirrored in her voice as she extended her hand in greeting. "Ah, Abraxas, it is a pleasure to see you again," she said, her words carrying a genuine warmth and affection.

Abraxas, ever the epitome of refinement, reciprocated her greeting with a nod, acknowledging her presence. His pale, icy-blue eyes met hers.

She extended her hand towards Abraxas, a gesture of kinship and shared heritage. The group of pureblood friends surrounding him, including Mulciber, Nott, Lestrange, and others, exuded an air of sophistication and privilege, much like Claudia and her brother.

However, as her gaze swept the room, Claudia's eyes locked onto a figure that sent a chill down her spine. Tom Riddle, a man of enigmatic allure, stood apart from the revelry, his presence both captivating and unnerving. The room seemed to darken ever so slightly as Claudia's gaze met his piercing eyes.

Claudia's eyes couldn't help but be drawn to him, as if he possessed an invisible pull that captivated her gaze. It wasn't just his striking appearance that caught her attention, but the way he carried himself with an air of confidence and intelligence. Tom Riddle seemed to possess an otherworldly charm, his features perfectly chiseled and his movements graceful.

His dark, curly hair framed his face in a way that accentuated his piercing, intelligent eyes. The slight curl at the ends of his locks added a touch of effortless elegance. His cheekbones were sculpted, giving his face a refined and aristocratic look. There was an enigmatic quality about him that left Claudia intrigued, as if there were depths of complexity hidden beneath his attractive exterior.

As Tom Riddle moved through the crowd, conversing with various guests, Claudia couldn't help but notice how effortlessly he commanded attention and respect. His words were articulate and thoughtful, drawing people in with his wit and charm. It seemed that even her brother, Allectus, and her cousin, Abraxas Malfoy, both known for their own good looks, paled in comparison to Tom Riddle's magnetic presence.

Claudia's curiosity grew, and she found herself longing to engage in conversation with this enigmatic figure. She observed the way he carried himself, the way he made others feel important and valued. It was as if he possessed a charisma that extended beyond mere physical appearance, captivating the hearts and minds of those around him.

“Cat got your tongue?” Abraxas noticed how his cousin Claudia seemed to stiffen up a bit upon seeing Tom.

“Ah! Lest we not forget your little show back when you were what… 11?” Allectus chimed in, a mischievous glint in his eyes. The mention of that particular memory elicited a brief flashback in Claudia's mind, transporting her back to her first year at Hogwarts.

She could vividly recall the scene in the Slytherin common room, bathed in the dim glow of the firelight, where Tom Marvolo Riddle, then a sixth-year prefect, had been surrounded by a crowd of admirers. The Slytherin Quidditch team, basking in the glory of their recent victory, had flocked around him like moths to a flame. Claudia, a wide-eyed first-year filled with youthful infatuation, had watched from a distance, her heart aflutter with anticipation.

Summoning her courage, she approached him, her delicate footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor. In her hand, she clutched a folded piece of parchment, its edges slightly creased from her anxious grip. In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only her and the enigmatic figure of Tom Riddle before her. Her heart raced, her palms grew clammy, but her determination propelled her forward.

"Hello, Tom Riddle!" she had exclaimed, her voice quivering yet filled with a resolute innocence that belied her tender age. The room fell silent, every eye fixed upon the brave young girl who dared to express her affections so openly.

"I am Claudia," she continued, her words tumbling out in a rush, like a cascade of pearls from a broken necklace. "I know that you and my brother, Allectus, are good friends, but I... I cannot help myself, Tom Riddle. My heart beats faster whenever you are near. I like you, Tom Riddle. I like you more than treacle tart, more than sugar, more than the finest chocolates from Honeydukes! I like you with every fiber of my being!"

The common room held its breath, the air pregnant with anticipation. Claudia's cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, her doe-like eyes shining with a mixture of vulnerability and hope. Her innocent declaration of love hung in the air, as fragile and delicate as a butterfly's wings.

Tom Riddle, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, regarded her with a mixture of surprise and gentleness. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her body, as if she had been touched by magic itself. His voice, like the soft whisper of the wind through the trees, was warm and reassuring. "Claudia, I must commend you for your sheer courage and honesty. Your feelings are not unappreciated, but I fear I cannot return them in the same manner. Please do not take this the wrong way. You possess incredible qualities that will undoubtedly captivate someone worthy of your love."

Though Claudia's heart sank at his words, she admired his response, understanding the truth in his gentle rejection. Tom had handled her confession with grace and compassion, preserving her dignity and shielding her from the potential ridicule of their peers.

"Thank you, Tom Riddle," she whispered, her voice filled with a bittersweet acceptance. "I appreciate your honesty and value our friendship above all else. Let us continue to support one another, as fellow Slytherins and as friends."

Tom's gaze softened, his eyes reflecting a fleeting glimpse of regret. "Claudia, you are a remarkable young witch. Never doubt your worth or the impact you can make in this world. Your bravery and resilience will take you far. Remember, love comes in many forms and at different times. The right person will appreciate the extraordinary person you are."

With those words, he gently released his hold on her shoulder, allowing her to retreat from the center of attention.

Claudia, now standing amidst the glamorous wedding celebration, smiled softly at the memory. How young and innocent she had been, captivated by Tom Riddle's allure even then. But time had passed, and Claudia understood that. She shook off the reverie, returning her attention to her teasing cousin and brother. "Oh, hush, you two!" Claudia replied with a playful pout. "That was ages ago, and we were but children. Let us focus on celebrating Allectus and Lucretia's joyous union tonight."

“Ah, Claudia, dear cousin, you never fail to provide us with delightful memories!” Abraxas chuckled, his bright blonde hair cascading around his face like a halo. He exchanged a knowing glance with Allectus, their eyes gleaming with mischief.

Allectus, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, added, "Indeed, Claudia, we must commend your courage. Confessing your undying affection for Tom Riddle in front of the entire Slytherin house! A moment that shall forever be etched in our memories."

Nott and Lestrange, who had been standing nearby, couldn't resist joining in on the teasing. Nott, his voice dripping with sarcasm, remarked, "Oh, Claudia, how fortunate we were to witness such a heartfelt declaration of love! I dare say it rivaled the most dramatic scenes in plays."

Lestrange, his eyes twinkling with amusement, interjected, "Indeed! I shall never forget the stunned silence that followed your confession. It was as if the very air held its breath in anticipation of Tom Riddle's response." Claudia, though initially taken aback by their teasing, soon found herself joining in the mirth. "Oh, do cease your mockery, my dear companions!" she playfully retorted.

As the bustling crowd began to simmer down, Claudia found herself seated beside her cousin, Abraxas. They exchanged warm smiles, their conversation a testament to the enduring bond shared between them.

"I've heard you're working with the Ministry of Wizarding Law Enforcement now!" Abraxas exclaimed, genuine pride gleaming in his eyes. He was delighted to see Claudia flourishing in her professional life, ascending the ranks of the magical world. Claudia's cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, her modesty shining through despite her accomplishments.

"And I've heard you and your wife have been blessed with a pregnancy!" Claudia's voice rang out, her eyes sparkling with genuine joy. The news of their impending parenthood had reached her ears through the whispered gossip of high society, and she could not contain her excitement.

Abraxas, ever the astute conversationalist, skillfully redirected the topic, a playful glint in his eyes. "Ah, don't change the subject, dear cousin," he quipped, a sly smile playing upon his lips. "But yes, we have indeed been blessed with the gift of a child.”

Claudia's attention returned to the matter at hand, a graceful smile gracing her features. "Oh, it's nothing extraordinary," she replied, her voice a melodious blend of humility and pride. "Recently, I have been entrusted with a significant role in the Ministry, tasked with the creation and refinement of laws concerning magical artifacts.”

Abraxas nodded approvingly, acknowledging her accomplishments. "Ah, the intricate world of legislation and governance," he remarked, his voice laced with admiration. "I have always known that your intellect and tenacity would lead you to great heights.”

Before she could delve deeper into her recent ventures, she was interrupted by the familiar voice that had once stirred her soul. It was Tom Riddle, the enigmatic figure whose presence had ignited a flame within her young heart. His entrance, marked by an aura of charm and confidence, drew the attention of all who were fortunate enough to witness it.

"My, my, my... Claudia Rosier," he spoke, his voice laced with a hint of amusement and genuine admiration. "It has been far too long since our paths last crossed, and yet, in that time, you have accomplished so much. I must offer my sincerest congratulations."

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